Tea and Cigarettes

Musical Inspiration: Like It's Her Birthday (Good Charlotte), Mona Lisa (Chrisie Santoni), Until You Leave (Permanent Me), Gloomy Sunday (Billie Holiday)

Mercifully for everyone involved, Hermione had not taken the clichéd sip of her drink prior to Fleurs declaration. She had instead placed the chai atop the table and, trying not to seem like she was hiding anything, clasped her hands under the table. As her mind went haywire with the words she had just heard, her nails began biting into her palms. Silence reigned supreme at the couple's small table.

The world had fallen away, becoming nothing but white noise in the small secret universe created by the witches. It was not that they were so lost in each other, as much as this was a pivotal moment for both of their personal lives and missing any detail for an outside distraction would surely cause the moment to detonate.

For Fleur, to lose the moment would be to lose the rocky footing she had with Hermione. She had come to the café to mend things, and if everything went very well, rekindle les flammes de l'amour. Since leaving, she had realized just how much the presence of the younger woman affected her. On bad days, memories of Hermione's amusing practicality as well as her appreciation for even the smallest of things brought a small smile to the quarter-Veela's lips. On good days, she thought of how much the object of her affection would enjoy the pure beauty of the world. The woman who had inspired this change in demeanor, this 180-degree turn in personality, was truly one to be treasured. Losing her was not an option, and inwardly Fleur kicked herself (and not for the first time) for letting time fall away from a relationship.

In Hermione's case, to lose focus on the task at hand would be to let go of her anger at the wrong Fleur had done her (much to the chagrin of the absent-minded, to allow for anything unrelated to the immediate subject matter is to say, essentially, that said subject is unimportant). If she were to be sidetracked by the words that she had been aching to hear, she would merely be allowing herself to be manipulated. The older witch had apologized, but to say something like "je t'aime" was completely out of left field and, in Hermione's opinion, unfair. An opinion she voiced:

"Fleur, that's extremely unfair." The French witch gave her a long look, wide-eyed in disbelief.

"'Ermione, 'ow is zat unfair?" She just didn't understand.

"How is it fair to leave someone, come back briefly, disappear, and quite a few years down the road, enter that persons life again with an apology and an 'I love you?'"

"Mon ange, you asked me if I returned your feelings. I was merely being 'onest with you, and answering votre question." The words were slow, and measured as though Fleur was trying to explain to a particularly dense child while at the same time attempting to control the urge to deliver the mother of all drop-kicks.

Silence fell once more, as Hermione contemplated Fleurs words. There was an undeniable truth ringing in them, and the younger witch chided herself for her immature and pre-emptive attack. Still, though. How could she trust what her ears relayed to her frontal lobe?

"Fleur, my apologies. I just don't know if I can trust your words. No," she silenced the older woman, who had opened her mouth to protest. "I want to explain to you why this is an issue for me. More than anything, I want to believe those words whole-heartedly and nothing would make me happier than to just kiss you and forget the entire mess.

"However, I cannot just take words at face value now. Not after the war, not after Ron's cheating, especially not after you said the exact same things ten years ago. I believed them then, and look at how that turned out. Here we are, talking about something that really could have been solved eight years ago."

"You were razzer upset with me, cherie." Upon this, cerulean eyes were met and held by fiery chocolate orbs.

"Yes, very much upset with you. I was upset because I felt ridiculous and foolish for counting my chickens before they'd hatched, to put it one way. I thought that if someone could say those things and then just up and leave, then the words must only be for getting others into bed. Pardon the cliché, but words can be given away like candy, Fleur. It's the actions that make more of an impact."

"Je vois, et je comprends."

"You've explained and apologized, and that's really all I wanted from this meeting today," Hermione knew she sounded cold, and felt a pang upon seeing Fleurs face fall. "I have half a mind to leave now, to go back to my life better for it and with no regrets. I've gotten on just bloody fine without you around. But I've missed our talks, and spending time with you…In essence, Fleur, I've missed you."

