Too Sweet pv. Prat Pass

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London Quidditch Stadium

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The fireworks ended shortly after the two had traded stories about their family traditions. The night sky still glimmered faintly with faint colors that lingered once the sparks had faded; a few stray bursts of colors dissolving in the soft hum of chatter and footsteps surrounding them.

Prat was halfway sure he had heard Siobhan's stomach grumble somewhere between her words, but thought best not to mention so. That wasn't exactly a gentlemanly thing to point out, despite his instinct to laugh under his breath. Instead, he opted to glance at her, with amusement on his face as he kept walking.

Sio spoke again, her tone light and filled with curiosity, "Thats very cool that your family can use sigils and runes. My family has engravings that my great-great-grandmother carved across my family's farm to bring prosperity, and fertility to the grounds. I'm really hoping that our Ancient Runes class this year allows me to strengthen them. As far as I'm aware- I'm the only witch in our bloodline. But our farm is so profitable, I think there may be some magic somewhere. You should teach me how to play your game and I'll bring our ice-cream shaker to school after winter break."

Prat listened quietly as he tried imagining a farm lined with runes carved from generation ago, picturing in his head what engravings of prosperity and fertility, that she'd talked about might look like. The idea was charming and quite simply, oddly poetic even, but he didn't really believe the notion of runes carved at her farm. They boy tilted his head slightly as she went on, nodding briefly to express interest while she mentioned herself as the only witch in her bloodline.

This wasn't a surprise to Prat, most muggle borns had that in common, a lack of pedigree; though not a thought he'd say so out loud. There was however something quite admirable about this appearance of magic in people with no history or connection to it.

Magic surviving within veins for generations, tucked between mundane muggle generations, feeding itself until the right being to enforce it's will comes along.

Upon her mention of strengthening them with a deep dive in the subject of Ancient Runes, he finally interjected, voice carrying that slightly formal edge he never seemed to lose despite his best attempts, perhaps sounds superior were too far ingrained in his psyche and methods.
"That is interesting, would the magic not get disrupted by muggle technology nearby? if there was some present." he asked once she'd finished "I'd rather you didn't blow up your farm because of a faulty technology or something."

His lips twitched into a half-smile. That wasn't entirely a joke aimed at her, they'd read enough about mixed-magic interference to know it was possible but mostly, he just enjoyed seeing her expression when she'd realized he was teasing her.

Still, when the lion promised to bring her ice-cream shaker upon her arrival after winter break, Prat's interest was genuine. "If you bring it, we'll go to Hogsmeade," he said, voice brightening slightly as an idea took root. "Buy some ingredients and make some Hogwarts exclusive ice cream ourselves, then we'll sell it to those Ravenclowns and Hufflepuffs for a galleon each. We'll call it exotic flavours and you know they'll pay for anything with a fancy name."

For all his pureblood Pride, Prat couldn't deny how much he liked hearing about muggle things. There was something strategic about it, know your enemy and all, but also something quietly fascination. It was a culture that had grown entirely outside and away from his own, shaped by efforts of those with very different resources. He didn't mind admitting that he found it useful, even necessary and fun, to understand how muggles lived. You never knew when you might have to fight with one. Or, more fortunately, dine with one.

He hadn't yet realized the positions their hands taken as of the moment, no longer holding each other the usual way; cupped, loose and easy to let go. Their fingers were intertwined now, snug and deliberate, the kind of hold that meant they were staying close. If he'd noticed earlier, he probably would've gone red in the face, or coughed awkwardly as he pretended to fix his sleeve. But as it was, he didn't think too hard on it until a few moments later her thumb brushed his knuckles.

That was when it hit him.

His pulse jumped a little, They boy didn't say anything, just kept walking with his eye flickering briefly between her, the crowd and the path they were supposed to take. It was busy, too crowded to make a scene or let go without bumping into someone. The realization made his stomach twist in ways he didn't quite know how to label.

He squeezed her hand back as they walked, holding it slightly tighter within his grasp, more close knit then before.

The crowd around them began thinning as they progressed, laughter and chatter mixed with hum of the carnival attractions. The lights cast everything in soft haze and for a moment, Prat found himself thinking back on all the time spent in the carnival, of all the things he'd enjoyed during his stay. The Quidditch game between Durmstrang and Castelo-Mahou, the art booth where he'd drawn a portrait for archer, the ridiculous carnival games he'd played with Sio. Specially how they always devolved into bickering and now this, a quiet night, no arguments and some strange quite peace.

