cross your fingers. [tag; gabby]

Raphael hadn't been able to get peace anywhere else.

In the corner, he sat on one of the window seats that were against one of the large windows in the atrium, overlooking the grounds. It was a miserable day, overcast and chilly with the weakest sliver of sunlight fighting valiantly to get through. A storm was brewing. His usual safe space, the library, had suddenly become inundated. It was barely November but if he heard one more mention of the Yule Ball, he was going to scream. He wanted to strangle someone with a length of tinsel.

He'd been forced out but he didn't really mind too much. It wasn't that he was overwhelmed, he just realised fairly quickly that when faced with the question of what are you going to wear? the wrong answer to give was I'm not going. Because he wasn't. It was embarrassing enough to have to ask a girl to go and even more so when they inevitably turned him down. Rafe had decided to cut his losses, sit back and watch the entire world implode.

In his left hand was a book that he was half-heartedly reading, his fingers of the other held an apple that he was casually tossing and catching between turns of the pages, the sound echoing through the stillness. It was threatening to rain again, unusually for the south of France but no less exciting.  The wind was picking up and the finely manicured trees were waving. He yawned and didn't bother to stifle it as the rain suddenly hit, thundering down on the glass roof and causing him to look up sharply.

His attention was drawn elsewhere as the door opened and to say he was surprised would be an understatement. Rafe hadn't spoken to Gabrielle in what felt like weeks. He had a feeling she was avoiding him, or maybe he was avoiding her. Regardless, he gave a smile and closed his book. "Queen bee," he greeted her, though not unkindly. Typical Gabrielle - she knew how to make an entrance. "What're you doing here?" He blinked his grey eyes, glancing over her shoulder to see if any of her minions were in tow. "Lost?" He asked with an easy smile, mentally crossing off another place of his safe zone.


@Gabrielle Delacour

Most of the time, Gabrielle didn’t talk to others when she felt too frustrated; it was a popular girl’s rookie error, she thought. Or perhaps a mean girl’s rookie error. Or – most likely – just a general error. Regardless, being hotheaded and ranting about others was exactly how rumours started, and speaking one’s feelings in such rash moments was a one way ticket to your words being twisted and used against you. Gabrielle always listened when people spoke impulsively like this, tucking away little parts of what they said without even meaning to, and she was sure others did the same.

As she took a left turn and made her way down one of Beauxbatons’ many beautiful corridors, Gabrielle tucked her hair behind her ears on both sides, reflecting on the whole concept. Call her jaded, or distrustful or whatever, Gabrielle didn’t feel like she had a lot of people she could speak freely with. None, in fact. There were just varying degrees of grey with all kinds of people.

It didn’t take her long to find him. “There you are,” she said, smiling. After he said hello, she glanced upward, looking at the rain through the glass.

Rafe was an obvious choice for this particular topic. He was a Papillonlisse, but not really friends with her other friends. He didn’t like them at all, in fact. Perhaps most importantly, as much as he pushed boundaries with her (she didn’t let anyone else tease her quite so close to the edge of unacceptable, did she?), he knew that he wouldn’t have a leg to stand on if he did decide to go behind her back for some awfully misguided reason.

Besides, Raphael Moreau did not like Léon Lachapelle.

“Do you have a moment?” she asked politely, coolly ignoring his comment. The blonde took a seat next to him before he answered, expecting the answer to be yes. "How are you?" she asked, deciding to ease in.

Gabrielle looked pretty but she always did. Like whenever he saw her, he was on guard. She wasn't the type of girl to chat for chatting's sake - she either needed or wanted something. He didn't think they were friends. If anything, both teenagers shared an uneasy truce. "For you, always," Raphael replied, shifting to give her some space as he gestured to the bench.

He arched an eyebrow at Gabrielle quickly. Something was very wrong here."I'm living the dream," he replied in a tone that made it difficult to know if he was being sarcastic or not (he was). "I'm fine," he finally said honestly. "How are you?" He asked her politely in turn. "It's been a while," he added with a smile as he set his book aside and took a bite from his apple.

