Rating:
PG
House:
Astronomy Tower
Characters:
Fleur Delacour Percy Weasley Remus Lupin Severus Snape
Genres:
Romance Action
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire
Stats:
Published: 06/10/2003
Updated: 06/10/2003
Words: 4,998
Chapters: 1
Hits: 1,205

International Relations

samvimes

Story Summary:
When Percy Weasley tries to help Remus Lupin escape a couple of unsavory Death Eaters, he runs into Fleur Delacour in the most unlikely of places, doing the most unlikely of jobs. Spies, trains, luggage, bickering, and that famous Veela charm.

Posted:
06/10/2003
Hits:
1,205
Author's Note:
I blame this on Monica and Priscellie, once again. Well, they asked. Plus Moni /will/ insist on drawing the most attractive pictures of Fleur...

INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS

Here's my hand, the white scar on my thumb, and here's my mouth / To stop your murmur; speechless let us lie / And think of Hardy, Shakespeare, Yeats and James / Comfort our panic hearts with magic names. -- Conrad Aiken

Percy Weasley sighed as he removed his sweater-vest and undid the top few buttons of his collared shirt. It was always stressful, going home; there was so much one had to remember to do.

He knew, of course, that Bill and Charlie were the adventurous ones and Fred and George were the troublemakers and Ron, who right about now ought to be on the train to Hogwarts, was shaping up to be something quite unique, a hero or a martyr, one of the two. Ginny was, of course, the baby. That left Percy with being the Good One, the stodgy boring workaholic who took things far too seriously.

It wasn't that he minded his family thought that; it was just that he minded having to pretend to /be/ it. He'd done enough of that at school. And then having to pretend to fawn over Crouch, because he was supposed to be infiltrating the old man's division, when in reality he knew Crouch to be something worse, even if he didn't know what --

Ah well.

He was back in his own flat, now, the one the Ministry had decided to give him after he complained that it's very difficult to do a midnight run at anything if your biggest worry is your mum catching you creeping out of the house. So he'd told his parents he was flatsitting at a reasonable rate in London, and the Ministry had given him a small but tastefully-decorated place, near enough to Diagon Alley that he was right in the thick of the action.

Speaking of which...

He sat down at his desk and signed off on a couple of reports by colleagues -- he'd done so well in a recent assignment that they'd started routing some of his superior's work to him. Percy liked paperwork, genuinely enjoyed reading the reports that most members of the TSMA -- the Totally Secret Magical Agency -- hated writing so much. After all, he hadn't joined the Agency to spend his entire life jumping off broomsticks and tracking Death Eaters over national borders.

Still, it was fun while it lasted. Percy was a smug man by nature, and it pleased him to think that under the boring dress clothes, the Agency's training program had built his muscles; under the idiotic smile, he was all the while thinking about the next assignment.

Percy Weasley was a spy.

He was a very good one.

He leaned back in his chair and was just about to summon his owl from the rafters when there was an urgent knock on his door. A glance through the peephole showed the surprising, but not entirely unwelcome, face of Severus Snape.

"Unchain the door, Weasley, I can hear you moving in there," Snape commanded, and Percy slid the bolts off, allowing him inside. He was supporting another man, with the faint traces of clawmarks on his face. Percy recognized him as Remus Lupin.

"Shut the door," Snape hissed, helping Lupin to the couch.

"What's going on?" Percy asked, putting his best 'I'm just a schoolboy' face on.

"Death Eaters. Chasing us," Remus gasped. Snape crossed his arms. "Sorry to be a bother, Percy..."

"No bother, unless they're going to break my door down," Percy answered, trying to see sideways through the peephole.

"We apparated. I doubt they can follow us, but the place is crawling with them. How come you've got blocks on apparating in your flat? Those aren't cheap, you know," Snape said. Percy eyed him warily.

"I've got five brothers," he said. "Four of whom enjoyed apparating into my flat and sleeping on my couch. A man needs some privacy. Why were Death Eaters chasing you?"

"Remus got into a little trouble," Snape drawled. "He gave them the slip and chanced to run into me. When we tried to leave the Leaky Cauldron, one of them sounded the alarm. We barely made it here."

"You've got to help us, Percy," Remus said. Snape smirked.

"He's already got me helping him, Weasley. Might as well throw in with us. You work for the Ministry, perhaps you can give us a real hand."

