Fflur’s eyes went a little wide, and she swiftly looked back at the Christmas tree; she was pretty sure she was guilty of perpetuating that rumor once upon a time. She had tried on many different hats to fit in and be cool and thankfully that one hadn’t stuck (though quidditch and everything downstream of that minor career-ending debacle certainly weren’t better). But she didn’t mention any of that; she knew now more than ever that teachers knew more than they ever let on.
He told her to practice--or heavily hinted at it, anyway--and she nodded, smirking softly. “Of course.” She just hoped he didn’t mean for her to do it now. Or later, even; if he asked for decorating help next year, Fflur was anticipating being told again she needed to practice.
Flitwick made more gold bubbles, and Fflur made another attempt, going for red this time, a not so subtle hint toward Gryffindor’s colors. They were less wonky, at least. She tried again and she thought if she squinted, they looked closer to spheres. Close enough.
Secret Snidget was clever and it was meant to be cute, she knew--”Yeah,” she agreed--but it was nothing like the secret Santa exchanges she’d ever been a part of. They had one when she was living in Paris but it was much less wholesome, with bottles of wine and cartons of cigarettes, and that one battle of absinthe that was, without fail, finished before the night was over-- but that was different sort of fairy to that lot. Regardless of that, she hadn’t had too many Christmas gifts while at Hogwarts, either; it might have been a different story if Christmas had lined up more with quidditch tryouts, but even then it probably would have been a stretch.
“You think?” She had never been very big on inter-house cooperation--it was hard to be, being quidditch captain--but she hadn’t really changed her thinking now, either. Her and Naz were so outnumbered on staff that it was an ongoing joke that if Naz left, Fflur would be a default Head of House, and she grimaced, realizing she should probably be trying a little harder to support it or some other We Are the World shit, but-- “I’m just keen to see what the fifth years get up to.” It was far easier to talk about that, and the fifth years certainly seemed to have the most drama this term. She only knew what she overheard in class or in the staff lounge because she didn’t want to seem to interested in students’ lives, of course, but gossip was perfectly acceptable.