(A/N: Don't worry, I'll always write more soon. I like this story too much
to give up on it. But don't freak if I don't post for a few days. It's
right before term finals, and the professors are piling on the work like
there is no tomorrow. But I promise (cross my heart) that I shall update at
least once a week. Oh, and the teacher is a shout-out to the best French
teacher in the world. And further down, I'll use instead of question
marks to signal them speaking in translated French.)
The castle towered above them, gleaming with the sheen of well-polished old stone. There were towers scattered throughout the skyline, and at least five were being scrubbed at any moment. The students of Hogwarts gathered in front of the carriage, or at least where the carriage was last. It had disappeared as silently as it materialized.
The doors in front of them quietly opened, with the ease of oiled hinges. The students, gently prodded by Madame Torte, walked through this entrance still looking about in awe. One woman was standing there in front of them.
"Est-ce que vous voulez voir le chateau? Bon. Il y a quarante-six chambres, et quatre-vingt dix-huit cheminies." the lady spoke, in a tone as pure as crystal on crystal. She spoke in French, of course, but to them it sounded as if it were pure English. That was the purpose of the very successful spelling of Professor McGonagall. To les etudiants, it seemed as if she were saying, "Would you like to see the castle? Good. There are forty-six rooms, and ninety-eight chimneys."
"Eh, madame? Comment vous appellez-vous?" Madame Torte asked the woman's name.
"Je m'appelle Madame Beaulieu. Ah. Vos chambres sont ici," she announced, pointing out the boys' and girls' temporary bedroom. They would spend the night there, to recuperate from their journey, and then, Mme Beaulieu told them, they would be sorted in the morning after breakfast. Most of the Beauxbatons students were still gone on holiday break, but there were enough to get them acquainted with the school.
Draco, instead of going on a brief tour with everyone else, went to his bedroom. It wasn't a single bedroom, like he had back at Hogwarts, but one with six beds arranged around the heptagonal room. The beds, canopied with black, ebony posts, were the darkest things in the room. The chamber was swathed in creams and pale greens. It made for a striking effect, but the room wasn't homey at all. In fact, the only comforting thing in the whole room was the small window with a seat underneath. It was in an enclave, padded all over with dark red velvet.
Draco padded softly over to this magical window. Sitting down and looking out, he could see snowflakes drifting down in a roundabout way. They glistened against the darkening sky, catching the last few rays of the sun. He was hit by a sudden wave of loneliness. No one he ever knew stuck around for long, turned away by Draco's misunderstood habits. That's why he needed someone more than ever. He hadn't met anyone special during the seven entire years he'd gone to Hogwarts. He thought Pansy had been unique for a while, but then she turned out just like all the other vain, selfish girls in Slytherin. Maybe that would change while he was here as an exchange student. He could meet the girls of his dreams, and sweep her off her feet with his wit and charm. He sighed. No one would ever fall for him. That was the thing of fairy tales, and of romantic young girls.
The door slammed, startling Draco. He stood up rapidly, banging his head on the wall, and alerting the girl who entered to his presence.
The girl was interesting in appearance, to say the least. Her hair, cropped to above her ears, was a pale yet iridescent shade of blue. That, however, was the only thing in colour on her entire body. White robes, and a grey scarf clothed her. Even her pale skin was achromatic.
Hello, miss. Can I help you? He said, unaware of a small trickle of blood forming on his forehead.
I live here; so the question is really can I help you? Oh! You're hurt. Come here, she beckoned. You must have banged your head when I scared you.
You didn't scare me, he protested angrily, but came all the same. Do you go to this school?
Yes, and this is my seventh year. My name is Genevieve, by the way. She added as an afterthought. And your name is.? She prompted.
Draco. Draco Malfoy. Stating this made him feel almost ashamed of his heritage. What if this girl had heard of the terrible things his father had done, and hated him on the spot? But luck was with him this time; she had no knowledge of any of the Malfoys.