"You've done all you could," Remus murmured, to Snape, who looked vaguely stoic. Percy felt as though he were genuinely two steps behind, instead of just acting like it.

"What, exactly, do you need?" he asked, without hesitation. He'd heard Lupin was making trouble in Wales, where there was a Death-Eater stronghold. He wasn't /listed/ as Remus Lupin, of course; the Agency didn't use real names. Percy vaguely thought it was something to do with -- wasn't it Moon Man or somesuch?

No reason to blow his own cover, though.

"I have all his information. I doubt they saw my face," Snape said. "It wouldn't be difficult to take it back to Dumbledore. But Lupin here has to get out of the country."

"France," Lupin said. He was sitting up, now, and Percy could see that the reason Snape had been supporting him was a gash in his side, which he was holding his wand against. It was slowly closing up. "I have friends in Paris who can make me disappear for a while. I need traveling papers, and a train ticket."

"Muggle transport?" Percy asked, surprised.

"Can't apparate that far and be safe about it," Remus said.

"And portkeys aren't being used since the Diggory Incident," Percy murmured.

"And they're flying patrols," said Snape, with a significance that Percy's ears picked up.

"Who are?" he asked.

"Death Eaters. Night patrols by broomstick, on every coast."

Percy's eyes widened. "Does the Ministry know?"

"They will, when I get to Dumbledore."

Death Eaters patrolling the British coast! They'd lost two agents there last week! They'd blamed it on high winds...

"You'd better go," Percy said to Snape. "That's not something that ought to wait. I can take care of him. I've got...contacts in the Ministry, I can get him papers."

"But can you get him to the train station?"

"Of course."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "You are very young, Mr. Weasley, to be so easily confident."

"If you didn't want my help, you shouldn't have come to me," Percy replied. Remus laughed.

"He's got you there, Sev," he said. "Go. You weren't hurt, were you?"

"Nothing a stiff drink and my own bed won't cure," Snape said. "I'll apparate straight back to Hogsmead. Look after yourself, Weasley. Don't trust anyone."

"I'll owl you when he's on the train," Percy answered. Snape let himself out, waited until the bolts had slid shut behind him, and apparated.

"I've got some papers that need to go back to the Ministry today in any case. I'll take them in and see about getting you a new passport. I think I've got a Muggle camera around here somewhere, we have to take your picture..."

***

In the end, Snape was right. Getting to the station was at least as difficult as getting on a train would be, in a city full of Wizards, both ordinary and Death Eater alike.

"They had watchers on the entrance. We're being followed now," Remus said, as they descended the steps into the train station. "If we buy a ticket, they'll know. I think you're going to have to come along, at least until we're out of London. Otherwise they'll go after you, too."

"What should we do?" Percy asked, hoping Lupin would give him the same answer he was thinking of.

"We can get on the train and buy them once we're moving, but they'll still follow us." The man's eyes narrowed. "If we can get outside -- if we can give them the slip -- the train won't speed up for a couple of minutes, we can..." he began to look around. "Find a train with a shipping car on the end. We'll go through that way."

"It's like something out of an adventure novel, isn't it?" Percy asked, as they began to weave slowly through the trains, crossing to other platforms. "Like the book Ron's been reading, Treachery on the Hogwarts Express."

He could see the Death Eaters following them -- subtlety was not a strong point of the sort Voldemort chose to chase down his enemies. Talking, even about idiot things, did help.

He was ready when Lupin saw their chance; the older man pulled him suddenly into the doorway of the mens' room, and closed it behind them, sealing it with a locking spell.

"Time for a little Muggle strategy," he announced, pointing his wand at a window and shattering it -- silently -- with a gesture. "The old classics never die..." he added, allowing Percy to give him a push up and through the small window. When Percy was sure Lupin was clear, he followed.

"They're training you lads a treat at Hogwarts," Remus said, giving him a strange look. They were in a scrubby back-alley of sorts, and they wouldn't have much time once the Death Eaters figured out that the door was sealed.

And there, at the far end of the station, was a train preparing to pull out.

Both men bolted, running shoulder-to-shoulder down the narrow alley, hurdling trash cans and assorted rubbish as they went. The train began to move just when they hit the edge of the station, and Percy knew they had perhaps four seconds to get on it before it was moving too fast -- or the Death Eaters saw them.

