Fleur clutched onto the parchment in her hands with trembling fingers. The younger students have already ran up to bed, but a few seventh years held back, contemplating whether entering was worth it or not. The French witch swallowed past the lump that formed in her throat. At Hogwarts, she was just as lonely as any other time, but a certain blow to her defenses wore down on her mental state that was already ragged. Tears prickled in the corner of her eyes, but she swore to herself she would not break down here. As she slowly forced one foot in front of the other, she recalled the events with Luna that took place just ten minutes ago.
"H-Hello, Luna." stammered Fleur nervously. It was like a dream she was afraid she'd wake up from. Luna was right there! But wait, she was wearing a look of utter confusion.
"Uhm, hi... Do I know you?" questioned Luna hesitantly. The air was ripped from her lungs even though the airy tone Luna trademarked was normally disarming. Fleur opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to find a way to respond.
"Eh, remember in France?" pleaded Fleur. She was internally berating herself. Of course, Luna wouldn't remember her! It was so long ago, and she probably has better things to think about than her.
Luna opened her mouth to say something, but a voice cut their conversation short.
"Luna, are you coming?" inquired the bushy haired girl who appeared to be everywhere. She was staring at Fleur with an unreadable expression that unnerved the older witch. Harry was shuffling awkwardly behind her, and the redheaded boy was gazing at her once again.
"Yes, I am, Hermione, thank you for coming for me." smiled Luna before she turned back to Fleur. "Goodbye!" Their group of four were setting off with a giggling Luna, and Hermione and Harry wrestling the boy who was infatuated with the part-Veela.
"My name's Ron!" shouted Ron with a wide smile. Fleur was too downhearted to give him a false smile and a wave. Instead, she just stared down at the empty table with a heavy heart.
Reality wiped away the memory just as she reached the Goblet of Fire. She could feel the warmth of the blue flames that scorched through the air. Eyes turned to her, and all attention was on her. It was time to pull on her brave face, and fake it with her bitchy, I'm-better-than-you demeanor. She carefully threw her name into the flames, and watched it disappear. Fleur only took a moment to wonder where it went before she straightened her spine, and put on a smirk before strutting out the Great Hall. She knew all eyes were still on her, so she added a slight sway of her hips.
A few wolf-whistles followed her out the school. If she were any of her classmates, she would relish in the perverted attention she received, but no, she was disgusted by it. The only reason she acted the way she did was to hide her burning secrets and dark feelings so no one would be the wiser. After reaching the carriage, she flung the door open, and stepped inside the enchanted space.
From the outside, it looked like an ordinary carriage, but on the inside, it was a large corridor was rooms. The extravagant door at the end of the hall belonged to the Headmistress. It was firmly shut, so Fleur decided to head off to bed seeing as her tiredness was seeping back into her bones. Laughter and giggles were muffled by closed doors, but she didn't join in with the others' fun, she merely chose to stay out of it in favor of slipping into bed early.
With the door locked, and everyone's attention elsewhere, Fleur plopped down onto the foot of her bed, and put her head in her hands. She felt so alone, and there was not really anything she could do about it. She had no friends at Beauxbatons, and clearly no one at Hogwarts. The sobs tore from her throat, and once they started, it was impossible to reel them back in. So there she was, crying out into her palms, and sniffling like a petulant child. She hadn't felt this sick of herself since two weeks ago.
The reminder of her last release caused Fleur to snap her head up quickly. She had attempted to quit several times, but sometimes things got a little too difficult, and the physical break was a little better than her mental and emotional one. Yet after every single time she came down from her personal high, the evidence of what she had done, and the blood that caked her hands made her want to vomit. Sometimes she did... but that was ages ago. She learned to grow numb instead.
After making sure the door was tightly locked, Fleur reached underneath her mattress, and found solace in the cool texture of a blade. Her mind was already beginning to slow down, and she sighed. She was smart about where she carved in to. Beauxbatons girls hardly wore long-sleeves and pants, even though Fleur would prefer that to the powdered blue short skirts and thin blouses that were accustomed. Therefore, she couldn't really scar her arms or thighs in fear of someone catching a fleeting peek.
So that's why Fleur was sitting on the edge of her bed, on edge herself, and was raising her blouse. Years of fading scars littered her stomach. Some were white and raised into fading scars, while some were newer, ugly jagged messes. Fleur set the blade against her flesh, and slowly applied pressure as she drew it across.
