aimez beaucoup

aurélie de sauveterre; 17; beauxbatons; muggleborn; a force of nature.

[thestrangesoldier-blog]

“Sadly I can’t stop you from thinking. But if I could, I would.” And that was the truth. Cassius didn’t quite take to being thought of as anything but malicious or unsociable on a good day. Probably because he had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to react to not being made the villain of the story. While the French girl proceeded to cram all her school supplies into her bag with such haste as if the fate of the world depended on it, Cassius took his time collecting his belongings and placing them carefully in his backpack before tossing one strap across his shoulder and turning to check if Aurelie was finished.

As he spun round he walked nose first into a neat bundle of peonies, blinking several times with confusion before his hand managed to wrap around the strains of the flowers. With a quick nod he agreed to the plan, he was feeling rather hungry. As Aurie headed for the exit—careful to fix the vase he’d broken on her way out—Cassius did not follow immediately, keeping a few steps behind, just enough so she wouldn’t see him quickly drop the bouquet into the vase before walking out. He never really liked flowers, they reminded him of his mother.

Hands shoved into his pockets, Cassius now walked beside her down the crowded corridors yet his mind was a million miles away. However when Aurelie mentioned the Champions it was enough to slap him right back to the cold reality. Jealousy took another stab as his pride, this time pressing the knife even deeper, hitting his anger chord as well. It was a good thing his hands were stuffed in his pockets so she couldn’t see the nails dig at the flesh drawing blood in order to keep him sane. Clearing his throat, Cassius finally spoke. “Change the subject please? I don’t quite feel like speaking about my failure.”

[aureliedesauv-blog]

“Oh, you wound me!” the girl said, her spirited laughter revealing otherwise. “What is it that you think I think of that makes you want to stop it?” Aurélie had noticed that her friend was without the small arrangement of peonies she’d offered him, but immediately discarded the observation; perhaps Cassius had simply slipped the bouquet into his bag, or transfigured them so he wouldn’t be seen with a bunch of flowers. It seemed like something the boy would do; he was always making one boorish comment over another, planting scowls or insolent smirks on his lips. To be seen with flowers would be a shock to the majority of people, unless perhaps he was setting them on fire. Such was the case with Cassius Lestrange-Black. Only kind with the use of backhanded compliments, only soft spoken when he was whispering threats in your ear.

That wasn’t how Aurélie perceived him, of course. If she had, mostly like the girl wouldn’t be by his side; what Aurélie saw was an image that would have others who knew Cassius reeling from laughter. Where some found him arrogant and rude, she found him succinct and intelligent; he simply knew when you were wrong and wasn’t afraid to correct you. What was the harm in that? And when others found him churlish and even a tad evil—well, she couldn’t find that in the boy at all. On the contrary, Aurélie found him quite sweet if you looked past the surly disposition and crass remarks; he just had a peculiar way of displaying his kindness. After all, hadn’t he just helped her with spellwork and kind of congratulated her on finally succeeding? Alright, he might’ve just said that she’d finally got it, but that was close enough.

“It’s not your failure,” cried Aurélie as the pair took their seats in the Great Hall. A few students sitting at the Gryffindor table stared at them, whispering behind their hands; she recognised them from the classroom they’d been in earlier. “Do you know how many people put their names into the Goblet? Besides, it’s more like less of a chance of you dying, I don’t think that’s quite terrible—” She glanced at Cassius and immediately went silent. His brow furrowed and eyes on the brink of being seething, a bitter vibe emanated off of the Durmstrang boy; it wasn’t difficult to see. Yet as Aurélie peeked into his eyes, a cloudy blue, like the sky seconds before a storm, she felt her heart thumping in her throat. A film of sweat bloomed onto her palms as she snatched her gaze away from the boy, feeling curious as she stared fixatedly on the silver plate before her before taking a hasty gulp out of her goblet. “Sorry. I’ll stop talking about it,” the French girl squeaked after she’d swallowed hard, jostling her heartbeat back to her chest where it belonged and chastising herself for having such an odd reaction. She stabbed a sausage with her fork and proceeded to shove it under Cassius’ nose, not quite looking him in the eye. “Go on, then! Take a bite. You must be hungry; at least, I am.”

