10 PM

While the students from the other schools had been merrily preparing for the Halloween festivities, the lack of enthusiasm that their French counterparts showed could have easily been overlooked. It wasn't that the French did not celebrate the holiday; but it simply was not as important to them as another one close to that time of year.

Corey Gaubert had noticeably become more withdrawn from most of his interactions in the week leading up to Halloween and the first of November. He appeared to be spending a great deal of time on research and making notations in his notebook and should anyone ask him about it, he was quite protective about letting anyone who wasn't a Beauxbatons student view it. By Halloween, all the plans had been made and while all the other students were attending the ball on that night, Corey was fast asleep in his bed in anxious anticipation for the following evening.

As dinner came to an end on the 1st, Corey made eye contact with Cici and a number of other of his fellow classmates and they quietly excused themselves and headed to the Beauxbatons dorms to finish their preparations for the evening ahead.

Corey changed into all dark clothing which would serve two purposes. Even though many of the Beauxbatons faculty were aware of La Toussaint and the traditions often observed, Corey knew that "sneaking out" to observe them and avoid being disturbed would still required them to hide into the shadows of their foreign locale.

Corey had gathered a few other provisions for the evening. In his worn out carry bag, he had stowed his notebook, some black cloth, various candles, a black scarf emblazoned with white chrysanthemums and a stainless steel container that held food for later. He had become friendly with a few of the house elves who he had convinced to prepare them a few special items for midnight.

When the time was right, Corey threw his bag over his shoulder and then reached for the stone lantern that he had also secured for the evening. With one last glance at his watch, he left the Beauxbatons dorms, with a careful eye to be as quiet as possible.

They had agreed to stagger their arrival to their meeting spot as opposed to as a whole group so as to minimize detection. Upon reaching a portion of the lake shore nearby a few trees, he crouched down and waited patiently for the others to begin showing up.

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OOC: It wouldn't be a horrible thing for this thread to get crashed by others (including professors), but please, please let us get it off the ground first. If you're curious about what we have planned, feel free to toss us a PM.

Sophie felt, at best, nervous about this whole La Toussaint thing. It was nice of Corey to ask when he found out about her mother... but she still hadn't completely worked her way back into Headmaster Reid's good graces after the fight in the Great Hall. She was already fairly sure she'd fail to see a Hogsmeade before the very last of the year at the rate she was going. Also, she'd told Fig a little white lie about having to study - not exactly the best way to start the rekindling of an old relationship. It was just so close to the full moon, and it would be the first since Ollie went away again. She missed the wild haired Hufflepuff terrible and trying to imagine the rest of the school year without her was physically painful for the petite Gryffindor. Sulking about it wouldn't change anything, but Sophie couldn't keep her thoughts from that dark and twisty place.

As she carefully picked her way down to the lakeside meeting spot, she was already rethinking the notion of wearing a dress. Not only was she going to freeze, but she didn't even really know what this whole ritual would entail. She had spent the last two days reading about it, trying to look at it as a positive way to heal from all the things she had lost in the past year. Though it was a day to remember the dead there were many people and relationships that had been lost and for which Sophie grieved. She just wasn't good at doing it publically. She was much better at making light of most situations or being the one to try and break out peace talks...despite what breaking Figaro's nose might have left her Foreign counterparts believing. She had done a terrible job of putting her best self forward the last two months... so maybe this would be a way to change that... or not.

She had almost convinced herself to go back to her dorm and sleep (she still felt punchy and sleep deprived from the night before) when she spotted the cluster of trees Corey had told her would be their meeting place. Wrapping chilled fingers around the locket dangling from her neck she took a deep breath. She could do this, it wasn't a big deal. Just because it was almost a full moon and she was sneaking around (and she had horrible images of this being like one of those muggle support groups Ruby had told her about, where everyone talked about their feelings) she kept moving forward. It had been generous of Corey to include her...even if it felt weird. She fumbled into the clearing making a low hissing pssst noise, her voice a low whisper, "Is anyone here yet"?

