The air was crisp here, atop the Pyrenean mountains. The corridors were chilly in the morning, what with their glassless windows forming elegant stone arches on one side, made of the same pale sandstone as the rest of the castle. And as the cold wind carried through, so did cold words.
“Quelle énorme salope!”
The words held contempt, and hatred, and a thousand other acrid things that had seeped out of the feminine voice along with her near shout. But there was hurt in there as well, Fleur knew. Of course she could recognize hurt, no matter how well concealed, no matter how much rage and cruelty one surrounded their hurt with. These words weren’t even meant for her, but still they stung deeply. Fleur wished she hadn’t come out of her room this morning. She wished the urge to take a walk outside in the stupid hopes that the mountain air could calm her had not won out in her morning deliberations. But what were wishes, for silly little girls like themselves?
“C’est une putain de Veela! Elle peut avoir qui elle veut! N’importe lequel de ces gros abrutis qui la suivent comme des chiens!”
It was time to walk. Away from this blasted corridor and back to her dormitory. The teachers would frown at her, the Headmistress would probably come and find her at some point come evening, but she didn’t care. School did not matter. Lessons and exams and diplomas didn’t matter. What mattered was peace, silence, and perhaps some of the Firewhiskey bottles Caroline kept tucked away under her bed (she would find out her secret cache wasn’t so secret anymore, but Fleur did not care.)
“Mais t’es conne ou quoi? Tu crois qu’elle voulait l’embrasser, ton abruti de copain? Il a essayé de lui enfoncer sa langue dans le gosier et elle l’a giflé.”
Oh no. Speaking of Caroline… But what was her friend doing here? She hadn’t seen her in their dormitory this morning, but she’d figured her friend had made a beeline for the library like she usually did most of her free mornings. This, however, was nowhere near the library, and here she was, defending her honour as if Fleur was a little damsel in distress, incapable of defending herself.
New plans had to be made. The girls a few corridors below her did not stop their argument, insults having turned to shoutings which in turn prompted more crass, violent bouts of insults. There was little doubt as to where this was all heading, and from what she could hear, her friend seemed to be facing a group of three all by herself. Fleur loved Caroline dearly, and her friend always defended her at all costs. But, well, she could be a complete dumb bitch sometimes. Not a single ounce of shrewdness or self-preservation.
Fleur started running. The situation was minutes away from exploding and, sure enough, she heard the first spells being shouted as she neared the corridor where this aggressive display was quickly unfolding. She had to duck under a red spell as she reached them, only to find Caroline standing in the middle of rubble, a shield before her as she shouted spell after spell.
“T’es vraiment la plus grosse des débiles!” Fleur yelled at her as she took her spot besides her friend. Then she pecked her on the cheek even as she threw a wandless ball of fire towards one of the cruel teenagers. “Je t’adore!”