Both women were surprised by the end of the mini-speech. Scarlet in visage, Hermione broke the eye contact. Fleur just stared, mouth just barely open in a surprised "O."

Well, wasn't that a lovely cauldron-load of embarrassment… To combat the sudden and slightly awkward silence, the English witch took a gulp of chai. The cup, rebelling against Hermione's cruelty towards it, was empty. One deep breath and chair-on-pavement difficulty later, the cup was on its way to a merciful death by trashcan. Once the item had been deposited in the receptacle, Hermione pivoted in preparation to return to the table. This plan failed as a result of Fleur standing a few inches away.

"'Ermione, I've missed you as well. Zis ees somezing zat I would like to remedy, si vous êtes intéressé." There was a question in the statement (a refreshing change from a statement inside of a question). The proximity, though respectful and platonic, caused the younger witch to sweat and stutter – the unfortunate byproduct of the explosion of fiery butterflies spreading through her stomach to her heart and extremities. Her knees weren't going weak, per se, but there was a slight tremor in her voice and a pleasant tingling near the junction of her neck and head. Against her will, her heart had once again started up with its speeding staccato.

"W-well, work bogs up time, but I'm s-sure we could work something out…" Her voice began to falter as Fleur took a step closer. This spacing was definitely not platonic in any way whatsoever; Fleur was at a hands distance, and Hermione could detect the faint floral scent on the older woman's body.

"I have Saturday of next week open between ze lunch hour et two o'clock. If you would like to arrange a get-togezzer for déjeuner, I zink zat zat would be doable."

"I'll have to check my schedule, make sure that nothing's going on," Hermione made a mental note to clear her Saturday afternoon of any and all obligations. "Do you mind if I give you a maybe, and owl you later?" How on earth did we go from matters of the heart to something this mundane? Why is it that I'm not angry anymore? Hermione wondered without actually minding the abruptness of the subject change.

"Oui, bien sûr! I look forward to receiving your owl, cherie." Fleur smiled.

The quick European peck on her cheeks left them warm, and the day seemed to become sunnier.

XX

Saturday.

Fleur waited expectantly at the same little café. She had gotten a reply from Hermione two days after their first meeting, and was now keeping a lookout for the woman. This time, it was the Muggle-born who was late.

To accommodate the considerably warmer weather, Fleur had dressed more casual. She had time to change before her evening shift began, so she took advantage of it. Now, however, she began to worry that she wasn't as dressed as she should be; last time they met, they were both dressed professionally. What if this meeting had the same dressing expectations? Jeans, flats, and a V-neck suddenly seemed completely inappropriate. Shifting uncomfortably, Fleur began running through the ways she could apologize for her appearance.

The obsession with her looks, vain as it may seem, covered up her worries about the day. Yes, Hermione had responded, but what if she decided to not show up out of spite? What if, after their discussion the previous week, things were still uncomfortable? What if the air was not clear? Upon this thought, the French witch paused, and gave a discreet and delicate sniff of her body. The clarity of the air was affected by smell as well as issues, one had to ensure that both scent and problems were dealt with accordingly.

(Were she to observe herself, she would have laughed at the irrationality of her behaviour.)

However, when the witch peered across the table, there was her lunch companion, waving as she approached. Hermione had dressed in much the same style as Fleur, giving preference to a white tee and skinny jeans stopped by sandals. Inwardly, Fleur sighed with relief.

"Hello! Sorry for my lateness, I couldn't find anything decent to wear," Hermione grinned self-deprecatingly as she sat.

They settled into small talk, ordered drinks and food, and began catching up. During the discussion and relating of past events, the chairs that both women occupied drifted closer together, as wallet photographs and sketches made on the backs of napkins required their combined attentions. By the end of their two hours, another lunch break had been set aside for the next week, and the farewell hug lasted a comfortable second too long.

Dedicated To: MLC, without whose love and support, this story would never have been told.
Special Mention: ASR, the reason this story exists.