Faint traces of petrichor hung in the air; the smell of dust after a fresh downpour. It was also coupled with the strength of salt water. The smell of freshly-cut grass joined in, the after effects of rain mingling with the wounded grass. She was floating in olfactory bliss. Her quill dancing by its own on the self-scrolling parchment strewn across her stomach. The actual act of writing was sluggish and a hindrance, in her opinion, since it was too slow to keep up with her mind. Her eyes were closed, focused.
She was lying on her back at the end of the docks, legs dangling below. Her slender, naked feet dipped in the crisp salt water as quiet waves nipped at her ankles. Few birds sung around her, but she couldn't hear them underneath the comforting muggle-inspired neo-violin cheerfully singing through her dear headphones.
She felt something gently prodding her side, effectively tearing her from her peaceful bubble. Opening her eyes, slightly groggy from the sleep-like trance in which she had been until then, she watched as a young dirty blond man impassively stared down at her. She held one earpiece away from her head, a single eyebrow raised..
"Eli, middagen er ferdig," was the explanation given to her in a deep, mellow voice.
Huh. She was starting to get hungry, now that she thought about it. The sun was still shiny high in the sky, though she knew it was to set sooner or later, leaving the cloudy sky above the fjord turquoise and purple, subsequently painting salt water with these same dusky hues. It was her favourite time of day. She was glad not to live too high north; the midnight sun could not completely ruin her beloved summer evenings.
Eli swiftly sat up, parchment hovering close next to her as it rolled upon itself. The young man, who was only a few years older than her, offered her his hand so she could easily get up from the dock. Quill and parchment landed softly in her hands once she was standing.
"Takk, Luke."
The blond merely nodded in acknowledgement, and the two were off away from the water and towards the modern-looking manor perched atop a short, leafy cliff, through the generous summer blooms and needle-adorned trees. Their short trek was usually quiet, though it seemed that the young man had other plans this time seeing as he spoke up.
"Hvilket hus vil du være i?" The question was slightly monotone, though not out of ill-will.
The girl didn't mind the broken silence - it was him that enjoyed it the most - and she dreamily answered with, "Drageflukt, kanskje, samme som Mamma... Men Snøsaga er fint også..." It seemed like she hadn't seriously thought about the matter he had spoken of yet. No matter; it wasn't her choice to begin with.
"Pappa følte seg ensom," Luke politely countered, an elegant frown marring his brow. "Du må ikke være en Snøsaga, for å lese bøker." Silence took over as the eleven-year-old girl nodded, his warning advice sinking in.
Still, Eli shrugged, adding with a slight bite, "Jeg kan kanskje ikke velge, men jeg kan håpe."
The young man shook his head, a faint lopsided smile pulling at a corner of his mouth. He ruffled his sister's long hair, earning himself a small 'Oi!' of disapproval as she tried in vain to swat away his large hand from her small scalp.
Once inside, the comforting smell of steamed potatoes and lemoned fish made its way to her nose, and she grinned once more as she greedily breathed it in. Eli set her writing supply away before taking her place at the table.
One quick 'vær så god' later from her mother, the whole family dug in and animatedly spoke about their day. One 'takk for maten' later, the girl retreated to her room and snuggled near her window with the enthralling book she had only recently started reading.
The docks were incredibly busy, that is, if you compared it with its usual vacancy. Chatter wove through the mellow, salty air and few dozens of people. Children waved goodbye to their parents or exchanged heartfelt hugs. Shrunk luggage diligently followed behind children and teenagers alike, though went their own way once they were close enough to the huge ship - the Drakkar, if nitpicking is allowed.
"Eli, kom igjen," Luke spoke up, tearing the girl away from her still observations. He knew her sister well enough to tell she could just stand there and people watch for hours on end. She did so each year, though she never actually left with him before. "Jeg skal gå min egen vei etterpå."
Eli nodded, ersonnable, knowing this was bound to happen. Her brother had his own friends, even though they also got along great with her. "Jeg skal gå og plage noen annen, da," she cheekily replied with a soft smirk.
Her older brother chuckled at her sass, so did her father. Her mother hugged her one last time, a proud smile plastered onto her face, before she grabbed both her shoulders and squatted down to be eye-level with the short girl. She winked, kissed her cheek and let her go, thought not before she whispered an encouraging "Lykke til" in her daughter's ear.
Once their own family goodbyes were said and done, Eli and Luke headed towards the huge ship's entrance. It smelt the sea. True to his word, her brother bifurcated right after a few minutes, though not before encouragingly patting the first year's shoulder a few times. The corridors had no windows, yet small orbs of grey light illuminated them brightly. She knew the different sections were coloured with their house's hues, though the first years' was simply wooden. A single swirly number shone softly on each door.
Four... Three... Five... Four... Four... Five... One... Three...
Wait, one?
Eli had been prepared to bother two, maybe three people, this far away along the Drakkar's line. She certainly wasn't going to complain about avoiding to bother a blooming friendship, yet she couldn't help but wonder why her fellow first year was alienated like that. It didn't make much sense.
She deeply breathed in, nervousness halting her cheekiness. She had never had to make friends before, her brother and his own friends had always included her with them. Steeling her resolve, she raised her knuckles to softly rap against the cherry wood of the door. Hearing a muffled 'Yeah', she slid it open, meekly popping her head inside and asked, "Unnskyld, kan jeg sitte her?"
The boy in front of her had slicked his short platinum hair back and was staring back at her with slightly bored grey irises. "I don't speak whatever," he quickly warned with a smooth accent, annoyance drifting through his tone as if he had been repeating that all day. He almost sounded apprehensive.
