Enzo stood in the queue, face emotionless and blank though, his mind was deep in thought. What was he doing here? This was not exactly up his alley to say the least, but if there was anything he learned from the years he had been coming to visit this school, it was that he always ended up in situations he never really intended to be in. He told himself it was for the plot of it, although how much can really happen during a ride of but a few minutes?

A hand ran through his blonde hair finally snapping out of the trance as he moved up a spot in the line. He cringed ever so slightly as the fragrance of all the romantic, cutesy, and flowery decor made its way to his nostrils. While attempting to ignore the restless feeling he had slowly growing within, Enzo let out a "tsk", clicking his tongue in annoyance upon hearing the operator announce that there was no longer an option to turn back. His eyes quickly scanned the vicinity for the nearest exit in the case that a prompt getaway was indeed necessary, for you truly never know at these Hogwarts events. It was then that he wondered, who was waiting for him on the other side of the wall. Only time would tell he supposed, though the one thing he asked was that he would not get bored to death while stuck with someone and have no way to escape.

Dressed in a short-sleeve dark blue linen button up, a pair of black loosely fitting pants, and of course, accessorized by a few mandatory silver rings adorning his hands, Enzo finally made his way to the front of the queue. A slight hint of horror crossed his expression as he saw the gondola upon which he was told to take a seat in, in all its pink luxurious glory. With a small shake of the head and deep breath to regain composure, he walked towards it. Once reaching the boat he stopped and turned around, waiting to see who would be joining him.

English | Parseltongue
interacting: @Enzo Delcroix

Della Barfield kept throwing herself at these lonely hearts events. Every ball or summer camp, there was something. She’d had a kiss here or there, but nothing substantial. She was going to turn sixteen this year, and by all the standards she knew about, she would be an old spinster by the time the year was through. Before she had left for summer camp, her mother had tried to drill into her that she was still extremely young. But that’s only something an extremely old person would say. As far as she knew, her mom’s days of dating were long behind her. Not that she had a single guess what those days were like; years of questioning had only made her paternal history all the more mysterious.

But today was not about family darkness and daddy issues. It was about finding love—the fun kind of mystery. The soon-to-be fifth-year had signed up for a ride in the tunnel of love. Something she had seen in countless muggle movies, and she was happy to see that the tradition transcended the magical-muggle barrier. She was to enter on one side, and her randomly selected partner would be entering on the other.

Dressed in a simple white tank, with a U-shaped neckline, sporty shorts (her long legs made any bottoms look fashionable), and a snake chain necklace, Della felt ready for anything the approaching gondola would throw at her. She hoped the butterflies in her stomach would only see a romance blossom, but she came prepared for the chaos to work its magic, too. Her wand was neatly tucked in a small cross-body bag.

A shot of electricity raced through her body—she recognized the person in the boat. A boy from Beauxbatons. Enzo. They had kissed last summer, under the mistletoe. He had said very little, but he had left quite the impression. Della had the wistful notion that she’d see him at one of the various international events Hogwarts participated in throughout the year, but each time, she had missed him, or he hadn’t shown. She had begun to worry he was a product of her imagination.

But here he was. And the year had done nothing to dim his good looks. Nearly as blonde as her, maybe a tad shorter than her, with a jawline ten times as sharp. She became very aware of her flushed cheeks; they always were a dead giveaway for her feelings. Would he remember her? Or was she a drop in the bucket of all the probably beautiful French girls he was surrounded by?

She took a seat beside him. She used all her Gryffindor bravery to keep her voice steady, “Um, hey, Enzo. Fancy seeing you here.”