When anything went wrong in his life, he did tend to blame the blonde. They were close once but he'd distanced himself, purely because she had too many friends. They moved in packs, like wolves. It was impossible to get Gabrielle on her own, which may have been her tactic all along. It was smart, really, but he still didn't trust her.

The rain continued to hammer down on the atrium roof and he was distracted momentarily by a flash of lightning that illuminated the room quickly. Chomping on his apple, he continued to survey her. "What do you want, Gabs?" Rafe asked her, his curiosity at breaking point.

She didn’t roll her eyes, even though half of what he said was eye-roll worthy. Having not spent a lot of time around him since term had come back, she’d almost forgotten the exact flavour of conversation that seemed to fall into every time they spoke. Fifty-fifty on whether he was going to compliment her or tease her in a way that she didn’t let many people do. Often, both.

“That’s lovely,” Gabrielle replied, her interest in how he was clearly polite and about as shallow as the answer he’d just given her. She gave him a serene smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I suppose I have been quite busy since coming back after summer,” she admitted, nodding slowly. The blonde reached up to tuck a long strand of silvery hair behind one ear and crossed her legs at the ankles. It wasn’t much of an excuse; they lived in the same tower, for Merlin’s sake.

When the room lit up, Gabrielle glanced up at the ceiling, her grey eyes a pale silver for a moment as they caught the light, eyebrows raised. She blinked, waiting for the inevitable crash of thunder to follow. Naturally, it came as he said her name. Gabs, though, honestly. She tried not to cringe at the sound of it. She looked back at him for a moment, her expression unreadable, before she glanced down at her hands.

“Isn’t Léon Lachapelle so annoying?” she commented airily, surveying her fingernails. There was the tiniest scratch in the pearly pink nailpolish on her ring finger. She ran her thumb over it, distaste in her expression momentarily before it faded back to a pleasant neutral. “I don’t know how you’ve shared a room with him all of these years.” She wondered if rumours about her and Léon drunk-making out over the summer break had made their way to Raphael.

Lovely, she'd said, and he couldn't help but snort with laughter and shake his head. They'd been friends (or as close to it) for years but they still chose to speak in riddles. Rafe shrugged as the thunder shook the atrium as he continued to eat his apple, an eyebrow arched in question. "I bet you have," he added under his breath, his tone clearly hinting as something salacious.

"Who?" Raphael asked suddenly, eyebrows furrowed as Gabrielle inspected her already perfect nails. He frowned, head tilted back as he watched the dark clouds roll in through the glass. "I don't know who he is," came the lackadaisical response to the blonde's question. "Could you ostracize him or something?" He said with his head tilted. "I'm sure that's well within your means. You've done it before." Gabrielle had toppled former friends and foes alike. It was clinical, clean, impressive to watch.

He blinked his big dark eyes at her again. "Oh," he said, as though he'd forgotten who his room mate was. "Tall, big mouth, wears a lovelorn expression a lot?" Rafe asked with a slow smile as another flash of lightning cast the room into light, his eyes following the path it made.

"We're not friends," he told Gabrielle and he had no qualms in thinking Léon  would say the same about him. "If you're hoping to destroy him, count me out. I've got no information for you." Except the gossip that they'd hooked up a while back and, according to some of the students, they still were. "If you're bored, just swap him out," he told Gabrielle before he realised that she played with boys the way a cat does a mouse.

He narrowed his eyes at her swiftly. Making him jealous was as easy as making a cup of tea and he shifted, already feeling annoyance beginning to bubble beneath the surface. "I think I rated you an eight of ten," Rafe said smoothly. "Room for improvement, apparently."

She glanced at him when he asked who she was talking about, but made sure to keep her expression polite. “Hmm,” was all she had to say in answer to the ostracisation thing. It was true that she had a lot of social power, especially in their year, their house. She was a seventh year now, at the height of her highschool popularity. He spoke so flippantly about these sorts of things; she remembered why there was something unsettling about spending time with him. Unsettling and liberating at the same time.

“Kind of good-looking until literally any of his thoughts make it from whatever mush resides between his ears to his lips?” she added to his list. We’re not friends. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes; that was the point. Gabby and Léon were friends, technically, in the sense that their circles overlapped and they spent time together in groups. She hadn’t let him speak to her one-on-one since summer, but for all appearances, “friends” described them. She supposed.