So, are you one of the transfers that came over from Hogwarts? Genevieve asked as she cleaned his wound. What's it like there? Are there lots of cute boys?
I wouldn't know. I don't pay attention to that sort of thing. He replied. So, do you know how we are going to be sorted tomorrow?
I'm not quite sure, but I figure it shall be a sort of test, maybe, that quizzes you on your spelling skills. I'm in the Renard house. That's where the mediocre magickers stay. Then there's the Soleil house, which is where the brainy people go. The last house, the one for those who are not very talented in magic, is Longuebas. This room here is the visitor's ward, and you'll stay here tonight, until you're sorted. She explained quite thoroughly.
So why were you in here?
I was assigned as part of the welcoming group, so I decided to check in and spruce up a bit. She said this with a proud air. There were only three people recommended to help, and I was one of them.
Who are the other two? Draco pondered aloud.
They're boys, but I don't talk to them much, and I couldn't tell you their names. Oh, goody. It's dinnertime. We're having a special feast, so we better hurry up and get down there!
She took him by the hand and they rushed down the stairs. Afterward, Draco couldn't have told you where they had gone, or anything along the way. They ran in and out of rooms too quickly to tell what colour they were, much less what they were used for. Soon they reached the dining hall, and Pansy beckoned to him from the front table. Genevieve led him up to the front, where they both sat down in front of the whole school. The meal hadn't started yet, so they weren't late enough to be reprimanded later. After a few minutes, meals Apparated in front of them, hot and steaming.
As they started eating, Pansy whispered to Draco, "Where were you? I was starting to get worried you'd embarrass us by showing up late. And what is wrong with your head?"
Draco looked up with dignity. "I banged my head and had to get it fixed. I wasn't late, so just let it be." And he resumed eating his food.
After the meal was over, and the food had slowly disappeared from their plates, Madame Beaulieu stood up. As the head of Foreign Affaires at Beauxbatons, I would like to introduce the students of Hogwarts. They will be staying with us for the rest of the term so do be kind. They will be sorted in the morning, so make sure you attend the assembly. Also, as it is Christmas Day, I present to you, your presents. With a swish of her wand, presents appeared on the now cleared table.
"Ooh!" Pansy exclaimed. "Presents! And here's mine from you, Draco. I hope its good!"
And it was. Draco had gotten her a delicate bracelet made of twisted unicorn hairs and Demiguise down. It shimmered in the light, and in the dark appeared as merely a smudge on her arm.
"It's beautiful," she gasped, "and looks how it glows! It's the best present ever!"
Draco had just finished opening all his presents except one. He had gotten miscellaneous trinkets, and nothing exceptional, not even from his family. His father had merely sent ten Galleons by owl, and a note from his mother instructing him to spend it well. He glanced at the last packet. It was so small, and carefully bound with lacy green and silver ribbon. A small card fell out as he picked up the gift. He lifted the note and read the neatly engraved card.
"Dear Draco, I'm sorry for anything that may have come between us in the past. Please, accept this gift and my apologies with it. Sincerely, H----"
Damn. The note was smudged, and the name unreadable. Who could have sent this to him? He knew that the first letter was H. Who did he know whose name began with that letter? Harry? No, couldn't be him. Hermione? He couldn't dare to think that. Hagrid? No, because the gamekeeper had his pets, and Draco wasn't one of them. He would think of more names later.
He opened the present, careful not to damage anything inside. At first, he couldn't see anything inside. But as he peered closer, he caught a glimpse of shine. Inwardly, he gasped as he realized what it was. A tiny Snitch, pure gold, was hanging on a silvery cord. The necklace didn't appear long enough o fit around his neck, but as he raised the band to put it on, the charmed metal loosened to fit comfortably. The Snitch settled in the hollow of his neck, where he could feel its tiny enchanted wings beating softly against his skin.
