Chapter 31.5- Doom Days

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“You did not tell me you were a scholar, Monsieur Potter” She said with a smirk as she tossed the issue of the Daily Prophet that covered my results in my face. I chuckled at her overblown nature.

“There are many things about me that you are yet to learn, Mademoiselle” I leaned down to whisper in her ear. She pushed me back in a friendly manner and I made a show of falling back to the grass. I was taking a break from study and work— read my past self was busy in the ROR right about now so I could spend time with the delightful Fluer Delacour and get some sun in my face. Flitwick was being very stubborn and limiting my learning in exchange for me spending time outdoors and with other people. I had a theory that it was some attempt from McGonagall or Dumbledore to stall my training, but it could also easily have been the man himself.

He’d complained about my social situation before I’d reconciled with Hermione the first time, and now that we were on the outs again, he seemed to have taken things into his won hands.

“Like what?” She asked, drawing herself closer to me. So close that my view of the sun was blocked by her silvery blonde locks as she leaned down over me.

“Like how good a kisser I am” I felt bold. Very bold.

“Then I will be finding that out later then” She said, leaning away sharply.

“You minx of a woman” I said as she laughed. I pulled myself back up to look at the handsome spread of snacks that Dobby had presented to me the second I’d poked my head into the kitchen to ask for something for a picnic. The fact that a good portion of the snacks were French told me that Dobby had been keeping a closer eye on me than the little bugger let on. I found it more endearing than creepy though.

“Thank you, by the way” She said as she picked up a chouquette and shoved it all in her mouth in one go.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re the only one who hasn’t been treating me any different since, you know? My friends walk on eggshells around me. Even when they try to talk to me like usual, you see these pitying glances they toss my way when they think I’m not looking or even worse, the meaningful looks they throw each other when they think my actions are grief driven or whatever. I love them to bits, but they’ve been getting on my nerves. It’s little better at home either. Gabrielle cries over not having enough chocolate in her pain au chocolat. Is it our fault that the elves cannot make it the way Papa used to? And then Maman cuddles her every tantrum while treating me like glass about to break. All of it is frustrating. Thank you for just being you, no more no less” She said with a frustrated sigh thinking back to the memories.