The sunlight had softened by mid-morning, turning the skies over Beauxbâtons a pale, silken blue. The crisp breeze that stirred through the marble corridors hinted at the changing season, carrying with it the scent of fallen leaves and distant fires. It was the kind of day that asked for no plans—only wandering.
Eira followed Fleur through a narrow path that curved away from the main château. The trail wound through a series of quiet gardens and into the edge of the surrounding woodlands. Though the school's boundaries were usually marked clearly with protective enchantments, Fleur seemed to know where they parted gently, as if the wards recognized her presence and allowed her passage.
"Are we… allowed to be out here?" Eira asked after a while, casting a glance over her shoulder. The distant spires of the Beauxbâtons palace were barely visible now between the trees.
"Technically?" Fleur flashed a teasing grin. "No. But there's a reason I brought you today. The faculty won't care on Halloween morning, especially not if we're back in time for the feast."
Eira chuckled under her breath. "You sound more rebellious than usual."
Fleur gave a mock gasp. "You wound me! I'm merely… exercising familial tradition."
"Oh?" Eira arched a brow, intrigued. "What kind of tradition leads us deep into the mountains?"
"You'll see," Fleur replied, her voice softer now. She glanced ahead and quickened her pace, leading Eira along a narrow trail etched into the side of the hill. "My mother told me about this place when I was little. She said it was where she and my father would sneak off when they were students here. Back then, this path wasn't even part of the school's property. But they knew it, and… it became special to them."
The further they went, the quieter the world around them became. The sound of laughter from the castle grounds faded, replaced by birdsong and the gentle rush of wind in the trees. Eira felt her thoughts begin to quiet, too, as if some invisible charm was soothing away the tension she'd been carrying for weeks.
The trail narrowed once more, then curved sharply upward, the soil giving way to uneven stone. They climbed carefully, and after a final push through a curtain of thick vines and flowering thistles, the forest gave way.
Eira stepped through—and her breath caught.
Before them lay a hidden valley, cradled gently by the arms of two mountains. A crystal-clear waterfall tumbled down the dark gray cliffs, its waters glittering as they caught the light. The stream it fed wound through a patchwork of soft moss, flowering shrubs, and luminous blue-green grass that shimmered faintly with magic. Wildflowers bloomed in every hue imaginable—pale violets and star-shaped reds, golden blossoms with silver edges, all nodding gently in the breeze.
But what stole Eira's breath entirely were the creatures.
Tiny winged deer no larger than housecats leapt across the stream, their hooves glimmering like polished opal. A fox with fur that shifted color in the light sat perched atop a rock, calmly watching their approach. Above, long-tailed birds with radiant feathers circled lazily, occasionally letting out musical trills that echoed faintly like chimes.
Fleur smiled at Eira's expression.
"I told you it was hidden," she said quietly.
"This…" Eira breathed, taking a slow step forward, "this is like a dream."
"It's called Val Enchanté," Fleur explained, her voice just above a whisper. "It means 'Enchanted Vale.' There are only a handful of magical spots like this left in Europe—places where the magic is older than any of our spells. My mother said this was the first place she ever really fell in love—with my father, yes, but also with magic itself."
Eira stepped forward to the edge of the waterfall's basin, where the water shimmered like liquid glass. A pair of glowing butterflies fluttered up and danced in her hair, their wings whisper-soft against her skin.
"I understand why," she said softly.
They made their way to a flat ledge near the top of the hill, where the moss was thick and dry and framed by smooth boulders. From there, they could see the entire valley below—and beyond it, in the far distance, the elegant silhouette of Beauxbâtons itself. The sun caught the domes and towers, turning the windows into gleaming jewels.
Fleur sat first, tugging off her boots and tucking her feet beneath her. Eira followed, settling beside her and wrapping her arms loosely around her knees.
For a few long moments, they simply sat there, watching the clouds drift lazily across the sky.
"It's strange," Eira murmured at last. "I've been surrounded by so much… noise lately. Family matters. Ministry gossip. Rumors, scandals, questions I'm supposed to answer. But up here, none of it feels real."