It was strange, Prat wasn't used to such peace between the two of them.

Sio squeezed his hand absentmindedly as they walked, and he responded with his own gentle squeeze, fingers curling around hers.

Almost a date, he thought until the idea startled him enough to nearly let go, but he didn't, this was quite nice. He just let it sit there, uncomfortable and warm. He'd gotten her a gift from the fair, played games with her, gave her his precious time, and was also walking her to get ice cream. This was exactly the sort of thing his father told him about, describing his early days with Prat's mum; small thoughtless gestures turning into something else entirely.

Except.....Sio probably didn't think that way. She was just being friendly while all her other friends were probably busy. That was quite the logical and reasonable explanation for it, wasn't it? Regardless of whatever he wanted this to be or not to be, he wasn't about to ask her what she thought. Not her, in a station right beside the ice cream stall, with fireworks fading above their heads.

And...he could surely live with holding her hand for now.

When she finally spoke again, her voice carried that bright tone," I think I'd like strawberry for my flavour. With a few sprinkles or maybe some chocolate sauce."

Prat looked back at her, faintest tilt of lips. He wasn't sure what the smile was about, maybe her enthusiasm, or the thought of ice cream itself. The air around the booth smelled like vanilla, sugar and roasted nuts, and it made his mouth water before he even saw the finished product.

"What flavour are you think about?" she asked while bumping his shoulder lightly. "Is there some sort of wizarding branch of ice cream flavours that I don't know about?"

He huffed a quiet laugh, bumping her shoulder back with his own. "Chocolate will do just fine," he said simply. "No sprinkles or any other additions." Then he continued after a pause, "Though if you want something special, might I suggest Crème des Rêves d’Hiver? My Parents quite favour it. Maybe I'll treat you to it someday if you're being nice."

His tone was half serious and half teasing, always carrying a touch of the aristocratic drawl when he spoke about anything connected to his family, as if mocking anything that didn't originate from it.

With a soft exhale, he brushed a bit of hair from his and clasped his hands together, "Sooo..." he began, stretching the word, trying to sound casual. "Now that the carnival's practically over, did you enjoy it?" He glanced sideways at her, eyes catching the glow of the lights. "Not the whole thing, just the parts with me. Is it not the best school carnival you've been to?"

He jested, but the tone carried a trace of genuine curiosity hidden beneath it, quiet hope he'd never say out loud.

After a brief pause, he leaned down, meeting closer to her ear as he lowered his voice. "If I owl you, should I expect an owl back?"

(he didn't owl her, he forgot)

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XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXI made up the ice cream name, don't come after me

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Stats: sta 6 ⊹ eva 8 ⊹ str 7 ⊹ wis 7 ⊹ arc 7 ⊹ acc 7 | Time: A Crisp Dusky Evening | CC:#2E8B57 |
Abilities: Healing Sage ⊹ Charmer ⊹ Blindvision
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Prat's inquisitiveness about wether runes could accurately be placed by a muggle, had her thinking to herself. It's possible that he was right, but from what she had read ahead in the Runes textbook she had gotten, the braille version of course, it seemed that the complexity of the Runes themselves was something that could be taught to non magical peoples. Eitherway, the where something that existed in her home and she wanted to reinforce their abilties.

Prat was nice enough to always seem interested in whatever it was that she chose to ramble about. He always responded with something that prompted her to keep speaking, as though her voice wasn't something that drove him crazy. Besides the few friends she had made at Hogwarts, she wasn't a stranger to people pulling away because her mouth occasionally ran on faster than they wanted to listen to. The sting of disappointment and pain of rejection had long since disappated from within her heart because of her friends. Here at Hogwarts, in the Wizarding World in general, Siobhan wasn't an outsider. She wasn't someone who was wildly different.

She was herself- the happier version of herself that only ever shone when she felt a swing of confidence.

With Prat- that confidence seemed far more jubilant and easy to pull into focus. As though half of her ability to have such a feeling came from Prat himself. If anything, it may be bordering on arrogance as he carried a lot of it within him it seemed as he started listing out a cockamamie plan to swindle their fellow students out of money simply by using her ice ream shaker.

