Her family had questioned such a bequest to initiate the blessings of leaving for what was to it, when such a sheltered and fickle child of humungous qualms suited the certainty to indeed, leave home and allocate herself in a totally new environment, let alone a new country on her own? It had certainly been a kick in the teeth to Horeau and Bernadette Horeau who both secretly deliberated on how they would be able to eventuallypart their youngest daughter from the large manor. Anastaise up to their assumptions, had been expected to still be residing with her parents long after school yet their uncertainties had been duly ignored. For only a week after graduating and retiring home from seven years in Beauxbatons, Anastaise had entreated from her parents the capability of migrating to london, much to their surprise.
But neither Bernadette nor Horeau minded dearly and in fact, were both enthralled that their daughter did not prove to wimp as much as expected and had even financed into a small fortune for their youngest female. Anastaise of course, a little smitten by her new found freedom, still found the gript over living alone mildly foreboding and had sent an owl to an old friend from the Triwizard tournament one year back, Bernhard whom she had met on her visit to Hogwarts. He too was interested in he career field and alongside with a fellow graduate, resided in central London, just like Anastaise’ initial plan.
It seemed to go hand in hand, and within another week, the immigration letters had been signed by the ministry and she was battling a new emotion of liberty and cleaning up after two young adult men. She however, found it a little breathing and even enjoyable, despite the constant bickering of the three dreamers- and the try-outs for the Braga Broomfleet was to be reviewed within a fortnight. It was indeed, extremely excitable for Anastaise to play under such a company, but for now- the whole ‘settling down’ still had to introduce a toll.
Bernhard and Ether had jotted down on a piece of paper which had been tapered to the fridge, that they were visiting some friends in Cornwall for half a week. It seemed that Anastaise was not permitted to think that she could stand alone in a new living environment, and the prospect that her boyfriend, Sven was to visit beguiled her cheerfully. Sven wasn’t like the movies. He was noble yes, and good looking, fair and sturdy. He had interests, a kind and promising mind with an intelligence to boot. But he was not ‘real’. The public seemed to think so however, but in all, deep down, Anastaise knew perfectly well that her and Sven were nothing but a conduct of lies.
They were close however, in a sense where both mildly enjoyed each other’s presence, and had grown to accustom a promising friendship over the years. It had seemed that their relationship was built on nothing but the insecurities of their family wishes and social beckoning. Anastaise felt forced, but then again, this was a reoccurring prospect since young. There really wasn’t anything else to it. And yet, as Anastaise hurried down the obstruct streets of London to the telephone booth which located the entrance to the Ministry Of Magic, there was no denying the exceeding benevolence that illuminated off the coffee haired girl.
With the latest prim fashion to boot, lush locks cheerfully bouncing upon a white laced top, the prosperous definition of her elite french heritance issued off the girl as she strode to the telephone booth, eyes misted with mirth. She was genuinely excited to see Sven it appeared, despite part of his initial visit namely to imprint their names on the elitist lips once again. He seemed voided as he stood in the light, Aryan hair delicately blonde against the sunlight glows. Sven in a way, was a little otherworldly.
Picking up her delicate step, Anastaise picked her way through the crowded streets to her boyfriend, waving vacantly. “Sven.” She said, lips darting to his cheeks in a polite French greeting. “It is lovely to see you, I presume that you have missed me?” She conducted in english, her heavy accent doleful on her tongue.