"It's not," Fleur said. "Not here."
Eira turned to look at her. "Do you come here often?"
"Only twice before," Fleur replied. "Once when I was a first-year—I got lost trying to follow the trail and had to turn back. The second time, my mother brought me when I was twelve. She said this place reveals itself only when you're ready to see it."
"That sounds a bit poetic."
"She's a Delacour," Fleur said with a small laugh. "Everything is poetic."
Eira smiled at that. She leaned back on her hands and looked up at the sky. "Do you think… places like this are meant to remind us of something?"
"Maybe," Fleur said. "Maybe they're meant to remind us of what's real beneath all the pretending. That there's still beauty. Still peace. Still innocence."
The wind stirred Fleur's hair, and a golden lock blew across her cheek. She pushed it away, her gaze fixed on the horizon.
"I want to build a cottage in a place like this," she said softly. "To live there with the person I love, and give her the most beautiful life she deserves."
Eira blinked, caught off guard. "You will? Well, whoever they are , they are one lucky bastard to have you building a cottage in a place like this."
Fleur watched her intently, her eyes dark with obsession. "Yes," she breathed, "I would build anything for her — I'd even give her my heart."
And in the silence that followed, Fleur's thoughts burned with a fierce, possessive heat:
'Only for you. Only for you. I love you, Eira. I love you. Mine, mine, mine.`
When she realized what she was thinking, Fleur quickly looked away. It was getting harder to control herself—her mother had warned her about this, about the way a Veela's instincts could overwhelm them when they truly fell for someone.
They didn't speak for some time as they observed the beauty of the scenery. The waterfall murmured in the background, patient and eternal.
"I suppose… I've had to grow up quickly," Eira finally broke the silence . "There's no time for softness when your name alone sets off gossip across two countries."
"You're allowed to be soft with me," Fleur said gently.
Eira turned to her, eyes searching hers.
"You're one of the few people I feel like I don't have to guard myself against," she said.
Fleur smiled, though it was touched with something wistful. "Then let today be a reminder. No matter how loud the world gets… you still have a place where no one else can touch you."
They sat in silence again, the kind of silence that isn't empty, but full—of understanding, of breath shared between friends, of a thousand unspoken words. One of the tiny deer bounded up the hill and sniffed at Eira's foot before prancing away again, vanishing into the ferns.
"Do you ever wish things were simpler?" Eira asked at last.
Fleur tilted her head. "Sometimes. But I also think… the complexity is what makes us strong."
Eira let out a soft laugh. "You're wise for someone so young ."
"Well I am only three years older than you ," Fleur replied, bumping her shoulder gently against Eira's. "Besides, since when have age become equal to wisdom ."
The sky had begun to shift, the colors softening into early afternoon amber. The waterfall sparkled beneath the changing light, casting little rainbows across the mossy stones.
Fleur reached into her satchel and pulled out a small, enchanted thermos and two flaky pastries wrapped in cloth.
"I came prepared as I saw you looking at the Dining Hall's tables like a hungry puppy.," she said triumphantly.
Eira grinned. "Chocolate?"
"Of course."
They ate slowly, laughing between bites, sipping warm cocoa and watching the magical animals stir lazily in the valley below.
When the pastries were gone, Fleur leaned back on the moss and let her arms stretch wide across the ground.
"If I ever disappear," she murmured, eyes half-closed, "you'll know where to find me."
Eira lay down beside her. "I'd bring better snacks."
Fleur laughed, a rich and delighted sound. "Deal."
They stayed like that for a long time—watching the clouds drift above, the mountains silent guardians at their sides. Here, there were no titles, no matriarchs, no weight of family legacy or political maneuvering. Just two girls, beneath the open sky, in a hidden place where even the world dared not intrude.
When they finally rose to leave, the wind had stilled, and the enchanted vale glowed faintly in the descending light—as if it, too, knew it had been part of something special.
And as they walked back toward Beauxbâtons, hand in hand, Eira knew she would never forget this day.
Not because of the magic.
But because of Fleur.