The château was alive with nervous energy. Exams loomed, and every corridor hummed with the rustle of parchment and the mutter of incantations practiced under breath. Even the Beauxbatons gardens, usually filled with laughter and leisure, had become quiet corners where students buried themselves in last-minute revision. The promise of summer holidays hung in the air like the first warmth of spring, made all the brighter by the anticipation of the Quidditch World Cup. Rumors about the Irish and Bulgarian teams' dominance carried through the halls; everyone wanted to be there when the semifinals began in France, right at the start of the holidays.
Eira was no different from the others, her days split between study sessions and the soft refuge of Fleur's company. After Alchemy class one afternoon, however, she found herself walking alongside Marin. He had changed—drastically. Since their last conversation, and perhaps more so after his mother's pleading, the boy who had once been branded a shameless flirt and a schoolyard playboy had transformed into something almost respectable. His reputation for chasing skirts had evaporated; he no longer cornered girls with careless compliments or smirks.
Still, as Eira glanced at him now, she wondered just how deep that transformation ran.
Catching her gaze, Marin smirked. "What is it? Don't tell me you've fallen for me after all. Regretting that you're Fleur's girlfriend and thinking of giving me a shot?"
Eira didn't even hesitate. She smacked him lightly on the head. "Idiot. You haven't changed a bit."
Marin laughed, darting ahead a few steps as if she might chase him again. "Worth a try," he said, grinning over his shoulder.
Their playful banter carried them toward Ombrelune's gardens, and by the time their laughter faded, Marin's tone had grown more thoughtful. "You know, I was honestly surprised when you and Fleur started dating. Sure, I noticed you were close—closer than normal relationship between girls but I never thought it would go that far. Lovers? That really shocked me."
Eira's smile softened. "To tell you the truth, I had a crush on her from the moment we met. At first, I thought it would fade—just a silly, passing thing. But instead, the more time we spent together, the deeper it grew. It wasn't just a crush anymore. When we finally confessed, that's when we realized what it truly was."
Marin gave an exaggerated sigh. "No wonder you never gave me a chance. Or why Fleur brushed me off so easily. You were both already into each other. I mean, look at me how handsome I am! And because of you two, I even started doubting my charms. My handsomeness, even!"
Eira rolled her eyes. "Don't flatter yourself. There are plenty of men more handsome than you. Don't let a few compliments of some women and girls go to your head."
He clutched his chest in mock agony. "You're only saying that because you're into girls. If you liked boys, I'm sure you'd have chased after me."
She smirked. "Who knows what would have happened if I was? But now that's one scenario that will never happen. Sorry to disappoint you."
"Your loss," Marin said with a shrug, though his grin betrayed his amusement.
They walked a while in companionable silence before he spoke again, more serious this time. "But really, this changes everything. To the outside world, it's still just rumors. People whisper, but they can't prove anything unless they've seen you together at school. If word truly gets out and confirmed, though… imagine the scandal. The Matriarch of House White, and Fleur Delacour, the most beautiful girl in France? That would explode across the pure-blood circles. I almost can't wait to see their faces."
Eira lifted her chin, her expression proud. "When that day comes, I'll take Fleur by the hand and kiss her in front of every camera. Let the whole world know she's mine."
Marin recoiled, making a face. "For Merlin's sake, how can you be so shameless?"
Eira smirked. "Oh, that wasn't shameless. You don't want to see how far I'd go when it comes to her."
Before he could retort, a flicker of violet caught her eye. A butterfly of shimmering color descended gracefully, landing on her outstretched hand. She recognized it instantly—Madame Maxime's chosen method of sending messages. With a soft burst of violet dust, the creature dissolved, its wings scattering into glowing letters.
{Miss White, I'd like to have a conversation with you, if possible. Please meet me in the rooftop garden of the Château. I'll be waiting.}
Marin whistled low. "Headmistress wants you. Better not keep her waiting."
Eira nodded, closing her hand as the dust faded. "All right. But remember—study this time. I won't help you with exams."
"Yeah, yeah," Marin muttered with a grin. "We'll see."
Shaking her head, Eira turned toward the stairs, her steps carrying her steadily upward to the roof where Madame Maxime awaited.