As he left the dining hall, he didn't notice a curly-haired girl watching him. She had watched him all night, taking her eyes off of him only long enough to respond to her companions' questions.
He didn't notice that around her neck shone a similar chain, and that on it hung a tiny broom.
The castle towered above them, gleaming with the sheen of well-polished old stone. There were towers scattered throughout the skyline, and at least five were being scrubbed at any moment. The students of Hogwarts gathered in front of the carriage, or at least where the carriage was last. It had disappeared as silently as it materialized.
The doors in front of them quietly opened, with the ease of oiled hinges. The students, gently prodded by Madame Torte, walked through this entrance still looking about in awe. One woman was standing there in front of them.
"Est-ce que vous voulez voir le chateau? Bon. Il y a quarante-six chambres, et quatre-vingt dix-huit cheminies." the lady spoke, in a tone as pure as crystal on crystal. She spoke in French, of course, but to them it sounded as if it were pure English. That was the purpose of the very successful spelling of Professor McGonagall. To les etudiants, it seemed as if she were saying, "Would you like to see the castle? Good. There are forty-six rooms, and ninety-eight chimneys."
"Eh, madame? Comment vous appellez-vous?" Madame Torte asked the woman's name.
"Je m'appelle Madame Beaulieu. Ah. Vos chambres sont ici," she announced, pointing out the boys' and girls' temporary bedroom. They would spend the night there, to recuperate from their journey, and then, Mme Beaulieu told them, they would be sorted in the morning after breakfast. Most of the Beauxbatons students were still gone on holiday break, but there were enough to get them acquainted with the school.
Draco, instead of going on a brief tour with everyone else, went to his bedroom. It wasn't a single bedroom, like he had back at Hogwarts, but one with six beds arranged around the heptagonal room. The beds, canopied with black, ebony posts, were the darkest things in the room. The chamber was swathed in creams and pale greens. It made for a striking effect, but the room wasn't homey at all. In fact, the only comforting thing in the whole room was the small window with a seat underneath. It was in an enclave, padded all over with dark red velvet.
Draco padded softly over to this magical window. Sitting down and looking out, he could see snowflakes drifting down in a roundabout way. They glistened against the darkening sky, catching the last few rays of the sun. He was hit by a sudden wave of loneliness. No one he ever knew stuck around for long, turned away by Draco's misunderstood habits. That's why he needed someone more than ever. He hadn't met anyone special during the seven entire years he'd gone to Hogwarts. He thought Pansy had been unique for a while, but then she turned out just like all the other vain, selfish girls in Slytherin. Maybe that would change while he was here as an exchange student. He could meet the girls of his dreams, and sweep her off her feet with his wit and charm. He sighed. No one would ever fall for him. That was the thing of fairy tales, and of romantic young girls.
The door slammed, startling Draco. He stood up rapidly, banging his head on the wall, and alerting the girl who entered to his presence.
The girl was interesting in appearance, to say the least. Her hair, cropped to above her ears, was a pale yet iridescent shade of blue. That, however, was the only thing in colour on her entire body. White robes, and a grey scarf clothed her. Even her pale skin was achromatic.
Hello, miss. Can I help you? He said, unaware of a small trickle of blood forming on his forehead.
I live here; so the question is really can I help you? Oh! You're hurt. Come here, she beckoned. You must have banged your head when I scared you.
You didn't scare me, he protested angrily, but came all the same. Do you go to this school?
Yes, and this is my seventh year. My name is Genevieve, by the way. She added as an afterthought. And your name is.? She prompted.
Draco. Draco Malfoy. Stating this made him feel almost ashamed of his heritage. What if this girl had heard of the terrible things his father had done, and hated him on the spot? But luck was with him this time; she had no knowledge of any of the Malfoys.
So, are you one of the transfers that came over from Hogwarts? Genevieve asked as she cleaned his wound. What's it like there? Are there lots of cute boys?
