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[A half English student from Beauxbatons arrives at Hogwarts just in time to fall for George Weasley and land in the middle of a war she can’t outrun.]
He shortened his strides to match hers, a quiet ease as he navigated the turns of the halls. Meanwhile she was hyper aware of her breathing, louder than her footsteps and seeming to echo through the castle. She was about to apologize, insist she wasn't out of shape, but maybe all the traveling....
"What's your name?" he asked. "I guess I'll hear it when they call you to be sorted, but I'd kind of like to know it before everybody else does. I met you first, seems fair, or less weird than not knowing."
She tucked her hair behind her ear. Her cheeks felt as red as his hair.
"It's Eleanore. Eleanore Ducharme. It's nice to meet you, George Weasley.
[All recognizable characters and settings belong to the original creator.]