the reason that I breathe

Camille sat at the pub, biting her nails and just wanting to get away. She needed to plan her vacation soon- maybe do they old 'spin the globe and see where it stops' thing again. It was a good thing her family had money, because the girl could not stand to be in one place for too long. And now with Quinn at another school, Adam liking someone, and everyone seeming busy, all she needed was to get away.

She took another sip of her butterbeer and bit her lips, her hand now going to play with her necklace.

Ew pubs. Charles didn't like to go to them usually, but he had a lot on his mind that needed solving. He drank a lot of Butterbeer lately, and sometimes he would taste nothing else on his tongue. Thank Merlin he was going to London soon so he can forget about all of this.

He was inside now, ordering the thir jug of Butterbeer. It was a wonder they didn't make him dizzy. He made his way to a familiar girl... or she looked familiar.

"Adele?" he asked, sitting next to her. "When did you get here?"

Camille turned her head when somebody spoke, a young boy who had taken a seat next to her. Merlin, how did I not even see him coming?, she thought. "Um, sorry?" she frowned when he called her another name, a name that wasn't very familiar to her. Well, aside from the old Muggle singer of the same name, whose music wasn't really her style. "Oh, you must have me confused with someone else," she told him, drinking a bit of her butterbeer.

Charles shook his head. He could tell now that he had found the wrong person. Her voice and the way she reacted when she saw him told him all that. Adele would squeal and jump into his arms, but this girl didn't. "No," he replied. "You just look like a friend of mine. A lot. But I now know you're not." He then let his hand out for her to shake. "I'm Charles, Charles Prentiss."

Camille smiled at the boy, unusally calm and polite. She would have been excited, very interested in who she had been mistaken for, and she would talk an awful lot. But then, she was just. . . not her usual self.

"Oh," she replied, and shook his hand, smiling, "Nice to meet you, Charles. I'm Camille Fortescue." He seemed to be about her age and, considering they were in Russia and she hadn't seen him around Beauxbatons, she supposed he was from Durmstrang. "Are you from around here?" she asked, looking to make small talk.

"Camille?" Charles asked. "Are you French, or am I just being racist?" He then asked another question. "Fortescue like the ice-cream guy, right?" He liked asking questions. They made him feel kind of safe. Millicent said asking questions was dumb, but she was curious too so she was a hypocrite.

"I'm from Durmstrang, but technically I'm German and Irish," Charles explained.

Camille laughed and shook her head, "No, not being racist, I really am French." She nodded, "Like the ice-cream guy, exactly! You're one of the few that recognized the name. I think he was my great great great-uncle... or something."

"German and Irish," she echoed with a small smile, "That's nice, I'm just French and French. Except for the British ancestor, but that doesn't really count." She took a sip of her butterbeer and added, "Oh, and I'm from Beauxbatons, but you've probably figured that out by now. I may be going to Durmstrang next year, though, I don't know, because of the exchange student program and all."

"Yay for not being racist!" Charles grinned. He finally took a sip of butterbeer. "I love his ice-cream! I don't know what flavor I like best. What about you?"

Charles tilted his head on one side. "What a coincidence!" Charles yelled. "I'm going to Beauxbatons next year! And I have a British friend whose sister goes to Durmstrang. She's a year above me, in Slushatel. They have white robes if you need any help. Hitrost are the green ones, Uchitel are the purple ones, and Hrabrost the orange ones."

"Best flavor," Camille mused, frowning, "Wow, this is harder to answer than I imagined it would be, really. I'd have to say. . . Treacle Tart ice-cream. That one's amazing."

"Really?" she asked with a small smile, "I'm sure you'll love Beauxbatons, everybody does. It's great. If you ever need anything, you can ask the Prideux students. We are the best students, no doubt about it." She scrunched her nose, "Orange robes? Must be a real pain to dress. Does anything ever match with orange? And I'm not sure if I'll be going to Durmstrang, maybe I'll go to Hogwarts. I didn't really read where they were sending Beauxbatons students this year when I signed up... I don't even know if I got in."

"Treacle tart?" Charles asked. "Seriously?" He then laughed. Treacle tart was Nana Prentiss's favorite flavor. "I like butterbeer ice-cream. It's like the butterbeer without all of the mess."

"Prideux and pride," the Hitrost noticed. "I don't know, because I'm not in Hrabrost house. There are quite a few people that are. Green is a cool color, right?" Charles really didn't care about the worries of getting chosen but he only smiled kindly at Camille. "I hope I'm going to Hogwarts. It's really exciting there, or so I've heard," Charles added. Really, he was only going so he can see Tshering. But Camille didn't have to know that.

"Hey! Treacle tart is delicious, alright?" Camille commented with a laugh and nodded when he told her his favourite, "Not bad, butterbeer would have been my second. Maybe third."

"Green's nice. Though, I still prefer my blue. What can I say? Prideux are the proudest. And I take it you're in the green house? Hitrost, right?" she asked.