"Good thing I also speak English, then," she shrugged, her accent somehow mirroring his, though swiftly smiled as she slid the door closed behind her, taking it as an invitation. The language barrier couldn't have been the only thing keeping people out; purebloods learnt British English at a very young age. Durmstrang's classes were offered in English, considering most students came from various European countries. Still, she sat down across from him, leaning on the large window. "Are you British?"
"Good sense of deduction," was nonchalantly thrown her way. She resented that, though she figured him clueless regarding the school's extensive attendance range. "I'm Draco Malfoy," he introduced himself as he extended his arm for a handshake with a small smile he knew didn't appear as false as it felt. He seemed like he was bracing for her to ditch him any moment.
Perhaps that was exactly what had been happening to him, Eli thought. It was too odd, and quite sad now that it had crossed her mind. She started at his hands for a few seconds, taken aback by the how uptight was the whole situation. They were just students, not meeting the royal family!
"Ellisif Bondevik," the girl still politely replied, smiling, as she accepted his rather firm handshake. British people were so... formal. Too formal. "Eli, for short."
This weird formality might something that was ticking people off. There was a reason why that other school, Hogwarts was it? practically only had British kids there: the suffocating formality.
The boy slowly nodded, leaning back into his fluffy seat. The Drakkar slightly dipped, and the window slowly started to sink below the blue water's surface. A white jellyfish puffed away from the glass, running scared. Silence awkwardly weaved itself in between the two, as they looked out underwater.
"In which house would you like to be?" Eli softly broke out, still looking out the window, fascinated
Draco glanced her way, an unnoticed smirk slowly stretching across his lips, before he smugly answered, "Draygueflewkt."
The girl chucked, amused, before she cheekily corrected his butchered pronunciation with "It's pronounced Drahgehflukt." She looked back at the boy, ignoring the wounded glare he sent her way as she enthusiastically added, "And me too!"
Draco smiled at that, a response at the ready, yet the compartments door harshly opened. A dark redhead popped inside, grinning away wildly as he warmly boomed, "Du!"
"Hei, Bjørn," she greeted back with a soft smile.
Bjørn sported black trousers, a crimson button-up shirt and a simple, slim black tie, all of which partially hidden under a black cape lined red on the inside. Eli would later tell Draco that this was one of the many versions of the school's uniform, though the colours obviously varied depending in what house you belonged.
"Lukas told us it was finally your first year!" the redhead bellowed, already in English mode, sitting down next to the young girl. "You have no idea how many noobs I've freaked out before I found you," he chuckled, leaning back in the seat, friendlily draping an arm around her shoulders. "Who's your new friend?" he inquired as he finally noticed the Brit carefully staring at him.
"Draco," Eli started, before she turned to said boy and added, "This is Bjørn, my older brother's best friend. He's in Raskhavørn, going into his third year."
"Proudly, might I add!" he jibed with a warm smile. The two caught up a bit, obviously getting along perfectly well. Then, Bjørn clapped his hands together once and said, "I'll leave you two lovebirds to it." As he strode out of the small room, he chipped in with, "I'll see you at the after-party, eh?"
"Ja!" the girl piped up, and the door slid closed behind Bjørn. Eli shook her head as she let a small laugh escape from her lips at the sight of Draco glaring confusedly at the door.
His gaze darted towards her at the sound. "What's wrong with you?" he tried to sneer, though his confusion discredited most of his attempt. He then rebuilt his attack stance as he added, smirk, "First name basis? You're already in love with me, I see?"
This only made her laugh more, while Draco's - Malfoy's brow twitched furrowed for a fraction of a second. "Sorry, I forget Brits are touchy about their names," she apologized, though honestly didn't seem all that apologizing. "Still, you're an individual, not your family," she added, shrugging.
The Brit started at her for a second, clearly not expecting that answer. He then shook his head, though something flashed behind his eyes as he said, oddly cheerful and calculative, "After-party, eh? What kind of party?"
It was Eli's turn to smirk, though she hid it underneath a sad smile, understanding full well where he was going with that. He thought it was a private party of some sort, most likely. She nodded as she softly lied with, "Ooh, very exclusive, sorry."
Actually, it was mandatory.
Malfoy and Eli didn't stay alone for too long after that. Moments after the Drakkar had reached its next stop, their compartment's door carefully slid open. A chocolate-haired boy popped in with a kind smile.
"Hei!" he enthusiastically greeted the two of them, taking a seat next to Malfoy.
Eli greeted him back, only to add, "Han kan bare snakke engelsk," as she gestured with her head the platinum blonde, who silently frowned.
The newcomer nodded and turned to him with curiosity etched into his soft, weirdly feminine-like features. "Are you British?"
"Why do you people keep asking me that first?" was all he replied, though the soft accent rolling off his tongue quite confirmed that previous assumption. "What happened to names?"
Eli shrugged her shoulders, contributing with, "Clashing cultures?" with a small, albeit warning smirk. She turned to the other. "I'm from Sør-Trøndelag, and I guess you're from Nord-Trøndelag?"
He nodded with a sharp, inhaled 'ja'. "I'm Ole."
"Eli."
"Draco Malfoy."
Author's note: I will be taking many liberties with this story, mainly because I have fleshed out the entirety of Durmstrang Institute with what I noticed or experienced with Norwegian culture. The school's supposed to be somewhere in Scandinavia, so I'm in the clear as far as I'm concerned.
I will try my best to keep the characters (ie Draco) in character, though he is only child that, in the original, had no culture shock and was dead jealous of Harry Potter. I will do my best to make how he grows up realistic in Norway, far away from the boy-who-lived, from his arrogant, snotty personality in the first book into someone else.
Criticism is greatly appreciated, thanks for reading!