The French witch knew better than to cut too deeply lest she black out, and someone catch her. A thin trickle of blood trailed down, but before it could seep into the waist of her skirt, she ran a finger over the drop, smearing it over her skin. The contrast of her pale skin and the scarlet of her blood was beautiful in a way to her, and it was something she found beauty in every single time.
A lazy smile graced her lips, and she decided that was enough for the night. After carefully tucking the blade back underneath her mattress, she grabbed a hand cloth from the bathroom, and gently pressed it to the shallow wound that was already starting to stop bleeding. Fleur lied down on her bed with one arm propped up beneath her head, and the other pressing the cloth to her skin.
The part-Veela stared up at the ceiling, thinking about what was to come if she was accepted into the tournament. A flickering image of Luna passed by her closed eyelids, and her heart constricted. Banishing all thoughts whatsoever, Fleur forced her mind to go blank, and that's how it remained until she was asleep.
...
The first rays of sunlight broke through Fleur's curtains, and spilled over her eyelids, causing them to flutter. With an irritated scowl, she flung the comforter away from her body, and slowly leaned forward until she sat on the side of her bed. Fleur ran a hand through her disheveled hair, and across her sweaty face. Another nightmare plagued her unconscious mind, yet she had no recollection of it when she awoke, leaving her troubled and angry.
Noises broke out behind Fleur's door. They must be awake as well. With a sigh of defeat, Fleur detangled her body from the sheets, and set to work on finding fresh clothes to put on for the day ahead.
She absentmindedly scratched an itch on her bare stomach, and yelped in surprise. The haze that fogged her sleep-ridden mind began to dissolve, and last night's actions replaced it. Fleur cringed before she braced herself to look down at the work she had made. A red line marred her already scarred flesh. A mirthless chuckle peppered with a hint of self-hatred worked its way out of her throat. Fleur always adored the art of painting, and it seems she found the perfect canvas to litter with lines and red paint.
A loud banging echoed off her door, startling her so bad she was frozen where she stood. Madame Maxime called out ("Lesson's are about to start, dames!") before marching down the corridor for the next poor girl to scare awake. Heart pounding rapidly in chest, Fleur scrambled through her drawer for a shirt, any shirt, to hide the evidence of what she had done. Now, Fleur isn't the most girly-ish person you could ever meet, and she had a lot more complicated things on her mind, but even she had to find bottoms that would look cute with her top.
After her usual morning routine in the bathroom, Fleur unlocked her door, and made her way down to the single room where a few Beauxbatons girls were already lining up in front of. From an onlooker's perspective, there was no way there could be any more room in the already-too-large carriage. Yet, the classroom was perhaps the biggest room on the bus. After all, it had to store several girls and their teacher/Headmistress for the time being.
Fleur made polite conversation with the few Beauxbatons girls she could stand, but she caught wind of a strong perfume that made her eyes tear up and her throat start constricting. Even through her now haze-riddled mind, Fleur knew exactly who was coming: Madeline Niham. If Fleur wasn't too busy choking on the perfume, she would have groaned aloud in pure irritation.
Rumor has it that just as Hogwarts is split into four Houses, Beauxbatons is split into its own three sections, and Fleur could tell you that those rumors were one hundred percent correct. First, there were the bitches. The classic run-of-the-mill, I'm-better-than-you assholes who basically ruled the school. Fleur was in that section, yet she wasn't very popular... she wondered why. Next, there were the sluts. With good looks and even better bodies, these girls (and even guys) were not ashamed to flaunt themselves to get whatever or whoever they wanted. Lastly, there were the slutty bitches... combine everything about the first two, and that's the result. That was Madeline's section.
"'ello Fleur, I couldn't 'elp but to notice 'ow you were gawking at a leetle girl last night during ze feast." snorted Madeline with a cuel glint in her eye. The rather decent-sized group of girls behind her were guffawing as though the heard the best joke of their lives. It made Fleur want to smack them more than she wanted Madeline.
"I was not gawking at the girl." she retorted sharply. "I was merely stunned to 'ave caught sight of 'er after so long." The anger inside her was bringing out her French accent.
"It looked to me as though you were drooling." snipped Madeline with a cold grin that made Fleur's eye twitch.
"Non!" snapped Fleur angrily. "I was not!"
"Really, I zink you were about to pounce." whispered Madeline, amused at how ruffled up she was making Fleur.
"Enough!" shouted Made Maxime, startling everyone that was too busy paying attention to the spat between Fleur and Madeline to realize their Headmistress' arrival. "Ze two of you will explain to me ze meaning of zis argument after class."