As the pair continued to nibble on their lunches, Aurélie grabbed a copy of The Daily Prophet from the table. She scanned the front page, finding nothing too unusual until she came about the bottom right corner of the paper. It was a tiny paragraph, hardly two inches long, yet she blinked several times upon reading it. “Oh no,” she whispered, scooting closer to Cassius to share the newspaper. “Look, that girl everyone’s been talking about has officially gone missing. India Rand.” She sat in silence for a moment. “That’s quite scary, isn’t it? Especially for the muggleborns.” The girl fidgeted, poking another sausage around her plate as her leg jumped up and down under her slight stress.

[peaceshaker]

I just want to pour my soul out on someone and not have to worry about the mess I’ve made.

(via neutral)

[jaygatzby]

hallelujah // panic! at the disco

[aureliedesauv-blog]

D O N ‘ T  Y O U  F R E T  I ‘ L L  F I N D  M Y  W A Y ;

carefully walking from the devil’s plane 

a [ mix ] for a girl with w i d e  e y e s and a broken smile

[eteru]

[yimmyayo]

[violettemaps]

Visit Original Link

Gotta Have You, The Weepies

No amount of coffee, no amount of crying No amount of whiskey, no amount of wine No, no, no, no, no Nothing else will do I’ve gotta have you, I’ve gotta have you

[aghostoflegacy-blog]

limbs lost to a dead weight stake | james & aurelie:

       James wasn’t prone to bouts of laughter. Even if something did provoke that strong of a happy reaction, it wasn’t very long. But something about the fact that Aurélie hadn’t known… was the first person who knew his name and didn’t connect the dots, it made him laugh. Because she’d been so open about everything, and so kind to him, and absolutely none of it had anything to do with his father at all. So few things felt disconnected from his family legacy that it felt incredible. Light and happy, somehow. “I’m sorry, it’s just… I spend so much time wondering if it changes how people think about me. It’s nice when people don’t know. I’m glad your first impression of me wasn’t connected to my dad.” 

                    To be judged on his own merit was one of his deepest, most secret desires. He loved his family to the point of lunacy, some would say, but with each sacrifice his desire to break free of them built more. Not from their love or their light, but from their name, from their history. 

              It seemed to him that her every emotion was vibrant, and her anger was no different. What surprised him was that it was for him. No one he wasn’t related to had ever had such an immediately passionate reaction to his situation before. Somehow, it made him feel less as though he was making up the pressure of the situation. “Sometimes people are respectful, when you say no. Sometimes they aren’t. They make their living based on drama, so if they want to write about us… they need something to write about, I s’pose.”

James frowned. Beauxbatons didn’t seem like much fun, for all that people told him he sucked the fun from everything. “As you can see, it’s not like that here,” he said, gesturing to the grounds. “As the holidays get closer, the Fat Lady – the portrait who guards the Gryffindor tower – gets drunk and starts to sing. Horribly. Sometimes I wish belching was banned just to stop her from doing it.” In spite of how he spoke, he was grinning slightly at the memories. “It’s hard to focus on etiquette with Peeves around. Can’t be too preoccupied when he’s pelting you with water balloons or giving first years wet willies on their way to class.”

    Startling when his arms reached out, he had the strange feeling she might’ve been about to hug him. People outside his family rarely tried, and for good reason. James didn’t really want to be touched by strangers. Though the idea of a hug wasn’t unwelcome at the moment, not after being out of the crowd for so long. 

  He listened as she spoke, keeping his reaction off his face when he heard about her mother. To imagine his own mother dying… it was an incomprehensible horror, his worst nightmare. James perhaps suffered from having too many people to talk to, considering how little he wanted to trouble or burden them. For the thousandth time he reminded himself he was lucky to have who and what he did. For all the downsides there were a million upsides. 

            “I’ve never felt alone like that,” James admitted. “I think people always want what they can’t have, which is probably why I like being alone most of the time. When you’re surrounded by people all the time, you want the opposite, but when you’re alone… I can see why you’d want to have people to talk to.” 