Just swap him out. Did he think they were... Together, or something? So he'd something had happened between them over the summer break, then. He had the wrong idea, she thought. Or maybe he didn’t – a part of her felt like she could probably goad Raphael into doing whatever she wanted, but at the same time couldn’t always guess at his thoughts. It was a strange balance. Léon had been her friend once, but she didn't think he was the kind of boy who was capable of having friends that were girls. When Raphael spoke again, she wondered if she was the kind of girl who could have friends who were boys.

Gabrielle raised her eyebrows, looking at him again. Outside, the storm raged on. “Eight out of ten?" she repeated coolly, meeting his gaze evenly. "For what?"

Rather than reply, Raphael simply offered Gabrille a slow smile, his hands palm outwards and with an expression that clearly stated well you said it. "I'm not usually one to sit on the fence," he was quick to tell her with another careless shrug. "But sure," he said casually. Gabrielle mentioned Léon being good looking and he couldn't help but wrinkle his nose in distaste. "If you like that sort of thing," he let slip.

The storm made her hair seem silver. It was very theatrical. She was very theatrical. His gaze slipped from hers as the thunder rumbled and he picked his forgotten book up, about to read as though the conversation bored him but uh oh.

Raphael didn't think he'd ever seen her angry. When Gabrielle was mad at him, she cut him off completely. No chances to bump into one another, no opportunity to say sorry. She forgave him whenever she felt she was done being annoyed. Everything was on her terms, even if she was at fault. The silent treatment was grim but very effective.

Throwing  Léonunder the bus was not a concern of his. They got along fine, Rafe supposed, but he didn't have any loyalty. "Not sure," he said smoothly as he opened his book again, his long fingers turning the page as though he was having a pleasant time of things. "Looks, personality, style," he went on softly as he read, taking another bite out of his apple and turning it in his hand. Gabrielle was gorgeous, obviously, but he didn't know if he liked her because they were similar or because he was scared of her.

She was beautiful but cold. Raphael thought women liked men who made them laugh but he couldn't remember the last time she had. "Kissing technique," he replied with a smirk as he met her eye. "I can't remember," he said flippantly. "I was trying to sleep."

If you like that sort of – “What, men?” Gabrielle asked smoothly, amusement in her expression. There had been rumours that had followed Raphael around a bit when he was younger – a lot of her friends had thought he was gay. One or two still did, she thought. It wasn’t a problem for her of course, but she was quite sure it wasn’t true.

Kissing technique? Once more, she wondered how he could have shared a room with Léon and Cosimo all of these years and not thrown himself off of the top of the tower. “Oh, you mean he rated me eight out of ten,” she clarified. She thought Raphael was rating her himself, and she wouldn’t abide it. This was just classic trashy Léon bullshit, though; she was used to it. She didn’t sound it, but she felt a touch of relief. She didn’t think Raphael was quite like most of the other boys at their school, and she didn’t like having that concept challenged.

“We did kiss, in the summer,” she said, glancing up at the sky again. “I think his parents are breaking up, did you know that?” she asked casually. It was probably cruel of her to reveal it, and Raphael probably didn’t care at all, but she got some kind of muted vindictive pleasure out of hurting Léon, even if he wasn’t here to hear her do it.

“I was really drunk,” she said, “we almost had sex.” she looked at him just then, gaging his reaction. “I didn’t tell the others that,” she continued smoothly, “I suppose it’s kind of embarrassing.” She wasn’t sure if embarrassing was the right word for it. On paper, Léon had quite a lot going for him, actually. Everyone knew Léon had been chasing her since she’d dumped him in first year, though; declining his offers was a given by now. Anything else felt like losing, but only because she knew it would feel like winning for him. Or at least, that was what she’d thought until this past summer.

Raphael rolled his eyes and remained silent. Gabrielle was rubbing it in his face - he couldn't be any more single. The last person he'd been attracted to had been Minnie but that had fallen apart, just as quickly as it had started, what with her being American and completely out of his league.

