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Freestyle Archives / Re: Goodbye to a World | Dunfrait AU
« on: 02/07/2019 at 22:29 »
Hogwarts was most certainly not Beauxbatons. The smoky grey uniform that most definitely did not go with her silvery eyes had nothing in comparison to the light blue silk dress that she dreamed of proudly wearing. The uniform of the Beauxbaton's girls, the people she could only dream of being like, the uniform that her sister wore, was iconic, and she had spent her childhood preparing to be like every other girl who sported the code.
Unfortunately, Beauxbatons was not deemed to be safe enough for the youngest daughter of the Parfait family. She was the protected one, and it truly was not fair, as Justine was allowed to attend the school, and wear the uniform, and be like their mother, but Adelaide was decidedly not. In fact, her mother had told her that Hogwarts was the safest place on Earth, but the blonde had read up on the subject, and in what world were moving deathtrap staircases deemed to be safe? And the idea of houses was well and truly ridiculous, simply a way of dividing people, instead of uniting them. Mother had said that she had to stay in England, as France was just too dangerous to remain in, but the words- and the implications of the war- flew over her head. The bombs had been dropping in the city around them, yet they remained intact courtesy of the protection charms around the house, but still Mother said it was just too dangerous to stay there.
Therefore, the family had travelled by ship. Almost the entire family, that was, Justine had stayed behind at one of her friend's houses as there was no point of her making the journey. In fact, the trio looked picture perfect, all dressed to the heights of fashion- despite the war, despite the situation in France. The travel had in fact, been a rather luxurious one, a boat trip across the channel, Adelaide admiring the sea, smelling the fresh salty scent, before being dragged back inside and reprimanded for running off-- though she was only a few minutes away-- and pulled back to the dining table to sit and be pretty for dinner. The two hour crossing had been slow, as the conversation had been long, and dull, and in English- which the eleven year old did not speak particularly well.
They'd stayed in a hotel, in London, which Ophelia Parfait had most definitely been apprehensive about, as she tugged her daughter past a pile of rubble. The little girl staring at children playing in it, searching for scraps, and, having asked her mother if she was permitted to join them, was promptly scolded for doing so. They'd gone down Diagon Alley, which the small blonde had regarded with wide eyes. There was something about England, not large, and marble- like the bank had been there, or the homes in France- but rather, it was perfectly small, and rickety. Yes, Diagon Alley was most definitely rickety, with some parts of houses jutting out, and the architecture all over the place. Her wrist held firmly within her mother's hand, she was dragged along behind her parents, and told to not dawdle more times than she could possibly count. She'd paid no notice of anything that her family had bought-- staring at the pet cats, desperately wanting one but being denied, and shuddering at the sight of the quidditch shop-- until they reached the robe shop. She'd been expecting something nice and comfortable, like the silky robes of Beauxbatons, she had not been expecting an itchy cardigan, stiff shirt, pleated skirt and grey socks. It was not fashionable, or comfortable, at all. The hats were simply hidious, and the blonde vowed to herself to never wear it, not to mention the robes. Who could possibly make this uniform look good? It was impossible.
She'd stomped her foot, and cried, and begged, trying to be sent to Beauxbatons, but to no avail, as she was still dragged to Kings Cross Station, whether she liked it or not. Trunk- or rather, trunks, three large things, each decorated- being pushed in front of her by her father, as her mother held her hand.
The goodbye had not been tearful, or particularly emotional, as Parfait's held themselves with pride. In fact, to anyone else, it may have seemed as though the French family did not care for each other- which could not be further from the truth. In fact, the blonde cared more for her family than anyone else in the universe. It was shown through other ways; the way she clutched her mother's hand as if refusing to let go, the way her father patted her on the head, the way they all showed a single second of emotion before hiding it away. Her mother had carefully tied her hair up into a ponytail and was fiddling with the loose strands when the daughter had batted her hands away. The Parfaits all shared a nod before the little girl stepped onto the train for the first time.