She couldn't help it. It was the stupidest thing she had ever heard come out of his mouth. Her free hand with the bear came up to cover her mouth as she laughed at his ridiculous idea. Her laugh rang out like a bird, something she didn't often do nowadays but when she laughed it was something she wanted to hide anyways.

Drawing attention to herself was still a little frightening. Much less while her hand was still in the occupation of another.

She shifted the weight of the prize that Prat had gotten her to her hip so that it could still hug her but not hinder the way she walked. His hand had squeezed hers back seemingly in response to her own. Siobhan could feel her face warming just slightly as his fingers curled a little tighter around hers.

Prat picking chocolate as his flavor seemed appropriate for him. The way he talked, the way her carried himself, and the actions he made towards her was as smooth as the cocoa powder mixed in the sweet cream of the ice cream he favored. The lack of toppings matched the way he didn't need to do or say much to focus a person on his intellect and his charm. Even if sometimes it drove her crazy and she wanted to close his mouth for him.

Close his mouth as in shove something in it- like paper- or a sock or something. Not that she would but sometimes it crossed her mind as she thought about his voice.

She wasn't always thinking about his voice- or him.

Siobhan gently and inconspicuously shook her head as Prat went off on a tangent about her trying something new. Prat told her that she should try something that she most certainly couldn't pronounce, she felt her gaze contort into something of confusion. Her head tilted as she looked towards him.

"Cream de... what?" She asked as her heavy Killarney based accent shook through her words, preventing her from speaking with the same air of elegance that Prat had. Even after two years of primarily speaking English and reading in it, she still found her roots pulling her back into the heavy Irish dialect.

It didn't embarrass her as much as it had when she had first started at Hogwarts and struggled with the vernacular of the same calibar of her peers. It was wonderful to hear her friends speaking with such clarity while she still struggled with keeping her voice stable and steady.

"I don't think I've heard of that type before... But I want to try so many things from this world. Did you get your Hogsmeade form signed? I did- but my parents signed it under the condition that I always have someone accompany me. I think they're worried I might get lost or hurt becaue I can't see well." Siobhan mumbled as she thought about the new areas to explore across the Hogwarts grounds. She had heard there was a bookstore, a potions shop, and even a wonderfully eventful candy-store which some of the older muggle-borns had called the "wizarding world's Willy Wonka" store.

She hoped that she would be able to explore the village with someone as soon as they were all settled back in their dorms in the castle.

Prat followed up his recommendation with a gentle question about whether or not she had enjoyed herself at the carnival. She looked back at her bear and then at him with a sweet smile situated evenly on her face. She had in fact, enjoyed herself immensely.

That much she had told him with plain honesty. Though as she finshed her statement, her breath caught in her throat as Prat's voice found itself against the cusp of her ear.

"If I owl you, should I expect an owl back?" Prat asked with a bit more gusto then anything else he had said to her all day. Siobhan was a little perplexed at his request. There hadn't been anything between the two of them that would have sparked this turn of conversation. Her face warmed again, a little brighter under the dwindling lights of the carnival.

"H-how am I supposed to read anything you send?" Siobhan said half-jokingly as she blinked at him with the silvery white of her irises. But his question hadn't been one of jokes it seemed and she took a moment before she nodded.

"If you wrote to me- I would write back... What do you want to want me to write to you about?" She asked as they picked up their ice cream. The sweet sacchrine smell of strawberries hit her nose but in a way that she enjoyed. She let go of his hand to take a bite of her ice cream from the spoon.

The wonderfully churned dessert hit her tongue and she let out a sweet sigh to match the treat in front of her. Looking around, as though she could actually see anything worth a dime, and then back towards him.

"Lets sit somewhere. So we can keep talking and we don't spill any of our ice cream." She said, adjusting the bear in her arm so that she could hold her ice-cream in one hand and pull Prat along with her other. Maybe it was to keep him close to her but she wasn't sure that she was ready to admit that.

If it was something that she needed or wanted to admit in the first place.

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| 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉: @ | 𝑴𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: @Prat Pass|
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

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London Quidditch Stadium

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Prat wasn't aware or even entirely sure when her ramblings had stopped feeling like excruciating noise to him and instead started feeling like music. Somewhere between her chiding of him about a library book's ownership and her soft-spoken theories about the runes that might potentially be present near her muggle household, her voice had shifted from being mildly irritating to oddly nice and grounding.

