There are no happy endings, because nothing ends.

“ oh? not scared to experiment are we? ”

“ you should be, ” he replies, leaning even closer ‘till he was almost an inch away from the blonde;s pretty face. “ because i intend to make you SCREAM by the end of this night. ”

Her mouth drops into a soft ‘o’, reflexively, before she lets out an almost nervous laugh. She leans in another fraction, lips almost at his.  “....But we don’t want to be caught, now do we?” 

“ oh really? ” kenzie flashes her a smile of her own, stepping closer. “ well then, mind if i try it with you? ”

he smirks, leaning in closer towards the intoxicated girl. “ danger and fun is what i am, dame. ”

“Seal it with a kiss”. She quirks her brow suggestively, a knowing smile on her lips. “That’s the guaranteed way to get what you want.” 

“You’re dangerous-- I’m lovin’ it.” 

    “Well what’s not some existential crisis in the morning, I believe it’s best paired with some coffee and beautiful company.” he smirked, glancing at Victoire with admiring eyes before he broke away and back out to the window. Not that Axel truly believe Hogwarts had nothing to offer, yet he didn’t think he’d find someone like her here—a diamond in the rough of the castle he thought for some time. It was refreshing. Once he had a moment to think, he replied, “I’m good, thankful the craze of the task is dying down a bit…How about yourself? Are you close with your champion?” stopping to take a sip of his drink. 

Beautiful company. She let the comment float in the air between them momentarily, taking another sip from her up, licking her lips with the sweet taste, her eyes on him. Her mind drifts back to trouble though, at the mention of the tournament. She can’t hold in her sigh. “I wouldn’t say close-- no. But friendly enough. I wouldn’t wish her any harm of course.” Even the thought of the recent task set Victoire off. It was ridiculous, with everything going on, that they were continuing to endanger students with the tournament. There was frustration in her features, and she wanted anything but to show off that particular side of her to her handsome companion-- but there it was, a hint of her veela nature entrenching. “I just can’t stand the idea of the tournament. I think it’s absolutely mad, really. All this danger, for what? I can’t believe someone hasn’t had the good sense to put a stop to it.” 

“Hey, no changing the subject,” she called out to her sister as she pulled her laces tight and knotted them securely. “Besides, you can’t rush perfection.” She told Victoire, sticking her tongue out at her. How many times had the lot of them heard that while they waited for her to get ready for whatever event was on their schedule. Daughter like mother, their father liked to tease. Now that she knew Vic was in a hurry, naturally she had to readjusted her knitted cap over her blonde locks and gloves for good measure to annoy her sister.

Once she was up, she glided out onto the ice. “Come on, there has to be someone you have your sights on for that New Years kiss,” Domi teased as she turned around to face her sister. “Surely, you don’t want your little sister tackling you at midnight to give you a kiss. I promise you there will be a glitter and lots of noise makers.” New Years was another holiday she wasn’t sure she was looking forward to, but Christmas hadn’t been too bad once it was actually there. Fake it till you make it, Dominique supposed.

Victoire watched her sister with arms folded, skate tapping on the ice, indicating her current temperment in regard to the delay. She forces herself to hold back a laugh, contorting her features into a stern look that did not do her justice-- she knew Dominique was imitating her, and worse yet, Victoire was well aware she was doing it well. As Dominique finally skated towards her closer, she gave a look of approval though, her smile returning, as she brushed a lock of hair from her sister's shoulder, an admission of approval.

The two girls began to glide side by side, in step with one another. Victoire was momentarily at peace, her mouth widening with enjoyment as the wind whipped through her hair, her body speeding ahead, arms out wide. She catches a laugh, eyeing Dominique. For the first time in what seemed like ages, Victoire felt like a version of herself she liked.

Her sister's question throws that off only for a split second. A New Year's Kiss. The idea of it was something she had managed to avoid thinking about rather successfully. It was easier than imagining the shadow of a person she wouldn't be kissing. "The only thing I'll be kissing is a flute of champagne, Domi."

"And hopefully you have a better plan for that moment than me-- although, I can always save some champagne."