She did not know when the other girl had joined her on the trip, neither did she care. In fact, the pair both sat perfectly comfortably in absolute silence, listening to the sound of the train whirring, and the occasional sound of a page turning. Adelaide was, in fact, sulking, partially because she was wearing her Hogwarts uniform- socks pulled up perfectly, and a skirt that she would grow into falling below her knees; the cardigan lay unwanted in her bag, as no amount of cold was worth that level of itchiness- and not the Beauxbatons silk dream. A book lay in front of her, but she was not reading it, instead, she was watching the British countryside. It was so much more peaceful than that of France.
The pair were perfectly happy in their silence, at least, until that was disrupted.
An overly enthusiastic boy practically bounced into their compartment, and completely destroyed all sense of tranquility in the small space. Adelaide turned and eyed him warily. He was loud, that was for certain, and his accent, was thick- which made it hard to decipher what he was saying. Not to mention his manners, well, they were seemingly non-existant, as he asked the question and then immediately presumed that she had agreed to it-- which she had most certainly not done-- and his cat had decided to sit on her bag of all things. The blonde shot it a glare, and went to snatch her bag from under him, only to hear a hiss. Great.
The boy, the singular person who would make this train journey a living nightmare, was scruffy. He evidently did not care for his appearance in the same way the blonde did-- her uniform, although uncomfortable, was pristine, her hair was perfectly done, and she was fresh and ready for Hogwarts-- but his smile seemed nice, welcoming in a way, the blonde realised, as she stared at him. Maybe he would be alright.
No, wait, he opened that mouth of his again, though this time for a question, and an introduction, in one. Adelaide decided to answer his question, after all, it was only the polite thing to do, and she had to represent the family. A perfectly manicured hand reached across to shake his, as she spoke calmly, an icy gaze resting upon him, "Adelaide Parfait." She did not expect the other girl to speak, and so, continued.
"'ogwarts, eez..." She tried to think of the word, and then remembered what felt like the thousandth reason towards going to Beauxbatons: she did not speak English. "interesting. It 'as zees 'ouses: Poufsouffle, Gryffondor, Serdaigle et Serpentard."
The blonde listed the houses off effortlessly in her own language, but any English she attempted was veiled by her thick accent. If only she had access to her bag, and then she could give him her copy of Hogwarts: A History, and shut him up. He truly was annoyingly perky.
Unfortunately, Beauxbatons was not deemed to be safe enough for the youngest daughter of the Parfait family. She was the protected one, and it truly was not fair, as Justine was allowed to attend the school, and wear the uniform, and be like their mother, but Adelaide was decidedly not. In fact, her mother had told her that Hogwarts was the safest place on Earth, but the blonde had read up on the subject, and in what world were moving deathtrap staircases deemed to be safe? And the idea of houses was well and truly ridiculous, simply a way of dividing people, instead of uniting them. Mother had said that she had to stay in England, as France was just too dangerous to remain in, but the words- and the implications of the war- flew over her head. The bombs had been dropping in the city around them, yet they remained intact courtesy of the protection charms around the house, but still Mother said it was just too dangerous to stay there.
Therefore, the family had travelled by ship. Almost the entire family, that was, Justine had stayed behind at one of her friend's houses as there was no point of her making the journey. In fact, the trio looked picture perfect, all dressed to the heights of fashion- despite the war, despite the situation in France. The travel had in fact, been a rather luxurious one, a boat trip across the channel, Adelaide admiring the sea, smelling the fresh salty scent, before being dragged back inside and reprimanded for running off-- though she was only a few minutes away-- and pulled back to the dining table to sit and be pretty for dinner. The two hour crossing had been slow, as the conversation had been long, and dull, and in English- which the eleven year old did not speak particularly well.
