Hogwarts School - Summer

He definitely wasn’t someone she’d seen around before. A transfer? Or just an amazing summer growth spurt? She didn’t know and she didn’t care so long as she could keep looking at him.

"Nah, red isn't my thing. Besides, I look better in pink,"

He was definitely the type that hadn’t just grown up over the summer. No. He had the confidence of someone that was born good looking. Someone who knew they looked good and knew just how to work it, too. She could play that game, too. Reaching out, she smoothed his collar down, fingers trailing down the few buttons that exposed the very top of his chest. She kept her hand their. “Don’t we all?”

"Your turn."

Smiling wickedly, she leaned in a little and red tipped fingers looped around the collar, holding the fabric in her fist, she pulled him closer. Lips brushed his fingertips as she took the cake away. “Mm,” she agreed, smile not faltering as the sweet strawberry cake was chewed and swallowed, “You’re right. It is delicious.”

Tell her to show up in one of three colors, and she would choose none of the above. She’d chosen a black dress instead. It was simple. Off the shoulder and tight enough to show off her figure with a trailing slit up the side that stopped halfway up her though. Her hair was worn long and straight, the golden locks standing out against the black fabric that made up her outfit. Her makeup was subtle through the eyes but bold in the lips, which were a bright red.

She was the envy of several of her girlfriends. But she wasn’t selfish. She’d helped them look their best, too. And, after meeting up with a larger group in the entrance hall, they’d entered together. Phoebe took a natural place in the center. A lot of the people in the group looked to her to figure out what to do first.

They’d started at the photobooth, posing and throwing their heads back laughing as they took turns making faces and playing with the props. From their they disbanded a bit. Some opting to dance, some opting to take for photos. Pheebs made her way to the food tables. She was admiring the fancy french cakes when he showed up. Dressed in… pink and with a voice smoother than velvet.

“Why don’t you tell me?” she said and, smiling, she took one of the bite sized cakes in her hand and held it up to his lips. “What’s the pink for?” she wasn’t shy in eyeing him up and down, “Like red, but… swayable?”

Excitedly he looked between both girls with cheeks full of hot air and a panicked yet hopeful gaze spreading from his brow to his lips in hope the two girls wouldn't implode on impact. They bot, in small ways acted as if they were ready to strike one another. Differing opinions aside, each of them were strangers. Jamie's heart was swelling, it was struggling to contain itself in the tense room.

This had been the wrong compartment. But leaving now would leave them both alone to fight, or worse. The girl was polite enough in returning his greeting but knew beneath the laced, pretty smile she held up she was doing just as mother had. Tolerating his bad behavior.

Like finger traps, his fingers were stuck together as they knotted and unwound from each other in is nervousness. Grace had taken over the conversation, yet the tension only worsened in the cart between the trio. No one in his family had ever attended Hogwarts before and, unlike these two, he had not yet touched his school books. Asking which house he was destined for was too much work for his head. But each of them seemed to hold something to heart. One house was for smart people, and Grace upon hearing Adelaide's desire to join her own destined house, showed a smile atop the rim of the book.

"U-uhh.. I... I don't know." he blubbered out, moving fingers from his lap to run through his hair, combing it behind his ears before alerted by how red they were. It was a frantic brush back to hide them again. He supposed any of them were good, but it didn't seem right that he would be put in Ravenclaw, so he had to rule that out. Jamie had only ever done average at normal school. An A or so in mathematics, he was quite proud of that one, and phys Ed he also achieved quite high. But most students from the country did well in that subject too.

As Jamie's mouth opened however, it was Grace to speak up again, having finished the chapter she was interested in and passing the book back across to sit beside Adelaide. "You? In Ravenclaw, I think you're better suited for Slytherin." she spoke with a cadence. "And, Jamie, right? I heard you can ask to be put in a house, so I wouldn't worry too much. Unless you're put in Slytherin, no one good ends up there."

