Delicate Magic ► George Weasley

seven. in the making

When Iola woke up on Sunday morning before any one else with a stiff back, it took her a minute to remember why she felt so refreshed and eager to go shoot her day. Then realization struck, the date staring her dead in the face as she slowly climbed from her friends bed.

She dressed quickly, leaving the carriage as silently as she could to stretch out front. The abraxans slept peacefully, unaffected by the crisp cool air that had settled over the grounds with a slight mist. It wasn't like the mornings she was used to back homes, but the new experience was still pleasant. The weather here felt like such a drastic change to what she was used to, yet she wanted to be familiar with it. Post of her felt robbed of something because she never had the chance to attend the school, and though she would never trade her time at Beauxbatons or the few friends she had made, Iola one that the ancient castle held so many secrets and memories to something she didn't quite know.

Her father had walked those halls, had roamed these grounds — if only she knew who he was, then maybe that small, guilty part of her that always searched no matter how much she truly didn't care would finally go away. At least she could get to know the place since she was here, that would be enough to appease her if she never learnt nothing else.

Jogging along the shore of the lake, she didn't rest until she sees wisps off sunshine peeking out from behind the clouds, taking it as her cue to turn back.

There was telling telling what she would do today, with no plans set for anything big, Iola was looking forward to letting something come to her. Maybe she could check out the library, check to see what new spells she could learn while she was here. It would be foolish not to take advantage of such a thing.

She was in and out of the carriage without anyone knowing. They're all still asleep, resting after a night of partying. Dressed in suitable muggles clothes for the weather, Iola heads up to the castle with a skip in her step — not expecting there to be as many people awake as there was when she turns up.

"Miss Bouchard!" One of the boys calls, one that's younger, the short thing running up to greet her. "I can't believe it's actually you!"

Iola chuckles, stopping before him with a small smile. "Here I am," she jokes, holding her hands out.

"Can I have your autograph?" The boy blurts, fumbling through his robes. "And I photo, please?"

"I do not see why not."

He makes an odd noise, abandoning his search as he grabs the camera from around his neck, holding it with trembling hands. It was adorable how excited he was.

She beams, holding herself properly for a photo that he snaps with a click and a bright flash. Iola waves, just in case it isn't a muggle photo, before she moves forward, waiting patiently for him to produce whatever it was that he wanted signed.

The boy grows more frantic in his search each second he doesn't find what he's searching for. Iola glances about.

"How about you return to your dorm and get something? I will have breakfast as I wait," she offers, motioning to the great hall that was within sight, the smell of food making her stomach grumble.

Permission seems to be the only thing he needs as he darts off, shoving people out of his way as he heads for the Gryffindor dorms. Iola really does try not to laugh at how silly it all was. She really did enjoy meeting fans.

The great hall was filled with chatter as she entered, surveying the tables curiously as she considered which one she ought to sit at. There were no Beauxbatons students and they were all likely to get something small to eat from the little supply they had in the carriage. Most would not be eager to leave in time to catch breakfast. It was one of the things she loved about the early mornings, the isolation from people because most didn't enjoy skipping out on a little extra sleep as she did. The importance of getting a full night of rest only worked if you truly slept through the night and not the day, after all.