He didn't even know when the change occurred. One day she was the girl lecturing him while hitting his hand with a book, too fast to talk with an accent that made him tilt his head to make sense of her accent, and now, he found himself listening for the exact tilt, which seemed to be dwindling and leaving her tone with time.

But perhaps, that was why he kept their conversations going, even if he had nothing of substance to add to their conversation. He could've walked in silence. He'd done it plenty of times with others, silence was after all, easy. Efficient even. But with her, ignoring her and continuing to walk felt wrong. So instead, he kept talking, throwing new topics like skipping stones across a lake, watching how easily she'd pick up on one and make them ripple.

When she laughed at his proposition regarding the ice cream, he pretended not to react. "Stop laughing, I was serious," he said flatly, but the corner of his mouth twitched despite his best efforts. Of course he was serious. Selling ice cream to Huffs and Claws under the guise of exotic business flavours was a rational business model. Low risk, high profit, instant clientele. She just didn't understand visionary, entrepreneurial genius when she saw it. Her laugh, bright and unguarded only made him want to double down on his mock indignation, hiding it behind his usual unimpressed expression.

Then again, she was laughing, smiling, which was quite a nice sight.

When her hand rose to cover her mouth, his eyes flicked to the movement, she was holding that stuffed bear he'd won for her earlier, balancing it awkwardly against her hip like it was the most precious thing in the the world. His fingers curled a little tighter around hers with a lack thought. The contact was faintly grounding, soft hands. He didn't look back at her, but the pressure of the hold stayed, deliberate.

Her voice cut through his thoughts, lifting with the same accent he'd come to find tolerable. "Cream de...... what?" Prat titled his head, slight disappointment in action. "Never mind. The name's not important anyway," he said, tone calm as always. "What matters is that the taste is really brilliant. I'll treat you to some and then you can try pronouncing it again."

He did like the way she said it, confused, stumbling. Without pretending she knew what he was talking about. His usual circle would've faked it and then attempted to explain it to him. Sio however wore confusion like a badge.

Upon her query about Hogsmeade Passes, he blinked, briefly thrown off. "What Pass?" he almost asked before it clicked for him. Right. The permission slips for the students, rules, forms and all that. He nearly laughed, of course she'd be among the few people who actually get one made for herself. She was the kind to follow the system.

His own history with Hogsmeade was a little less conventional than hers. There had been that one outing with Kim Sato, back in second year, Prat had obtained a slip in those days to smoothly walk past castle's boundaries for what the two detailed as "business." Which, in retrospect, might've been closer to a mild criminal endeavour than a business. Hogwarts Mafia was as real as it could get. Nonetheless, he had a forged pass, which still technically worked. Probably.

He wasn't about to tell Siobhan any of that, she'd probably frown in that soft, lecturing and disappointed way of her that made Prat think he'd been caught doing something very wrong, when in actuality, he could do no wrong.

Instead, he just shrugged at her, smooth and unbothered. "Oh yeah, I got mine signed by my mum back the summer break," he lied with his usual practices tone. "Wasn't much of a problem either way."

Then, after a beat, he added, mostly because he wanted to. "I'd you need someone to accompany you when you're going, I could tag along. I know my way around Hogsmeade, that'd ensure you don't get hurt or lost."

That, perhaps came out a little more earnest than he'd intended, and he cleared his throat quickly, redirecting elsewhere. "Can't believe you've been missing out on butterbeer all this time. We should go to the three broomsticks when the term starts again."

Promises of this sort usually felt like obligations, this one however felt nothing alike.

Her reply about the carnival was soft, easy honesty flowing through her words that he'd grown to expect from Sio. She did like the carnival and possibly the company by extension. That last was unspoken, but Prat took it to be heavily implied. This was enough to make the boy look away for a second.

The lights from the decorations reflected off the surface of her hair, white roses catching faint glow of colors from the various attractions present around them. He's never really noticed how strange and striking they were until this moment.

When he asked "If I owl you, should I expect owl back?" It wasn't a well rehearsed or a commonly used line. Last thing he wanted was more to read. But this time, it had slipped out, genuine but smooth curiosity casually wrapped while carrying an entirely different weight laid hidden underneath the layers.

Her reaction was immediate, cheeks warm in the carnival light, voice faltering as she joker about her lack of ability to read.

