Beauxbatons [Charlie Weasley]

Newts

The castle grounds gleam in the sunlight as though freshly painted; the cloudless sky smiles at itself in the smoothly sparkling lake; the satin green lawns ripple occasionally in a gentle breeze. June has arrived, but to the seventh-years this means only one thing: their NEWTs are upon them at last.

Their teachers are no longer setting them homework; lessons are devoted to revising those topics the teachers think most likely to come up in the exams. The purposeful, feverish atmosphere drives nearly everything but the NEWTs from Isabelle's mind, though the image of Charlie often swirls around in her head.

After their kiss at the Quidditch match a week ago, the entire school hasn't been able to stop talking not only about Gryffindor winning the Quidditch Cup, but also about how Charlie's finally opened up to someone, and isn't the antisocial, frightening being everyone thought he was.

Everyone, even random students she passes by in the corridors, asks her about Charlie, and whether they're together now, or what's happening between them, or if he's as good at kissing as he is at playing Quidditch, whether he's good in bed or not...

Isabelle just goes quiet when anyone asks her anything, either not knowing the answer to their questions, or not wanting to answer. It's only been a week since the kiss, and already she's sick of the attention.

She doesn't understand it, either. Maisie and Noah are together now, and the whole school knows, but they barely get a second glance from others as they walk around. Isabelle supposed it's just because she's from France and because Charlie's always had this certain unapproachable reputation tied to him.

Charlie seems to be annoyed by all the attention as well, but he hardly ever gets bombarded by random students, simply giving anyone who tries to come near him a hard glare, sending them scampering off on their way.

Sometimes the questions people ask replay over and over in Isabelle's mind, and she can't get them out of her head, because in reality she doesn't know the answer to them.

What is going on between her and Charlie? Are they together? What's actually happening?

The red-haired boy hasn't mentioned anything of the sort to Isabelle since then, and she doesn't want to bring it up with him, having a feeling that Charlie Weasley isn't the sort to want a relationship.

To her relief, her group of friends are much too preoccupied these days to badger her about Charlie themselves; Maisie spends a lot of time muttering to herself, and Noah sits and stares at nothing in silence for hours on end.

They're not the only people acting oddly as the NEWTs draw steadily nearer. Ollie has developed an irritating habit of interrogating people about their revision practices.

"How many hours d'you reckon you're doing a day?" he demands Tonks and Isabelle as they head up to the castle from their Herbology lesson, a manic gleam in his eyes.

"Dunno," Tonks replies. "A few."

"More or less than eight?"

"Less, I spose," Tonks says, looking slightly alarmed.

"I'm doing eight," Ollie says, puffing out his chest. "Eight or nine. I'm getting an hour in before breakfast every day. Eight's my average. I can do ten on a good weekend day. I did nine and a half on Monday. Not so good on Tuesday — only seven and a quarter. Then on Wednesday..."

And indeed, whenever Isabelle runs into Ollie these days, he's either surrounded by piles upon piles of books in the Gryffindor common room, or in the library. He doesn't even look up to say hello anymore. Not that Isabelle minds too much — she understands the stress of studying.