[mp] one step closer to the middle of nowhere [adèle]

After seven years Manon finally felt secure in her place at Beauxbatons. She’d been made Mousquetaire in her final year, had close friends to share it with and enough confidence as a witch to carry it without fear. She was sleeping better these days, and eating better and feeling better. Though her N.E.W.T. results weren’t back yet she was cautiously optimistic.

But outside of Beauxbatons there was little to be optimistic about, even incautiously. Manon had grown up understanding what to do with her future. Surely a theoretical Muggle Manon would have worried too, but it was the confidence she missed more than the actual security. Even in such a controlled environment as a boarding school, she’d taken years to regain it. But now she was being tossed out into magical society as a whole—with fanfare, but it still felt unceremonious. What did she know about life as an adult witch? No matter how much she read there was a haunting feeling weighing on her shoulders that it could never be enough.

She’d been thinking about it all year. When Laure had left lycée she’d gone straight to Aix-Marseille, and Manon hadn’t been able to free herself of the university urge. In the fall she’d sent an application to the Giroux School for portraiture. The thought of art school was itself a childhood fantasy—but Healer school was out of her reach and every other further magical education she could find sounded torturous. While she’d waited to be evaluated it had almost sounded like a real future. But receiving her rejection letter had set her back to square one. Or even further back than that. Square negative one.

Bellefeille had won their last house cup. For years Manon had known it was childish to be disappointed, but whenever anyone else was celebrated she couldn’t help but feel a little petulant. But the halls were the most beautiful when they’d won. Manon plucked a leaf off one of the winding garlands of greenery outside the Dining Hall and looked around for her friends. At least soon they’d all be free of this stupid house business.

One of them was parting from a gaggle of fellow Bellefeuilles up ahead. “Hi, Adèle,” called Manon with a small smile. She held up her leaf and twirled it between her fingers—sometime later she’d give in to the nervous urge to pull it apart at the veins. “Congratulations.”

@Adèle Appel

“A graduation trip? That sounds fun.”

Nour bobbed her head excitedly as they walked. Annette demanded to know where and Nour was all too happy to detail the full itinerary, eliciting ‘oohs’ and even a delighted squeal or two from the gaggle of Bellefeuille girls. Adèle smiled and gave encouraging nods when Nour glanced her way, though her thoughts were far away from her Housemate’s very expensive-sounding holiday. It was hardly fair of her to act ungraciously – but her own family lived very differently, and it was moments like these that made Adèle reflect on it more.

Spotting Manon, she waved to her Housemates with a “Catch up with you later!” (which was returned to varying degrees) and made her way over to the Papillonlisse, her smile much more genuine already.

“Hi!” she greeted warmly, giving her friend’s unoccupied hand a squeeze. “Thanks – really came down to the wire, didn’t it?”
Bellefeuille and Papillonlisse had been nipping at each other’s heels all term long, and the final margin had been a mere twenty points.
But Adèle had never cared much for competition, truth be told. She’d joined the Quidditch team because Louis had asked (though in hindsight it had been fun) and had participated in the Pegasus Derby because she leapt at any opportunity to go riding – but neither had been driven by a desire to win. Elsa certainly had enough of that for all three of them.

Competition or not, though, Adèle rather felt that her House had the loveliest theme. She followed Manon’s gaze to the leaf in her hand and then upward, traveling along the rafters and sconces now adorned with trailing vines and flowers. The awarding of the House Cup usually marked a sense of finality for the Bellefeuille – but here they were, on the eve of departure, and despite knowing for seven years that this day was coming, it still felt surreal. Adèle wasn’t quite sure she was ready to leave her friends (her two best friends, especially), the stables, the castle… even the classes, she supposed, though she’d hardly mourn the absence of homework. She was torn, though: between guilt for leaving her family to manage the cows themselves these past seven years and the sense of obligation to go home to them, and wanting to continue her life in the magical world. Adèle wasn’t quite the same farm girl that she’d been all those years ago.

“Can you believe we’re leaving in the morning?” she asked aloud, her tone hushed; as though time might pass a bit more slowly if it couldn’t hear her. “September is going to feel so strange…”

Her throat felt tight, then, and her eyes began to prickle. Adèle glanced away for a moment, swallowing hard. She hadn’t planned to get emotional, but she felt so deeply that she sometimes thought she might explode if she didn’t let it out somehow. Not that she was embarrassed in any way about it – especially around Manon – but she hated to bring the mood down, especially when she knew it should be a happy time. She liked being the overly sunny and optimistic one, and felt out-of-sorts when she wasn’t in that role.

Perhaps Manon wouldn’t notice… just a few more seconds of stalling (via admiring the flora) and she’d have herself back under control. Maybe.

Adèle cheerfully took her hand. They’d been friendly for years, but only in the last couple had they been close enough for Manon to notice her habit of doing that. Having friends that held her hand sure felt some kind of way. Or a couple kinds of ways, if she was thinking about it. One like she was normal, and one like she wasn’t.

“I should have given up following the points years ago,” she said with a shrug. “All I can do is keep myself in line. It seems kind of unfair that we’re made to worry about what everyone else is doing.” There was probably some intended life lesson behind it, but Manon wasn’t sure whether she agreed.

“But you know me,” she said with a light laugh. “Can’t resist a competition.” At all times, to her significant detriment.

September was certainly going to be strange. “I can’t even imagine it,” said Manon. How odd, to have personal freedom even during the school year! “At least I’ll never need to write an essay again. That thought keeps me going.”

Her lips twisted into a mirthful grimace. “I will have to learn some more magic, though,” she admitted. “It’s a shame they’ve taken care of us so well here. I’ve never done a household chore with a spell before.” Even if she had the means to hire a house-elf, the thought would still be far too uncomfortable to entertain. “It does sound easier, though, in books.” Whenever she read magical fiction, the mentions of dishes washing or laundry folding in the background had made her smile.

“I guess I’ll have to find a real job, now that portraiture’s fallen through,” she said with another laugh. Were they getting more and more nervous? “Honestly I’m sort of glad I don’t have to go to art school. I’d just…wanted to go to university and not have to think about this for a while longer.” She shrugged again. “Muggles are lucky, aren’t they?”

At this point she'd been talking about herself for a significant amount of time, pretending this wasn't rude by refusing to look back at Adèle while she did so. Therefore it had taken until now for her to notice that Adèle's expression was bordering on tearful. Oh, hell. Manon wrapped her arms around her friend and hugged her tightly. "Hey..." she began, feeling like a dumbass. "We'll be fine?"