A/N: Yup, this is an 11k-word chapter. It was originally meant to be two separate chapters and the first one should have been posted last weekend, as I had intended. The plan almost worked and I humbly apologize for not being able to keep a predictable schedule. Unfortunately, any sort of control concerning my free time is out of my hands at the moment. Instead of keeping you waiting a bit more, I thought it would be best to mend the two chapters into a longer one and post it as is. Even though it's long, I hope you can find it enjoyable.
Chapter 5.
After a very long night and a much troubled sleep, you wake up indisposed and without the slightest desire to get out of bed. A jolting headache makes you feel like your brain is about to split right down the middle. The soreness in your back, shoulders and limbs reminds you of the number of muscles that didn't get to relax properly as they should.
You wish you could stay in bed all day and try to make up for the nearly sleepless night you just had, but your friends are already knocking on your door every now and then, calling you for breakfast. This is the last weekend before classes, so they must be planning on making the most of it. Somehow you can make out their muffled voices, complaining among them that they are waiting for you and that you have to hurry or everyone will miss the meal. They must be talking quite loudly for their voices to filter all the way from the central hall of the carriage and through your thick door.
That gets your brain in gear and you finally sit at the edge of the bed, stretch both arms above your head, lift the duvet and settle your feet on the cold floor. There's a tingling sensation and some numbness at the tips of your fingers and you open and close your hands several times to try to get rid of it, but it just doesn't go away. Weird. It's probably related to the headache.
You rub your thumbs against the other fingers, distractedly stroking them together, and start to think about the day ahead. There won't be much to do, just drag through breakfast and return to the carriage to read, possibly avoiding thoughts about yesterday. The tingling sensation becomes stronger and you push yesterday to the back of your mind.
Okay, first things first. Brush teeth, shower, dress, meet friends, walk to Great Hall. Right. You get up, straighten your bed and look out the window to check the weather outside. As expected, it's beautiful and cold, with fresh snow everywhere and a few red squirrels skipping about.
In your mind, you start to pick the many clothes to wear for the day. With the rigors of the Scottish winter, you're quite used to thinking in thick layers of clothing by now. Gabrielle sent you a new wildly-colored scarf for Christmas and she'll like to know you are wearing it. Perhaps you might even take a photo later with some of your friends to send her in your next letter.
As you close the small curtains and turn to your closet, you notice its doors are ajar and the outfit you just thought of is now neatly folded on your bed, a few feet away from you.
For a good couple of minutes you just stare at the motionless pieces of clothing arranged in a pile, and then turn to look at the closet, trying to find the explanation for what just happened. Perhaps someone barged in and is messing with you. Suspecting foul play, you walk to the door of your room and run your hands all over it. No, your door still looks solid and very much locked.
You close the closet and sit on your bed, checking to make sure this is the complete set of clothes you'd wanted. Everything matches, including the underwear. You reach out to spread them on the duvet and the tingling sensation returns, though very softly and barely there.
Shaking your head, you undress and go to the bathroom. You take care of your teeth, and then enjoy a quick steaming shower, giving your tensed shoulders some extra lathering and kneading. It's not as effective as a good massage, but this is the best you can manage right now and it works reasonably well at relaxing your muscles.
Wrapping a fluffy towel around, you step out of the shower and settle in front of the mirror. A quick spell dries your hair and you brush it to perfection until it's all tidy. Out of fun, you decide to go for something different and style it sideways and a bit curly at the tips. You have the Veela blood to thank for hair that falls orderly in place however you maneuver it.
Finally, you choose a nice perfume and sprinkle small samples on your wrists and neck. You're about to turn away from the mirror, but the smell reaches you and the effect is instantaneous. The pleasing aroma overpowers your senses at once and you become lightheaded and disoriented with the sensation. You close your eyes and your body starts to swirl unsteadily until a fast grip on the countertop and another hand propped against a wall give you some sense of vertical balance. You take small breaths and wait patiently for this to wear off. Whatever this is.
What is going on today?
In small and cautious steps you walk towards your room, still a little dazed by the whiffs of perfume, when a small memory creeps through your current thoughts, demanding attention. Yesterday, as you were leaving the sixth floor, Fierce-girl accidentally asked about an... odor, was it? You wonder if there's something affecting everyone's perceptions at the school. Frowning, you make a mental note to ask about any unusual illness going around.
You lean on the doorframe between bathroom and bedroom, and then try to recall the memory correctly, but it's harder than you expected. Lots of things about yesterday feel on and off since that mind-boggling encounter with Hermione, mostly because of your misplaced emotions. You ruffle your hair in a fit of impatience and now become doubly annoyed, since you just messed up the neat hairdo you'd spent minutes to prepare. And there you go, back into the bathroom and to fix your hair again, completely letting go of your previous train of thought.
A loud knock rocks your door and you are quick to apologize loudly, speeding up to dress and leave the room.
During the stroll to the Great Hall you remain mostly silent, appreciating the scenery and the candyfloss-snow gathered in the bare branches of the trees. Gabrielle's scarf is wrapped tightly around your neck and every now and then you bury your face almost down to your ears behind it, enjoying the warmth and the soft grazing of the cloth against your skin.
Your friends giggle all the way to the castle, retelling jokes and exchanging some of the latest fresh gossip since the Ball. Moods are light and you're feeling at ease, for a change.
Reaching your destination, at last, you follow the delicious aromas into the Great Hall, noticing it's nearly empty, despite the late hour. Very few students are sitting at the tables, though breakfast is still being served. As soon as you step into the Hall, everyone in the room turns to look at you, staring and gaping for a few seconds. It's been a while since you received such an open display of recognition. The students should be less sensitive to your charms now. How unusual… Not allowing this to be a bother, you ignore them all and walk on.
At the Ravenclaw table, Cho Chang is the only one you're familiar with and she's sitting with a younger blonde girl that you haven't met yet, both chatting and nibbling at small portions of food. Their faces light up when they see you and they immediately welcome your large group to stay with them. Cho introduces her friend around and you notice that the girl, one Luna Lovegood, is quite the character. Her expression is soft and innocent, but she's an attentive observer and you're sure she wasn't sorted into Ravenclaw House because of her good looks.
Striking a conversation with the new acquaintance, she seems to enjoy talking to you and starts to tell you about the unusual and notorious articles published in her father's magazine, The Quibbler. You always liked good conspiracy theories, so you listen carefully while you eat, asking a few controversial questions to spice things up. Soon enough, there are all sorts of wild discussions going around.
