Eira turned her head and caught sight of Fleur standing near a patch of flowers. Fleur’s arms were folded tightly across her chest, her eyes narrowed as if she had caught Eira in so great cri. The look should have been intimidating, but to Eira it only softened her heart. Her lips curved into a smile, warmth rushing through her chest at the sight of her girlfriend pouting with jealousy.
She crossed the courtyard and stopped in front of Fleur. "Where have you been? Yesterday I waited such a long ti, but you never ca. Gabrielle told you went out with Madam Maxi to buy things for training. You should have at least told , you cold-hearted girl. I was worried."
Without waiting for an answer, Eira slipped her arms around Fleur and hugged her tightly. Fleur, who had been feigning dissatisfaction, imdiately lted into her embrace and returned it with equal fervor. She leaned close and whispered, her voice tinged with apology, "I am sorry, love. I did not have the chance to tell you. Madam Maxi took away at once and we went to France. Most of it was her errands, clothes and such things, not mine."
Eira’s smile deepened. "I am glad to see you now. Co, let’s eat. Have you had lunch?"
Fleur shook her head. "No. I have not even had breakfast. We ca back late last night, and I was so tired I slept until just now."
"Then it is settled," Eira said cheerfully. "Let’s go to the Great Hall together." She reached for Fleur’s hand, and the two of them began walking toward the castle.
They had gone only a few steps before Fleur tugged her hand back slightly. "Wait. You did not answer my question. Who was that boy? And why was he calling you by na? As far as I know, no one calls you that unless they are close to you." Her tone was casual, but her sharp blue eyes betrayed her curiosity.
Eira sighed softly. "No one special. He is a student from Ilvermorny, in the United States. His na is Isaac Rowen. Do you rember the old man Thaddeus Rowen during the Duel between the Trévér and Voclain families?"
Fleur tilted her head, frowning. "The strange man who spoke of ridiculous things, like taking over the world?"
"That is the one," Eira said with a small laugh. "Isaac is his grandson. He has beco sowhat close to Hermione, so I wanted to speak with him. Nothing more, nothing that should worry you."
The tension slipped from Fleur’s face. She gave a little shrug and replied lightly, "Oh, since it is about Granger, then it is not important to ." She slipped her fingers back through Eira’s and pulled her forward. "Co, let us have lunch."
Eira’s lips twitched, caught between amusent and exasperation at her girlfriend’s dismissive tone toward Hermione. Still, she followed along, content to let Fleur lead her into the Great Hall, her earlier worries forgotten in the comfort of Fleur’s presence.
The Great Hall buzzed with midday chatter when Eira and Fleur stepped inside. Sunlight stread down through the enchanted ceiling, dappling the long tables with a golden glow. Most students were already seated, plates piled with food, but the hum of conversation shifted the mont the two girls walked toward the Slytherin table hand in hand.
They took their seats side by side, Fleur smoothing her hair back with a graceful flick as Eira imdiately began fussing over her plate.
"You should eat properly," Eira said, reaching across to pile roasted chicken onto Fleur’s plate. "You like this, don’t you? And here, try so of the vegetables. They will do you good." She scooped buttery potatoes and a portion of carrots, ignoring Fleur’s amused smile.
"Eira," Fleur whispered, her voice warm but teasing, "you treat as if I am helpless."
"You did not even eat breakfast," Eira replied firmly, pushing the plate closer to her. "So today, I will make sure you eat enough."
Fleur’s lips curved into a small, indulgent smile, and she began eating without further protest. Around them, heads started to turn. Whispers floated from every direction, subtle at first, then louder as more students noticed how Eira leaned in to pass Fleur bread, how Fleur let her do it without complaint.
"Look at them," a Gryffindor girl murmured, not as quietly as she thought. "That is not just friendship."
"I knew it," a Ravenclaw boy whispered to his friend. "They are definitely together."
Even so of the Slytherins eyed them with suspicion, trading glances over goblets of pumpkin juice.
The murmuring was soon interrupted by a sharp, self-satisfied voice. "Badges, get your badges here! Show your true support!"
Draco Malfoy swept into the hall, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, who carried small boxes filled with shining tal pins. They were moving along the tables, handing them out with smug smiles. Students craned their necks to see, curiosity sparking as the badges began to change with a shimr of letters.
"Support Cedric Diggory, the Real Hogwarts Champion," one side read. But with a quick tap of Draco’s wand, the words shifted to reveal the other ssage. "Potter Stinks."
A wave of laughter broke across the Hufflepuff table as many of them eagerly pinned the badges to their robes, clearly enjoying the jab at Harry. Draco strutted forward like a general distributing banners before battle, his grin wide and his chin tilted high.
When he reached the Slytherin table, he paused in front of Eira, holding one of the badges between his fingers. "Eira," he drawled smoothly, "surely you want to show where your loyalties lie. Here, let help you."
He leaned forward as if to pin the badge to her robes himself.
Before he could touch her, Fleur’s hand shot out. She caught his wrist in a grip that looked delicate but carried an edge of steel. Her voice dropped, quiet and cold, the kind of tone that froze a room. "Never touch her with your filthy hands."
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