For the first time in this camp, Prat hadn't thought three steps ahead nor did he already have a solution ready.

Until he did.

"Braille," he said simply. "You know Braille right? I'll just write in that and you can reply in whatever way you want."

Most people didn't expect him to pull something like that out of the skills or knowledge he knew, or the unexpected thoughtfulness out of his pocket of disinterest. But he wasn't stupid. Accessibility was a thing he'd learnt early on and when you had riches as vast as his, accessibility was always an revolving door for you. He didn't know Braille, but he knew enough to know what to look for. Enough to understand her words and reply back eventually, when he'll have learnt it.

"What do you want me to write to you about?" He hesitated a moment before replying again, "Anything, something you learned, somewhere you went, or just something that happened." He shrugged, trying to sound nonchalant. "Doesn't matter what it's about, just write something you know."

Accepting his chocolate ice cream, Prat continued listening to Sio, the ice cream was perfect; rich cold and not too sweet.

Exactly the way he liked.

He hadn't even begun to fully appreciate the taste when Siobhan tugged on his hand, pulling the boy towards some seating.

He didn't resist.

If anything, his steps fell behind hers far too easily. For someone who looked so soft and whimsical, she was strong, almost alarmingly strong to be around when she deemed so.

With the carnival winding down, the lights dimming, sounds mellowing into soft chatter and fading ambience. Prat wasn't really keen on ending, neither did he enjoy those. he especially didn't like the approaching end towards this one. The idea of going back to his dorm, to the noise of Slytherin's common room, to his bed where his thoughts would replay details of this moment until slumber took him in it's care.

He wanted this evening to stretch just a little longer.

Sitting down on the benches, they were rough, even slightly damp from the evening air as the air smelled like sugar and firecrackers. He leaned back slightly, one arm resting along the bench behind her, not close enough to make contact, but if she leaned back just an inch, she'd brush against him.

He hadn't realize how long they sat there, one by one the lights blinked off until the two were left under the faint glow of light that was barely there anymore. As the music dimmed and people began drifting towards their tents, the buzz of the night slowly quieted. He glanced in the direction of camp, rolling his spoon idly between his fingers. "It's getting late," he said, tone even but soft. "I'll walk you back to your tent."

Before she could protest, "Mine's on the way anyway." It wasn't entirely true, but it wasn't entirely false either. He just didn't like the idea of her walking alone when she could barely see what was ahead. He rose, brushing crumbs of ice cream off his trousers, and extended a hand towards her; "Come on," he said simply. "Let's get you back to your tent."

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XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXIf you're reading this, sio said she won't reply, she big mean.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Stats: sta 6 ⊹ eva 8 ⊹ str 7 ⊹ wis 7 ⊹ arc 7 ⊹ acc 7 | Time: A Crisp Dusky Evening | CC:#2E8B57 |
Abilities: Healing Sage ⊹ Charmer ⊹ Blindvision
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Prat was so very unusual to her.

When the two of them had first met, she had smacked his hand with a book because his grubby fingers had been attempting to steal the book that she had been looking for in the library. Following that, they had attempted to go off on an adventure together but it hadn't amounted to anything and they had left with less animosity. With every step towards the next day in their lives their animosity was lessened by some sort of adventure or outing between the two of them.

They had duelled against each other, he'd even moderated a duel or two that she had won with her own team in Gryffindor. She'd thought maybe they would duel against each other again but she hadn't seen him on the piste since their last duel.

The two of them were quite similar in many aspects which had only ever fostered the opportunities for their friendship to blossom from two whiny kids into more advanced students who outside of their deep rooted need to best each other academically, deep down longed for someone to understand them without having to outwardly expose their most vulnerable emotions.

Prat was quite silly when he wanted to be. She enjoyed watching his walls falter so that relaxed raw emotion could flow through him as it made him far more likeable and enjoyable to be around. As he very seriously told her that he was serious about scamming money out of their classmates with her ice cream maker, she still couldn't help but laugh again.

"I am not scamming our classmates out of money- That's just mean." She miffed just slightly. She couldn't just let him get away without scolding him slightly.

When he offered to take her out to Hogsmeade she had lit up excitedly. She was so excited to see the Village, or at least explore it. Prat muttered something about "butterbeer" which sounded very questionable to her.