Jamie gulped. No one good? Maybe it was the house for the unintelligent people. He was sure to be sorted into that one!

"There is Gryffindor - the house of the brave and impulsive. Slytherin - the house of ambition and self preservation, Hufflepuff - Hardworking and loyal, but Hufflepuff also takes people who don't fit in anywhere else, they're a bit odd like that. The Ravenclaw, as we said before, Intelligent and original."

They all didn't sound like they judged on previous grades at all. His shoulders dropped with his tension. All in all, they all sounded equal despite what Grace had said about Slytherin. Being Ambitious wasn't bad. Unless it caused you to cheat or hurt someone.

With a glance offered to Adelaide he restored his honest smile. "-well... Any of those sound fine to me." At least now he could relax. "U-uhm." he fished into one of his baggy pockets, revealing a small bungle of cookies his sister had made for him for the long journey. Simple oat cookies with honey instead of sugar. "Would any of you like some biscuits?" Sweets during the war, at least in non magical society were rare. Most sugar had been sent off to the front lines.

This would have been a pleasant offering if not for the rattling of the upcoming trolley. The doors again opened and a motherly, elderly woman looked in. Her colorful uniform lost against the expansive range of sweets and goods on offer on her little trolley. "First years? Anything from the trolley, kids?"

Jamie had never seen such hings before. His biscuits lay forgotten beside him. Whatever these were, he definitely couldn't afford anything. Miss grace however, could. She purchased herself something called a 'fizzing whizz bomb'. Something made of sherbet he was informed and, three licorice wands. The sight of everything made his stomach rumble, and apprehensively he showed the woman his cookies. "Noh' m'am, I have m' own snacks." Nothing could have made him look more like a wounded animal, forcing his gaze away from the bright delights. "Je n'ai pas les moyens" he mumbled, unwrapping his oat bickies to enjoy. "En veux-tu un?" he offered to Adelaide first.

At least, now he only had to share with one. No matter how drab he the golden biscuits were in comparison.

Adelaide resisted the urge to roll her eyes, or wince, or groan. His handshake was vigorous; like he was trying to pull her arm off. Did he not know how to give a polite handshake? She was trapped in a vice-like grip, and honestly felt like she should have been warned by the fact that he had to roll up his sleeve to prepare for the handshake. Would it ever end? She felt like it wouldn't, and that her hand would be stuck. His hands were oddly callous and rough, whilst the blonde meticulously used hand cream on her hands. Did he have no elegance?

Once she was finally free of his grip, the blonde pulled a bottle of hand cream, rubbing it on her hands. Well, they definitely needed it, she felt like he'd rubbed off part of her hands. Softly, she worked the cream into her hands- making them smell of lavender. She looked up at him, as she listened to him, as he repeated her surname. When he did so, the blonde nodded, as she looked at him. He was scruffy, that was for sure, but scruffy in a lovable way; like one of those ugly dogs that you couldn't help but love. He had those adorable chocolate brown eyes.

"Tu parle français?" Asked the blonde, looking surprised, as she stared at the brunette for a solid second. That was before she realised how rude she must have been.

"C'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer aussi," she said softly, her voice almost moving by itself. She couldn't help but feel surprised, because his French wasn't fluent, or the best, but it was French, and she couldn't help but feel more comfortable with her usual language being spoken around her. But his accent was cute, it wasn't a French one, it was simply adorable, and caused the little blonde to do a half smile.

But then he leaned back again, he let out a huff which caused the blonde's smile to drop, even if it wasn't an actual smile. But his ears had turned pink-- were they sunburnt?-- but she looked at him, as she received his embarrassed glance. He was sweet, but she wasn't supposed to befriend sweet, she was meant to befriend pureblood girls, exclusively.

