i. BOUNTY fleur delacour

08

EIGHT

" what you were just
talking about was
a mistake,
and not love. "
- leo tolstoy [anna karenina]

INGRID HALVORSEN was in a good mood. despite having not been chosen as a tri-wizard champion. it was as if the past months had been a different version of the girl, one that mari did not associate so heavily with the whom she called her best friend. but now, free of worry of the tournament, ingrid was light-hearted once more.
"i mean, i've got a pretty good deal now haven't i?" mari and ingrid we're lying on their own beds in their dormitory, chatting away in norwegian, "so i didn't get picked- honestly, i'm glad! you're built for this sort of thing... but me... not so much. i guess i can just enjoy the rest of the year now, no worries. 'ingrid's fancy year abroad', i'll call it. write a muggle novel about it, perhaps..."
"perhaps..." mari was smiling slightly, reflecting her friends mood. distracted though, with her three metal disks, mari failed to notice ingrid's newfound obsession with her own backside, until she swore out loud in anger.
"fuck! of course i would get my fucking period on the fucking second day i'm in fucking britain for the fucking tri-wizard tournament!" exasperated, the petite ash-haired girl, gathered some clothes from her trunk and fled to the bathroom across the hall, leaving the door open in her journey. with sympathy, mari sighed and stood. she began gathering the sheets of which ingrid had stained, placing them on the floor, she pulled out her wand to clean them.
"our champion...!" the voice of her friend, kosta, interrupted her doing so. he was situated in the door frame, his tall figure stretched full, so his finger tips clasped the top of the frame. the bottom of his stomach came into view with the lifting of his shirt, and his sleeves fell slightly in the vertical position of his arms. kosta soon saw the way mari's eyes lingered on his exposed wrists, and pulled his arms down, tugging his sleeves to his hands. there was momentary awkward silence, both parties thinking of the silver scars that littered so much of the teenage boy's skin.
it was mari, who in attempt to comfort her friend with distraction, continued the conversation, "ah, yes- the durmstrang champion. what a title, huh? i don't care for the actual title much- but don't tell viktor, i'm sure he's suffering too much already." her tone turned sarcastic and bitter.
kosta sighed, "mari, we all knew this was going to happen... viktor's a good guy, but not that good. and certainly too competitive to be able to remain in a relationship with you when you're the champion."
"so that's it, then? my names gets picked and he's gone? what a hypocrite! for i would have certainly stayed by him had he been selected!" mari's voice raised.
softly, kosta attempted to dull the intense emotions, "you're relationship was crumbling anyway, mari. you yourself told me how superficial it was! it was for the publicity and sex only, there was no love or genuine romantic interest! and had you only remained friends, such things like this would not have occurred."
mari knew he was right, and instantly, like the trained warrior she was, became impartial to the subject.

☇ ☇ ☇

"i certainly hope we can get out of here before lunch, i'd be a fool to miss a hogwarts meal." cedric diggory made ridiculously polite small talk with mari mckinnon and fleur delacour, as they waited for harry potter, the fourth champion, to arrive so that the ceremony could begin.
"miss mckinnon-?" rita skeeter, an annoying daily prophet reported screeched the girls name for absolutely reason.
"ms mckinnon, that is, ma'am." mari spared no bitterness in her interruption. rita gestured for an interview, which mari reluctantly went forth with, still wondering why the blonde women had said her name with such ridiculous tone.
the exchange was brief, and mari unwillingly played the perfect champion, for the approval of karkaroff was most needed. the interview sounded something along the line of this:

rita: so, our caramel champion-
mari: puerto-rican. please don't refer to my skin colour as food, it's outdated and offensive in such tones.
rita: oh, well, our norwegian champion!
mari: better. significantly.
rita: so tell me, how's viktor?
mari: due to some differences, viktor krum and i no longer identify ourselves to be in a relationship. that is all i have to say on that matter, for i am the champion, not him.
rita: i was merely asking a question-
mari: why is the first thing you ask me about, my romantic relations? is that you're business? no. does it make me feel as though that's all that i, a woman, can discuss? yes. i heard your interview with ms delacour, and i am far from impressed with your efforts.
rita: ms mckinnon- what are you holding?
mari: nothing of your concern. now ask me about the heart-wrenching stuff so you can manage a bullshit piece.
rita: ah-okay, family? what's your family like?
mari: my mum and dad were killed on the first war, don't have a clue who they were. i was sent by someone, i am not sure who, to live in a wizarding village in norway. a guardian of no relation to me took care of me until i was fifteen, to which i began supporting myself. within the village still.
rita: and how did you support yourself?
mari: i got a really good job.
rita: and what was- oh, you're her. this disks- you've done- what-
mari: for a journalist, you are pretty clumsy with words. now, have you got enough for a piece in the prophet?
rita: ah, enough- the quill omitted most on account of your absurdity.
mari: my absurdity? you mean my truthful words? have i been rude? english is my second language, i ought to blame that for my behaviour. whoops. i must return to the other champions.

smirking, mari walked away, having used an age old tactic of sarcastically blaming a language barrier.
when returned to the other two champions, she was met with light-hearted mocking. apparently mari's words hadn't made total sense, but the message was clear enough. fleur laughed heartily when the language barrier excuse was recounted, and her bright laugh fade into the room. it left a remnant of a beautiful grin on her face as she and mari locked eyes. mari analysed the flush of beautiful pale pink in her white cheeks, she could have looked at her every detail for longer than the world would survive, had harry potter not arrived and the ceremony began.

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