Hogsmeade day was upon them and it was harvest festival in Hogsmeade, she looked quite lovely in a simple green and white dress and had been dancing merrily with several other patrons including some of the other Hogwarts students. The chaperones had mostly left them to their own devices but they lurked about, ready to pounce on any behaviour that was not becoming of a Hogwarts student. Violetta was a prefect though, so it was a fair assumption that she could be trusted, although her mind still from time to time went back to that incident with Charley Goode and the ruined purse. Violetta could be trusted, but it was the others out there that were of concern.
The blonde looked about her she was looking for someone, a friend that she had gotten to know via letter, and apparently a friend of the family or so the gossip would suggest. She smirked to herself and picked up a piece of candy from one of the stalls before slipping the owner some coin. This was fun.
Out and about at harvest time
From the breast pocket of his coat protruded a small piece of pastel blue ribbon. He looked about and frowned. The lady in question was not so easily spotted. He smiled mirthfully at the chaperones that watched the mingling students from the sidelines. Then he saw a small blonde figure at a candy stand. It took him but three or four of his long steps to come up behind her.
"Miss Violetta," he said and waited for her to turn.
"What a happy surprise to see you in attendance! The most fateful and delightful event of chance!"
He beamed across his entire face and bowed deeply.
Violetta's ears pricked up at the familiar voice and her teenage heart skipped a beat. She swallowed the small piece of liquorice lace and turned to greet the man. She was very pleased to see he had adorned himself with the token she had sent, perhaps he liked her as much as she was convincing herself he did. Her cheeks rose as her smile shaped her face. "Monsieur Frey, what a lovely suprise." it was not a suprise, but she couldnt let that on in case her schoolmates were watching. But it took every bit of her etiquette skill to remain entirely demure and not grin like the Cheshire cat.
She took a couple of breaths and recentred herself "Are you well, Monsieur? I trust that your October is treating you well, oui?" she said politely to the man as she took a step closer to him and absent mindely placed the end of one of the liquorice laces in her mouth. She looked at him, significantly taller than her, and really quite handsome. "Will you walk with me a moment, Monsieur? I would like to take in the corn dollies, such a quaint British tradition, non?" she said so much with her eyes to encourage him to join her. They could not walk arm in arm like promenading courtesans, but for her to have entirely platonic friendships within her social class, that was acceptable, she told herself confidently.
He looked at Violetta and thought that it was very fortunate to see her again. If only it did not also confuse him so. Had she not made it apparent to him that their acquaintance had no future prospects? The day he had come to King's Cross, he had felt that it was a way to bid her goodbye. Although people, dastardly and nosy as they were, somehow misconstrued his gallant attentions to her mother to mean something very different that intended.
Well, be that as it may — it was a beautiful autumn day.
"Oh, naturally! Nothing would delight me more than to walk along the corn dollies, Miss DeCroix. You know me to be a friend of all things botanic," he said and turned with her towards the fields.
He gave a slight wave to the chaperone that was eyeing them. Victor wore his gloves, of course, and he kept his hands at his side and beheld the proper distance to the blonde. That was very important to her; she had gotten as much through his thick skull.
"How have you been? No more unpleasantries, I hope?" he asked, referring to the intrigue that Miss DeCroix's lower-born peers apparently enacted upon her.
The blonde let out a small laugh to her tall acquaintance. ”A botanical friend indeed; perhaps this time, your friendship with the plants may be less physical, oui?” She giggled and eyed him out of the corner of her eye to gauge his response. If he could keep his hands off of the poisonous plants, perhaps there was room in them for her instead? She blushed a little and wordlessly cursed herself in French. These thoughts were not proper, and the more she let them to the surface, the greater the risk she allowed herself to be exposed and shamed.
She shook her head, ”There has been little more to add, mon ami; school is school, and girls are girls.” She shrugged, not wanting to unload all her woes onto the poor man. The corn dollies offered the pair an easy distraction and she leaned in close to admire them. She half expected the dollies to respond to her approach before remembering that this was a muggle-friendly event and, as such, enchanted items were probably not on open display. ”You can smell the lavender on this one Monsieur, come and smell.” She beckoned him to lean close next to her. Innocently smelling the produce together. ”Merci, for wearing my token; it means a lot to me that you kept it. I think about you.” She wanted to say more but would allow him a quick response before they both stood, not staying close enough together to arouse any kind of Suspicion from anyone but the most salacious of gossips. Violetta adjusted her plait before picking up one of the dollies. ”This one looks like one of my professors.” she joked walking it along the table with authority.