  Aurélie seemed done with the topic, and to be honest, so was he. “Alright,” he agreed easily. “I wouldn’t be a Gryffindor if I didn’t enjoy a bit of adventure.” The truth was, being farther from his worries sounded fantastic in that moment. “Lead the way.”

[aureliedesauv-blog]

A wave of relief washed over her face as James stood to join her; she released a tiny breath that she hadn’t realised she was retaining. It wasn’t that Aurélie regretted divulging a fragment of her past to the Gryffindor, but oftentimes any further discussion of it carried a weight that she felt uncomfortable bearing. Peoples’ tones changed. Their eyes would shift, attempting to be empathetic; instead they fell short of looking on with pity. Such consideration made her stomach turn. Every uttering of condolences like a claw around her neck by the way it made her throat clench, even after seven years.

James was a curious case to the girl, however. He’d been the first to hear Aurélie talk about her mother, at least upon her arrival to Hogwarts. Of course, her friends back at Beauxbatons knew of the situation, but generally she chose to forego the intimacy of describing how she coped with it. It was a simple desire of not wanting people to know she’d been lonely. Still was lonely, at times. It was a superimposing feeling; it engulfed a person. She always persevered; always came out alive, save for a few bruises and cuts upon her conscience.

“I’ve always wanted to visit the Shrieking Shack,” Aurélie said, the pair wandering off in no certain direction other than away from the castle. “I’ve heard that odd things live in it, is that true? I’d love to find a ghoul or something of that sort.” She cast a surreptitious glance at the boy. The dark, unruly locks of hair that shadowed his forehead, the sandy skin, the naturally brave expression that his face took even when resting. He was handsome in a sort of way that made you yearn to be a damsel in distress. But of course, Aurélie hadn’t opened up to James because he was comely, no. Really, she’d done it because he’d opened up to her, and it was only fair to give in return. It took the burden off of your shoulders, to share stories between two people rather than there only be a teller and a listener. It made you understand on a deeper level. But there was also an inherent aura of warmth that James exuded, at least to her. It rolled off of him and pulled you in, like a tide on the shore.

“And if the Shrieking Shack isn’t an option, I suppose there’s the Forbidden Forest as well! It’s a little late, I suppose,” she mused, wondering if perhaps the acromantulas would make an appearance as they’d done upon her first trip to the woodlands. Her face split into a mischievous grin as she turned to face the champion. “Of course, I don’t really mind that. I’d love to see what kind of creatures come out at night.”

Aurélie perked an eyebrow and her smile made her face look quite impish, like that of the pixies they’d learned of in class. “We don’t have to do any of those things if you’re scared, though. Would you prefer a quiet night in at that one inn, Three Broomsticks?”

[thestrangesoldier-blog]

Cassius couldn’t help but laugh at her concern for the boy. We scared him. Actually it had been him who sent the poor kid running—most likely towards the Infirmary—followed by a swarm of sharp shards of glass. “Ah, he’ll be fine.” The boy shrugged off the event like it was something happening on a daily basis—although it kind of was with him—and smiled as the Beauxbatons female attempted the spell.

Flowers—curious choice. But it did suit her better than a pile of glass or another harmful object so he said nothing of the matter, simply observing in silence as the peonies finally lifted from the ground and, surprisingly, flew straight for him. It was his turn to flutter his left arm in the air to avoid the petals tickling his nose or poking his eye. “Ok, you can stop now.”  

And stop she did. Except instead of letting the flowers drop onto the floor, Aurelié let them shower over his figure, attracting unwanted laughter from a few females nearby. All it took was a subtle flick of the wand and the nosy group found themselves showered in black ink, or bitten by their books, squeaking curse words at the top of their lungs. Smirking satisfied Cass diverted his attention back to Aurelié. “Well, at least you finally got the spell right.” He spoke as he tossed a peony playfully at the girl. “And don’t call me sweet, OK?” His tone was not meant to sound mean but it came out that way nonetheless. “I hate that word.” 