Remus leapt for the train first, scrabbling onto it and clinging to the rail for dear life. Percy, rather than be left behind, had no choice but to grab onto Remus. Wrapping his arms around the other man's shoulders, he struggled for purchase, not wanting to think about the fact that his back was exposed to the station and his feet were two inches from the rather fast- moving ground.

And then, just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, someone began pounding on his head.

Remus, he saw, was still clinging on, carrying both their weights; whoever was attacking them -- and Remus' wildly blowing hair made it impossible to tell -- seemed to be beating his arms with one hand and Percy's head with the other, trying to get them to let go. Remus couldn't defend himself. Percy couldn't get to his wand without letting go. So, under assault, out of breath and irritated, Percy did what all Weasleys do when they're in trouble --

Something Really Stupid.

He disengaged his left hand, got it as close as he could to his wand, closed his eyes, and let go of Lupin altogether.

"WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!" he screamed, clutching at his wand and stabbing the tip into his back. He was falling, he was going to DIE --

He was floating, about a foot off the ground. The train began to recede into the distance, a pale figure still beating Remus mercilessly about the arms.

"Sod that," he muttered, and turned. Sparks shot from the tip of his wand as he arrowed straight for the train. He cleared the railing with ease, crashed into their attacker, and thumped them back against the door into the cargo car. There was the sound of tearing fabric.

Percy was on his feet first, and pulling Remus over the rail; their attacker moaned, and Percy kicked backwards for good measure. Now was not the time to play by the fair rules of combat. There was a thud, and another groan.

"Bloody /hell/," Remus said, staring downward once he'd found his feet on the tiny platform. "Fleur Delacour, of all people."

Percy blinked, looked down, and let out a little heartfelt moan.

***

They laid her out on a wooden pallet in the cargo car, once they'd caught their breath. An Enervate spell seemed to be in order, and once she'd woken, Fleur launched into a stream of French that left little doubt in either man's mind that sailors would have blushed, if they knew what she was saying.

"All right," she said finally, in English. "You aff me. What are you goink to do with me?"

"Do with you?" Lupin said. "Miss Delacour, we were not chasing you."

"Oh? Oh? Zen why do you leap upon zee train and kick me on my body?" she demanded.

"You were beating me on the head!" Percy shot back. "I thought you were a Death Eater! I'm still not sure you're not!"

"You were trying to get onto my train car! I zought YOU were a Deaff Eatair!"

"Do we /look/ like evil minions?" Percy asked, gesturing to his waistcoat and tie. His jacket was thoroughly torn, and he took it off to inspect it. Probably caught on something as he rammed into Fleur at a good fraction of lightspeed. "Why were you on the train?"

"I am goink home to France, and did not 'ave means to buy a ticket," she said, scowling. "And why are /you/ 'ere?" she demanded, moving from the pallet to a slightly softer set of womens' travelling luggage.

Percy, taking stock of the ruined coat, draped it on a giant box labeled THIS SIDE UP. It was, because of certain natural laws which always apply in this sort of situation, upside-down. Lupin, he saw, was wandering disinterestedly away, inspecting the luggage in the corners, apparently secure with Fleur's story.

"We were trying to make the train," he said, his breathing finally slowing. "We didn't have time to get tickets."

Her eyes narrowed. "You are a bad liar, Mr. Oueasely."

"Weasley. And I'm quite a good liar, thank you."

"Hah! You lie again!"

"I'm the best liar /you'll/ ever meet," he said, looking at her over the edge of his glasses.

"Only eef I were raised een a little tiny box -- "

"Enough, children," Remus growled from the corner. There was a hole in the side of the luggage car, and he was looking through it, making sure his face was well back in the shadows. "Quiet until we're out of here. You can start bickering again when we pass the city line."

"But -- "

"Be quiet, Fleur," Remus said, in a voice so sharp that even Percy winced.

Fleur tucked her legs up against her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She studied the passing cityscape through another hole, while Percy joined Remus at his.

They rode, swaying with the bumps and stops of the train, for a good fifteen minutes. All three watched closely as the "NOW LEAVING LONDON" sign passed.

"Who says you /weren't/ raised in a little box!" Percy said to Fleur, as if a quarter of an hour hadn't just gone by in silence. "You act like it. And we're not children!" he added, turning on Remus.

"Don't sulk, Percy, it's not manly," Remus replied with a slight smile.

