The year is 1994, and for the first time in ages, the Triwizard Tournament is occurring. Hogwarts has been chosen to host this momentous event, much to the delight of its students. Unfortunately, due to previous injuries and deaths, only those of age may submit their name to the Goblet of Fire, vastly reducing the number of students who are able. That doesn't mean that younger students can't try. Also doesn't mean that they'll succeed. What does the Triwizard Tournament have in store for the schools of Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons? Who will be chosen to participate, and most importantly, will they all come out in one piece?
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Post by Fenrir Alenxandre on Jun 22, 2015 11:10:29 GMT -5
Vorfreude
(n.) the joyful, intense anticipation that comes from imagining future pleasures
The tables had appeared out of thin air on the tables. He noticed a few French cuisines on the table, no doubt a special request from Madame Maxime to help her students slowly become acquainted with Hogwarts traditions. He had been to Hogwarts before, when he was 12 and only a second year at Beauxbatons. He was far too young to even think about putting his name in the Goblet for the Triwizard Tournament. But this year, he was old enough and he had every intention in doing so.
He was stirring his soup when he happened to glance up towards the table straight across from him. Their eyes met, almost as if with intention. But Fenrir had never seen or met her before. She had fiery red hair that was similar to some of the people he was sitting beside. He wondered if they were within the same family. He cast his eyes down at his soup, waited a full two seconds, and then looked back up at her to see if she were still staring.
Fenrir gave her a smile, his smooth face showing the clear lines around his lips. "Hello," he mouth from across the tables. He gave a short glance towards Fleur to see if she was watching him. She wasn't. She had far too many boys around her, ogling at her as if she were some pretty bird in a cage. He picked up his bowl of soup and walked towards the girl.
Squeezing in the space beside her, he sat down in a very nonchalant manner as if he'd meant to sit there first. "Have you tried the vichyssoise?" he asked without looking at her and taking a small sip of his soup with a spoon.
Post by Alice Stark on Jun 22, 2015 18:41:42 GMT -5
her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
Alice sat at the dinner table, chattering with her friends. They were planning on going out after dinner to a party on the Quidditch pitch, something that the teachers pretended not to be aware of. As long as there wasn't any drinking or inappropriate behavior, the professors didn't seem to care about what celebrations the older student body decided to partake in. Alice was a frequent guest at the parties, usually helping to plan them. Given that she was the Ravenclaw prefect, she had a bit of leverage in planning and getting out of the castle, much to her pleasure. It was nice on a Friday evening to go out, especially since the weather wouldn't stay pleasant for very long.
The redhead was not at all a fan of the snow or the cold, and she knew that it was only a matter of time before the beautiful weather turned sour. People tended to like the crisp autumn air, but Alice was not one of those people. Having to wear sweaters and pants instead of being able to wear her favorite dresses? It was almost a crime in her book. She wanted to take full advantage of the nice weather to catch up with the people that she hadn't spoken to much over the summer, and to meet some of the students from the visiting schools. It was exciting, having the rival establishments and their students under one roof for the tournament. Alice was excited to befriend new people.
The men were all fawning over the ladies of Beauxbatons for how beautiful and proper they all were. Alice wasn't a self-conscious individual, but the young women were all so gorgeous. It was hard not to feel bad about her appearance when around them. The running, slightly bitter joke among the Hogwarts women was that Beauxbatons wouldn't let any ugly girls into the school. The same seemed to be true for the boys: they were all so pretty. Alice caught herself on more than one occasion staring at them from afar, simply for the pleasure of looking. All of the boys seemed to be pining after the Gryffindor girls, the bold ones who would make the first move.
As Alice sat, daydreaming to herself, she felt a pair of eyes on her. The girl looked up from her supper, glancing across the room. Her gaze met another and the redhead found herself blushing. It was awkward, meeting the eyes of someone unintentionally. However, she held the stranger's gaze. They zeroed in on one another, and she watched the handsome blond boy's lips upturn in one of the most charming smiles she had ever seen. It felt like she had been socked in the chest and all of her breath had escaped her. It was cliche, but he was gorgeous... the boy mouthed a greeting and Alice's lips parted in an attempt to reciprocate. However, she found herself incapable of words. The girl bit her lip and instead raised her hand, giving a slight wave.
Without warning, the boy was up on his feet, bowl of soup in hand, heading towards her. Alice felt butterflies rise in her stomach, the hopeless romantic in her anxiously anticipating the arrival of the beautiful man. He sidled up alongside her, sitting next to her casually. The boy looked over at her, cocking his head slightly to the side and shooting her a charming smile.
"Have you tried the vichyssoise?"
Alice smiled. "Not this particular batch, but it smells amazing," she replied. "My mother makes it at home. It's one of her favorite dishes from home. Family recipe," she explained, rambling on. A tinge of pink graced the redhead's cheeks and she bit on her lip, tucking her fiery locks behind her ear to hide her embarrassment. He'd only just sat down and here she was, going on about her entire life's story. "Uhm, hi. I'm Alice," she introduced herself, hoping to distract from her blushing.
Post by Fenrir Alenxandre on Jun 22, 2015 19:22:08 GMT -5
Vorfreude
(n.) the joyful, intense anticipation that comes from imagining future pleasures
Fenrir saw the flush on her cheeks and the telltale sign of a girl's interest. The lip biting, the hair tucking. He was basically an expert in the language of love, and this girl was interested. When he heard her accent, he was a little surprised. He'd expected a type of British accent, English or Irish. But instead he heard something odd, something he'd never heard before. It was a mixture of American and English, and then just a slight French. Fenrir was also adept in picking up accents as his family have been traveling all over the world since before he was even born. In a way, her mix of accents gave her a non-accent. He found it appealing and intriguing at the same time.