I wouldn't know. I don't pay attention to that sort of thing. He replied. So, do you know how we are going to be sorted tomorrow?
I'm not quite sure, but I figure it shall be a sort of test, maybe, that quizzes you on your spelling skills. I'm in the Renard house. That's where the mediocre magickers stay. Then there's the Soleil house, which is where the brainy people go. The last house, the one for those who are not very talented in magic, is Longuebas. This room here is the visitor's ward, and you'll stay here tonight, until you're sorted. She explained quite thoroughly.
So why were you in here?
I was assigned as part of the welcoming group, so I decided to check in and spruce up a bit. She said this with a proud air. There were only three people recommended to help, and I was one of them.
Who are the other two? Draco pondered aloud.
They're boys, but I don't talk to them much, and I couldn't tell you their names. Oh, goody. It's dinnertime. We're having a special feast, so we better hurry up and get down there!
She took him by the hand and they rushed down the stairs. Afterward, Draco couldn't have told you where they had gone, or anything along the way. They ran in and out of rooms too quickly to tell what colour they were, much less what they were used for. Soon they reached the dining hall, and Pansy beckoned to him from the front table. Genevieve led him up to the front, where they both sat down in front of the whole school. The meal hadn't started yet, so they weren't late enough to be reprimanded later. After a few minutes, meals Apparated in front of them, hot and steaming.
As they started eating, Pansy whispered to Draco, "Where were you? I was starting to get worried you'd embarrass us by showing up late. And what is wrong with your head?"
Draco looked up with dignity. "I banged my head and had to get it fixed. I wasn't late, so just let it be." And he resumed eating his food.
After the meal was over, and the food had slowly disappeared from their plates, Madame Beaulieu stood up. As the head of Foreign Affaires at Beauxbatons, I would like to introduce the students of Hogwarts. They will be staying with us for the rest of the term so do be kind. They will be sorted in the morning, so make sure you attend the assembly. Also, as it is Christmas Day, I present to you, your presents. With a swish of her wand, presents appeared on the now cleared table.
"Ooh!" Pansy exclaimed. "Presents! And here's mine from you, Draco. I hope its good!"
And it was. Draco had gotten her a delicate bracelet made of twisted unicorn hairs and Demiguise down. It shimmered in the light, and in the dark appeared as merely a smudge on her arm.
"It's beautiful," she gasped, "and looks how it glows! It's the best present ever!"
Draco had just finished opening all his presents except one. He had gotten miscellaneous trinkets, and nothing exceptional, not even from his family. His father had merely sent ten Galleons by owl, and a note from his mother instructing him to spend it well. He glanced at the last packet. It was so small, and carefully bound with lacy green and silver ribbon. A small card fell out as he picked up the gift. He lifted the note and read the neatly engraved card.
"Dear Draco, I'm sorry for anything that may have come between us in the past. Please, accept this gift and my apologies with it. Sincerely, H----"
Damn. The note was smudged, and the name unreadable. Who could have sent this to him? He knew that the first letter was H. Who did he know whose name began with that letter? Harry? No, couldn't be him. Hermione? He couldn't dare to think that. Hagrid? No, because the gamekeeper had his pets, and Draco wasn't one of them. He would think of more names later.
He opened the present, careful not to damage anything inside. At first, he couldn't see anything inside. But as he peered closer, he caught a glimpse of shine. Inwardly, he gasped as he realized what it was. A tiny Snitch, pure gold, was hanging on a silvery cord. The necklace didn't appear long enough o fit around his neck, but as he raised the band to put it on, the charmed metal loosened to fit comfortably. The Snitch settled in the hollow of his neck, where he could feel its tiny enchanted wings beating softly against his skin.
As he left the dining hall, he didn't notice a curly-haired girl watching him. She had watched him all night, taking her eyes off of him only long enough to respond to her companions' questions.
He didn't notice that around her neck shone a similar chain, and that on it hung a tiny broom.