"Butterbeer? Like alcohol with butter in it? Sounds absolutely ghastly. I think I'll stick to pumpkin juice and apple cider. My orchard at home grows the best apples for cider. When I write to you, I'll send you some of my apples to try." Siobhan said whistfully thinking about her trees. It was one of her favorite things to do, climbing high into the cozy branches and picking an apple for a snack as she read a new book or hung upside down with her sisters seeing who could hang there the longest.

"If you asked me to go, I think I would though. I'd like it if someone could show me the village." Siobhan followed quickly to assure him that his invitation was not lost on her.

The quiet between them soon progressed to a feeling that was gentle and mellow. Much like their normal silence between them where nothing was said and the two could coexist in peace. But it bordered on deafening for her and she wished that more words had been exchanged between the two of them.

What words, she hadn't the faintest idea but somewhere in the farthest reaches of her mind the notion of letting the silence between them continue was just absurd. They were meant to talk, to chide each other and lightly bicker. They were only separated by the silence now, having dropped hands to enjoy the treats they had quested for.

Sitting on the bench with Prat she felt her body stiffen up so as not to encroach upon his space. Siobhan made no moves to move closer because she was unaware of what to do if she sat too close to him. Was it appropriate to even be sitting so close?

It seemed the answer was givent o her in the form of Prat's arm sitting behind her back. She hadn't noticed it until her back had grazed upon his arm but while it had shocked her, she didn't pull away immediately. Her back rested against his arm in a light, easily spookable way. As if she was a cat approaching an offered bowl of food but still wary of the hand that held it out. Prat's movements were calculated but Siobhan knew that her own toed the line of unpredictable.

Siobhan changed her thoughts to the offers that Prat had give to here while they were still in the company of each other. Taking her to some place called "The Three Broomsticks" for some unfamiliar drink called butterbeer, and then the opportunity to write to her in the one language that she could read now. Why was he offering everything to her up on a silver platter? What had changed from their last real time together in detention to now where she was something he wanted to keep happy?

Siobhan's mouth closed around her spoon, licking the ice cream out of the curve and thinking. It seemed that was much of her time in her head lately. Thinking. The thoughts that ran amok in her brain weren't thoughts that she needed to vocalize on the greatly superior off chance that they where wrong and misconstrued. It would be embarrassing for both of them if she was wrong and open up a larger can of worms then she was ready to sift through if she was right.

But right now, she was focused on her ice cream and the end to a wonderful evening. The lights had slowly been disappearing from her sight line and she felt her muscles tighten up as darkness enveloped the two. Having less sight meant that the darkness became an uncomfortable companion that secluded what little was visible of the rest of her world. Siobhan had never been afraid of the dark but now it definitely frightened her.

Her instinctive need to move backwards away from the lights that slowly approached her as they turned off had her subconsciously moving closer and closer to Prat which was like being backed into a corner.

"It's getting late I'll walk you back to your tent."

Siobhan's head swiveled to his with a bit of a panicked expression on her face. Slowly though, the look of panic disappated as Prat's hand reached out and her own hand found his fingers once again. Both of them had slightly sticky hands from where their cold treats had dripped slightly and it only stuck them closer together as she curled her fingers around his.

Having someone walk with her in the dark felt safer. It meant a lot to her that he was offering to guide her back to her tent without her getting lost or wandering somewhere into Wizarding London though and honestly while she doubted it would happen, she feared it could.

Prat walking with her was easy. They were very close in height and walking gait which kept them in step with each other as they traversed through the silent fairgrounds. It was late enough and dark enough that Siobhan could feel the absence of bodies around them that wasn't Prat's or her own. The wind gently blw around them, indicating a light summer chill and prompting Siobhan to move closer to prat, wrapping her arms around his, stepping closer to remind herself that she was not alone in the dark.

It was too quiet. So she spoke again.

"I like that we aren't bickering today. You're much nicer when you're not so... when you're not... I can't phrase it but when you're not the way I know you to be." Siobhan tried to explain but the English words were failing her. She could say them in Gaelic but Prat likely wouldn't understand them which wouldn't really make sense. "So thank you for everything today." She smiled as she squeezed his hand again.

The slumbering look of the dragon tent was snoozing silently, just as most of the rest of the students must have been. The lights where low in the sky, with more than enough stars illuminating the dark just enough that she could make out the outline of Prat's figure without guessing based off where her hands and arm where in realtion to him.