She looked over at him, as he repeated his question in French, with a smile, a stupid little smile. Just as Adelaide was about to respond, and had even opened her mouth to do so when the annoying other girl spoke over her. Grace Smith, Adelaide decided, was a thorn in her side. Her entire family were in Ravenclaw, well, Adelaide, hoped she ended up in Gryffindor. Generations of women on her mother's side had attended Beauxbatons, and she wouldn't get that. Why should rude Ms. Grace Smith get what she wanted?

Grace Smith was a mess, and Adelaide decided that-- pureblood or not-- she would never befriend the other girl. There were lots of new kids coming in, but she'd not met anyone else from Europe yet and she was pretty sure she'd know better than Grace, after all she was European. There weren't any other French students yet.  Grace was probably just trying to put her down for being too pretty- her mother had said that that would happen. And she had to be wary of people who tried to do so.

"I wasn't wrong, Grace. I just said zem in French." She said, giving the ashen-haired girl the closest thing to the steely gaze that would eventually be perfected in the future. Resisting the urge to finish the phrase with 'because you know, I am French', the blonde watched Grace suspiciously. She had not given her book to Grace, no she'd given it to Jamie-- the annoying little brunette with the vicelike grip.

But Jamie was smiling again, and Adelaide couldn't help but feel soft inside. Like when she was looking at a sad puppy that had been kicked. He was annoying, but in a cute way, kind of. No, he was very annoying, and he couldn't shake hands, and he didn't have many manners.

"I 'ope to be in Ravenclaw." She spoke, cooly, as she looked over at the eleven-year-old boy, "zat's ze 'ouse for ze smart people. Or Slytherin. And you, Jamie?"

Grace had made her choice very clear and had spoken over everyone else. When would she leave the compartment and leave her to read in silence? Jamie, she decided, she could most definitely tolerate. 

Hogwarts was most certainly not Beauxbatons. The smoky grey uniform that most definitely did not go with her silvery eyes had nothing in comparison to the light blue silk dress that she dreamed of proudly wearing. The uniform of the Beauxbaton's girls, the people she could only dream of being like, the uniform that her sister wore, was iconic, and she had spent her childhood preparing to be like every other girl who sported the code.

Unfortunately, Beauxbatons was not deemed to be safe enough for the youngest daughter of the Parfait family. She was the protected one, and it truly was not fair, as Justine was allowed to attend the school, and wear the uniform, and be like their mother, but Adelaide was decidedly not. In fact, her mother had told her that Hogwarts was the safest place on Earth, but the blonde had read up on the subject, and in what world were moving deathtrap staircases deemed to be safe? And the idea of houses was well and truly ridiculous, simply a way of dividing people, instead of uniting them. Mother had said that she had to stay in England, as France was just too dangerous to remain in, but the words- and the implications of the war- flew over her head. The bombs had been dropping in the city around them, yet they remained intact courtesy of the protection charms around the house, but still Mother said it was just too dangerous to stay there.

Therefore, the family had travelled by ship. Almost the entire family, that was, Justine had stayed behind at one of her friend's houses as there was no point of her making the journey. In fact, the trio looked picture perfect, all dressed to the heights of fashion- despite the war, despite the situation in France. The travel had in fact, been a rather luxurious one, a boat trip across the channel, Adelaide admiring the sea, smelling the fresh salty scent, before being dragged back inside and reprimanded for running off-- though she was only a few minutes away-- and pulled back to the dining table to sit and be pretty for dinner. The two hour crossing had been slow, as the conversation had been long, and dull, and in English- which the eleven year old did not speak particularly well.

