A bead of sweat rolled down the side of her face, running a continuous path along her jaw to drip from her chin. It was terribly hot, disgustingly hot, and the way she continued to work drove was going to drive her nuts.

It was ridiculous how the heat continued to wear on into the start of the new school year, the mountain altitude doing little to beat out the sun that beat on the down south.

Iola knew that she was going to have to stop soon, that her next lesson would be coming around any minute and she was going to have to grab lunch before she heads to herbology, but she wasn't near her daily goals.

Mother had a schedule for her to keep her fit and had a way to know when she didn't follow every step.

And truly, Iola felt terrible when she didn't accomplish her daily goals, but it was difficult to continue her workout with the sun's glare in her eyes.

"You're going to be late if you don't come in now."

She pauses, catching sight of one of her dearest friends and the thin blue robes that she had pulled up to sit higher on her legs. Fleur was stunning, the Veela blood that ran through her veins truly nothing in comparison to how she was inside and out. Kind and caring, the girl had her moments, but Iola wouldn't trade her in an instant.

Because Fleur was the first friend she had ever met at Beauxbatons and even if she didn't come off as the most modest or humble off girls, she knew her friend meant well.

"There is no spell that will get you clean as a shower will."

Iola scoffs. "Is that meant to imply something?"

"Yes, that you're horribly sweaty."

"It's important that I keep myself in top form, you know this. There is no time to rest for this sort of thing."

"Haven't you just returned from a tournament?" Fleur asks, not stepping out from the shade of the thin tree. "There shouldn't be one for quite some time."

"Mother wishes for me to compete in the winter competition come December in the senior division. I'll be of age by then."

"Is that not very soon?"

"She believes—" she pants, breathing out in a long blow from her mouth— "that I will be more than ready by then."

"Should you follow her intense regimen," Fleur mutters.

Twisting in a way that opens and stretches her hips, Iola frowns at her friends words. "I can't tell if you're angry with me or with my mother..."

"I am angry at neither. I am simply upset that it is difficult to spend time with you. Madame Bouchard keeps you busy at almost all times."

Snickering, Iola finishes her stretches before grabbing her back from the base of the tree. Her things for the rest of her day were already there, as were s few snacks for when she got peckish in class.

"Mother will be pleased to know how she's inconvenienced my personal life."

"As if anything could keep me from your side," Fleur sniffs, turning her nose up haughtily.

"Oh, my dearest friend, what would I ever do without you," Iola teased, racing to pull her friend into a sweaty hug.

She shoves her. "Touch me and I will blast you to the cold of Bulgaria."

"I would like to see you try," She laughs, cocky with the pride that swells in her chest.

"You are not invincible," Fleur shoots back, already striding ahead.

"No, but I am not an easy opponent, you must give me that much."

"I mustn't give you anything more or your head will no longer fit your shoulders."

"Are we talking about the size of Iola's ego?" A voice interrupts, followed by the swift tap of shoes against cobblestones.

Sofie Moretti was a wisp of a girl, the kind of creature that was the true stereotype of Italian beauty and physique. With a bounce in each step, the girl was nothing but toned muscle and smooth olive skin as she approached.

Side by side they appeared the most typical of friends. The sort of pretty girls that fell together as friends because they knew and Iola took pride in that thought. Aveline had always driven the importance of appearance, having gone so far as choosing her friends for her, yet the girl wouldn't trade them for the world.

Grinning from ear to ear, Sofie places a hand on her hip, head tilted just enough that dark curls falling loose around the apples cheeks. "You could give the moon a run for its money its size."

The english throws her for a moment, letting the teasing insult wash over for her before she scowls, shoving her friend with her elbow. "If we are going to make fun at least compare me to something radiant like the sun!"

"You're the only one that believes yourself to be the sun," Fleur grumbles, taking it upon herself to head inside.

"And what would you be? If we are going to make comparisons."

Sofie skips at her side. "I would be a siren, of course, or perhaps a nymph or sprite."

"Sprites aren't real," Fleur sighs . "And you need to stop comparing yourself to beasts."

"Are Veela not beast as well?" Sofie retorts.

