The next day unfolded in gentle shades of late autumn. After History of Magic class, Eira said goodbye to Marin, offering him a quick handshake before hurrying off—she had an appointment with Fleur.
The gardens behind Beauxbâtons were quieter in the afternoons, bathed in soft golden light. Leaves rustled underfoot as Eira made her way along the winding stone path. At the edge of the small lake nestled within the gardens, she spotted Fleur Delacour sitting on a flat rock, idly tossing pebbles into the water. Each stone skipped once or twice before sinking, sending out ripples that shimmered across the surface.
When Fleur noticed her, a soft smile curled on her lips. Eira smiled back and joined her, settling down beside her on the cool stone.
Fleur glanced sideways. "How are you today?" she asked, voice gentle. "Doing well?"
Eira nodded, stretching out her legs. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired. Last night caught up with me, I think. All that walking—and a little running too. I basically traveled through two countries in less than a day. So, yeah… my legs are sore, my brain's foggy, but I'm alive."
Fleur let out a quiet breath, her gaze drifting across the lake. "Weren't you scared?" she asked after a pause. "I mean… alone, in a strange place."
Eira lowered her eyes. "Of course I was scared. I was terrified. I thought I might never make it back. I thought…" She paused, fingers curling into the hem of her skirt. "I thought my time here might be over before it even began. Before I even had a chance to learn magic properly… it could have ended."
There was silence for a beat before she added, with a crooked smile, "But I guess I'm a little cleverer than I look. Got out with some quick thinking. Those two idiots didn't expect that."
Fleur smiled faintly, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm really glad you're safe, Eira," she said. "You're… you're my first real friend. I didn't want to lose you."
Eira blinked. "Your first real friend?"
Fleur nodded. "Yeah. You're the only girl who doesn't sneer at me or look at me like I'm some… threat. Most girls either act like I'm a rival or pretend to like me because of my name. But you… you're just honest. It means a lot."
Eira's smile softened. "Don't worry. I'll never be jealous of you." She turned slightly toward her. "I mean, yes—you're beautiful. Gorgeous, even. But why would I be disgusted by that?"
Fleur raised a pale brow. "Are you… flirting with me, Eira?"
Eira gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes. "Don't flatter yourself. Not everything is flirting. You're such a narcissist sometimes."
Laughing, Fleur reached over and gently tapped Eira's head. "Sure, sure. Keep saying that, little bunny."
Eira smirked. "I will. Because it's true."
The lake's surface reflected the pale afternoon sky, a few geese drifting lazily across the far end. The air had grown crisp, the scent of pine and damp earth carried on the breeze.
"It's nearly December," Fleur murmured. "Christmas holidays are coming up in a few weeks. Are you going back to England? Or staying here?"
Eira shrugged. "I'm not sure yet. Depends on my grandfather. If he goes back, I'll probably have to go with him."
Fleur turned to her, eyes bright with a sudden idea. "If you stay, I want you to come to my home. I want to introduce you to my parents. Especially my little sister, Gabrielle. She'll be thrilled to meet you."
Eira blinked, surprised by the invitation. Then she grinned. "Well, if Madame Delacour insists, how could I say no?"
Fleur smiled. "Then it's a promise."
They sat quietly after that, their voices lowering as they shared stories and jokes, laughter echoing gently across the water. Neither noticed the pair of eyes watching them from beyond the trees.
Standing in the shadows just beyond the garden's edge was Professor Voclain, her dark robes blending into the thinning foliage. Her expression was unreadable as she observed the two girls by the lake—especially the one with white hair and bright, inquisitive eyes. The one who laughed freely, unaware of the past that lingered so close.
Footsteps approached from behind. Professor Voclain didn't turn.
"I thought I'd find you here," came Madame Maxime's voice, soft but firm.
Voclain's jaw tightened. Her eyes stayed fixed on the girl at the lake.
Maxime followed her gaze. "They look happy," she said. "Why don't you go and speak to her? Introduce yourself."
Still, Voclain didn't move. "It's not wise," she said quietly.
"Why?" Maxime asked, arching a brow. "What are you afraid of?"
Silence.
"I know why you came here, René," Maxime continued. "You applied for this job not because you needed it—but because you wanted to see her. You wanted to be close to her."
Professor Voclain's eyes narrowed, lips pressing into a thin line.
"Tell her," Maxime urged. "Be brave."
"Tell her what?" Vauquelin snapped, voice breaking as her hands trembled at her sides. "Tell her that I'm her bloody grandmother? That I disowned her mother? That when I found out my daughter had died, I did nothing? That I let that poor child live in a frozen castle for years—alone, unloved—because I was too proud to admit I was wrong?"
Her voice cracked.
"What do I tell her, Maxime? That the woman she should have been able to call family didn't even have the courage to send a letter?"
Madame Maxime said nothing for a moment. Then she spoke, her voice gentler this time.
"You can't outrun guilt, René. You tried. It didn't work. Don't let the mistakes of the past steal your chance now. You lost your daughter to betrayal. Don't lose your granddaughter to silence."
Voclain turned her face away. The late light caught the shimmer in her eyes.
"You know Maria would have wanted you to be part of her life," Maxime said. "You know that."
But Voclain didn't reply. She simply turned, her steps brisk and stiff as she walked away, deeper into the shadows of the trees.
Maxime watched her go, then looked back at the girls by the lake—still laughing, still unaware of the people behind them.
She sighed.
"Such a tragic family," she murmured to herself. "Such a tragic, fragile thing… love is."
Then she, too, turned and walked away.