Meet Me at Our Spot? - Fred Weasley

All is Well that Ends Well!

Lightning forked through the sky on cue with the startling sound of thunder booming down atop the murky mountain range that surrounds Beauxbatons and is visible in full from Papillionlisse tower.

Of course, such sounds like the angry howling of the wind that encircles the tower in a mid-December rage and the pattering of rain against stained glass windows are drowned out by the chatter and loud music that fill the space of the common room.

Giselle however- as always due to her beyond observant nature- took notice of the tells that Mother Nature was in a tizzy. She was fully tuned in on the happenings of the outside world. The girl as a result finds herself feeling very distant from the 'civil' commotion despite being in the very room in which the party is happening.

She stared into the lowering sky, her palms pressed up to the window. Her alarmingly blue eyes -their color accented greatly by the soft silver shimmering shadows Fleur packed onto her eyelids- race with the odd drop of water that trickles down from the sky. The beads of precipitation not so ironically run down the glass like tears.

By all means, Giselle isn't sad. The efforts Fleur and subsequently Genevieve put into the planning of the party are greatly appreciated. However, her reclusive state comes from a place of discomfort.

She's not opposed to parties nor extravagant gatherings as they are all Giselle has ever known social events to be due to her having grown up going to affairs of the latter.

Yet, the boarding on screaming swarms of her peers that run, dance, Jump, and move through the common room wildly mixed with the sight of empty bottles -product of the older 'kids'-laid on the ground, waiting for someone to trip over them, rogue white-silver-blue balloons that drift around aimlessly on the floor among the discarded drinks, blindingly bright electric-blue banners that are draped on the top of each door, the overwhelmingly big stack of unopened presents gifted to her by people she barely knows - and who mind you didn't even greet her upon her arrival nor wished her a happy birthday- that stands in the corner of the room-, and the packs of Hungry children who loom over the food table- their greedy hands grabbing at the tea sandwiches that surround the huge cake that's covered in thick white icing and decorated with tiny pink roses - possibly the only aspect of the whole party that showcases a smidge of the girl's favorite color- and is sat in the middle of the table whilst they simultaneously stuff their mouths with sweets- well It's all sending her into a dizzy fit of confusion.

Who are half of these people? -she can't help but wonder- who invited them? - because Giselle is nearly certain not even Fleur nor Genevieve know them either- what had they even given her in those smooth shiny wrapping paper-cased parcels? - she didn't want anything anyway so whatever the gifts may be Giselle sees no world - with utmost gratefulness- in which they'd be to her liking- who decided the songs on this playlist? - the music is so opposite to her taste - the food- well no the food is quite good - but for fucks sake- where's Anais?!

She hadn't shown up -  why hadn't she shown up? Did Fleur not invite her- or was she being petty? Not wanting to be the first to break- consequently Leaving Giselle to the wolves. Alone- perhaps not literally alone as she's in a room more packed than a football stadium yet alone all the same.

Alone with herself. Her thoughts. Her memories. Her reflection.

It beams cruelly back at her. The stained glass window panels that Giselle tries to look out of- instead seem to be showing her what's back inside- outlining her figure through its reflective surface.