"And anyway, it's not as though we don't have the money for tickets," Percy said, ignoring him to talk to Fleur again. "At least we don't have to sneak out of the country because daddy wouldn't buy you a ticket back."

"You unnersztand noffing!" Fleur scoffed. "I do not, 'ow you say it, ride on my fazer's tailcoats like Ministry brats!"

"MINISTRY BRATS!" Percy roared. "At least /Ministry Brats/ have the good sense not to -- "

"Oh! You are szo uncivil! I cannot listen!" Fleur held up a thin-fingered hand delicately, and turned a quarter-turn to her left. It was worse than if she'd run away; then she might have meant it. The turn was just enough to look like she wanted to get away with the added implication that the /gesture/ of her leaving was more important than her, actually, leaving.

Besides, then she wouldn't have gotten to see the look on his face.

There was a quiet chuckle from Remus' corner. "Let her go, lad," he said.

"And I know you, Remus Ooloopin! I know you are not 'catching zhee train' for a pleasure jaunt!"

Now she had Lupin's full attention.

"How much do you know?" Percy asked softly.

"Why should I -- "

"How /much/," he continued, gripping her arm, "Do you /know/, Fleur?"

"You are asszaulting a diplomatic ambassador!" she said haughtily.

"Oh? Call the Aurors," Percy hissed.

"And zen you can explain to zem 'ow it is zee son of a Ministry ofeecial is stowingk away on a muggle train!" she said brightly. "Ow excellent! Zat /weell/ be fun."

He let go of her arm. "How do you know where Lupin's going?"

"I do not! I know where 'e /'as been/. zat's eenough."

"And," Percy said, mustering up his patience, "How do you know that, pray?"

She gave him a brilliant smile. "Zat is for mee to know -- "

"Oh, for crying out loud," Remus said. "Has she /got/ a skull on her arm, Percy?"

"No, but -- "

"Then for my own sanity, let it drop. We'll stay on this side of the car, you stay on that side, Ms. Delacour, and when we get to France we'll pretend we don't know each other."

Percy crossed his arms, turned away, realised what a fool he looked liked, uncrossed them, picked up his jacket, and moved to a giant steamer trunk, next to Remus, who had managed to make a nest for himself out of packing crates and dufflebags.

"I think if I can find some thread, and just stitch it up here -- " he began, after a few minutes' silence, wanting Remus' opinion on the matter.

"Make yourself a favor and szrow it out," Fleur suggested. "You cannot mean to wear zat if you are in my country for any length of time."

"Oh? And why not?"

"Nobody wears zat cut in France."

"Thank you, Fleur Delacour, fashion consultant," Percy snapped. He'd rather been thinking that the coat was about ready to be retired, but having this.. this Beauxbatons schoolgirl tell him he was unfashionable was too much. "And you're not a diplomatic ambassador, either, don't think you were going to slip that past me."

Remus covered his face with his hands.

"It iz my standing in England," she said. "/You/ don't know."

"If you're an ambassador I'll eat my wand."

"I have all zee rights of one, as an agent of a foreign government," she recited, in a passably good imitation of a posh politician.

"I see France still can't pay its interns enough for train tickets back," Percy drawled.

"Szometimes it is better to travel unszeen," she said softly, flicking imaginary dust off of her clothes.

Percy froze.

"That's why we have fire," he replied, in an undertone. "To see the shadows with."

Fleur stared at him.

"You?" she said, with a slight giggle. "Percy Oueasely -- "

"Remus, I'm going to get some air," Percy said quickly, grabbing her wrist. She tilted one eyebrow at him -- again with the touching? -- and followed him out onto the small back platform of the car. Remus gave him a sleepy acknowledgement, then rolled over with his face to the wall and slept.

"He doesn't know!" Percy said urgently, letting go of her once they were outside.

"Do not 'aul me about like a sack of potato sacks please!" she said hotly. Her eyes flashed. "I don't believe /you/ are from zee TSMA!"

"What the hell are you doing with TSMA code-phrases?" he asked. "You're bloody well not Ministry, I do know that."

"Ah, you zink your Ministry is ze only top-secretest hush hush only-eyes agency?" she scoffed. "I was in zer city to recieve papers for zee Conseil le Consultatif Magique Français. Zere, now you know. And I had to get out zis way because zee Death's Eaters, zey are patrolling -- "

"How come everyone but the Ministry knows this?" Percy wailed.

