Weeks passed in a gentle rhythm, as Eira settled back into the cadence of life at Beauxbâtons. Most of her days were spent in classrooms, surrounded by parchment, ink, and the low hum of whispered spells. When she wasn't immersed in lessons, she occasionally exchanged conversations with Mia Saint-Clair—a bubbly girl from her house with a vibrant laugh and an ever-present sparkle in her eyes. Mia, however, was often preoccupied with her boyfriend, which left Eira to her own devices more often than not.
Eira found solace in the quiet corners of the library, losing herself in heavy tomes and delicate script. Knowledge had become a kind of sanctuary—one she chased eagerly. When she wasn't reading, she strolled the stone corridors or wandered through the school's enchanted gardens with Marin, who never failed to brighten her day with his quirky jokes and offbeat humor.
From time to time, she received correspondence from England—parchments sealed with wax and burdened with the weight of family affairs. Emma Bloom, still acting as Matriarch in Eira's absence, kept her well-informed. One particular letter stood out: Emma mentioned that the Malfoy family had requested a private meeting with Eira. Emma, with good sense, had already declined it on Eira's behalf, not wanting to disturb her studies. But she had explained the reason behind the request—Lucius Malfoy wished to gain Eira's support in applying pressure on the Ministry to remove Dumbledore from his position as Headmaster of Hogwarts. Apparently, Lucius believed that a word from Eira would carry considerable political weight.
Eira responded with clarity and restraint. She instructed Emma not to involve herself in petty power struggles between Malfoy and Dumbledore, and to remain neutral. "I don't have the time nor interest to fight someone else's war," she had written back. And with that, the matter was closed.
Though Fleur Delacour remained a comforting presence at Beauxbâtons, the two hadn't spent as much time together lately. Fleur was deep in preparation for her O.W.L.s, often tucked away in the library with quills, books, and an expression of unwavering focus. Eira, admiring her dedication, chose not to interrupt her. She respected Fleur too much to be the cause of distraction.
And so the days turned, and October drifted into its final breath. Today was the thirty-first—Halloween. The château was abuzz with excitement, for tonight would be the grand feast, a beloved tradition at Beauxbâtons.
Eira awoke late, enjoying the rare luxury of a holiday morning in the Ombrelune dormitory. The sun filtered gently through the tall windows, casting faint golden shapes across the stone walls. Stretching lazily, she gathered her bath supplies and padded softly down the corridor to the ornate bathroom shared by her housemates. After brushing her teeth and soaking in a long, steaming bath, she returned to her room wrapped in warmth and the scent of lavender soap.
Today was a holiday, which meant no uniforms—only personal choice and taste. Eira stood in front of her wardrobe for a while, debating. After some thought, she selected a black dress with subtle lace detailing at the cuffs, something elegant yet comfortable. Once dressed, she descended toward the Dining Hall, only to find it mostly empty. The long tables had already been cleared of breakfast, leaving behind only the faint aroma of croissants and hot chocolate.
She turned to leave, amused at her own tardiness, when a familiar voice called out behind her.
"Hey, Eira!"
She turned to see Fleur approaching, her silvery-blonde hair catching the light like a ribbon of moonlight. Eira smiled.
"Well, well," she teased. "Miss Hardworking herself graces us with her presence. What an honor."
Fleur rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. "Come with me. I want to take you somewhere."
Eira lifted a brow. "Are you sure? Shouldn't you be off memorizing the properties of a thousand potions or mastering your Latin spells?"
"I've had two full months of nothing but studying," Fleur said with a dramatic sigh. "My brain is beginning to melt. I need a break. Just for today."
Eira tilted her head with a grin. "If that is the will of Mademoiselle Delacour, then who am I to refuse? I shall be a very good lady and accompany her on her mysterious journey."
Fleur's smile widened, and without another word, she reached for Eira's hand. Their fingers linked effortlessly, and together they walked out of the Ombrelune Hall, past the towering stained-glass windows that caught the morning light like magic itself.
Outside, the air was crisp, kissed with the scent of autumn leaves and the faintest hint of something sweet—perhaps the kitchens were already preparing pumpkin pastries for the evening's feast. Students in capes and glittering costumes darted around the grounds, their laughter ringing through the courtyards.
Eira glanced sideways at Fleur. "So where are we going, exactly?"
"You'll see," Fleur said, giving her hand a gentle tug.
And just like that, the two disappeared down a side path, laughter trailing behind them like a secret spell cast only for the joy of the moment.