They'd stayed in a hotel, in London, which Ophelia Parfait had most definitely been apprehensive about, as she tugged her daughter past a pile of rubble. The little girl staring at children playing in it, searching for scraps, and, having asked her mother if she was permitted to join them, was promptly scolded for doing so. They'd gone down Diagon Alley, which the small blonde had regarded with wide eyes. There was something about England, not large, and marble- like the bank had been there, or the homes in France- but rather, it was perfectly small, and rickety. Yes, Diagon Alley was most definitely rickety, with some parts of houses jutting out, and the architecture all over the place. Her wrist held firmly within her mother's hand, she was dragged along behind her parents, and told to not dawdle more times than she could possibly count. She'd paid no notice of anything that her family had bought-- staring at the pet cats, desperately wanting one but being denied, and shuddering at the sight of the quidditch shop-- until they reached the robe shop. She'd been expecting something nice and comfortable, like the silky robes of Beauxbatons, she had not been expecting an itchy cardigan, stiff shirt, pleated skirt and grey socks. It was not fashionable, or comfortable, at all. The hats were simply hidious, and the blonde vowed to herself to never wear it, not to mention the robes. Who could possibly make this uniform look good? It was impossible.
She'd stomped her foot, and cried, and begged, trying to be sent to Beauxbatons, but to no avail, as she was still dragged to Kings Cross Station, whether she liked it or not. Trunk- or rather, trunks, three large things, each decorated- being pushed in front of her by her father, as her mother held her hand.
The goodbye had not been tearful, or particularly emotional, as Parfait's held themselves with pride. In fact, to anyone else, it may have seemed as though the French family did not care for each other- which could not be further from the truth. In fact, the blonde cared more for her family than anyone else in the universe. It was shown through other ways; the way she clutched her mother's hand as if refusing to let go, the way her father patted her on the head, the way they all showed a single second of emotion before hiding it away. Her mother had carefully tied her hair up into a ponytail and was fiddling with the loose strands when the daughter had batted her hands away. The Parfaits all shared a nod before the little girl stepped onto the train for the first time.
The Hogwarts Express
She did not know when the other girl had joined her on the trip, neither did she care. In fact, the pair both sat perfectly comfortably in absolute silence, listening to the sound of the train whirring, and the occasional sound of a page turning. Adelaide was, in fact, sulking, partially because she was wearing her Hogwarts uniform- socks pulled up perfectly, and a skirt that she would grow into falling below her knees; the cardigan lay unwanted in her bag, as no amount of cold was worth that level of itchiness- and not the Beauxbatons silk dream. A book lay in front of her, but she was not reading it, instead, she was watching the British countryside. It was so much more peaceful than that of France.
The pair were perfectly happy in their silence, at least, until that was disrupted.
An overly enthusiastic boy practically bounced into their compartment, and completely destroyed all sense of tranquility in the small space. Adelaide turned and eyed him warily. He was loud, that was for certain, and his accent, was thick- which made it hard to decipher what he was saying. Not to mention his manners, well, they were seemingly non-existant, as he asked the question and then immediately presumed that she had agreed to it-- which she had most certainly not done-- and his cat had decided to sit on her bag of all things. The blonde shot it a glare, and went to snatch her bag from under him, only to hear a hiss. Great.
The boy, the singular person who would make this train journey a living nightmare, was scruffy. He evidently did not care for his appearance in the same way the blonde did-- her uniform, although uncomfortable, was pristine, her hair was perfectly done, and she was fresh and ready for Hogwarts-- but his smile seemed nice, welcoming in a way, the blonde realised, as she stared at him. Maybe he would be alright.
No, wait, he opened that mouth of his again, though this time for a question, and an introduction, in one. Adelaide decided to answer his question, after all, it was only the polite thing to do, and she had to represent the family. A perfectly manicured hand reached across to shake his, as she spoke calmly, an icy gaze resting upon him, "Adelaide Parfait." She did not expect the other girl to speak, and so, continued.
"'ogwarts, eez..." She tried to think of the word, and then remembered what felt like the thousandth reason towards going to Beauxbatons: she did not speak English. "interesting. It 'as zees 'ouses: Poufsouffle, Gryffondor, Serdaigle et Serpentard."
The blonde listed the houses off effortlessly in her own language, but any English she attempted was veiled by her thick accent. If only she had access to her bag, and then she could give him her copy of Hogwarts: A History, and shut him up. He truly was annoyingly perky.