"Your Ministry, zey are...well, not so bright," Fleur said, as if speaking of a mentally disturbed child. Very gently, but very authoritatively. "Plus of course, zey do not want to see what is under zeir noses."

"We should exchange notes, you and I," he said, beginning to feel excited at the prospect of having outside contacts. The Ministry didn't seem to care to cultivate them. "I'm sure I know things that would be helpful -- "

"We will not speak of government business on zee back of a /train/, it is not natural," she said firmly.

"Fine, would inside work for you?" he asked, wearily.

"Away from Ooloopin," she added.

"Well, yes, I don't want to blow my cover either," he snapped.

"Notes," she said dubiously. "Why should I trust you?"

"You almost got me killed, I think that sort of counts towards it," he answered diffidently, as she led the way back inside. They retreated to the opposite corner from the sleeping man, and Fleur settled down between two large packing boxes, while Percy flopped on a large travelling backpack.

"So how does this start?" he asked. "We play secret agent truth or dare, or what?"

Fleur scowled. "Truth," she said, "Zere are patrols on every coast."

"All right, fair enough. How'd you hear it?"

"I found out. Zey nearly shoot me down, when I fly into the country. Later, I compare notes, as you say, with others. Owl mail being tampered with. Messages from zee Ministry to zee Conseil being read."

"What's the situation like in France?"

"Orrible. Zee Orlean Group -- like your TSMA, yes? -- we haff eight people for one big country. Nobody in France wishes to believe in zee return off You Know Who."

"We've got maybe thirty, in Britain, but we've got a lot more Death Eaters, I think," Percy answered. "Activity's mostly in London right now, and some up in Scotland, we think."

"Zere are none in Paris; Parisian wizards are too easy-relaxed to be Deaff Eatairs. You English, you are so tense. No wonder /he/ came from England."

"That's my country you're talking about," Percy snapped.

"Deny eet eef you can," she replied calmly. "Anyway, zee Conseil does not know elbow from armpit, so we act on our own."

"We're doing the same. And I hear Canada's got an auxiliary militia, just in case anyone gets any funny ideas."

"Really? Can zey not send zem to help us, who are full of funny idea Deaff Eatairs?"

"Don't look at me, I'm just a kid," Percy replied, a trifle bitterly. "And you're awfully young to be in the service, too."

"Servaice is hereditation."

"Hereditary?"

"Maybe zat too. My mozzer was in zee service. She was killed, I take 'er place."

It was said in such a calm tone that Percy glanced over at her. She was looking at him with the utterly blank stare he'd seen on long-time TSMA men.

"I'm sorry about your mother," he said.

"Why? It was not your fault, and you do not know me ver' well." She crossed her arms, leaning her chin on her knees. "Ow long do you think we will go on like zis?"

"Like what?"

"Oh, zer Cold War. Nobody speaking about it until zer Ministry and Conseil decide it's really happening. And zen how will we fight? Zis is not a war using tanks and that."

"Dunno really. I suppose Dumbledore's got a plan."

Fleur sniffed. "I 'ope it is a good one."

Percy lay, thinking for a while, and then pulled out his wand. "Move over," he commanded, squeezing into the gap with her. The boxes rose up on either side, and it felt safe here. He traced a square in the air with the tip of his wand, and sketched out a glowing map of Britain, France, and Spain.

"Most of our Death Eater activity, except of course the coastal patrols, is in London, and up here along the Scottish border. We've got reports that there's some activity in Spain, but I can't confirm that," he added, drawing a little question mark in over Spain.

"Yes, I can," she said, taking out her own wand and turning the question mark into a glowing dot of light. "Zee suburbs of Barcelona."

"Brilliant," Percy sighed. "Right, so where are your hot-spots?"

"Here, and here," she said, sketching areas around Alsace and the southern border. They stared at the map for a while.

"What if we started an underground network?" Percy asked. "I've always wanted to belong to one of those."

"Underground?"

"Quiet-like."

"What for?"

"Well, if we're all ignoring our respective governments, more or less, we ought to be able to work together without worrying about international secrecy laws. Who cares if Fudge won't tell your government what the Death Eaters are doing? Someone who knows Fudge will know, and they'll tell me, and -- "

"You will tell us?"

"Sure, why not?"

She gave him a curious look. "You are very trusting, Percy Oeasely."

"Weasley."