[aureliedesauv-blog]

“Oh, alright,” she said as an impish grin decorated her face. When Cassius turned away from a split second, Aurélie tucked the peony he threw at her, its petals a pale pink, into one of her textbooks. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t think it.” The girl flopped down into one of the seats and slipped her books away into her bag in haste. She gently swept her wand across the vicinity, and the scattered flowers rearranged themselves into a bouquet, even neatly wrapped with a silk ribbon. Catching the bundle out of the air, she waved it in the boy’s face. “Take them, I wouldn’t want to waste a perfectly good bouquet of flowers. Let’s go get lunch!”

On their way out, she flourished her wand over the shards of the broken vase. The pieces flew back together seamlessly, and what looked like a brand new vase sat by the doorway.

“So, what do you think of the Champions?” asked Aurélie, her hands clasped behind her back as the pair traveled the corridors. “Do you like the Durmstrang ones? I don’t really know them, but as for the Beauxbatons ones...well, I like Lou. Lucien? Not so much. He’s a bit of a prick, mind my language. I’d be alright with him if he just apologized, but...oh, nevermind.” She stole a furtive glance at Cassius as they neared the Great Hall. “It’s too bad that we didn’t get pick, hm? Well, not too bad, I suppose. I’d hate to have to been pitted against you, much less see you get hurt...oh, that’d be horrid.”

[aureliedesauv-blog]

confines of gravity ||  aurélie & open

“Maman!” she laughed, wobbling around her family’s bedroom, tiny feet engulfed in her mother’s ruby red heels that she would not be able to fill until numerous years later. The apartment the family lived in was cramped, hardly big enough to call a home; the kitchen could just fit two grown adults, and Aurélie at the age of eight could nearly touch both walls of the bathroom with her arm span. It was as good a home as any, however. They made it their own, and the three of them were happy. Happier than most families, out there inhabiting three story mansions.

Her mother had just finished preparing dinner, and had popped into the bedroom for a peek at her cackling daughter. “Oh, my little princess,” she said with a grin, lips quivering in an attempt not to burst with laughter as Aurélie tottered up to her mom, draped in an old opal necklace that was once her grandmother’s and an evening dress that was a rusty, deep wine color, dragging across the floor. “Do I look pretty, maman?” the girl said, attempting to spin before tripping over the dress’ skirt. Her mother released a guffaw and picked up Aurélie, setting her on the bed. “My little princess. Give maman a moment, and I’ll dress you up in something better,” said her mother. She pulled the ratty, grease-stained apron off her waist and tossed it into the hamper before picking a small, floral dress from the closet. “I was saving it for your birthday, but it won’t hurt to try it on now, non?” Aurélie clapped in delight as her mother slipped off the evening gown, replacing it with a dress that fit perfectly. “And one last touch, to make it perfect.” The woman grabbed a miniscule crystal bottle from the dresser, the sapphire stopper gleaming in the light. She yanked the top off, and turned the bottle upside-down, finger over the opening. Her mother dabbed the perfume behind Aurélie’s ears and then gave a poignant smile. “There. Perfect.”

Sandalwood. Heliotrope. Rose, jasmine, peach. It didn’t even have to be a particularly good day for the scent to have uplifted her spirits; she would have gone the rest of the afternoon bathing in the warmth of a happy memory.

Today was not that day. Aurélie cringed upon the perfume reaching her nose in the crowded hallway; it was gone just as swiftly as it came, lost in the rush of students bustling to their next class. Yet its effect was not so expeditious. The usually sweet fragrance was sour in that moment, time seemed to delay. Passing conversations became murky and distant in her ears. Tunnel vision darkened her sight and she felt her heart beat in her throat.

Aurélie dove into the nearest classroom, slamming the door shut behind her. She collapsed into a seat, gasping for the air that seemed ever so abundant just moments before. It wasn’t helping. The girl more so fell out of the seat than slipped out of it, and lied on the floor. Slowly, the black shadows that had clouded her vision began to recede, and her palms stopped sweating. She thought she might start to become well enough to at least stagger back to the carriage, until she heard the door open. “Oh,” she said, mustering up as much strength as possible and at least raising herself off the floor, not realising tears streaked her face. “Hello! Don’t mind me, I’m just—just practicing—my, um...nonverbal magic.”