This wasn’t a holiday that he and his mother particularly celebrated, but one that he had learned about quickly during his first year of Beauxbatons. Never having experienced a death of a family member (his mother was really his only family), or a death of a friend, La Toussaint was not as personal to him as it was to others who had different experiences, who mourned over different loved ones who were no longer of this world. He was excited, however, to visit Dumbledore’s grave, and he couldn’t possibly pass up the opportunity to sneak out, even if they weren’t going to do anything dishonorable. He was excited to spend time with his classmates, even if some of them were uppity, it meant they had enough guts to break the rules and sneak out.

Leo’s preparations had been quick—he put on a dark jacket with the sleeves an inch too short, and a pair of dark, worn out pants. They were too light and worn to be considered black; they were more of a dark green-grey. His bookbag was slung over his shoulder—it’s contents included chrysanthemums, a bottle of cider, a few goblets he had swiped from the Great Hall, and a few old candles. And a small wreath of pale immortelles that his mother had sent over as soon as he explained the night’s plans. He felt guilty accepting her gift, but he knew that she wanted to support him in any way she could when she could afford it. At the bottom of the bag was a pack of cigarettes, though he resolved not to smoke tonight; it would be disrespectful to Corey and to dear, dead, Dumbledore.

But zut alors, he was itching for a smoke.

Leo made his way out to the meeting place, raising his eyebrows at Corey and Sophie, “Putain!"[1] He exclaimed to himself in a harsh whisper, clearly not happy to see a non-Beauxbatons student here. He felt like she was an outsider, like she didn’t belong. “Are you blind? Corey is right there.”  He motioned towards Corey with a nod and adjusted his bookbag slightly before bringing his thumb up to his lip to chew on the nail. Leo leaned against one of the trees and sighed, “Who invited her?” He asked in exasperation, his blue eyes looking from Sophie,to Corey, and back again.

Really, he had hoped that it would just be him and the other students from his school. Not anyone from the other three schools. Leonardo had nothing against them personally, but he felt like this holiday was being intruded upon by an outsider. By someone who didn’t belong. By someone who didn’t deserve to be here. Granted, Leo didn’t know that Sophie’s mother was dead, and in some way, had more reason to be here than he did.

1.	Literally means, 'whore.' In this context, it is an expletive which is a bit stronger than 'damn' in English.

As he waited for the others, Corey listened to the eerie quiet of the night unfolding. It was as if the combination of all saints and all souls were laying in hushed reverent silence for what was to happen. One dared not disturb such lovely yet somber mood.

Corey's attention immediately turned to the sound of oncoming footsteps. They could be the balletic steps of a Fontaine (who he expected to arrive first) or another petite thing and he woukd have been attuned to it in an instance. Hunting and trapping magical creatures had prepared him for that.

Corey did not attempt to hide his surprise that the first to arrive was not one of his fellow Beauxbatons students. But it was a pleased sense of surprise as he had also been unsure if Sophie Flickwick, the 6th year Gryffindor who had been friends with werewolf Olivia Foley, would take up his invitation to come tonight. Ollie's leaving was hardly a death, but the loss of her presence at the school, even for someone like Corey who had just befriended her, was a noticeable void. In talking briefly to Sophie about it, he had learner of her own mother's death by werewolf. Instinctively, Corey had wanted to offer to help some way. Given his own loss of family and his subsequent feelings of fondness for Toussaint, he had invited her to join he and his classmates in celebration of the holiday.

Seeing her now, Corey waved her closer and shook his head to her question. He was about to say something when he was interrupted by another joining them, this time his classmate and fairly good pal, Leonardo. Seeing him was trumped immediately by his harsh words.

Corey scowled at his classmate, knowing full well that Duarte was prickly and hard to get to know at first. He even had a habit of sticking his foot in his mouth sometimes. But Corey didn't realize he had an extreme dislike of the other schools.