"Apparently," he said smoothly and with a shrug of his shoulders as he absently turned the page in his book. He flicked his dark eyes up to her brighter ones. "Far be it from me to get him into trouble," he went on to explain, them both knowing full well that wasn't the case. Gabrielle must be used to being ranked. She was the prettiest, the stylish, she had the best hair. Rafe was sure she was top five in a list of a lot of students' crushes.

He blinked. "I did not," he told her as he frowned. A stab of sympathy washed over him as he thought of Léon . They didn't speak much but he was sure that, had the tables been turned, he wouldn't like anyone to air his dirty laundry. One of the things that separated himself and Gabrielle (or so he thought) was a sense of morals. The bad thing that her playing with Léon like a cat would a mouse was not a new one, even if his parents were going through a divorce. It seemed rather callous.

She spoke and he arched an eyebrow, not realising that he'd set his jaw in the process. "Congratulations," Raphael went on as he stared at her, this time ignoring the thunder that rumbled on. The others, she'd said. "Ah," he nodded, a lock of dark hair covering his left eye. "Your ladies in waiting," he smiled quickly. "I consider myself lucky."

Gabrielle described the ordeal as embarrassing and he tilted his head. "I'm sure he tried his best," Rafe teased as he glanced at her as he tried not to laugh. It wasn't funny and he knew that but the poor boy. "Maybe he was just overexcited," he said smoothly. "Happens to the best of us." There was a pause. "You didn't go through with it?"

“Well, I think so anyway,” She said airily, as if it was just gossip and not something she’d heard from Léon himself. She didn’t show it, of course, but she’d felt jealous when her housemate had divulged this tidbit. She thought she’d even said as much at the time, though her memory of the night was hazy; she’d drunk far too much already by that point.

Her parents’ relationship had been rocky for the past three years and she hated when they fought. It wasn’t any better when they feigned niceties over the breakfast table at one another; it made her want to scream. Léon had sounded sad when he’d talked about his family falling apart, but he didn’t know how shitty the alternative was; sometimes people weren’t meant to be together. She wished her parents would just call it so everyone could disentangle themselves and move on.

She didn’t address his comments about ladies in waiting and so on. By this point she had to ignore those, otherwise she doubted they’d get through a whole conversation. When he commented on the sex part, she hesitated. Gabrielle had wanted to talk with someone she didn’t have to pretend for; someone who knew her a little better than most. But if she was vulnerable now, would he hurt her? Would he save it all for later – just in case? These days she couldn’t quite tell when she was just being paranoid and when she was rightfully self-protective. She was almost always nice, but rarely kind, and a lot of people only pretended to like her, after all.

“He didn’t want to,” she said, a little tightness around her eyebrows, the ghost of a frown. She looked at her nails again, but it was an automatic movement; she wasn’t really looking. After a second, her expression smoothed, but her gaze was still thoughtful.

Raphael blinked and then frowned in thought. It wouldn't surprise him that he was the last to know - he didn't have many friends. He couldn't consider Gabrielle one. They straddled a fine line between acquaintances and borderline enemies and the goal seemed to be mutual destruction. "Poor thing," Rafe said. It sounded insincere in his tone of voice but it wasn't. He just hoped the blonde's newest paramour would come to her with his issues instead of him.

Another crack of lightning and Rafe turned to look at Gabrielle swiftly, almost giving himself whiplash as she explained that Léon had decided against it. "Ouch," he responded lightly. It would have given Gabby's already fragile psyche a bit of a bruising.

She was looking at her nails so he took the opportunity to look at her, properly this time. Her full lips almost wore a frown. Almost. A faint one, almost as if he'd imagined it. But of course he had - Gabrielle Delacour didn't have real emotions. Raphael looked away, pale eyes watching the darkening clouds overhead as they rolled through.

"What am I supposed to do about it?" He finally asked her. It was rude but that was just how they functioned. If Gabrielle wanted sex, all she had to do was make eye contact with … pretty much anyone in the entire school. Slowly, Rafe slid his eyes back to the blonde. "Is this the first time you've been turned down?" He asked, interested, unable to help the slow smile that spread across his lips. "Oh babe," he cooed, reaching out a hand to squeeze her shoulder. It must have brought her back down to Earth with a bump.