"Off course."

***

When the conversation strayed from Departmental Business to the merits of using the new Muggle "computer" devices in wizarding schools and businesses, Percy saw that Fleur was beginning to drift off; he turned on his best "Head Boy" charm -- or lack thereof -- and let her fall asleep listening him to pontificate on morals in the Wizarding world. He head rested on the edge of the box she was leaning against, her hip pressed against his.

He rose, quietly, and dug through a likely-looking bag until he found a book to read -- some Muggle novel -- and settled back in next to her. She adjusted her shoulders; there was a red mark on her face where the box pressed into it. He gently tilted it the other way -- at least then she wouldn't look like she'd been smacked across the face with a wand. Her pale hair fell over his shoulder, glittering in the gloom of the luggage car.

"What are you readink?" she said, after a while. He hadn't noticed she was awake.

"Rubbish of some kind," he answered. "Muggle book. Apparently someone killed someone else and they've all got to find out who did it before they kill again. Interesting in its own way. Do you know what a..." he flipped back a few pages, "a 'daquiri' is?"

"Non," she replied. "A type of 'at, per'aps."

"Mysterious."

"My family 'as never encouraged interest in Muggle activities," Fleur said with a yawn. "Noffink against zem, mind you."

"My dad's mad for Muggle things," Percy replied. "His last insanity was a Boom Box. You put little bits of metal in them and they play music -- it's pretty wild."

"Poor things. Life must be zo uninterestink," Fleur said.

"They seem to do all right. Anyhow, it's not our concern. We've got enough to do just keeping the wizarding world sane."

"You Englaish," she said with a sleepy laugh. "So serious. Always zer job. I blame Ogwarts."

"Oh?" he asked, school spirit welling up inside him. "And what's so great about Beauxbatons?"

"Dancing," she said.

"Sorry?"

"We learn to do zings we love. Like dancing," she said. "Zere is an Englaish word. Groove," she said. Percy laughed. "We get our groove on."

"You do, do you?" he asked. She used his shoulder to push herself gracefully to her feet, and did a quick, graceful gavotte.

"We dance," she said, with a sparkle in her eye. "We learn to take life on our toes."

"I learned to face life with my feet on the ground," Percy replied.

"You szee? My point," she said, twirling. "Come. You know ow to dance, do you not?"

"On a train? Stowed away? With Death Eaters very likely crawling the countryside looking for us?"

"Zee best sort of dance," she said, and he narrowed his eyes. Veela charm.

Irresistable Veela charm.

He stood, laying the book aside. "It's been years since I did any decent dancing," he muttered. She laughed, and nudged a suitcase aside with her foot. He was fairly sure she was leading, when she drew him into the waltz, but he found he didn't mind.

Dancing on a train, in the semi-darkness, a fugitive from some very dangerous people.

"You concentrate too much," Fleur said.

"It's my nature," he replied. "I study things. I think about things."

"Do not think."

"Thanks for that," he sighed. "And this is what they taught you while we were playing Quiddich and taking Arithmancy?"

"Per'aps," she replied. "Per'aps you learned to be so serious because you did not dance often enough."

"I'm dancing now."

"Very ill, too."

"You're too kind."

"I think Ogwarts boys value 'onesty," she said, letting him pull her a little closer. They swayed in time with the train, and some inner music that Fleur could obviously hear quite well. "Do you?"

"Hm?" he asked absently.

"Do you value zee truth?"

"Absolutely."

She smiled at him, that Veela smile, and kissed him on the nose. He blinked. He had been kissed before, and he'd kissed girls before, but never on the nose.

"Is that a Beauxbaton lesson too?" he asked softly. Her smile widened.

"That," she said, "Is a Delacour lesson. From me to you."

"And what should I learn?"

"Zat zee moment is meant for dancing," she said. "And when presented with a 'andsome man and a quiet boxcar..."

He grinned. "One should take advantage of the situation?"

"Oui yes," she said, as he kissed her.

"We're both scared," he said, against her neck. "We're both alone, aren't we?"

"You prefer to read; I prefer to seek company," she answered.

"I like your way of doing things."

Her hand gripped his arm as he found a particularly sensitive spot. "You take to it well," she murmured. He pulled her back towards their hiding- spot, holding her waist as they kissed, touched...and took life on their toes, seizing the advantage of a sympathetic companion, and a deserted boxcar.

END