Phlegm Season.
"I wouldn't go down there" Ginny said quietly, idly reading a magazine on her bed at the Burrow.
"Why?" Hermione questioned innocently, yawning in her pyjamas from the doorway.
"There's a lot of, erm, phlegm about" she grinned. Hermione merely sighed, she did dislike the girl, but she had been nothing but pleasant to her since she arrived at the Burrow for christmas. She padded downstairs lightly, careful not to disturb anybody still up. Sure enough, as Ginny warned there was Fleur, sat on her own at the kitchen table in the dimming light of the fire, and the sparkling lights on the christmas tree.
Hermione just breezed past effortlessly into the kitchen, and put the kettle on. She sat on the counter swinging her legs and was suddenly aware of a pair of cool crystal eyes baring into her, though she didn't oblige and turn to meet her gaze. The kettle whistled and she removed it from the stove-top almost immediately, as she swung off the counter she snatched a quick glimpse of the french beauty. Fleur was looking at whatever she was looking at before on the table, she had averted her eyes playfully the second Hermione looked over.
Feeling guilty from the lack of conversation, Hermione made an extra cup of tea, she pondered if she had Fleur's tea-preference in her head, and she remembered, black, with honey and lemon. She made it to perfection and settled it silently next to Fleur. She turned to walk away, but she was stopped by a husky, unmistakeable and delicious voice.
"Wait!" Fleur called out, a little bit louder than is curteous in the early hours, realising the error she lowered her tones considerably and said quietly. "Sit, 'ere" she was indicating to a seat at the dining room table adjascent to her own.
Hermione stopped, seemingly contemplative of whether to stay in the room and talk or leave and sit in silence doing an essay while Ginny occasionally flicked a page loudly or tutted. She decided the prior would probably seem agreeable right now, and perched on a chair opposite Fleur.
The awkward silence seemed to last for quite a while, Hermione was almost sure she saw single tear roll down the elder's porcelain face.
"Are you alright?" Hermione muttered.
"Do you know?" she whispered. "'ow many times anyone has asked me that this week?" she said intensely piercing Hermione's eyes with her own clear blue ones, hiding behind a whispy fringe.
"I don't know? A lot?" Hermione offered, casually waving an arm around.
"None. No-one 'as asked me 'ow I feel. Not even Bill" she said with a distinct air of crystalline meloncholy.
"Oh" was all Hermione could manage, it wasn't sympathetic, but it wasn't callous, merely surprised and awkward.
"You all do not like me. Yes?" she added. There was something so fragile in her words that made Hermione shiver. What was she meant to say? All the awful things they had said about her, the nicknames, the jokes they played on her, the rude gestures. She was purely guilty and had nothing to say for herself.
"I am sorry, that was, er, 'ow you say, awkward?" she raised her voice an octave in pitch, out of inerrogation and nerve, Hermione sipped her tea and laughed.
"Yes, very." Hermione said wryly.
"I don't know what I 'ave done!" she declared, another glass tear rolled down her perfect skin and glistened in the glow of the christmas tree. Hermione's guilt stabbed her full force again. She was seeing first hand the grief that she had caused this fragile little thing. Hermione inwardly chastised herself for being so stupid. It was not like a woman, living with three other women wouldn't notice the malice. That she couldn't hear the overly-loud comments spat when Fleur wasn't looking. That she wouldn't notice any number of dirty looks.
"Fleur, I won't lie. No, I don't like you. I don't know why, and I hate it, I haven't even given you a chance. Are you happy now? Congratulations on making me feel awkward. I'm going to bed now. Goodnight" and Hermione turned on her heel and ran to Ginny's room.
"Was Phlegm as annoying as ever?" Ginny blurted out. Hermione smiled dryly in response, she was starting to feel sympathy for her, and she knew it.
Hermione slept until the late afternoon the next day, no one had woken her, not even Ginny. She woke up slowly, surveyed the sun on her eye-lids, and smiled, she padded downstairs only to find no-one there. She quickly checked Mrs Weasley's clock, Ginny, Ron and the Twins were playing quidditch in the orchard, and she presumed Harry would be with them. Percy, Charlie, Bill and Arthur were all at work, and Mrs Weasley was doing the gardening. Thinking she was alone she picked up the morning paper and flipped through it idly. Sipping another cup of tea.
"What is eet about me that you 'ate the most?" A french voice startled Hermione to the point of her almost dropping her tea-cup.
"I don't hate you" Hermione said, trying to look cool, but looking more like a deer caught in the headlights. "I didn't think anyone was in" she said quietly.
"Just us" Fleur offered, seemingly to no one in particular. "Do you want to come for a walk down the lane at zee front?" she said, her blue eyes crystalised with hope. Hermione couldn't bare to turn her down. After all, what did she have to lose?
"Ok, sure" she nodded smiled and stood up.
"Really? I was certain you would say no!" she smiled and lingered on Hermione's eyes longer than needed.
"Come on then" Hermione smiled.
Hermione was pleasantly surprised that she could hold quite a good conversation with Fleur, somewhat effortlessly. They had similar taste in books, and Fleur was quite intelligent. Hermione had always had her pegged as sub-par intellectually, but when she thought about it, she must have been gifted to be in the tri-wizard tournament. They halted near a tree to get some air, they had been chatting so long they barely realised how far they'd walked. The Burrow now just a faded speck. Hermione sat on a rock and huddled her coat around her.
"Chilly isn't it?" Hermione said quietly, the conversation awkward, and it sinking in that Hermione was having quite a pleasant time with Phlegm.
"'ere, 'ave some of this" she throatily whispered, offering Hermione a hipflask. She took a brief swig before contorting her face into a soured grimace. Fleur laughed. "Eet is obviously the first time you are having the firewhiskey" she giggled again.
"It's illegal in this country, I'm not old enough" Hermione said, sticking out her tongue as if to airate the taste off it, and passing the bottle back to Fleur in her gloved hand. Fleur was sat dangerously close to her now.
"Hermione, I feel like I need to tell you something. I don't know who else to tell." She said gravely.
"I promise not to tell" Hermione said, and was surprised to find out she was being truthful.
"Eet is me and Bill." She said quietly as a look of concern spread across Hermione's features. "We 'ave split up. But I am not sure 'ow to say anything, and we 'ave both agreed to keep it quiet for some time" she said.
"How come?" Hermione merely asked, quietly.
"The love has just gone. We care about eachother a lot, but 'e said 'e has feelings for another woman, and I do not feel the same. Eet is the war you know? It is making us all sad" she concluded. Hermione nodded, and before she could stop her self she was consoling Fleur.
"If you need to talk, I'm only in the next room" It was half a pity statement, but as the words came out of her mouth Hermione was surprised she meant them.