cakelicious

"Okay, this is really good," Camille exclaimed, nodding, while eating the amazing chocolate cake the elves had given her.

She'd just come down to the kitchens to get a little something to eat, since she'd accidentally missed dinner, before going to bed. It was supposed to be something small, a little sandwich or something like that, she'd thought she wouldn't find much on the kitchens after dinner. Hell, she hadn't even known there was a kitchen before she asked some random girl where she could find food. But the elves ended up being incredibly sweet - if not a little weird, but she was used to that, she'd been to plenty of pureblood houses before - and the amount of food they had down there was huge.

After a whole meal, they'd offered her some cake and, of course, she couldn't say no.

Storm sauntered in to the kitchen, her head somewhere far off she liked to call Old-Storm Land. It was a nice place, Old-Storm Land. Everything was perfect and happy. The girl would spend most of her time there lately. It... set her free. From everything.

So deep in thought, Storm stopped just in time to see someone else there. Her first instincts were to not trust the person, but instead of leaving she slipped into the seat in front of the girl, her face an emotionless mask.

"It looks like somebody missed dinner," Storm said drily.

Camille looked up at the girl and rolled her eyes, putting part of her hand in front of her mouth because it was still partially full, "Or maybe I just came here to get dessert." Her eyes found the other plates still in front of her, though, and she shrugged, "Or maybe I missed dinner after all."

She handed the empty plates to the elves after she finished her cake and took a sip of her pumpkin juice. "What about you, though?" she asked, "No dinner either?"

Storm snorted. "Yeah, obviously."

She watched the girl cautiously and distrustingly. Every movement making her flinch back like she was expecting a strike. "I- no, not really. But that wasn't the reason I came down here."

Camille rolled her eyes at the girl and took another sip of the pumpkin juice. They sure knew how to make food at Hogwarts.

"What is it, then? No one comes to the kitchen and doesn't eat," she remarked, putting the now-empty cup in the nearest elf's hand.

Storm shrugged. "Someone that doesn't like the fact that it's so full everywhere here." She wrinkled her nose, almost in disgust. Did anybody find somewhere to go all the time?

"What's your name?" she asked. "I haven't seen you before, are you an exchange student?"

"Not a fan of crowds, I see?" Camille asked with a raised brow, and shrugged. "To each his own, I suppose. Though I really don't see the problem with crowds. I love them, actually. Call me an attention whore or whatever, I don't really care." It was what most people thought as soon as she mentioned that she liked being in the crowds, and she supposed she was an attention whore at times. Really, she way past caring what people thought of her.

"Yup," she confirmed with a nod, "Exchange student from Beauxbatons. I'm Camille. Camille Fortescue. You are?"

Storm bit back the snarl. Ugh, not again! Being in the centre of attention annoyed her, but people that loved attention annoyed her more. "All right, then, attention whore. Like you said, to each his own."

"I'm Storm. Everlee."

Camille rolled her eyes at the other girl, but said nothing more on that topic.

"Storm? That's an. . . interesting name. Does it fit?" she asked and, after a while, continued, "I mean, does it fit with your personality? You know, storms are usually dangerous, destructive, violent. . ."

She thought for a moment, tapping her long nails on the table. Smirking, Storm leaned forward. "Oh, it definitely fits me well. Anything else... nah. I'm a Storm."

Looking over at an empty plate, the Gryffindor thought. Letting her blue gaze flit back to the girl, she raised an eyebrow. "Exchange students are in fourth year, am I correct?"

"Well, good to know," Camille said, looking the girl over once more, this time trying to imagine all those traits in her. "Would be a shame if your name didn't fit you."

She nodded, brining her hand closer to her face to examine her nails. Those needed to be done. ASAP. Her cuticles were looking awful and that bothered her, for no special reason at all. "Correct," she replied, tearing her gaze away from her fingers, "Sadly, the year's ending and back to Beauxbatons I go. Not that it's any bad, I love my school, but next year is OWL year and, frankly, I'm not a fan of constant studying."