Luna moves to sit in front of you and begins to tell you about some bizarre creatures that you've never heard of. You smile a little at the names of a few of the fantastic creatures and even she chuckles when you try to repeat the words and your tongue gets all tied up, in-between the correct pronunciation and your crazy accent. Umgubular Slashkilter in particular has you both laughing hard as she pronounces it over and over again and you try to get it right, failing miserably every time.
Luna looks around and softly makes you a request, "The lemon rolls are delicious, Fleur. Can you please pass me the tray? It should be easy for you."
The girl gives you a peculiar look and smiles, but you pay it no mind. You're already getting used to her odd comments and how they always seem to be spot on about details that almost no one else notices. You look for the tray of lemon rolls and it's a bit farther down the table, right where there's no one else to help.
After appraising the distance, you believe you can reach it, so you bend sideways and stretch out your arm as much as you can, but you quickly discover it's the wrong tray. The one with the lemon rolls is rather far away. You half-stand to stretch further, realizing it's silly of you to do this when it would be much simpler to just summon it to you. As soon as 'Accio' crosses your mind, the tingling at your fingertips returns full force and the tray swiftly slides a full meter, landing right into your grasp.
You recoil your hand very slowly and blink a few times, looking hard at the tray. Shaking, you sit again and finally retrieve your wand from where it's been all along, buried deep in an inner pocket of your robes. You set it down on the table and blankly stare at your hand until the meaning of this dawns on you.
And then your brain performs the right connections and all that has felt unusual today falls into place. Realization leaves you temporarily stunned.
Checking around, you note no one else saw the little episode, except for Luna, who winks at you once. Timidly, you pass her the tray, not missing the fact that she's flaunting one of those mysterious smiles of hers. Looking very satisfied, she praises you, "That was most effective. Thank you!"
You stealthily wring your hands. They seem alright and the tingling is completely gone now.
Luna must have realized your uneasiness and tries to comfort you in her own way, "It's alright. Now the Blibbering Humdingers can communicate with you."
A single raised eyebrow is your response. There's no way you can understand the meaning of what the girl just said. Not that you even try to, lost as you are in your own concerns.
To surprise you further, Luna adds in a whisper, "Oh! Before I forget, that scent of yours is very nice. It really makes you stand out."
Before you can think of anything to reply to that, the sound of familiar hooting and the flap of large wings make you look up quickly. You recognize Éclair, your owl, flying in with a large and thin box, probably filled with supplies for sketching. Gabrielle's owl, Tonnerre, arrives soon afterwards with a smaller package. After you feed them some treats, they take off to the Owlery for a much needed rest.
You're glad the boxes give you a good reason to return to your room, so you pick them up and excuse yourself. In a quick stroll, you soon cross the doors of the castle and find many students at the courtyard, either idly chatting in small groups or playing cards, clearly having fun. You stop shortly to wave at the few you've already met.
To the left you see Hermione sitting on a bench, reading, while Harry and Ronald are preparing a pile of snowballs. The brunette looks up from her book and scans the area, soon noticing your presence.
Something is very different about her today. Her eyes must now be gifted with some sort of magnetic field that works specifically on you and is designed to reel you in right from the core. All you want to do is change the direction of your stride and go to her. A cold shiver runs down your spine and the tingling at your fingers becomes so strong that you're ready to believe there must be electric currents building up and about to bolt away from their tips.
You're all too aware of your inner battle to keep these intensified charms under control and it's taking a lot more than usual to bring them under a tight leash.
Your brand new pheromones, on the other hand, are a completely different issue. You know very little about those and you don't have a clue on how to use or still them. Considering how her simple presence affects you, they must be on the loose and all over the place. Surely enough, there's gasping and whimpering around you whenever a soft wind blows by, spreading invisible ripples of hazy influence to anyone within their reach.
And that's why you shouldn't get any closer to her. You're not sure how much longer you can keep the little control that you have and there's no telling how it will affect either of you if you lose it all.
She sets her book on the bench and speaks to her friends, just about to stand up. This is enough to encourage you to steel yourself, so you give her a hard stare and shake your head. She frowns, but remains where she is.
Suddenly feeling very self-conscious, you turn and leave quickly.
Too quickly, it seems, for you bump straight into someone, knocking them down. "Je suis désolée," you mumble clumsily, realizing Fierce-girl is now lying sprawled on the floor, wand, gloves, photos and candies in disarray around her. You try to help her stand and pick up her things.
With the weirdest of all expressions, somewhere between a frown and dreamy-eyed amusement, she whispers, "So you're the one with that sweet smell. Did you change your perfume or something?"
In shock and desperately wanting to leave as fast as possible, you open your right hand and flick the wrist clockwise, not even realizing what you've done until the spread out objects zoom into your hands. You stand stock-still and slowly lift your eyes to look at the readhead. Luckily, she only thanks you and takes her things, completely oblivious to what you just did.
Starting to relax and breathe again, you take a stealthy look sideways. Hermione is still on the bench, staring at you with the widest of eyes. In a heartbeat your anxiety returns, now multiplied tenfold.
You lock your gaze on the path ahead and wrap your mind over the single will of moving a foot in front of the other in that direction, hurrying to the carriage.
Your brain is in a whirlwind and it doesn't register the rest of your walk or how you get there. Stepping into your room, you absentmindedly lock the door behind you and set the packages on a corner. As soon as your back finds a wall, you slump against it, sliding down to sit on the floor, embracing your bent legs and lost in thought.
It's happening. It's really happening.
You look at your hands and concentrate, running different spells through your mind. The tingling sensation returns, sometimes stronger, sometimes weaker. The feeling of raw magic flowing through you and crawling under your skin is a new and powerful sensation that you'd never experienced with a wand.
Hightened senses. Stronger charms. Pheromones. Non-verbal and wandless magic. Traits of a grown-up Veela.
None of this should be in the works, though. Your Veela nature was not meant to reach the last stage of development until your teen years were over, well after the human mind was sufficiently mature and stable. At your age, this can only happen under very few exceptions.
And there's no need to think too much, for you know exactly which one is at play here. Your thoughts immediately turn to yesterday, for the implications were not lost on you.
You would have kissed Hermione if it wasn't for a small technicality that stopped you at the very last second. Your emotional control was in rags and you remember your mind being far from its usual focus, charms nearly escaping through your slackened grip.
