Miss Potter -DISCONTINUED

Chapter 3

"I'm surprised that Hogwarts had a train to carry us here," Ron spoke as he looked out the window in the train car they were in. Sat next to him was Harry who couldn't help himself but eat the fudge brownies that Mrs. Weasley made for them for the trip. "I assumed that we'd floo you know."

"Yeah, like you've been to France before," Hermione rolled her eyes as she nudged Ron's chocolate-covered hand away from her and her book. Being classic Hermione she didn't miss the opportunity to read some more about the school, eager to know everything and all.

"The only person who went to France was Finley," Harry tells them, "Because you know, she almost transferred and all."

"Geez, as if I need you to remind me that every single time," Finley frowned at him, reminded of the part where she had an accident in her first year that sent her to St Mungo's for the rest of the year, her parents almost transferred her out the school but not many knew why. Harry was told that it was because she got the first stage of dragon pox, the same one that killed her grandparents, Euphemia and Fleamont Potter. But it was not the whole truth, and as much as she would want to say what it was, she only knew that it wasn't dragon pox and that was it.

Fiddling with her fingers she felt alone in this seat, they were talking about topics she could never relate to. Unlike the way she spent her remaining days of summer exchanging letters with Blaise, they successfully changed her wardrobe to something less red. Which was worth it considering that everyone in the car apart from her was sporting something red like a glove or a tie, she was wearing something that wasn't of her house at all. Come to find out that red was never her favorite color the time she woke up to that horrible nightmare, she did her best to find something in her closet that isn't particularly red in rage.

Merlin, Blaise was god sent for convincing her to wear something green. Now she comfortably wore a sage green spaghetti strap corset top paired with bell-bottom jeans as well as a white cardigan, she did her best to avoid Hermione's judgemental looks at the sight of her choice in clothing. She does admit that her chest was more defined with the top, but who cared about what she wore.

"Remember Fleur?" Ron excitedly asked, giddily on his seat, still avoiding his gaze from Finley who sat by the sliding door holding a book with a seemingly french title on the cover.

"The Bauxbatons champion?" Hermione raised her brow at Ron.

"No, I meant my brother's wife," he retorted back before raising a book. "She gave me this to help me talk to the French."

"Want to practice with me then?" Finley suggested, closing her book and leaning slightly forward to try and get included in the conversation. "I've been trying to get into conversational french for a while now."

"Great!" Ron cheered quietly before swallowing a lump in his throat, blushing when his gaze turned to her, he opened the book he held in his hand. "Um... Bond-jur?" He struggled to pronounce.

"Bonjour."

"I— um... Jey Me-pel Ron," Ron struggled, squinting at the words, struggling with it.

"Ravi de vous rencontrer, Ron. Je Suis Finley," she replied much faster and smoother than Ron's broken pronunciations, intimidating him.

"You're too good at this," the ginger boy huffed before slumping back against his seat, tucking his book back in his jacket.

"She's been taking french every summer for whatever reason," Harry shrugs, handing Ron a snack to at least get his mood up a bit. "Don't understand why you wanted to learn french when you didn't want to transfer anyway."

"What? And be a boring twat like you who can't see a snitch from a 45-degree angle? " Finley scoffed before tying her hair into a low ponytail, "I mean, between the both of us Hazar, finding out the function of a rubber duck is far more interesting than you," she adds earning herself a glare from Harry while she straightened her jeans and her cardigan, preferred that she sat with someone else than her brother at the moment.