    As she spoke Axel couldn’t help but feel like he was in a divination’s lecture, as the writers summary sounded much like what he’d have to argue with with his professor. Philosophy and idealism was always woven slightly or somewhere in the art, but he didn’t say such things—not wanting to besmudge her idea over the writer. Instead he smiled and contemplated for a moment, “I can agree with that to a point, I mean most my thoughts are of the future and not of the present….so in someways the world and it’s fate can be summed up in my head.” he laughed lightly, finding the deep conversation this early in the morning a bit refreshing as it was ridiculous. 

It was odd-- she believed in the sentiment he echoed, the idea of it all being in their heads, but yet it never helped her mind to rest, no matter how many times she repeated it to herself. But that was perhaps too serious of a thought to be having at the moment. “So now that I’ve tossed out the idea of an existential crisis, I suppose the only appropriate thing to do is ask how you are?” She grabs for her cup, and brings it to her lips to take a sip. 

“I think all of the best writers are capable of contradicting themselves. At least to me it expresses that they aware that every idea has flaws and there are other ways in which to approach the schools of thought.” He explained, a small shrug raising his shoulders as he trailed off. It wasn’t often that he got to delve this deep in to conversations about this kind of stuff with anyone that wasn’t himself. It was refreshing. She was correct though and he had to say that he agreed with a lot of it. He noted the way she look at the book but he didn’t comment. “Uh yes. I have a twin sister. So no, we’re not identical or anything. How about you? Do you have siblings?” 

He was obviously well-read-- a good conversationalist-- and most importantly, he seemed reasonable about his opinions. In summary, he was a rare breed, and Victoire almost didn’t know what to do with herself in his midst. She knew how to react to men in the general sense-- academics were almost something else entirely. Perhaps wavering into more shallow waters, away from the depth of their current conversation, would bring her clarity as to how to approach him. “I’ve always been fascinated by twins. But yes, I have a younger sister and a younger brother-- that’s if you don’t count my cousins, which at this rate are practically siblings.” 

It was with this attitude in mind that Victoire had rummaged for the two pairs of worn skates, deep in one of the many trunks stored away at Shell Cottage. Her and Dominique had adored skating from the time they were kids, and it was tradition for them to do so at the holidays. This year would be no different. 

“Come on Dom--  it’s going to be spring by the time you get those laced up!” 

     Axel was planning on passing by; a quick in-and-out. He wanted some butterbeer, a new fancy of his—yet a better fancy seemed to hold him there. She sat at a table by herself, a book in hand, the snowy weather outside the window beside her painting a elegant calm around her. That pull of hers, it reminded him of Felix yet SWEETER. Regardless the Beauxbaton couldn’t fight wanting to say hello and with luck before he could make a word, she glanced up at him mention a name that was lost on him. French for sure, but still nothing that rang a bell.

      “How so?” asking, while pulling out the chair in-front of her, “May I?” 

There he was, as handsome as ever, so much so that Victoire couldn’t help but smile more than was necessary for a polite greeting. Of course he could sit. But she feigns a moment of casualness, forcing herself to nod as a ‘yes’ to him joining her. “Where do I start?” She thinks for a moment, wondering what part of her literary soul to bare to him. “I suppose his true genius lays in his understanding of the importance of thoughts. That everything we are, everything we understand, everything in our world, is really inside of our head.”

“I would entirely agree.” He said with a dramatic sigh of his own. In reality, the idea of purists of any philosopher was very rather humorous. Humans were so fascinating because they had the free will to choose what they placed their faith in. Ultimately everyone was going to form their own path anyway. “I believe that our relationships can certainly shackle us and condemn us to a certain state of existence. My twin sister certainly taught me that growing up. Yet, it is senseless to think of complaining since nothing foreign has decided what we feel, what we live, or what we are. See, he’s useful in most situations. How about you? What do you feel?”

It wasn’t that she hadn’t given it thought before-- she had, many a time, and upon every re-reading developed a new notion to add to the repertoire. But it was far different to voice it to a stranger. But nonetheless, fair was fair, he had answered her prodding questions with sincerity. “I think in one way or another, he contradicts himself with the idea that hell is other people. Like you said, we have all the freedom in the world to control our inner workings. In that way, we are most cruel to ourselves.” Her eyes flick down to the book laying closed, her mind momentarily going elsewhere. Time stills for a moment, before she forces herself to focus back at her companion. “So, you’re a twin?” She confirms, ignoring the previous thoughts laid out before them.