[isaachawkridge-blog]

Isaac cradled the hedgehog gently, and the creature snuffled at his hands. “I guess he does,” he said, with a soft smile. Even if the girl couldn’t transfigure the hedgehog, at least she was kind to it. 

He focused all his attention on her movements as she performed her spell. “Right there,” he said, as soon as he saw the error. “Do you know you twirl your wand right before you cast? You might get away with it when working with inanimate objects, but with living things, you have to be more precise. Watch me.” He drew out his wand with his spare hand, and demonstrated. He gave a short sharp flick, ending with a tap on the snail’s shell. It turned back once again into an ink pot. Suddenly self-conscious, he put the hedgehog between them awkwardly. “Um.. here. Try again. I’m no expert or anything.”

[aureliedesauv-blog]

Upon seeing the Ravenclaw’s lips curl into a tender smile at the hedgehog, Aurélie glowed. A grin broke over her face as she radiated exaltation toward the boy, eyes bright and slightly liquid. The girl was clutching her wand against her chest in a manner that exuded adoration; she looked quite like a schoolgirl eyeing her favorite famous idol. When he addressed her, Aurélie nearly leapt a foot and snapped out of her avid reverie. “Right!” she gasped, delicate fingers wrapping around the pale wood of her wand. Aurélie faced the hedgehog, giving the small animal a gentle pat on the head before snapping her wrist back. She mimicked the boy’s wand movement, giving a swift tap on the critter’s head.

To her amazement, the hedgehog slowly lost its spines and the snuffling ceased, and soon the pair was left with a small, grey pincushion in place of an animal. Aurélie could hardly contain her elation as she twirled her wand and transfigured the inanimate cushion back to her small, cuddly friend. “Oh, Isaac! You’re a genius! You’re absolutely amazing,” she cried delightedly, scooping up the hedgehog with one hand and throwing her free arm around the boy’s shoulders, pulling him in tight despite that he was probably a whole head taller. “I can’t believe I’ve done it! You’re brilliant.”

[senatoramidallas]

character aesthetic » the stargazer

“ the nitrogen in our DNA, the calcium in our teeth, the iron in our blood, the carbon in our apple pies were made in the interiors of collapsing stars. we are made of starstuff ”

[teammizuhara]

Kiko Mizuhara for Vogue Korea April 2015

[reinedelacadie]

                    Everything and nothing always { HAUNTS } me

[thestrangesoldier-blog]

As the steps drew closer and closer it became more and more clear he was not dealing with a creature of the supernatural variety; unless one would count French women as being part of the lot. At least he assumed she was French judging by the grace in her movements. With a prolonged sigh the Durmstrang male lowered his own wand—tip now burning with light instead of preparing for battle—and leaned back onto the rock. The girl appeared to represent as big of a threat as a ladybug would.

“I’m more likely to die of a million other different causes than a few puffs love. But thanks for the concern.”

Sarcasm was clearly dripping from his words as he spoke, icy blue eyes never leaving her figure as she seemed to move in closer into his bubble. Instinctively he pulled backwards and out of her path hoping he was not the destination of her steps. If he were asked to endure another awkward close encounter with a foreign student someone would lose their heads. To his surprise however she passed him by as if he were invisible, heading straight for the spot in which he had put the remains of the cigarette to rest.

Cassius watched with amusement as the smaller girl preformed a restoration and cleaning spell on his crushed cigarette. It never ceased to amaze him exactly how awkward some people could be. He hadn’t travelled much in his life—hell this was his first time in a foreign country that was not Norway—but he was quite certain wizards don’t randomly bother over something as trivial as a smoke. Not pureblood at least.

Grabbing the now seemingly new stick from her hand the Bulgarian boy twirled it between his fingers, examining the finished work. Alright, he’d have to admit she was far better at reconstructive magic than he was, or would ever be. Then again Cassius was a bigger fan of tearing items—and people—apart rather than putting them back together. Once he was done inspecting the reconstructed cigarette the boy presented her a mischievous smile.

