Fleur shifted slightly, reaching for the thermos again. "More tea?"
"Yes, please," Eira said, holding out her cup.
The liquid poured in a curling stream of steam, golden and fragrant. A subtle warmth bloomed in Eira's palms as she cupped the drink and settled back onto the mossy ground, legs crossed beneath her cloak.
"It's really odd, isn't it?" Eira said after a moment, glancing out toward the silver curve of the waterfall. "How quickly people forget things here. Just last month, everyone was terrified of Julian Trévér. Now they whisper behind his back and laugh when he passes."
"Mm," Fleur hummed, bringing her own cup to her lips. "Beauxbâtons has a short memory when it comes to power. The moment someone loses their grip on it, they become a story instead of a threat."
"Still," Eira mused, stirring her tea with a small charm, "I thought he'd put up more of a fight."
"Oh, he will," Fleur said quietly, watching a bird glide overhead. "Boys like Julian always do. They just wait until the attention dies down so they can strike back unnoticed."
Eira tilted her head. "He's been unusually quiet, though. That's not his style specifically for someone from Trévér family."
"No," Fleur agreed. "Which means he's told to keep quiet by his family."
Eira sipped her tea and glanced sideways at her. "You really have experience with these types of guys ."
Fleur gave a soft, unreadable smile. "Let's just say I've danced with enough masks to know what faces hide behind them."
The wind shifted slightly, sending a few strands of Eira's hair across her face. Fleur reached over without a word and tucked them back behind her ear. Eira blinked, but said nothing, merely offering a vague thanks before returning to her thoughts.
"Anyway," Eira muttered, shaking her head. "Let him plot. I'm not afraid of him but his family might be a little bit a headache for me."
"You shouldn't be," Fleur said simply. "He's already lost. And yes there is someone very powerful that lead that family and that person might really be a headache for you so be more careful."
There was something final in her tone, not cruel—but sure. Eira looked at her again, really looked this time, and wondered—not for the first time—how Fleur always seemed to know what was coming before anyone else.
But before she could ask, Fleur shifted the conversation.
"So," she said, a little too casually, "what do you think of the new Ombrelune transfer student? The one who tried to hex his cauldron in Potions last week."
Eira snorted. "You mean Marius Dupin?"
"That's his name?"
"I think so. I only remember because he keeps referring to himself in the third person."
Fleur laughed, a rich, clear sound that made a nearby bird trill in reply.
"I mean, really," Eira continued. "Who says 'Marius Dupin does not eat cabbage' in the middle of the star hall dinner party ?"
"Well," Fleur said with a smile tugging at her lips, "perhaps he had a traumatic cabbage experience."
Eira gave her a look. "Is that what passes for trauma in Ombrelune now?"
Fleur shrugged, amusement dancing in her eyes. "You'd be surprised what some of them cry over. Last year, someone tried to drop out over a bad dream involving flying cows."
Eira stared. "You're joking."
"I wish I were."
They both laughed again, and for a while, that was all there was—warm tea, wildflowers swaying, and laughter echoing off the valley walls. The fox nearby blinked slowly, unimpressed, and curled its tail around itself.
"You know," Eira said once they'd both calmed down, "I think we really need to sharpen our spellwork. Given who we are, we're always going to be under pressure—and under threat. You're a Veela. People would kill just to possess someone like you."
Fleur tilted her head, a faint smile playing on her lips. "And you, with the beauty of a Veela and the power of one of the oldest families in Europe."
"Well," Eira said, raising a brow, "considering how my life has gone lately…"
Fleur nodded. "Fair. But still, it's good to remember you're more than the mess surrounding you."
Eira took another sip of her tea, letting the words linger in the air. "Well, thanks. I just hope things stay… calm, given how everything's going."
Fleur raised an eyebrow, her tone laced with dry amusement. "Oh? What kind of calm? The kind where two of the most powerful families in France are at war—while you just happen to be right in the middle of it?"
"Well… I may have a hand in this war," Eira said after a pause. "But I don't think they'd actually do anything to me."
Fleur shot her a sideways glance, eyes half-lidded. "Oh, really? You mean even after you publicly called the dead eldest son of the Trévér family both gay and a murderer—and then accused his own family of killing him out of shame?"
"Uh-huh, you're in this too, girl," Eira said, pointing her spoon at Fleur. "You were the one who compared Cecil and Roman to Romeo and Juliet. If they come after me, they're coming after you too."
Fleur smirked, tossing her hair back dramatically. "Well, if they do come after us… at least we'll go down together. How romantic. We can die side by side hehehehehehe."
They sat in silence again, listening to the soft splash of the waterfall. Somewhere in the far end of the valley, a pair of deer leapt playfully through a patch of glowing mushrooms, sending tiny motes of light drifting into the air.
Eira leaned back on her elbows. "Do you think people actually fall in love here?" she asked, mostly to the air.
"In the valley?" Fleur asked, turning to look at her.
"No, I mean… in school. At our age. With all the chaos going on. Can it even be real?"
Fleur considered this for a moment. "I think… people feel things very strongly at our age. Whether it's love or something they mistake for it."
"That's not very optimistic," Eira said with a faint smile.
"I didn't say it was always false. Just that it's hard to know."
Eira let her eyes drift back toward the waterfall. "I don't think I've ever loved anyone."
Fleur didn't speak, but her silence said more than words. She sipped her tea slowly, looking ahead.
Eira didn't notice the way her fingers tightened just slightly around the handle of the cup.
"I think I've wanted to," Eira added after a moment. "But it always feels like something I'm observing. Like I'm watching from the outside, trying to figure out the rules."
"Maybe you haven't met the right person," Fleur said quietly.
"Maybe." Eira shrugged. "Or maybe I'm just too complicated."
Fleur gave a soft smile, one Eira didn't see. "That's not a flaw, Eira. That's depth."
Eira huffed. "That sounds like something someone says before walking away."
"I'm not walking away from you ."
Eira glanced at her, caught off guard again—but Fleur had already stood, brushing crumbs off her skirt.
"Come," she said, holding out a hand. "Let's walk before the sun sets. The light hits the waterfall just right around now. Turns it into a prism."
Eira took her hand without thinking, letting Fleur pull her to her feet. The moss squished gently under their boots as they made their way closer to the edge, the valley spreading below like an enchanted painting. The wind picked up just a little more, rustling through the wildflowers, the birdsong carrying through the air like a lullaby.
And for a moment, with her hand still warm from Fleur's, Eira forgot about Julian, and scandal, and even the noise of Valentine's Day.
There was only this hidden valley, and the girl walking beside her, calm and steady.