Next thing you know, the Veela in you immediately rushed to fully mature. And you know that the Veela wouldn't make such a big deal out of this, unless Hermione was recognized as someone with the potential to hold a very special meaning to you.
Ruffling your hair, you sigh and feel quite tired all of a sudden. At the moment, you're not even in speaking terms with her as it is.
You'll have to find a way to change that. But it will have to wait a bit. Right now there are more urgent matters at stake.
It's time to be practical.
You never worried much about understanding all that the last change involved because it still seemed so far away in the future. Now that it's happening, you're alone to deal with it, away from your mother and grandmother.
If this had ocurred back at home, they would take you to a secluded place in the woods for at least a full week of intensive lessons about being an adult Veela, magical training, meditation and emotional balancing. You won't have that luxury now, but you still have to find ways to achieve the same results and fast.
Classes begin in two days. Either you get a grip on yourself or you won't be able to be around the students. Or Hermione.
There isn't enough time for your owl to make the trip home and back bringing material to help, so you have to find answers here. You sigh, trying to figure the best way to deal with this.
Long ago you checked the library at Hogwarts and it doesn't have much about Veela. That's a dead end. You need to be creative.
After considering the wild options of talking to your Headmistress or one of the teachers of the school and exposing your little predicament to seek help, a bit more of thinking pays off and you finally remember just the thing that might come in handy. The day before you left home, your mother slipped an extra wooden box in your trunk, saying it was to be opened only in case of an emergency, but she never told you what it was.
From the look of things, you're pretty sure this is a personal emergency in all its glory.
Getting up, you ransack your trunk until you find the small box, forgotten at its very bottom. You sit on your bed and open it carefully, smiling widely as soon as you look inside. You have every reason to thank all that is mighty for Veela mothers and their uncanny protective instincts.
The box is filled to the brim with unbreakable vials of many healing potions, a handful of rare herbs and an astounding amount of shrunk books about Veela, including History and Medical tomes that would make even the stern Madam Pince very jealous.
Setting the other items aside, you return the books to their original sizes and start to leaf through their pages. Nostalgic, you remember that this latest edition of "From Child to Charms - A Veela Survival Guide" was the first one you read as a child. In a careful way, you check every single one of the other tomes, including their table of contents and a brief overview of a few chapters. You finally set aside "Veela - Physiology and Magic" and "Wandless Charmer - The Veela Within." Both are thick and thorough.
You quickly store the other books back in the trunk and decide to open the packages from home. The box with items for sketching instantly draws your eyes, but it's set aside until you can properly turn your attention to it. Inside the other box, which is certainly Gabrielle's, you find a letter and a fresh batch of pastries that she knows you like a lot. The letter is left on your nightstand to read later, when your mind is bound to be tired.
Time is short and you have to start as soon as possible.
At last, you get ready to make yourself comfortable for a long stay in your room without interruptions. You briefly leave to fill your water jar and set it on the small desk under your window. After a quick shower and a choice of warm homey clothes, you are ready to start. You open the curtains for proper lighting, sit down and open the first book, immersing your mind into a field of knowledge that feels both new and so familiar.
The basic plan is to make the most of the short time ahead, learning as much of the theory and also practicing as best as you can.
Most of your weekend is spent either at your room in complete reclusion, reading the books and meditating to steady your mind, or at some solitary and concealed spots on the grounds that you chose for practicing bits of wandless magic and how to stretch out and recoil your charms.
You slowly become better acquainted with your hyperactive senses and finally learn that there's not much to do about pheromones. They are ultimately linked to your charms and emotions, so that's where you have to focus your control to achieve results.
The short intervals from your fast-paced race against time are meant solely for meals, getting some rest and writing the very long letter you owe to your mother, sharing everything you've left out in previous posts about the past two months (the complete version about Hermione) and all that's happened in the past couple of days.
According to the books, you need healthy hours of sleep every night, but in your present fiery anxiety streak, though, you don't sleep too well or too long during the weekend. Even during the night you wake up more than once and try to read some more. It makes you feel a bit drained, but you believe you'll be able to catch up with proper hours of rest as the days go by.
You notice that an interesting large chapter explains that it would be wise to go on a special diet for a while to get an extra energy boost, adding in some herbal teas to help you relax. It seems that Veela magic is more energy-consuming to perform than wizardkind, since it's wandless and silent. Unfortunately, you don't know the location of the kitchens of the castle to ask for any of that. In all of your exploring around, it has always remained as elusive as the Headmaster's Office to you.
You're thankful that after the Ball you took care in advance of any due homework and that you are ahead in your studies at school. With all that you are trying to do, it gives you some advantage in terms of time.
The weekend flies away faster than you had hoped. As you lie down to go to sleep really late from Sunday to Monday, you're still trying to come to terms with how much has changed for you in such a short span of time.
And to think that only a week ago you were feeling gloomy over the Yule Ball... Now all that seems to have happened in a long lost past.
Your last waking thought for the night is about how perspectives can surely change quickly. The year at Hogwarts is proving to be quite an unusual experience.
At last, the Monday that you've been preparing to withstand arrives, term starts and the corridors erupt with widespread noise, running students and chatter. You're grateful for the (much needed and appreciated) distraction.
In the middle of the morning, after break time, you have the first chance at delving back into the library for hours at will without worrying about who might stride in. The untainted freedom makes you as happy as a giddy kid on a sugar high.
Seeing your favorite table empty gives you a degree of satisfaction that you can barely put into words. You leave your things there and walk through the shelves, contemplating the old books with a greedy smile and pick up several that you'll need soon enough.
As you settle down to get lost in some leisure reading, you notice a group of your friends and some of the Ravenclaws huddled together in a corner, apparently in deep conversation. Your curiosity gets the best of you and you walk over to see what could be so important.
They promptly bring you up to speed on the most recent scandal to shake the walls of the castle. Rita Skeeter unveiled her claws again, dripping venom unabashedly over Hogwarts, only this time directed at the Professor of Care of Magical Creatures. He hasn't been seen since early morning and another teacher had to be called in to fill in his duties.
They lend you the front page of the Daily Prophet and you have trouble keeping your anger in check. Hagrid is a very nice man, with a kind heart and a gentle nature, so unlike what this witch wrote about him.
It's no secret that your Headmistress has taken a liking to the Gamekeeper. And although they probably share the same problem that was dissected in the news, the Skeeter reporter knew better than to expose the Headmistress of a foreign school invited by the Ministry of Magic. Instead, she went for the Gamekeeper of Hogwarts, an easier target.