"Oiy! Assez! I invited her," Corey bit out, his words accompanied by a cloud of breath that was a tell tale sigh of the chill in the air. The tall seventh year advanced towards the Gryffindor with an extended arm which he snaked about her shoulders and giving a friendly squeeze. To Sophie he flashed a smile that was meant to reassure her that she was welcome. "Glad you could make it. Don't mind his rudeness. I just forgot to mention that I invited you. And he gets this way when he unexpectedly finds himself around pretty little ladies," he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Clothes

November 1st had always just been another date to Cécile. She knew about La Toussaint, it being a national holiday and all, but she had never celebrated it willingly. Sure, her mother had dragged her along once or twice to honor dead relatives she had never met, but it meant next to nothing for her. Then, she met Corey. Despite the fact she had never met his parents and knew nothing about them, she found herself feeling more of a connection to them then her own family. Since then, she had always attended La Toussaint willingly, as long as it was alongside him, grieving not for her dead great-grandparents or even her missing, possibly dead, father, but for his parents. It was a night that meant a lot to the both of them. For him, it was a chance to grieve for those who gave him life. For her, it was a chance to feel close to him, to be part of that life.

This Toussaint was even more special then the 6 before it. Tonight, she planned on telling him how she felt about him.

So, needless to say, when she walked up to the very small group waiting at the edge of the lake and overheard him telling Leo that he invited a "Pretty little lady", who obviously wasn't her, she was understandably a bit upset. Perhaps more than she should have been, since she knew Corey better then that, but Cécile had been in a sensitive place since she met Lyov. The mere sight of the pretty, petite Gryffindor was enough to make her seethe with jealousy. She wished she had waited for Élodie to finish getting ready, because approaching the trio alone while feeling so small was hardly a good way to start the evening. Leo was there, though, and though they weren't exactly the best of friends, he would be fine company.

"Bon soir, mes amis" She greeted, voice sweet and warm, and devoid of the anger and jealousy she was rife with. It was, however, a bit more evident in the fact that she stood closer to Leo and gave him the customary bises[1] before Corey. Then she turned to Sophie, who, she reminded herself, wasn't the one she was mad at, and smiled sweetly "Bon So--" She caught herself and switched to English "I mean, Good Evening. And this is?" She said, turning towards Corey. Cécile knew who she was, everyone did after that fight with that loud Hufflepuff boy, but she wanted to hear it from Corey. It was the masochist in her.

1.	the kisses on each cheek

Sophie jumped at the sound of the male voice behind her, brown eyes going wide. She wasn't as fluent in French as she was Spanish, but she was pretty sure she had just heard the word whore. Of course, not being fluent left her without context, so she couldn't be sure if that is what Leo was calling her or if it was a form of swearing. It didn't really matter, the distaste that dripped from his tone had her backing up, until her shoulder hit one of the trees. If this was going to be like one of those support group thingies she would not be sharing. She hadn't really believed the stereotype of rude terrible French people but looking at Leonardo Duarte she could see where some people got the idea.

Crossing her arms over her chest she didn't even bother to give Corey a weak smile when he tried to cover for his friend's rudeness. She appreciated the effort but she was already regretting the choice to come take part in the evenings festivities - a feeling that only intensified as she noticed the more delicate of the Fontaine sister's approach and her posture echoing Leo's displeasure at seeing an outsider. From whatever Sophie had witnessed - which admittedly had not be a lot because she'd been a bit consumed with her chaotic life, but the general air about Cici and Corey was that they were chummy sort of pals so it seemed odd she'd head for the rudest person in the general vicinity first.

"Sophie," her voice came out rather hoarse as she stepped away from the tree, arms folded over her chest, suddenly feeling outnumbered and rather defensive about it. "Sophie Flickwick," she paused and looked at Corey, her cheeks sucked in. She was not good at this, this being the new person. It didn't help that it was so close to the full moon or that some part of the night would involve thinking about, possibly talking about the loss of her mother. As empathetic as she could be, Sophie was not good with...feelings~, at least not her own. Her brown eyes zero'd in on Leo, she really wanted to punch him but out of respect for Corey refrained, at least physically.

She squared her shoulders, and for the briefest flash gave Corey an apologetic look before turning her glare back on the loud mouth'd smelly French boy, "Of course if you're uncomfortable with someone from Hogwarts intruding on your little celebration, you know just being here with my Gryffndor-ness, trying to find some way to commemorate the seven month loss of my mother, by all means I'll leave you to your night of the dead, since you've obviously got the market cornered on loss and grief Duarte," her tone wasn't exactly scathing or sarcastic, it was harsh but not in a way that seemed to expect pity for what she had lost...just that she wouldn't tolerate being spoken down to.