The temperature drops around the girl, her eyes narrowing viciously. "You know they are beings!"

"Ladies now isn't the time to argue," Iola says, holding her hands out in an attempt to pacify them. "Let's get something to eat before our next class."

Sofie mumbles something in soft Italian, rolling big brown eyes before she agrees. "You need to change. I will get you something."

"I will come as well," Fleur offers, eyeing Iola. "She will only get distracted with me there."

Huffing, she turns for the dorms as she reaches for her wand deep to roll the familiar wood under her fingers. "I am capable of cleaning without you distracting me," she mumbled to herself, "I am not a child."

She was a little bit of a child. Spilling half the shampoo by dropping the bottle and then accidentally stepping on it, Iola bruised her knees on the wet tiles trying to reach her wand to clean it up. The entire situation was a bit of a disaster as she fumbled around as though someone had cursed her and her ability to act like a normal human opposes to a bumbling fool.

By the time she got to herbology she was exhausted and in need of a dress to be mended — the buttons all having popped off in her struggle. She would deal with it later, or perhaps one of the house-elves would get to it before she could.

Still, it was an odd thing for her to be out of breath and tired as she took her seat in the greenhouses. The huge, stained glass windows depicting far too many magical plants casting a red hue to her already flushed cheeks caused her to huff and as the other students of her year turned to eyes her she huffed and turned her cheek.

Sofie was more than happy to snap at them for her, after all.

There were pastries placed on the corner of her parchment, covering the blank portion away from the long dried ink, and Iola ate them as gracefully as one could while they were trying to shove down food. Madame Little didn't care if she ate in class, her mother had seen to that for her, but it didn't mean that Iola didn't feel odd getting to do things that others were typically not allowed.

As they were revising dittany and aconite, it didn't bother her so much this time. There were not many others that cared for what the Madame said regardless. They were to be starting on venomous tentacula after this in preparation for the examinations to come. She knew that many of the girls in her year were buzzing with eagerness to get to the dangerous stuff.

There was no doubt that the boys were as well.

Dittany was rather boring to those that didn't have an interest in herbology. Iola figured it was worth it to know the properties at the very least.

Sofie giggles, ducking her chin to hide the blush that spread rosy across her cheeks. She was eyeing Francois, batting her lashes in a silly way that was meant to be enticing -- they had to be to some extinct as his own cheeks colour and his gaze darkens.

Rolling her eyes, she notes down a few things that Madame Little hadn't mentioned the year before, swearing that she wasn't going to give them to her friend until she's begged for a good few minutes... just for her entertainment.

As soon as the course is over, she clears her things with a wave of her wand, leaving ahead as Sofie takes extra care to hang behind. Let the girl flirt. If Francois was interested then all the better.

He was a smart boy from a smart family. The Duchesne's were renowned alumni of the school. They had a family tree in the hall of portraits as one of the first families to attend Beauxbatons when it had first opened its doors.

"Iola! Wait a moment, please!"

She doesn't slow her stride as she turns to face him, walking backward as he jogs to catch up with her on the paved path.

"Gerome, how might I help you?" she asks, spinning once more when he falls into step.

The boy scratches the back of his neck. "Sofie... she's shown quite an interest in Francois since the start of the semester."

"It appears that she has."

"I am just worried about my friend. Sofie is a nice girl--"

"But you do not think her intentions good. That is a mistake. Sofie is more than just a pretty face," Iola tells him, stopping abruptly forcing him to face her. "She has feelings that are just as true as Francois' might be. She is has a loyal and faithful heart, raised to have more manners and etiquette than to play with the feelings of another. Speak ill of her and I will end you."

She slams her shoulder into him as she paces, shoving him into one of the trimmed bushes that lined the walkway. Green on one side, open grass leading to the gardens on the other. Iola wishes she had slammed him to the dirt.

Grumbling, she storms to the east wing, not waiting for her friend to catch up as she heads straight for the duelling room.

The space was large, equipped with rows of strips so that each pair might have the use of their own piste. It wasn't as though they faced off often in the concentration course, the time being mainly used to practice the spells one might use in a duel, but that did not mean that they did not have the occasional mini-tournament.