Why does it matter that he's half-giant? You find it offensive that he is being judged by his parentage. This strikes a very personal nerve and it's all too easy for you to relate to his anguish. You'd go to see him right now if it wasn't for the fact that Hermione is there at the moment, in the middle of her Care of Magical Creatures class. No need for another close call. This will have to stay on hold just a little.
Right after lunch you pretend to return to the carriage to store some of the new books and finally chance a visit to Hagrid's cabin. You notice there's heat coming from inside and his dog is barking loudly, but although you knock on his door and call his name several times, the professor doesn't show to open it.
Checking first that there's no one else nearby, for the first time since you arrived at Hogwarts you concentrate and purposely reach out with the full stretch of your charms, directing them at the cabin. Giants are known to have the ability to block themselves to Veela perception, just as their thick skins are nearly impenetrable to magic. However, as a half-giant, he's not completely concealed to you and your now stronger charms make it just a little easier for you to analyze him.
In a corner you can sense a mix of wavering negative emotions. It's all too clear to you that Hagrid is going through a very hard time dealing with this. You feel the sadness in him. You also feel sadness for him.
And it so happens that you have a clue about who might be able to help him in a way no one else can. An idea starts to play in your mind. All you'll have to do is wait till your next class-free period, right after the afternoon break.
A few more attempts to get Hagrid's attention turn out unsuccessful, so you give up altogether and return to the castle just in time for your Charms class. At first you wish you could will time to go faster, but soon you are so caught up in practicing a new set of shield charms that you're actually surprised when the bell rings.
Rushing through the waves of students, you take fast steps back to the Beauxbatons quarters. Once in your room, you drop your things, reach into the deeper section of your closet and pull out your complete winter quidditch uniform, especially spelled to remain warm and dry. You almost can't believe it's been six months since you last used any type of quidditch robes.
Just for today, it's not only going to be fun to wear, but it can protect you from the weather and maybe it will come in handy to make sure you're identified as a student at Hogwarts.
You change quickly and smile fondly at the reflection on the mirror. Those comfortable white pants and the cornflower blue robes with darker inner linings were your companions for many good moments back at Beauxbatons. The guards and gloves will work in your favor, too, as aids to keep you warm.
Setting your hair in a high ponytail, you shrink the latest edition of the Daily Prophet to stow in your robes and pocket your wand. On your way out, you retrieve an older Nimbus Two Thousand from the broomstick deposit of the carriage, and then walk over to the closest edge of the forest.
After climbing on the broom, a swift kick of your feet gets you soaring up in the air. You fly very high to try to spot what you need - a tight cluster of enchanted trees, deep in the forest, where the stinging weather's had no effect. The place where temperatures remain warm all year and trees are at their widest and tallest. Where flowers still bloom and leaves haven't fallen. The ancient core woodland that keeps the Forbidden Forest alive.
You can't see it as far as your eyes reach, so you fly away following the straight line that aligns the castle and the Beauxbatons carriage, carefully keeping the ground references at your back. With your eyes set on the search, every now and then you briefly go higher for a wider view, hoping your goal is not beyond the mountain range or it'll be too out of reach for you to get there today.
The sun sets early during winter and darkness is about to engulf you completely. As it is, you won't be able to cover much terrain for long. Good thing the sky is clear and the full moon will appear in a short while, so at least it shouldn't be that hard to find your way back.
When you finally arrive at the first line of rising cliffs, enough time has passed that you slow down and start to consider whether or not to head back to the castle and try again tomorrow. Lost in your thinking, you reason that it will be more effective to fly larger distances during the daytime. In your distraction, the broom still moves forward and goes over the top of the closest hill.
And then you are rewarded with a view that has you instantly floored.
A very large valley stretches down before you, plummeting so low that you can't see the ground level. You find yourself hovering just above the tips of enormous trees rooted in the deep lands below, surrounded by cliffs and mountains, and spread around a lively river. The temperature is mild and the greenery reigns in supreme dominance, breached here and there by small clumps of blooming flowers, nuts and scarce fruits.
You take a deep breath, reveling in the fresh and ripe odors of untouched nature growing at will. Nothing like the winter-struck scenery at Hogwarts, that still needs to wait the arrival of spring to become this alive. This is the place you'd been looking for, naturally protected and hidden from prying eyes.
You fly around in circles a few times, checking for the best landing place and to see any reaction to your presence. There is none, but you know better than to underestimate the situation. Pulling out your wand, you send blue and green sparks as you go for a last time around, making sure the message is clear that you are openly showing yourself, then proceed west, where you noticed that the woods thin down to a clearing that's large enough for you to set foot.
Following tradition, you land slowly, leave your broomstick on the ground and step away from it. You look around in awe. There's a part of you that feels at home in this place, in this world that you can understand and where you feel that you belong now. Staring in the direction of the array of mighty trees, you can see the powerful glistening wards enveloping them, completely different from wizardkind. This is an impenetrable barrier, unless a personal invitation across it is issued. One that you do not have.
Now it's time to put to use what your grandmother taught you about the rules to approach an isolated forest niche.
'Stand still. Bow your head. Avoid eye contact at all costs on your first encounter. Keep your arms steady. Your hands must remain open, palms facing forward. Straighten your back. Remain silent until someone invites you to speak. Measure your words. Never raise your voice. Show respect and they will decide if you deserve the same.'
Since you can't use your eyes at the risk of being deemed impolite or a threat, you shut them and rely on your other senses to determine any subtle changes taking place. They'll move stealthily on grounds they are more familiar to use than you are, but you can still... yes... sense them.
There's only absolute silence surrounding you, but in a matter of seconds you notice very subtle aromas reaching your nostrils. A swirl of more than ten different scents reach you. You know they are here now and you're most surely surrounded while they quietly appraise you. Two are most distinct, hyacynth and agarwood, so they must be the closest to you. The others are probably hiding or propped on the trees, keeping you under their precise aim, arrows already strung and ready for use, in case you prove to be trouble.
Someone close by and to your left addresses you harshly, in a hoarse female voice, "You do not belong in these woods. Why did you come?"
You remain still and silent.
A low and deep growl springs from your throat as the very air suddenly becomes thick and heavy, overloaded with an intense mix of odors and you start to feel lightheaded. Somehow you commit your mind back into focus. This is not the time to lose your footing.