Needless to say, the entire class period was filled with nasty looks and dread as the clock ticked away their precious detention-free moments. When the timer went off signaling the end of the first period, only Fleur and Madeline stayed back as the others used their little break before coming back. Madame Maxime stood at her desk in front of the other smaller desks with her arms crossed over her chest and a frown on her face.
"Now, tell me why my students were 'uddled around like zey were watching a street performer." ordered Madame Maxime coolly.
"She started it!"
"Non, it is not my fault you were staring at zat leetle girl like she was ze one who 'ung the moon and stars!" countered Madeline huffily. Madame Maxime's eyes widened marginally before she cooled her features into an unreadable mask.
"Miss Nahim, you receive a week's detention." said the Headmistress evenly, which prompted outraged replies. "Leave my classroom until ze next period."
Fleur watched as the furious redhead stalked off, but not without catching her eye, and giving her a triumphant smirk. After the door slammed, Fleur's nerves were written all over her face. She turned back to face Madame Maxime to offer weak apologies, but the Headmistress was observing the younger witch closely. Upon closer inspection, the giant woman's features softened, and she patted Fleur gently on the shoulder.
"So, is zis true, Fleur? 'ave you found your mate?"
Fleur gave her a shaky nod, and was thoroughly surprised when she was enveloped in a gentle, but bone-crushing hug.
"I am 'appy for you, chéri." gushed Madame Maxime.
Fleur was all too glad to melt into the motherly embrace, but she couldn't. Did she really find her mate? Granted, the little witch wasn't a mere illusion she invented with her mind, she was very much within her close proximity, but that was just it. Yes, she found Luna, but the way Fleur saw it, she didn't find her mate. She couldn't do any of the things mated couples do, so again, did she really find her mate?
"She is far too young, and she does not even remember me." muttered Fleur sadly. A finger hooked underneath her chin, and lifted her head that was hung low.
"Enfant, why should zat spoil your 'appiness?" Madame Maxime asked. "Ze way I see it, she is alive and 'ealthy, and 'as not completely thrown out ze idea of becoming amis, friends."
"I do not think I could just be her friend forever." whispered Fleur hollowly. "Does that make me selfish, Madame Maxime?"
"Whatever for?" questioned the Headmistress, genuinely shocked and confused ny the question.
"I want her to be happy, I really do, but I couldn't live if it was with someone else." sniffed Fleur, tears streaming down her cheeks, but she didn'y even realize. "Others would be content just knowing the one they love is truly happy, but I don't know if I'm that strong!"
"Shh, ma chérie, shh," soothed Madame Maxime quietly. "Zat does not make you selfish in the slightest. It just means you will love 'er stronger than anyone else could. As long as your 'eart beats, it beats only for 'er."
"You do not think it is weird to love a girl so young?" Fleur asked timidly, afraid of the answer. Madame Maxime only smiled.
"When ze time is right, you will love 'er even more zan you do in zis moment, and zat will be ze greatest magic of all."
...
Morning classes for everyone finished, and lunchtime rolled around. The chilly air was just a nippy as ever as Fleur trekked across Hogwarts grounds, and pulled her coat tighter around herself as she took shelter in the Great Hall. There were vacant seats for her to choose from, but decided to stick to the Ravenclaw table. Not that she was specifically looking (stalking) for someone! Her eyes involuntarily skimmed over the Hall.
Instead of catching a flash of gold, she caught Madeline's cruel stare. Her cassmates' snickers reached her ears, making her blush furiously. Fleur muttered to herself before putting her head down, thoroughly losing her appetite. So what if she stared? She was allowed to look all she wanted! It wasn't like she was acting on her Veela instincts, so she had a right to do whatever she wanted... right?
Someone cleared their throat beside Fleur. She scowled angrily into her arms. Madeline sure did grate her nerves, and she was relentless about doing it. Fleur whipped her head up, ready to shoot down Madeline with a glare of her own, but was stunned by who was standing in front if her. The scowl was wiped away, and her face revealed how dumbfounded she was.
Um, hello, Fleur... right?" greeted Hermione awkwardly.
A/N: So as you can probably tell, I suck at writing French accents, and that is the part I hate about writing Fleur fanfics. I decided to just forget about writing Fleur's accent, but it just doesn't seem right to ditch Madeline's and Madame Maxime's and whoever else shows up. So, just please bear with me on that front, please?