fandomhigh | BWI Airport Portalocity Lounge, Saturday morning

Malia had never been out of California before. Or Beacon County, for that matter. She'd barely been out of Beacon Hills proper, and that was mostly as a coyote hunting for food.

So this was new and exciting! Or, you know, new at least. She was going to school. One that didn't, as far as she could tell, require her to learn math. So right there it had one up over BHHS. It also didn't have Scott or Stiles, which was not a point in its favor, but in the end, she'd decided that not having to struggle through eleventh grade math beat out getting to have the few people she knew around, especially when Scott agreed he could try to teach her control over the internet.

So here she was. Her ears still felt stuffed full of cotton from the plane, and the whole airport smelled like cleaning fluid and anxiety, and she was managing to claw tiny holes in the upholstery with claws that didn't want to stay hidden away like they were supposed to, but hey. At least she was having an adventure?

[IT'S NEWBIE SHUTTLE TIME! Up early-ish because work has been dumb this week and I might be slow.]

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"No, that's my dad," he told her. "I'm Harry."

He'd feel better when he heard more English accents there.

Now Clare was under the impression that James was just a hugely popular name in Great Britain. "I'm Clare. Hullo."

"So what brings you to Fandom?" he asked, immediately realizing he was going to have to come up with an answer to that question himself.

"Oh, well, I applied," Clare said. "President Bill Clinton came to visit our city on account of the Troubles being over and all and so me and my friends, we wrote to Chelsea Clinton but never did she write us back, which was really quite rude, but while we were looking up where she lived, I came across the school and I thought maybe I should just try out America myself and maybe figure out what was keeping Chelsea so busy that she couldn't write us back?"

That. That was a lot of information, Clare.

And coming from 1996, Harry didn't see a single weird thing in any of that. Well, he did, but the timeline seemed pretty solid.

"So you're here for Chelsea Clinton."

Clare nodded. "I looked on a map and the White House doesn't seem that far away!"

American geography: not a priority at Our Lady Immaculate.

"It's good to have goals," Harry said. It didn't sound exactly right but be figured security would kick her out anyway.

Oh, she would definitely get kicked out and not just because Chelsea Clinton hadn't lived there in 20 years.

"I always think so," Clare agreed chirpily. "What brings you to America, Harry?"

As an exchange student. A million fanfics had been written about this.

Damn, he really should have come up with something when he thought of it.

"My last school... closed."

Sure, Harry, nice going.

"Oh, really?" Clare said. "How so?"

Harry tried to think of the most normal thing he could. The exact opposite of "dark wizard."

"There was asbestos."

"Och, that's terrible!" Clare said.

BWI Airport Portalocity Lounge, Saturday morning

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