As they stopped walking Siobhan leaned in towards Prat, hugging him. Her sweatered arms wrapped around his shoulders and neck as she hugged him tightly, but gently, the way her personality wrapped around others. In a comforting and thankful way lungering just a moment too long as she made her last little quip for the evening. Hoping it was close enough to his ear so that nobody else would hear anything, she whispered something sweet and entirely too kind.

"I really like spending time with you. Thank you for the bear, the fireworks... everything. I really mean it... I'll see you in class." her words flowed out slowly, like a calm twisting river going gentle into the night.
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| 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉: @ | 𝑴𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: @Prat Pass|
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

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London Quidditch Stadium

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The moment felt almost too nice for Prat to be present it. Not that he'd ever say that aloud. He'd rather die than be caught feeling something in public, much less expressing said thoughts out loud to the object of his desires. But the raven haired boy could not deny it to be one of those rare evening where it all lined up right. The lights, the laughter and the company herself. With her bookish eyes and an indignant little frown that appeared far too naturally on her face.

"I am not scamming our classmates out of money — that's just mean," she'd said, all prim and self righteous sounding, as if the very idea of profit offended the very foundation of this farm girl's moral constitution.

Could you believe it, she called him mean, of all things. Mean. He still hadn't quite recovered from that.

"You think so low of me?" he replied. Hand to heart in mock offense. The smile that curled on his lips wasn't even the usual smug one he carried. This was softer, shaded with something much too close to amusement. "I'd never scam our classmates. Consider it more like a generous offer to them, a chance to pay for high-quality, exclusive flavours. Equal opportunity commerce, Miss McCarty. Everyone deserves the privilege of spending their Galleons wisely."

Perhaps his demeanor truly had gotten a little silly with her around. He did notice that occasionally. How easily the sharper edges dulled, how quickly the carefully managed poise began to falter. It wasn't necessarily all bad. Just odd.

She wrinkled her nose at the mention of butterbeer, that made him give her a sideeye.

"Butterbeer? Like alcohol with butter in it? Sounds absolutely ghastly," she'd said with a kind of genuine horror that he believed only a few beyond Siobhan could muster.


"It's not alcohol with butter smh," he corrected her, feigning patience. "It's butter with a hint of alcohol. Differences in ration you see, quite an important disction. Even the old blonde dodgy rat in potions would tell you that. It's a very comforting drink, takes the edge off the day. Don't knock it till you've given it a go." He shrugged while adding, "everyone except me, I've only ever had some rarer stuff. My Parents find it much too plebian to have at home."

That part slipped out before he could filter it.

Then she started talking about her orchard, ciders and applies as words slipped from whatever bright careless way she used to carry. Her orchard home grew the best apples for cider she said. Sure Jan, she said so as if such a claim was minor words.

"You have orchards?" he turned towards her, brow raise, more intrigue in his voice than he'd intended. "Like real ones? What else do you have at the farm?"

Her face lit up as she began to tell him about the orchards they had. The look on her face made sense if he had to be honest. He wasn't sure what to expect from the sort of life she'd lived so far. All of his fruits came from established houses with enchantment, maintained by staff with bloodlines longer than their resumes. His grand father would've called muggle grown produce as quaint and cheap imitations, signifying the limitations of No Majs.

But the boy didn't feel disdain, not now in her presence, nor did he previously when she wasn't part of his life. He'd a different approach towards muggles than the pedigree he came from. The war between ideologies still fighting beneath his conscience. And with Sio, there was a quiet wonder in the way she talked about things which Prat found the most mundane, yet worth listening about.

"I'd like to try some," he found himself saying. "Those apples of yours, Someday."
He hesitated before adding, "Maybe even visit the orchard with you, if you'd agree to provide me suitable company. "

He hadn't meant for it to sound as sincere as it did, but the subtle weight of invitation stood there nonetheless. He wasn't flirting, at least not trying to. But something in the air had shifted between the two and he was beginning to take notice.

When she expressed her interest in seeing Hogsmeade, if someone showed her, he caught the hint in her voice. If It was a hint to begin with.

"Oh, I'll be sure to invite you," he replied with an amused tone. "At the most inconvenient hour too, obviously. Right before exams too, might even land you in detention like that one time. And if you say no, I'll never let you forget about it."