Wave after wave of the strongest charms you've ever felt try to overwhelm your senses and render your brain useless, so you concentrate on extending your own as strongly as you can. After a long and hard struggle, you effectively barricade yourself inside a protective bubble where they can't reach you. Worried, you realize it's never taken you this long to protect yourself. The clash of magic is so severe that you can hear a low hum with a weird grating quality coming from the different sets of charms colliding and canceling each other out.
Another voice, softer and also female, argues next, "Perhaps we should calm down for the time being. At least this young maiden knows about the proper way to address us. Disarm yourself and speak, stranger. Tell us about you and what made you come here tonight."
The unpleasant charms become surprisingly weaker. You breathe better. Very, very slowly, you pull out your wand and offer it to them, holding it by the tip. It's swiftly removed from your trembling hand.
You do a full curtsey and finally begin to talk to them, steadying your voice, "I study at 'Ogwarts. I came alone and I mean no 'arm to you or zis place. I apologize for arriving unannounced and uninvited, but zis is a matter that may concern you and it should not wait for ze diplomatic etiquette to be fulfilled."
The owner of the soft voice replies, walking around you, "The elders that taught you were thorough, I see. You do justice to our blood, as well as your own. From your accent, you must be a long way from home. You also look quite young to have charms as developed as yours. Unusual as the circumstances may be, it is a pleasure to meet someone like you. May I know your name?"
Nodding once, you comply, "I am Fleur Isabelle, of the Delacour Clan, in France." After a small pause, you ask softly, "In return, may I know who you are?"
She chuckles in amusement, "I apologize, for this will seem rude, but none of our names will be revealed to you at the moment. It is unfortunate that we cannot show you any hospitality or allow you to cross the barriers that protect the ancient trees. I'm sure you must have realized that you are now standing before our village, at the heart of the Forbidden Forest. However, as you mentioned before, you have yet to earn our trust and a proper invitation to be here. Still, nice try."
You smile, fully aware that she can't see it in your hidden face, "I understand and I 'ave no complaints."
The woman that spoke first decides to question you further, "Very few are aware of this village. It has remained a well kept secret for centuries. How did you learn of our existence?"
It is time to be serious again. A breach of security is something they are sure to worry about, considering the secrecy of their location and nature. "I was never informed about you. I suspected zat a place like zis could exist because of ze fairies at the Yule Ball in 'Ogwarts."
The soft voice quickly requests, "Please tell us more."
"My grandmuzzer told me zat fairies can only live in very old trees. Ze magic of ze fairies protects zem and zey do not suffer ze effects of winter. After ze Ball, I scouted ze grounds around ze castle and zere were no trees to fit zat description as far as I could reach wiz my eyes. Zat made me assume ze fairies 'ad settled zeir dwelling deep in ze woods. Since fairies are tiny and frail, zey would only chose to live at ze core of a dangerous and enchanted forest such as zis if zey were under ze protection of-"
"-a village like ours," the same voice interrupts you, then, sighing loudly. "Yes, you are correct. I wonder if anyone else made the connection. The fairies were invited to be at the Ball and we had our concerns about allowing them to go because of that. We were not aware that one of the students had Veela ancestry."
You swiftly try to assure them, "I am not a regular student at 'Ogwarts. I came for ze Triwizard Tournament and shall remain only until ze end of zis term. You 'ave no need to be concerned. I understand ze importance of keeping zis place in isolation and secrecy. I will not betray zat. If I could deal wiz ze situation zat brought me 'ere by myself, I would 'ave made arrangements for a proper approach to your village at a better moment."
The softer voice addresses you again, "Very well, your words make sense. Please, go on. Let us hear the reason that brought you here."
You nod and start, "A good man at 'Ogwarts 'as been ze victim of a campaign to disgrace 'is name. 'E now 'ides in shame and refuses to tend to 'is duties. I tried to talk to 'im, but it was in vain. 'E is in great distress. I believe 'e would be more sensitive to a visit from you, if it were possible. Perhaps 'e is a friend of yours."
Someone exhales impatiently nearby. The hoarser voice resumes, "We don't leave the Forest, young one. It is part of the agreement we have with the Headmaster of that school. We stay in the woods and never interfere with the students."
This is not the moment to back down and you try to open this to discussion, "I understand and I assumed zat much, but perhaps zis is a situation zat can be 'andled without breaking zat agreement."
The softer voice asks with an obvious curiosity, "Who is this man?"
"It is Rubeus 'Agrid, ze Gamekeeper and Professor of Care of Magical Creatures."
Many gasps reach your ears.
"Hagrid?" In a more urgent tone, the hoarser voice continues, "What happened?"
"A reporter specialized in ruining ze reputation of uzzers wrote an article in an important wizarding newspaper accusing 'im of being 'alf-giant and malicious. 'E locked 'imself in 'is cabin and is not teaching anymore." You pick the shrunk Daily Prophet from your robes and hand it to them.
The owner of the softer voice snaps her fingers and you can guess the newspaper has regained its usual size. She now reads the paper out loud and the other warriors click their tongues in open disagreement.
The hoarser voice takes the lead then, "These are disturbing news. We know Hagrid since he was a student at the castle. He is one of the few that is aware of our presence here and the only one from the outer world that ever came to visit us, except for you, of course. We will not leave this alone. Hagrid lives close to the trees and far from the castle. You were correct, I believe we can arrange a meeting with him that will not interfere with school matters. It shall be informed to the Headmaster."
You are quick to volunteer, "I am glad zat you understand ze importance of zis. I can be zere to escort you from ze edge of ze forest to 'is cabin and back. No students should see you."
The softer voice replies, "You have thought this through, I see. When do you suggest we should go to avoid meeting students and staff?"
After a little thinking you offer, "During school days, at ze end of ze afternoon or during dinner time would be best to stay away from curious stares. It depends on 'ow you will travel, zough. I am guessing you will prefer not to cross ze forest at night."
The woman with the hoarse voice chuckles softly, "It is of no concern, Miss Delacour. We have very swift transportation. Please tell Hagrid that we will arrive at his door in three days, around six o'clock in the afternoon."
You notice she finally addressed you by name. Things are improving. Perhaps you will earn their respect some day. "Very well, I will do so. Zank you for looking after 'im."
In a lighter tone, she continues, "We are the ones to thank you for bringing this to our attention. Please forgive us for the harshness of your reception, but we are not used to visitation from outside the woods. Trust is something we cannot give lightly."