"And where is home? France, I expect?" he asked, changing his own accent to sound more English. His father was a muggle English doctor and he'd learn how to speak English from him. His natural accept was of course more French. But when in Britain, do as the Britains do! Fenrir wondered if she actually was from France and if she was, why wasn't she attending Beauxbatons? Her beauty was at least comparable of all the girls who attended there.
Fenrir sipped more of his soup, careful not to make any sipping sounds. It was always rude to hear people eating. He put down his spoon and wiped his lips on a napkin. He turned to her, his hand reaching out in the tiny space between them to reach her hand. He took it, without permission, though she had not objected. Then leaning slightly and bringing her hand up, he kissed the middle of her hand ever so lightly. "A pleasure, Alice. My name's Fenrir Alexandre, but my friends just call me Fen," he held on to her hand a second longer before loosening his grip, but waiting for her to pull it back.
"I'm pleasantly delighted that this is as delicious as it is back in France, do you think perhaps they brought some of the Beauxbatons house elves here?" he mused, though he wouldn't have been surprised. Hogwarts and Beauxbatons were wonderful friends. Headmaster Dumbledore and Madame Maxime made sure of that. So it would make perfect sense that they would do everything they could to accommodate the visiting students, including inviting some of their palace elves to stay in the castle.
Post by Alice Stark on Jun 23, 2015 17:47:18 GMT -5
her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
Oh, you idiot, Alice thought to herself. She could see from the handsome stranger's slightly bemused expression that her physical attraction to him wasn't at all hidden. In fact, it was probably rather obvious. Alice was the type of girl to wear her heart on her sleeve, and that, in turn, caused her facial expressions to be remarkably open. She wasn't very good at hiding her feelings. Even if she could keep a stony face, her eyes would very quickly give her true emotions away. People said that eyes were the windows to the soul for a reason, and that was very much the case with Alice. If she wasn't still in the presence of the beautiful young man, she would have no doubt audibly groaned and hid her face in her arms out of sheer embarrassment.
"And where is home? France, I expect?"
Alice nodded, smiling. "I didn't think my accent was that obvious. Most people can't figure out where I'm from," she replied. "My mother grew up in Bordeaux, went to Beauxbatons for school. My father's from America, went to Salem," she explained. Immediately, she regretted it. There she went again, spilling all of her life story! Alice felt her cheeks burn. By now, her blush seemed permanent and was rather obvious. Alice wanted to hide. No doubt the handsome Beauxbatons student thought her to be foolish.
Alice was proven wrong, however, when he took up her hand. Alice looked at him, blush intensifying, as he smiled at her, bringing her hand to his lips. He kissed the top part of her hand, and Alice felt her breath catch in her throat. She wasn't used to such a gesture. His lips were remarkably soft, she realized. It was a polite move, something done out of courtesy, but the way that he lingered made Alice believe that it was meant to be flirtatious. Alice was a dolt when it came to any sort of seduction. Her relationships had all blossomed from friendships to casual relationships just to test the waters. She'd never really needed to flirt.
"A pleasure, Alice. My name's Fenrir Alexandre, but my friends just call me Fen."
"Oh," was all that Alice found herself saying. She shook her head slightly, taking back her hand from Fen and using it to nervously tuck her hair behind her ears. It was an obvious gesture, one that Fen had obviously picked up on, but she found it comforting, done out of habit. "It's nice to meet you, Fen," she replied, happy to find that her voice was cooperating with her. Inside, she felt as though she were forcing every word out, stammering like a fool.
"I'm pleasantly delighted that this is as delicious as it is back in France, do you think perhaps they brought some of the Beauxbatons house elves here?"
Alice considered the question. "Now that you mention it, I did see some unfamiliar house elves when I went into the kitchens for a snack yesterday... It makes sense. It's nice of them to add a sense of familiarity to you all," she replied. Alice felt a tap on her shoulder and she looked back. A tall girl with blonde hair was looking anxiously down at her. "Aren't you coming?" the girl asked. Alice looked back at Fen, offering him a smile, before turning back towards her friend. "I'm going to finish dinner first, and then I'll be there. Start without me!" Alice had almost completely forgotten about the party. She'd been far too distracted with Fen's presence...
Post by Fenrir Alenxandre on Jun 24, 2015 14:36:16 GMT -5
Vorfreude
(n.) the joyful, intense anticipation that comes from imagining future pleasures
"On the contrary, I thought you were American and had just acquired the English accent after years of living here. I suppose I was only half correct," he finished his soup. "You knew about vichyssoise, so I assumed France." Fenrir was pleased to find that not everyone in Hogwarts was English. Beauxbatons was a mixture of all different cultures around Europe. However, he'd never met an American/French person.
The girl was nervous, but Fenrir could barely even tell. But the telltale signs were there. He didn't mind though, he liked shy girls as much as he liked very outgoing one. As long as they were beautiful. But beauty only went so far. It drew him in, but it didn't keep him. For Fenrir, true companionship was difficult to find. Fleur was one of the rare girls that kept his attention. She was kind and compassionate while being beautiful at the same time. But she lacked that spark that Fenrir needed. That flame that he wanted to experience in a girl. Perhaps his standards were too high.
Fenrir looked at the girl who had come up to Alice. It seemed she had some prior responsibility that she was moving to the side for him. Or at least, he thought it was because of him. "I hope you aren't dismissing an obligation because of me," he said, partly asking. "Is there somewhere you have to be?"
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