They'd stayed in a hotel, in London, which Ophelia Parfait had most definitely been apprehensive about, as she tugged her daughter past a pile of rubble. The little girl staring at children playing in it, searching for scraps, and, having asked her mother if she was permitted to join them, was promptly scolded for doing so. They'd gone down Diagon Alley, which the small blonde had regarded with wide eyes. There was something about England, not large, and marble- like the bank had been there, or the homes in France- but rather, it was perfectly small, and rickety. Yes, Diagon Alley was most definitely rickety, with some parts of houses jutting out, and the architecture all over the place. Her wrist held firmly within her mother's hand, she was dragged along behind her parents, and told to not dawdle more times than she could possibly count. She'd paid no notice of anything that her family had bought-- staring at the pet cats, desperately wanting one but being denied, and shuddering at the sight of the quidditch shop-- until they reached the robe shop. She'd been expecting something nice and comfortable, like the silky robes of Beauxbatons, she had not been expecting an itchy cardigan, stiff shirt, pleated skirt and grey socks. It was not fashionable, or comfortable, at all. The hats were simply hidious, and the blonde vowed to herself to never wear it, not to mention the robes. Who could possibly make this uniform look good? It was impossible.

She'd stomped her foot, and cried, and begged, trying to be sent to Beauxbatons, but to no avail, as she was still dragged to Kings Cross Station, whether she liked it or not. Trunk- or rather, trunks, three large things, each decorated- being pushed in front of her by her father, as her mother held her hand.

The goodbye had not been tearful, or particularly emotional, as Parfait's held themselves with pride. In fact, to anyone else, it may have seemed as though the French family did not care for each other- which could not be further from the truth. In fact, the blonde cared more for her family than anyone else in the universe. It was shown through other ways; the way she clutched her mother's hand as if refusing to let go, the way her father patted her on the head, the way they all showed a single second of emotion before hiding it away. Her mother had carefully tied her hair up into a ponytail and was fiddling with the loose strands when the daughter had batted her hands away. The Parfaits all shared a nod before the little girl stepped onto the train for the first time.

---

She did not know when the other girl had joined her on the trip, neither did she care. In fact, the pair both sat perfectly comfortably in absolute silence, listening to the sound of the train whirring, and the occasional sound of a page turning. Adelaide was, in fact, sulking, partially because she was wearing her Hogwarts uniform- socks pulled up perfectly, and a skirt that she would grow into falling below her knees; the cardigan lay unwanted in her bag, as no amount of cold was worth that level of itchiness- and not the Beauxbatons silk dream. A book lay in front of her, but she was not reading it, instead, she was watching the British countryside. It was so much more peaceful than that of France.

The pair were perfectly happy in their silence, at least, until that was disrupted.

An overly enthusiastic boy practically bounced into their compartment, and completely destroyed all sense of tranquility in the small space. Adelaide turned and eyed him warily. He was loud, that was for certain, and his accent, was thick- which made it hard to decipher what he was saying. Not to mention his manners, well, they were seemingly non-existant, as he asked the question and then immediately presumed that she had agreed to it-- which she had most certainly not done-- and his cat had decided to sit on her bag of all things. The blonde shot it a glare, and went to snatch her bag from under him, only to hear a hiss. Great.

The boy, the singular person who would make this train journey a living nightmare, was scruffy. He evidently did not care for his appearance in the same way the blonde did-- her uniform, although uncomfortable, was pristine, her hair was perfectly done, and she was fresh and ready for Hogwarts-- but his smile seemed nice, welcoming in a way, the blonde realised, as she stared at him. Maybe he would be alright.

No, wait, he opened that mouth of his again, though this time for a question, and an introduction, in one. Adelaide decided to answer his question, after all, it was only the polite thing to do, and she had to represent the family. A perfectly manicured hand reached across to shake his, as she spoke calmly, an icy gaze resting upon him, "Adelaide Parfait." She did not expect the other girl to speak, and so, continued.

"'ogwarts, eez..." She tried to think of the word, and then remembered what felt like the thousandth reason towards going to Beauxbatons: she did not speak English. "interesting. It 'as zees 'ouses: Poufsouffle, Gryffondor, Serdaigle et Serpentard."

The blonde listed the houses off effortlessly in her own language, but any English she attempted was veiled by her thick accent. If only she had access to her bag, and then she could give him her copy of Hogwarts: A History, and shut him up. He truly was annoyingly perky.