The softer voice intervenes, "We shall begin preparations for our visit soon enough. And now it would be wise for you to go. I believe it is already late for a student of the school to be so far away."
You promptly agree, "Oui, it is so. I must take my leave and return to ze castle before my companions realize I 'ave gone missing."
The softer voice comes closer and you can sense its owner is smiling, "I will enjoy meeting you again, Fleur Delacour. Tonight you showed us a measure of respect that I haven't seen in a long time from any outsiders. Expect me to be a part of the visiting party."
You bow low again, "I shall wait for your arrival. Maybe zen you will allow me to learn your name."
"Maybe..." She chuckles and places your wand back in your hand.
You soon conceal it in your pocket. Still careful not to look at any of them, you pick up your broomstick and lift off. In a final lap, you encircle the full length of the valley slowly, saluting with a shower of golden and silver sparks, and then turn in the direction of the castle, speeding up.
It's already dark and the full moon glows high above you, spreading shiny reflections across the patches of snow in-between the bare trees below. The cool wind whips through your hair and nearly freezes the tips of your nose and ears. It makes your very spirit feel renewed and you do a few extra dives and side-swings for the sake of enjoying the moment.
The peaceful quiet of the scenery stretching all around you relieves you from any traces of angst or distress. The only sound you can hear is that of your flapping robes, a familiar fluttering that you've always found to be soothing. Your mind is crystal clear and you feel as if a huge oppressing weight has been carefully lifted from your heart and set aside.
It's a shame that time really flies when you're enjoying yourself. Almost too quickly for your own good, the last row of trees comes near and you slow down to descend to the ground. Gracefully, you fix your wind-disheveled ponytail and hop off the broomstick. You remove the guards and gloves, carrying them in one hand, and grasp the broomstick with the other, treading on the snow to Hagrid's cabin to tell him the news. It's way past dinner time and your stomach complains in a strained growl.
As you approach, you're surprised to notice the Gryffindor trio is firmly pounding at his door, trying to talk to him. You keep a steady face, but don't stop yourself from gluing your eyes on the cutely pouting brunette, her cheeks flushed from the cold and a good dose of disappointment at the unresponsive half-giant.
You consider whether to leave for the carriage or stay. Fully aware that plenty of probing charms and pheromones tested your control tonight and that you managed to hold your own ground, you're feeling a bit more confident about yourself, though you know it could never be the same as facing Hermione.
Somehow, you end up reasoning that staying outweights leaving. There's only three of them and this might be a good opportunity to see how you react to being within talking distance to the brunette. It will give you a rather accurate idea of any improvements you might have made. You try to convince yourself that it has nothing to do with the fact that you miss her terribly, no matter how bad you still feel about that last encounter a few days ago.
The Gryffindors insist and insist at the door, but the Gamekeeper doesn't respond. When they turn to leave, frustrated, they finally realize you're standing there, looking at them. If you can draw any conclusions by how high they jump up in surprise, they were clearly not expecting company. Or maybe they just never thought they'd come face to face with you at this time and place.
You laugh softly at the look on their faces. All three then stare at your attire and gape.
Harry is the first to find his voice, "You were out playing quidditch? In this weather and time?"
You smile at the naive question, "Non, I was only flying a little." Tilting your head to the door, you change the subject to more pressing matters, "'E is still not answering 'is door, I see."
Hermione takes the lead now, frowning, but curious as ever, "Have you tried talking to him today?"
With a few nods, you walk up to the door, "Oui, at lunchtime, but 'e did not come to ze door."
Ronald finally collects his staggered brain and participates, "Blimey, same with us. He's taking it hard."
You couldn't agree more. It is time to change this. You walk around them and knock on the door with more strength than you'd planned. "'Agrid, zis is Fleur, from Beauxbatons. Please open your door. I need to speak to you."
No answer, except for his very loud dog, barking and scratching the door. How can he hear anything with so much noise going on?
You shake your head and sigh. Closing your eyes and bringing your mind to a focus, a whispered request of "Quiet, Fang" is promptly met and the dog becomes silent.
It's worth another try and you speak as clearly as you can, "'Agrid, I 'ave a message for you. Thursday, around six o'clock, be ready to receive visitors from ze woods. You may keep me out, but zey will not accept 'no' for an answer. I 'ope you understand who I mean. I shall be outside your door at ze right time."
You finally step away, broomstick and gear in tow, calling out for the trio to follow, "'E needs time to sort 'is feelings. Zere is too much for 'im to deal wiz now, but 'e will be better soon."
Despite the return of a permanent scowl on her face, Hermione doesn't miss the oportunity to make a question, "Who exactly is coming, Fleur?"
Your answer has a rather final tone. This is a matter to be kept from student awareness, after all, "I cannot say. Zat is for 'Agrid to know, 'Ermione. Do not worry. It will do 'im good."
The boys remain silent and even the brunette chooses to keep her thoughts to herself.
When you reach the doors of the castle, you stop to say good-bye. Hermione sternly asks the boys to go ahead, giving you a piercing look.
Ronald refuses to leave without her, "Mione, it's almost past curfew. We've got to go."
Harry is quick to agree with him, "Ron is right, Mione. It's not safe for you to stay here. You can get in trouble."
She tries to sway them smoothly, "I just want a short word with Fleur and I'll be right in."
You can't decipher the look on her face. Sighing, you notice it's only been a couple of days and you're already missing her this much.
"Mademoiselle, perhaps it is best to leave zis for anuzzer time. Your friends are concerned, we are all tired from ze first day of classes and I 'ave missed dinner." You press your hands against your stomach, hoping the soft rumbling sensation doesn't end up embarrassing you too much.
Outnumbered and defeated, Hermione bites her lower lip. She's flustered and in a shaky mood, but realizing what you just said, she offers, "Do you know where the kitchens are?"
This gets your attention immediately, "Non, I 'ave not found zem, yet."
Ronald volunteers, "Come with us. We can show you. The house-elves rule that place!"
Interesting as it sounds, you're torn because of this curfew of theirs and choose to politely decline as it is so late, but then your stomach intervenes, growling loud and clear its opinion at the chance of anything to dampen the emptiness inside. They chuckle timidly. You finally nod, blushing, and follow them down a staircase leading to the entrance of the Hufflepuff Common Room and the kitchens.
The house-elves are thrilled at your request and immediately start to prepare a small lunch for you. Putting your broomstick, guards and gloves in a corner, you wash your hands before sitting as comfortably as you manage on a small stool, watching curiously this unusual kitchen and how well the small creatures work together cooking, cleaning, organizing and storing.