It was nothing compared to what the club was allowed. They were placed in an interschool competition (not Hogwarts, of course, never Hogwart) as a means to test their skills.

And Iola would never find it as interesting as she would in the ministry run matches. It was truly the only place where she could compete with those on her level -- she had been trained from the moment she had first learnt to read. Aveline had taken great care with her studies.

"You ran off pretty quickly," Sofie comments, setting aside her bag as she fiddles with her wand.

"I didn't want to interrupt."

"You wouldn't have been interrupting. Gerome was the one who interrupted. Quite angrily too."

Her brow rises. "Did he? Angry?"

"Perhaps not angry, but adamant to get in the way."

"Maybe he was jealous that his friend had all of your attention," she reasons, patting her friend's shoulder as she steps towards one of the pistes to stretch. "Or he just might wish to tease his friend. Boys are odd like that."

"Are they? I thought it was something that I had done..."

"You? Sofie, you've never done a thing to him. Gerome will get over his issues."

"Gerome doesn't like me."

"Gerome can go away then," Fleur interrupts, taking a stand next to Iola as she stretches.

"Would that not make things difficult with Francois?"

"Hardly. The boy is smitten. Do not let his friend bother you. Things will fall into place."

Removing her blazer, she folds it over before setting it to the side, brushing out the silk of her dress. Her friends join her in the action.

Waistcoats were set over them as well and she sighs. Francois and Gerome face them, the forming looking to Sofie expectantly. With a small nod of her head they pair off, taking a piste for themselves. Eyeing Fleur, the part veela girl huffs before taking one of the other boys, Carlito, one of the seventh years to a strip. 

Iola felt bad for him for a moment, only a moment. He was much too soft-hearted to face off against Fleur. 

"Stretch," she tells him, twirling her wand. "I'm not taking you to the healer when you pull a muscle."

"We're only going to be observing today," he says, looking around uncertain now that he was set against her.

"Not me," she states, standing back at the ready. "If you aren't going to stretch, then arm yourself."

"What? No, Iola, I just wanted to apologize for what I said earlier. It was out of line and I did not mean how it sounded," he blurts, backing off the piste.

She hissed, watching him step out of bounds. There were certain rules to be upheld in the school, a duel only taking place on the piste being one of them.

"You have changed your mind. Why?" she questions, not quite familiar with this sort of situation.  

Aveline had always told her that apologies were for the weak or a form of deception. To say you were sorry for something proved yourself wrong and that made you vulnerable putting you in their hands. It required making your emotions dependent on another, allowing them a chance to see what ought to always be hidden...

She couldn't remember ever apologizing to anyone other than her mother.

What was she supposed to say?

"I can see it now, the truth of how she looks at him. Her feelings are genuine."

"Was that ever in question?" She presses, wand angling to strike him better.

"No. It was my own beliefs getting the best of me."

"What sort of beliefs?"

Genome sighs. "There were those that wish to be with him for the tie of his family."

"His family? The Duchesne family is long in history and valued member to our Wizarding community, but they are nothing more than that," Iola says, waving her hand as if it was the simplest thing — to her, it was. "They have long since lost their wealth and all the power that comes with it. He had nothing to offer Sofie than himself and his love."

The boy bolsters, ready to rise to the defence of his friend. "His wealth?!"

"Or lack of plays no part in her decisions. Try not to look too far into things."

"You're the one that brought it up, did you not?"

"Was that not what you were implying? That she was searching for an easy way of living?" Iola asks easily, shifting her stance. "Enough of this. Are we to duel or not because I'll find a new partner to entertain."

He hesitates, not wanting to step onto the strip with her.

"I am not going to hurt you," she promised, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. "I'm not allowed."

"Right, because that's reassuring..." he grumbles taking a stance.

Iola's surprised by the pleasant thrill of amusement that spikes through her, an amused exhale leaving her as she shakes her head. "Don't worry. I find your pessimistic nature quite refreshing."

"That's not much better," Gerome grumbles, holding out his wand.

"It's better than nothing," Iola snaps. "En garde! Prêts? Allez!"

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Well.... let me know how this is going? I'm very nervous about my writing in this .......

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2019-12-09