The Star Hall shimmered with light as Eira and Fleur entered hand in hand. The enchanted ceiling above was bathed in a mellow summer sky, streaked with gold as though the sun itself had chosen to linger here before saying goodbye to another year. Murmurs of laughter, the scraping of benches, and the echo of footsteps filled the room as students from all three houses streamed in, eager for their final meal before the journey home.
At the Ombrelune table, Eira and Fleur slid into their usual seats, their fingers still linked, neither seeming willing to let go. Marin gave them a quick smile as he sat opposite, and the rest of the table hummed with excitement—the sort of buzzing anticipation that came only at the close of a long year.
Eira glanced at Fleur, who looked radiant, her silvery hair catching the light like spun moonlight. She gave her a small smile, and Fleur's thumb brushed softly over her knuckles, a quiet reassurance between them.
The chatter slowly dimmed as Madame Maxime rose from her chair at the front of the hall. The Headmistress's tall frame seemed to command the very air itself, her presence regal yet warm. She tapped her goblet lightly, and the soft chime carried through the chamber.
"Mes élèves," she began, her voice echoing richly, "another school year has drawn to its close. I wish to congratulate each of you for your efforts, your dedication, and for the spirit you have shown—both in your studies and in your hearts. Be proud of yourselves, for I am proud of you."
Polite applause rippled across the hall. Fleur straightened in her seat, her hand never leaving Eira's.
"You will receive your examination results by owl post during the summer holiday," Madame Maxime continued, her gaze sweeping fondly over her students. "I know the wait may feel long, but I assure you, patience is part of learning as well. Until then, hold your heads high, for you have worked hard."
A murmur of agreement rose from the students.
Madame Maxime's lips curved into a knowing smile. "And when you return next year, some of you will find a letter from me waiting. It will concern a competition in which Beauxbâtons shall take part. I cannot yet say more." Her eyes shone at the collective gasp of curiosity that swept through the room. "But when the new school year begins, I shall tell you all. For now—enjoy your well-earned rest, and above all, your summer. May you have happy days, joyous Quidditch World Cup matches, and time to treasure with those you love."
The students clapped heartily, cheers echoing up to the enchanted ceiling. With a graceful wave of her hand, Madame Maxime declared, "Et maintenant—let the celebrations begin!"
At her clap, the tall doors of the Star Hall opened with a slow grandeur. From beyond, a procession of Ombrelune seniors stepped in, their wands raised elegantly. Madame Maxime's voice rang once more:
"This year, Ombrelune has earned nearly four hundred stars. Thus, Ombrelune has won the house award for excellence! In honor of tradition, your seniors shall gift you with a farewell dance."
A roar of applause erupted from the Ombrelune table, cheers and whistles mingling in delight. Fleur squeezed Eira's hand tighter, her eyes alight with pride.
The seniors moved in a sweeping formation, wands cutting arcs of shimmering light as the music began. Soft violins and flutes filled the air, seemingly conjured by invisible players. As they danced, blossoms of every imaginable color burst into being around them—roses, orchids, and lilies unfolding in midair, their fragrance spilling across the hall like summer itself had been bottled and released. From their wands, swirls of butterflies in shades of sapphire, emerald, and gold fluttered, weaving around the dancers in intricate spirals.
Eira watched, enraptured. Beside her, Fleur leaned closer, her voice a soft whisper meant only for Eira's ear.
"Why didn't you participate, ma chérie?" Eira asked, her eyes flicking from the dance to Fleur. "In the past two years we lost, yes, but this time we won. I would have liked to see you there."
Fleur tilted her head, her lips curling into the faintest, secretive smile. "Because," she whispered back, "I did not want to dance with anyone else. Not when you are here."
Eira blinked at her, her heart giving a curious leap at the warmth in Fleur's words. She opened her mouth, but no reply came. Instead, she found herself staring into Fleur's eyes, blue as a summer sea, their depths carrying a tenderness that made Eira's chest ache with something she could not quite name.
They looked at each other, and for a moment, the flowers and butterflies of the seniors' performance faded into nothing compared to the quiet magic between them.
The music swelled to a close, petals drifting gently down like rain. The seniors bowed gracefully, earning a wave of applause that shook the hall. And then, without warning, the tall doors burst open once again—this time, heavy oak tables laden with food soared in, gliding smoothly into place at each house's long table.
Platters of roasted meats, golden baguettes, cheeses and fruits, sparkling pitchers of pumpkin juice and chilled lemonade—all appeared at once, perfectly arranged. The aromas filled the Star Hall, stirring hunger in every student.
Cheers rose anew as plates were filled and goblets clinked. It was their last lunch of the school year, and every bite tasted of farewell and anticipation.
At the Ombrelune table, Eira took a slice of warm apple tart, Fleur pouring her a glass of juice with the ease of habit. Their hands brushed again, and this time neither pulled away.
For all the grandeur of the hall, for all the tradition and celebration, Eira thought the simplest thing was the most beautiful: sitting here with her girlfriend, her Fleur, side by side, their fingers intertwined, sharing this last meal of the year before summer carried them home.