A goblet of fresh juice, a fine sandwich and a couple of pears soon are set before you. Everything is very tasty and you take extra time eating in small bites and chewing slowly the food, letting the flavours reach each of the sensitive spots on your tongue. There's definitely a positive side to this hypersensitivity of yours that makes you notice new meanings and details in the simplest of things, as if you were literally learning all over again about the world that surrounds you. Savouring it in small gulps, you're sure that you've never enjoyed pumpkin juice this much.
Hermione watches as you eat with gusto for a while and then gives her friends a pleading look.
You risk a glance their way. Ronald is about to make a remark, but Harry elbows him in the ribs and a low whimper is all that comes out of him. Harry tugs at his robes and they leave the kitchens, telling Hermione that they'll head to the Common Room and wait for her there. You give them a small nod and turn to face the brunette as you finish the meal.
Neither of you breaks the long silence and your expressions remain serious. Your eyes hardly drift away from hers and she does the same to you. It's rather obvious that you're both cautiously appraising the other. That last encounter left you with the unpleasant sensation that the distance between you has grown substantially. As much as the past days have kept your mind elsewhere, you're still hurt about that exchange and, by all that you can recall from her words, you have every reason to believe that she must be hurting as well.
When you're done, you thank the house-elves and stand to get your things. Hermione wishes them a good night and walks out of the kitchens, waiting for you in the corridor.
You return to the Entrance Hall together and she's about to speak, but you frown and wave your hand in the direction of the grand staircase, "I should walk you to your Common Room, non? If anyone approaches us, we can tell zem zat you were 'elping me get around in ze castle. It is the truth, after all. You are late because you kept me company in ze kitchens. Zis will avoid any trouble for you."
Gratefully, she sighs in relief and smiles, "Thank you. Let's go, then."
As you weave your way through the castle, in and out of the corridors, you notice she's biting her lip and her brows are furrowed. Put together, those two signs mean deep in thought. "Fleur, I don't get the reason for all this secrecy. Who could be coming for Hagrid?"
You chuckle lightly, "Do not zink about it, 'Ermione. Let 'e get all ze 'elp 'e needs."
The passageway where you've just arrived is long and narrow, with many large windows on one side, reaching up to the high ceiling. Right outside, the lake can be seen for a good stretch, until it becomes lost in the mountains around the castle. Hermione moves closer to a window and stops before an unhampered view of the Durmstrang ship, afloat and impressive. She smiles and her eyes roam, taking in the beautiful landscape at night.
You stay close and a little behind her, preferring to simply observe the striking brunette under the moonlight. Not a single attempt is made by either of you to return to reality, so seconds turn into minutes and both remain silent, entranced and absorbed in your own thoughts. A growing sense of elated serenity takes over and your mind begins to relax like it hasn't in days. A sweet drowsiness sets in. You're so caught up in this weightless freedom that you don't even realize how much you've lowered your guard until it's too late.
A soft breeze sweeps in, covering in a flash the small distance from the windows to you. The scent of her shampoo quickly finds its way to tickle your senses and your world is turned upside down faster than a blink.
Goose bumps race up and down your arms and your skin feels on fire. Your heartbeat either accelerates madly or slows down severely. The tingling sensation begins in one of your hands and then spreads out through all of your body.
A sudden wave of nausea hits you hard and you sway unsteadily, stretching your right arm to anchor yourself to the wall, trying to settle your back against it. The onslaught to your senses is so powerful that you find yourself unable to breathe, see or think straight.
Your last incoherent thought is about floating (drowning?) in deep and utter nothingness. There's no course to follow, no direction, no way out, no right or wrong. Your mind only drifts away in an endless void where time has no standing and you can't grasp how long you remain like that.
All and any perception left is resumed to an infinite stretch of silence and darkness…
And then, there's a flash of light and soft whispering that you can't understand, as if coming from a very distant place.
Darkness and silence again…
The vague flickers of reality become more and more consistent, until your body jolts in response, fighting to shake off the heavy apathy. The far away voice becomes stronger and stronger, your brain struggling to make sense of the words… And now you're rocking from side to side... And there's a ticklish sensation on your forehead.
You finally inhale sharply and can see again, realizing that the prettiest chocolate-colored eyes are fixed on you. Your vision becomes sharper and your surroundings start to make sense. Hermione is grasping your arms and shaking you lightly, concern clearly marked all over her face. When she finds your eyes moving and trying to focus, she touches your damp forehead again, "Fleur? Fleur, talk to me."
Holding up your hands, you shake your head and camly reply, with a slightly slurring tongue, "I am alright now. Please. You can let me go." Trembling, you put a little distance between the two of you.
"Are you sure? You don't look very well. We should get you to the Hospital Wing." Another mild breeze comes your way, only this time she is the one to inhale briskly and her voice cracks a little, giving you a suspicious look, "I... recognize that smell."
You ignore her last comment. "I assure you zat I am not sick. I just need some air." You retreat to be at a larger distance from her, seeking an open window for a whiff of fresh and cold air. Slowly, you add, "I 'ave not been sleeping very well. It comes wiz a price."
The tiredness left you vulnerable enough to allow something as simple as her scent to temporarily shortcircuit your brain. You breathe slowly, giving yourself time to recover. In a little while you start to feel better, back in control.
"Fleur, look at me. Your eyes... They are different." You remember your grandmother's and mother's eyes change of color. For them, it only happens when their Veela magic is under use. Your changes, however, just come and go erratically as outbursts of emotions and your flimsy control stirs them.
You take a final deep breath and now definitely feel better like you should. Turning to look at her, you give her easy access to check again, "Zere is nothing wrong. You can see for yourself." She openly searches them and her tight frown softens slowly.
She nods and invites you promptly, "Come on, let's keep going so you can get some rest. You can come into the Common Room and sit down for a bit before returning to the carriage." Not giving you any time to refuse or think things over, she grips your hand and pulls you back into an easy stride. You can't help but think the touch is too brief and you soon miss it when she releases you.
The remaining distance is covered in silence, stealing a few glances at each other. When you're close to the portrait at the entrance, the Fat Lady immediately recognizes you, performs an exagerated curtsey that almost makes her topple over and seems to be in a chatty mood, "Bonny-sew-are, le championne. You are back. Are you going to stay with me after your friend goes in again?"