“Ah.” He said in acknowledgement. If Corey had invited her, there must have been a reason. Either it was because she was tiny and adorable, or because she had gone through some sort of loss before. She was friends with that one werewolf girl, right?  She wasn’t around anymore. Maybe she was dead or something. Sophie’s reaction made it clear, though—her mother was dead. Her response both made him respect and dislike Sophie all the more. On the one hand, she was able to stick up for herself in front of him, which was a plus. On the other, she did it in such a way that it made Leo feel like she was the self-pitying type who expected him to know these sorts of things about her. It was a bit illogical of him to think, but it was how he viewed it.

Leo looked directly at Sophie and shrugged,  “Perdóname.” He said  to her automatically, slipping into Spanish, which wasn’t too unusual for him, considering it was the main language he spoke at home. Then, Leo gave Corey a brief, yet apologetic look—which was the closest thing to a genuine apology that Leo ever got. He glanced back at Sophie, and let out a little laugh that seemed a bit out of place. “Merde, it’s not that you’re from Hogwarts! I don’t know you is all.” He didn’t know Sophie well enough—but the Beauxbatons students on the other hand were students that he had spent his school years with. Even if he might have disliked quite a few of them, at least he knew them. This holiday was a bit of a personal one, more personal to his classmates than it was to him, and he felt, in a weird way, oddly protective of their privacy. Not that he'd ever admit it without some firewhiskey.

“There was no way, pequeña[1], for me to know your mother was dead. It looks like you need to be here.”  He conceded, cringing on the inside.

Then, one of the lovely Fontaine sisters came, and it seemed that she wasn’t happy about Sophie being there either. This was going to be a long night for the little one. Leonardo gave Cécile a suspicious look as she greeted him before greeting Corey. It wasn’t just that, no—she actually stood closer to him than she did to Corey.

This was weird.

“Qu'est-ce que tu fais?”[2] Leo asked her warily, taking a step away from Cécile, wondering what was going through her head. Was she mentally ill? Brain damaged? On a dare? Irritated at Corey? He had no freakin' clue.

1.	In this context, he is calling her 'little one.'
2.	What are you doing?

Séraphin headed out to the lakeside, keen to partake in the La Toussaint with the other Beauxbatons champions. It was chilly, and getting ever closer to Christmas; a cutting edge in the air always reminded the student that he was back in England. The warm shores of Cannes seemed a million miles away. He hadn't heard from his parents, or any of the brothers. Not even Apollonaire, the arrogant sibling based in the British Ministry, had made an effort. It was how it was. It was how it had always been. The youngest Olivier was to follow the famous footsteps of his family alone with little aid; he was 'almost a man now' and as such, was expected to stand on his own two unsure, inexperienced feet.

A few had gathered around trees - a fitting location. Séraphin wasn't one to sneak out and disobey the grand Madame Bisclavret, but La Toussaint held some meaning for him. It was a time to remember, and respect, and he'd much rather partake in a day of decorum than get drunk with all the Hogwartians for Halloween. That'd never do.

Clothed in dark fabrics, a thick woolen cloak over his shoulders, Séraphin approached his scholastic comrades. "Evening gents," he quietly announced in his native tongue, nodding at each in turn. "And you mademoiselle." Cécile Fontaine was present: a quiet, unassuming wallflower. Séraphin was half surprised to see her without the elder sister and breaking school regulation, but then again, he was known for being a by-the-book character himself (or a goody two shoes to those with a harsher tongue). He extinguished the lumos glow of his wand, no longer necessary thanks to a modest lantern.

A Hogwarts girl was present, one he was unfamiliar with. It wasn't Jordyn, nor one of the similar-looking girls she giggled and gabbed with. Surmising that she probably didn't speak French, Séraphin gave her a cautious nod. "Apologies, I do not know your name." It seemed half-sincere. If anything, he was a little nonplussed as to why a Briton would want to enjoy this little ceremony they'd organised, but alas, live and let live.