His school days were not the fondest of memories for Victor Frey, who did not tend to thrive in environments such as this—he had not managed to thrive outside of school either, but for a young man as highborn and afforded with anything one could wish for in necessities and luxuries, the stakes appeared not so high regarding this. He could dawdle about and no one would much care, for he would never need to do a day of difficult work in his life. He certainly enjoyed it more to be free of the structure Hogwarts demanded.
He bent down to smell the lavender and as his gaze fell on Miss DeCroix's profile, suddenly there was a wistful air about his eyes.
When he straightened himself back up, there seemed to be something he wanted to say.
But the words did not quite form on his tongue.
He took the ribbon from his breast pocket and threaded it through his fingers before his hand fell to his side.
"Say, Miss—won't this be your last year of school? Is it not sad to think that you shall go on and marry so soon and may never see again those who you met along the way?"
Victor looked at her with an expression of great melancholy that he was not aware was displayed so visibly across his pale face.
And who knew Victor well—and of those there were not so many—could be quite certain that he wasted in this line of thought no consideration towards her girlfriends.
But since he was not one to linger, he then turned back towards the flowers.
"I remember no Professor looking lovely like a flower. But one looked quite like the old willow tree over there."
Violetta found herself surprised just how calm she felt being around Victor, perhaps though it was just her practised etiquette coming to the fore, which allowed her to remain ladylike when she had so many thoughts running through her mind right now. She laughed at the comparison to the old willow. "Professor Valenduris, oui?" she giggled and looked up, trying to picture the old professor as a willow, it wasnt a big leap of the imagination.
Victor's discussion subject struck a chord within the teen when it moved on to her finishing school this year; it was something she always knew was coming that still somehow seemed like a shock to be finally arriving. "Oui... I am in my final year, and then..." Her sigh carried so much, happiness, excitement, nerves, fear, a sense of ending.
"I will miss it, you know? Don't misunderstand me Monsieur, I am tres bien about my future. But I will miss Hogwarts, even Anne, for everything that has happened. She is my friend." she played with the ribbon in her own hair as she looked slightly bashful. The ribbon matched the one in the man's pocket quite sweetly.
They walked into an area that seemed to have fewer people, enough not to cause concern but few enough to afford them a little privacy in their discussion. She turned her head to look at the man that she definitely had some growing attraction to. "I hope you do not fault me for my candour Monsieur Frey, but it is good to have a friend who I can talk to. Everyone sees one side of me. Perfect little Violetta, so spoiled, so privileged and with no cares in the world other than thinking about marriage." her head tilted slightly and she gave a little shrug with a smile, she was a happy person, she genuinely loved her life... but. "Only there is more to me, and there are certain things I feel a little sad that I shall not have." she thought how to word it "For instance, will I never be wooed? Will I never know what it feels like to have a man seek me, to hope to earn my love? My husband will have no need, what if he chooses not to bother?" there was an element of anger creeping into her voice. She had read enough romance novels to have begun to form certain fantasies about what romance might be like. Her eyes looked at Victor's, trying to judge his reaction to this honest discussion; she didn't speak to men like this, it was most improper, but she could say it to him now or never say it to anybody later.
"I'm sorry, Monsieur. I'm just a silly girl letting my mouth run away with me. We should do one of the harvest games, oui?"
Now there were fewer people around them. They were still close to the festival, on an open space where the landscape gently sloped towards the forest. Victor raised his eyes to the sky. It was shades of white and grey, and the clouds built towers upon each other.
"I do not fault you, Miss Violetta," Victor said. "People look at what you have and they see that it is plenty. And then they think they have seen all there is."
He looked from the sky back to the girl. "I do hope you will understand what it feels like, Miss Violetta, to be sought."
Victor turned towards her, and said with quite the serious demeanor: "You shall know that I would seek after you, if it was in any way permissible. I would do so under no expectation of winning you, if you are already promised to another. You see, there is valor and honor in speaking the truth of the heart."
He turned back to look towards the forest and imagined himself walking up the steps of a fanciful manor to be greeted by the indomitable maman. He would apply to the father with all his earnestness and he might very well send him away. But would he not be glad to have ventured into this most romantic fight and lost, instead of not fighting at all?