Waiting for her reaction was worth the teasing.

The came the silence that followed. Not awkward, not heavy. But it did settle between the two, like people who didn't need to fill said silence with fake words. The world had gone softer around the edges and he didn't feel the need to perform to keep this attention.

They sat together, side by side, sharing the quiet. His arm rested along the back of the bench, an old habit usually. A posture of casual authority and lazy confidence he carried himself with. He hadn't expected her to lean into it. but when her back brushed against his arm, his pulse spiked as if it hadn't gotten the memo about the calm exterior he was supposed to exude.

She didn't move away, not immediately.

He could feel the faint warmth of her through the fabric, careful tension of someone testing boundaries. Didn't know why, but it made him grin, smallish, unguarded one as he scooted closer to her. Just enough for notice, not enough for admission.

For a while, the two sat like that as they finished their ice creams in the fair's dimming lights. The evening deepened, painting over soft darkness, which began to replace the warm light. The music had faded to silence.

With some of the last ones flickering out, he straightened his clothes. "It's getting late, I'll walk you back to your tent."

She appeared startled at first— wide eyed like she hadn't expected him to do it. As if he hadn't been doing it so far. Then she nodded, as their hands reached for each other and intertwined.

Her fingers were sticky from the melting ice cream. Under usual circumstance, he'd have recoiled on instinct. He hated the feeling of being sticky, anything less than spotless would be a shame. But now?

He simply ignored it. Pretended not to notice the faint tackiness where their palms and fingers met. It wasn't so unbearable after all. It was fine, for the right reasons.

They walked in sync, matching strides through the dim paths of the fairground. The night air was beginning to carry a faint chill, brushing against his collar. With the wind picking up, she moved closer, looping her arm around his.

That did him in.

For a second, his mind blanked. Not in panic or resistance, but in startled awe at her. Her hand rested against his sleeve, warmth seeping through the fabric. He glanced down at her, moonlight catch her in the hair. Slight pink flush on her face, almost looking unreal as she usually did.

He'd never admit it aloud, but he wanted to remember her exactly like this.

Then she spoke.

"I like that we aren't bickering today," she said, her voice small and sincere. "You're much nicer when you're not so...when you're not..."

He looked back at her, amused. "Mean?" he offered. "Asshole?"

His lips twitched.

When she thanked him. "Thank you for everything today" the words hit harder than expected. He didn't know why but the boy rarely expected a gratitude for anyone. Not genuine gratitude at the very least. It always came with agenda.

He squeezed her hand in return, holding it, just there, quietly.

They reached the Dragon tent far too soon for his liking. He'd expected to feel relief at the end of the walk but instead, this had left him feeling a little hollow and sad. She turned to him, eyes bright even in the dim lights and before he could process what was happening, she leaned in and hugged him.

It wasn't the awkward side hug for social obligations. But a full-bodied, earnest one as she looped her arms around his neck, her head close enough that he caught the faint scent of whatever it was she wore.

He froze, entire chain of thought derailed. What do I do with my arms?

He'd hugged people before, he wasn't an alien. But this felt different, too intimate and far too close. His brain scrambled to choose an appropriate placement. Neck? Should? No, that wouldn't do. It'd look like a headlock.

Waist? No, that was too much too soon.

In the end, he settled for something halfway: one hand lightly against her ribs, fingers brushing her clothes while the other patted her back. Gently, awkwardly, like he was handling a delicate ornament.

"I really like spending time with you," she whispered, voice barely audible against his ears. "Thank you for the bear, the fireworks...everything. I really mean it. I'll see you in class."

The boy's mind short-circuited a little.

There were a dozen things he could've said. A clever remark, a teasing quip, deflection even. But none of them made it past his lips. Instead, his chest tightened with something he couldn't quite put to words.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I'll see you in class."

He didn't let go of her. Not immediately.

He lingered, just a tad bit too long.

A pause, one which would betray everything he couldn't dare to put into words. His hands still resting at her back. When the two stepped back, the air amidst them felt strangely charged, unsettled. Like their was unfinished business, something he'd forgotten to do.

Clearing his throat, he straightened his collar. Attempting to reclaim the usual cadence and composure he held. "You should get inside before someone believes I'm kidnapping you." He muttered at her in a half-joking tone, eyes far softer than words.

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XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXIf you're reading this, sio said she won't reply, she big mean.