The Girl Who Stalked
She was drowning in her pretty her beautiful
She was drowning in her blue green eyes, hoping she would accept the invitation.
"Yes Jane, I'd love to."
"A museum? Already!? You arrived yesterday!"
"Ronald!" called out another masculine voice. Blaise's face appeared in the fire next to him. Hermione conjured it into a nice lavender colour, changing from the usual greenish flames.
Although hard to distinct, Hermione was sure her best friend's face was red.
"She's actually interesting, unlike you." Blaise gave Ron a side-eyed look and then turned to Hermione. "I've been trying to drag him into a museum but he always finds a foolish excuse to avoid it," he added, exasperated.
Hermione chuckled lightly. "You will find a way."
Ron frowned. "Why? I hate museums!"
"You don't have to go to an art museum," she replied. She looked at the clock on the chimney. "I'm sorry I have to, er..." she hesitated. None of her potential excuses were plausible. As a writer, she could change her schedule however she wished, and as an English girl who just arrived last morning, she had no friends there.
She simply said, "I have to eat."
"French breakfast is not good enough for you?" asked Ron.
She rolled her eyes and the three went back to their occupation.
Hermione's was Pansy.
Pansy. After the war trials, she disappeared from the wizarding world and no one ever heard from her anymore. Whenever Draco or Blaise was asked about her, they would make it short and quickly change the subject, and she did not question them further, she never was close with Pansy. What Hermione knew, was that she had gone away to another country to escape her conservative pureblood family. She was told that her parents tried to marry her to one of her cousins, which Hermione believed was true since it was so common in pureblood families.
However, she did not think likewise anymore.
She had seemed so sick, dead almost. The last few memories of her were wandering in her mind. What could have gone wrong since then?
Her face became sharper and paler. Even if Hermione was not too fond of her, she had started to worry. Surely Draco and Blaise knew what was happening; if they hadn't told her, it was for a reason.
But Hermione was curious.
And when she was curious, she needed immediate answers.
The statue moved its leg as Hermione approached. Before her, was the entrance of the Place Cachée.
It shared some similarities with Diagon Alley, but it was more français. Magical shops were not the reason she came here—although she would have loved to take a look at the bookshop on her right.
She needed to find her.
Hermione did not know where the sudden obsession with the woman came from, but she needed to know what was happening and why it was being hidden from her. And perhaps, that was an opportunity to make a new friend.
After an hour of watching attentively the crowd in the coldness of winter, she realised that her coat was not warm enough for that kind of weather.
While she was wiping her runny nose, she saw a glimpse of a long black coat taking a turn in a narrow street. Finally! She knew that purebloods always spent their time in magical places, Pansy would have never been seen in a muggle pub.
Practically running, Hermione made her way to the street and realised quickly that the person before her looked nothing like Pansy; her mind was playing with her.
She felt like Harry in her sixth year at Hogwarts; a stalker.
Deciding that this was not sane and that she should enjoy her new life in another way than following a girl she disliked at school, Hermione stopped searching for her. It would be best to ask Draco or Blaise about it.
Two weeks passed, and Hermione could not bring up the topic. But her curiosity was driving her mad. It was not something Hermione could find the answer in books, she had to ask her, but where was she?
She definitely was not expecting her to be in a muggle pub.
Hermione thought a drink would make her feel better and less... whatever problem she had. This was unexpected, yet she did not think twice before sitting next to her.
"Un mojito s'il-vous-plait!" The barman nodded.
Pansy did not notice her yet. She was fiddling with the straw of her spritz and occasionally sipped in it.
"Long time no see."
Pansy flinched. "You?" She turned to Hermione, glaring at her.
"Me, indeed" Hermione replied with a hint of amusement in her voice. "How have you been?"
Pansy gaped slightly and then shook her head. "How I have been?! Are you following me?"
Hermione blushed and did not know why. "I would not say that..."
Pansy huffed. "Who sent you?"
Hermione frowned. "What? Nobody!"
"Liar!" she raised her voice and people around them gave them looks.
"Maybe we should talk somewhere else.."
Pansy got again, very defensive. "Somewhere else? So we could be alone and you could kidnap me and deliver me to them?"
What in Merlin was she talking about?
She must have seen her confusion and Pansy calmed down a bit. "Don't you work for the Ministry?"
Hermione shook her head wondering where she had heard that. "I'm a writer."
Pansy's eyes widened. "Oh." She straightened her posture. "A writer."
"A writer," Hermione confirmed.
"Rather inoffensive."
"I beg your pardon?"
Pansy waved her hand. "Nothing." She took a long sip of her drink and then turned back to Hermione. "Why are you in Paris then? It is a funny coincidence," she still sounded wary.
"Er..." She gazed at the front of the bar, where sketches of boats and paintings were hanging on the wall. "I needed change."
Pansy hummed, pensive. "Change."
Her lips were pressed together, she was hesitant. Hermione raised one of her eyebrows. "Is there something wrong?"
Pansy snorted. "Yes actually, a lot of things. Do you..."
She was suddenly cut off by a heavy sound and everything went pitch black.
Immediately, people started screaming and glasses were crashing on the floor. Hermione grabbed Pansy's arm and crouched down.
"What is happening?" shouted Pansy who sounded panicked.
Avada Kedavra!
Multiple green lights flashed through the pub, rebounding and echoing on the walls. Hermione understood right away the danger and she disapparated with Pansy who was luckily clinging to her.
The noise disappeared instantly, and both were now panting on the hard floor of Hermione's bedroom.
The two of them locked eyes, neither wanted to start the conversation.
"What the fuck was that," Hermione finally blurted breathlessly. She never swore, but the current situation was very appropriate.
"I..." Pansy started, trying to regain her breath, "might have an idea."
Hermione gasped, finally realising. "They were after you!"
"High chances, yes." She grimaced and slowly sat up. "Where are we?"
"My room," she replied, still lying on the floor, her back throbbing. She caught Pansy's questioning gaze. "Sleepover?"