He sighed. It was really a very melancholic and sensitive thing to do. He knew himself to be melancholic, but was he sensitive? It appeared to be so, at least when close to Miss DeCroix.
Victor hesitated. He would play fall games, of course, if she wished. But if it meant rejoining the crowd, he thought he would much rather stay out here.
Violetta did not rush them to the fall games as he spoke to her, but her smile broadened across her face as he said things that were music to her ears. She felt there was an attraction between them, and the things he was saying were truly what she needed to hear. "Thank you, Victor..." Her use of his proper name was intentional to reciprocate him calling her Miss Violetta. "That means a lot to me. And to know that you would pursue me despite me being betrothed to another...." she muttered something in French as she looked at him and felt something stirring inside her. She knew well that many ladies of the class would have a husband of duty but a man of love, and she had judged them for it. But it had not been until Victor had graced her life that she had realised that she was misguided in that judgement.
"J'aimerais que nous puissions déménager dans un endroit plus privé" the teeneager muttered aloud before blushing. She dearly hoped no one within earshot could speak French. And she quickly glanced about to ensure that this was the case. She took a couple of breaths before looking over to where the games might offer salvation from this route that she was skipping merrily down.
Violetta shook her head, if he could read her as she hoped, he would now be of the impression that any part of "cannot" early expressed, had been revoked. But she would say no more. As they walked back the path was beginning to become busier again. "Tell me Monsieur, have you plans for the winter? Maman and I shall be wintering in Marseille, she wished for me to study for my OWLs in peace while she attends la petite saison with my cousin." It would be lovely, but very quiet. She might have to try to attend Hogsmeade festivities either way.
"I suppose I ought to go south this winter as well," he said, not remembering if he had made any such plans before. The thought occurred to him that the hotel business must require continental inspiration; this seemed very sensible. "Although my French is dreadful. You would likely expire from hearing me attempt it."
He absentmindedly tugged at the ribbon in his breast pocket. The festival noises drifted around them, neither close nor far away. Why did the air feel heavy? A change in weather must be afoot.
"Where in Marseille might one find oneself, hypothetically speaking?" He made a gesture that was meant to convey casualness but achieved nothing of the sort. "For business ventures, naturally."
He was dimly aware that he was being obvious about the whole affair, but the thought slipped away from him quickly. What did it matter, really? The clouds moved across the sky and here he was again, ready to go running after Miss DeCroix. That was alright by him. He considered only fleetingly that he might get his heart broken soon, perhaps at least a little.
"Ne vous inquiétez pas, je ne manquerai pas de prendre soin de vous lors de votre visite." she said with a giggle and smiled playfully at the man. He was taking her hints and he was saying all the right things right now, but even then her heart skipped a beat at the mention of him coming all that way just to see her... perhaps alone.
"Well Monseiur, The Marseille bay is beautiful all year round but the view from the De Croix villa near the highest point on the clifftop road is quite lovely." She fluttered her eyelashes in a little nervous gesture as she realised what she was doing, but to anyone else, it would be nothing more than an innocent conversation between two acquaintances.
She thought for a moment, quickly trying to work out her calendar. "Of course there is much to do in town. You shall be looking to enjoy society, oui? On the 23rd is the high ball. I unfortunately will not attend owing to not being out. But Maman sees this as the premier event at which a lady may be courted and will spend the afternoon and evening seeking a husband for my cousin." Her cousin was about his age so she considered adding in an offer of introduction, but even that made her blood immediately hot with jealousy. She would say no more, it was not her place to plan his social calendar, and that would be up to him. They had reached the more crowded area of the event now so Violetta made certain to leave an extra step between the pair, they would need to part ways imminently or their conversation might appear longer than socially appropriate
They reached the crowd again and Victor felt instinctively that now he needed to turn towards the other direction. This little dance had ended, but it was not the last time, surely? Her eyes, he was now sure, were calling him. So he would go to Marseille and then... he would see. He always did, and things always turned out for him. Did they not?
He smiled at the pretty, lively girl. "Miss DeCroix," he said, bowing slightly. "I find I must take my leave. But I shall remember your advice about where it is best to winter this year most carefully."
Then he added, with a lopsided wink: "I wish you good day, Miss Violetta."
All around them were people now and Victor drifted away with them. He put the ribbon back in his breast pocket. Before he stepped away towards the street to disapparate, he turned and watched her blonde head in the crowd, until he lost sight of it.
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