“Odd one you are, know that love?”

Tucking the stick back between his lips, Cassius touched its tip with the wand and a short burst of fire ignited, tiny traces of smoke rising as the tobacco began to burn. His eyes set on the girl once more, sizing her up quickly and trying to decide where to place her.

“French or badger?” 

[aureliedesauv-blog]

Upon seeing the tawny-haired boy throw a rapacious smirk her way, Aurélie’s formerly somber face broke away in light of a beaming smile; she somehow managed to exude even more jubilation as the Durmstrang boy brought the cigarette she’d mended up to his lips, lighting the smoke. She found joy in the slightest of gestures; many people had commented on it before. Some called her easily entertained, others claimed she was making up for something. Aurélie, however, was simply a being of inborn happiness. It burned passionately in her eyes, flushed her cheeks pink, shone through her incandescent grins.

“French,” the girl answered, after stepping over to the bench the boy was standing above and gently sitting down. She crossed her legs at the ankles, just as Beauxbatons had taught, though not clasping her hands together in her lap. Instead, Aurélie fiddled with her wand; a slim piece of work, the wood much paler than a preponderance of other wands. “I don’t know if I’d be in Hufflepuff if I were to be a Hogwarts student, however. I’d like to think I’d be in Gryffindor. I guess I’ll never find out, though.”

She patted the cold, marble bench. “Sit with me.” It was a habit of hers, to talk so freely to strangers as if she’d known them for ages. There were many a time where people would cast confused or apprehensive looks toward her upon such treatment. It never fazed Aurélie, though. Almost every time, the girl would continue to smile serenely, blabbering about whatever excitement had passed her that day. “So, what’s your name? Mine’s Aurélie. Aurélie de Sauveterre, to be exact, but saying my full name can be sort of a mouthful at times.”

Uncrossing her feet, the raven-haired girl grinned and tapped her chin with the tip of her wand. “I can’t quite guess where you’re from; I don’t think I’m as keen as you are. Well, I at least know you’re not from Beauxbatons seeing as I’ve never seen you before. I suppose you’ve kind of got that Durmstrang feeling, but really, I’m not sure at all—oh! I don’t mean that in rude way, of course. I’m not—I’m not saying you look mean or anything, you just kind of look tough!

“I’m sorry,” apologized Aurélie, a slightly embarrassed expression flitting across her features. “I didn’t mean to talk so much, you’ve barely gotten a word in. I suppose you didn’t exactly ask for my company, either.” A slight blush painted her cheeks and she broke her gaze from him to the Black Lake.

[isaachawkridge-blog]

Isaac had relaxed when she held the hedgehog closer and out of harm’s way, but his relief didn’t last long. He missed a breath when the creature lept out of her arms, until it landed safely on the table. He held out a hand as it neared him, allowing it to snuffle at him in a way that seemed almost sorrowful. “I can try,” he hesitated. “Can you show me your wand action? Transfiguration needs firm and decisive movements as you cast. If you twist or twirl it even slightly, it won’t work.”

[aureliedesauv-blog]

"He likes you!" she laughed, watching delightedly as the hedgehog stared curiously at the Ravenclaw boy before hopping into his hands. Aurélie stroked the animal's head before returning her attention to Isaac, nodding at his instructions. "Firm and decisive, right." The girl twirled her wand, a habit of hers before casting a spell, and then gave a firm tap on a pot of ink sitting on the desk. Slowly, the pot transformed into a snail, lazily trailing slime. "See? I can do it just find if it's inanimate in the first place, but I just can't transfigure living things..."

[tarianlloyd-blog]

Dunno. My name? Well. S’pose I wouldn’t mind sharin’ it.

Eh, ce n’est rien. Ton anglais est très bon aussi. Tu le parles depuis combien de temps?

[aureliedesauv-blog]

Oh, wonderful! Although I suppose Tarian is a bit rich for a hedgehog...perhaps I shall call him Tary, it's more fitting of a pet.

I've been speaking English since I was little, I was born in Liverpool before moving to France; I supposed it started there! It was useful there, too. So I suppose I kept it up for convenience.