You narrow your eyes, giving her a hard stare and she backs down, "Alright, alright, I get it. One private moment coming up. I'll go visit Violet. Call when you need me."
As soon as you are alone, Hermione rounds up on you, "Fleur, do you want to go inside? The Common Room is very nice and warm."
You shake your head slowly, "Non, I am alright. It is already late and I 'ave to return. No one knows I 'ave left and zere might be some worried friends looking for me."
Her lips remain pursed for a little while and then she goes on, "Look, I know it's late, but this won't wait. Can you stay a bit to talk?"
You discreetly stretch the distance between you and try for a casual tone, even though you are well aware of the stony look on your face, "We can 'ave anuzzer talk, if you want to, but I was under ze impression zat it was best for us to avoid it after zat latest disagreement. We seem to get too much into each uzzer's wrong side."
Hermione clenches her jaw, but her voice remains calm, "I agree that we should be doing better than that by now and I'd appreciate it if you stopped avoiding me. We have to discuss what happened the other day sooner or later."
Wearily, you take a deep breath and hope this doesn't turn ugly, "Is it really wise to speak about it right now? A great part of zat conversation was about anger and disappointment. I overstepped boundaries, I nearly lost control of my emotions and charms more zan once, and because of zat, I ended up putting you on a tough spot. In ze end I made you upset and you said zat you clearly 'ate ze way we are now… Look, we both said too much and it is all still painfully fresh. Perhaps we need some time to cool our 'eads first, non?"
She looks a little annoyed, "No, Fleur. I think we need to talk about it once and for all. That meeting came out all wrong. I never unexpected a conversation between us would go that far. Believe me, there was no way for me to be ready to talk to you about all that. And don't even get me started on the... that test of yours." She is now biting her lower lip uneasily.
In a calm voice you try to defuse the situation before things heat up, "I should explain about zat... hm, test. Zere was a challenge in your words and also in your attitude zat day. I turned a blind eye to everything else. You are with Mr. Krum and I did not respect zat, even at the risk of upsetting you. Zere were many zings I should not 'ave said and I 'ad no right to go zat close to you. I owe you an apology for all zat."
Hermione scowls and makes an attempt to speak, but you don't let her, "Before you say anything, do you see 'ow zis bothers you so much? I feel ze same way. If we talk about zat again, it can lead to anuzzer bad falling out. I do not want to 'ave zat."
Still frowning, she pauses for a while, and then replies firmly, "You can't shy away from talking to me now. It's not fair. Things are not as you're thinking and you have to give me a chance to explain, too. Fleur, you just got your turn to apologize and that day you said all you wanted."
You lean against a wall for support, shaking your head, "Non, zat is not entirely true. I never 'ad a chance to say what I could really 'ave told you, 'Ermione. Instead, we ended up 'aving zat silly discussion. And I recall giving you plenty of opportunity to speak your mind as well, Mademoiselle, which I believe zat you did. I got ze message loud and clear right to ze end of ze conversation."
Her eyes narrow fiercely and she daringly starts to walk over to you, but when the brunette comes to be at arm's reach, it all changes. She suddenly teeters and takes a few steps away, closes her eyes and inhales deeply a few times. Her hands rise to massage her temples and when she opens her eyes again, you notice dilated pupils and a very soft red blush. "It's that sweet smell again. Too powerful now. Something is going on with you. Wandless magic, talking to Fang, and now this… the new smell. These are pheromones, right? They were there when we had that talk."
You nod, wide-eyed, swallowing hard, "You knew about it, zen?
"I realized you were a little off after we almost... well, you know... kissed." She blushes a little more, but you don't make any remarks. "That's when I noticed something different that hadn't been there before. And I couldn't find any other explanation for that fresh smell. Sweet almonds."
So that's what you're like. "Sweet almonds... Are you sure?"
Her eyes have gone back to normal and she gives you a small smile in assurance, but keeps her distance, "I'd recognize it anywhere. You know it's here now, don't you? Since you nearly passed out on that corridor? It varies a lot. Sometimes it's very subtle, and then there are other times, like now, when it becomes too strong."
"Je suis désolée. I am still trying to control zat. Unlike ze charms, zis is completely new to me." The following question just pops out from your lips, "Is it unpleasant?"
She blushes a very deep shade of red and your eyebrows shoot high. "No, not at all. I happen to like it."
"Oh... Right." Your embarrassment clearly shows on your voice, so you try to awkwardly change the subject a bit. "It must be very late now. Perhaps it is a good moment for me to leave."
Hermione frowns briefly, "Not without at least some explaining, Fleur. I don't want things to stay like this any longer."
You hear a subdued swishing noise and you whirl your head to scan the corridor, but find nothing. Distractedly, you look at her again, "I... I missed zat. What did you say?
She bites her lip, "Viktor and-"
"Miss Delacour and Miss Granger." A soft but sharp voice claims your attention, testing a couple of your coronaries in the blink of an eye. You turn hastily to see Professor Snape walking your way. "I am sure you are well aware of the time. Would you care to explain?"
You react quickly, sensing Hermione's sudden discomfort, "Professor, Mademoiselle Granger was 'elping me around ze castle and we lost track of ze 'our. I was just leaving 'er 'ere to return to ze carriage."
With his trademark smirk, he addresses Hermione and your eye twitches in concern, "Miss Granger, I trust you still remember the definition of curfew. Ten points from Gryffindor should refresh your memory." He then looks at you and adds, "I will walk you to the carriage, Miss Delacour, and tomorrow I will ask our Headmaster to talk to Madame Maxime about the rules to be followed by all of the students presently at Hogwarts."
You try to keep his attention on you by playing innocent, "Professor, zat will not be necessary. I can find my way out to ze grounds."
He only stares back at you, emotionless, "It is my duty to make sure you return safely to the Beauxbatons carriage, Miss Delacour. In the mean time, Miss Granger, your friends must be waiting for you to retire."
She nods at him, comes around you and boldly tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on your cheek, and then wishes you a good night.
An unusual heat warms your face. And you can tell there are definitely some butterflies playing around, too.
You wait until the portrait closes behind her to accompany the professor.
The stroll to the carriage is uneventful and you are quick to thank him for his time. Luckily, no one seems to have noticed your absence, so you put the broomstick back in place and go straight to your room.
It's been a long day. You barely stay awake long enough to shower and change into your nightgown.
For once in a long time, you're sound asleep as soon as your head touches the pillow.
TBC