Acorns Fall

The afternoon had waned and once the sunshine had disappeared behind the sprawling Scottish hills that concealed its bed from view, the wind picked up and whipped around those foolish enough to venture outside before dinner. Those that did not begin to retreat back into the warmth in the castle after the initial drop in temperature soon followed their wiser counterparts and so the grounds fell quite with only the sound of the ebbing tide of the Black Lake. On the bank where she had once been joined by others in her year group and above sat a fifth year Hufflepuff by the name of Isadora Kirke and unlike the others she was prepared for the sharp drop in temperature having emerged in the afternoon in her coat and receiving quite a few befuddled looks for it but regretting nothing.

She was waiting for her Care of Magical Creatures lesson, actually. It was due to start sometime after dinner and though she had been informed when, she couldn’t quite remember so she was content to wait until someone she recognised wandered past and informed her that the lesson was going to begin.

With a book in her lap and her mind a million miles away, Isadora was cuddled up warm and amongst the creatures that were padding out of the Forbidden Forest, interested in what the strange witch seemed to be doing. She was really in her element, that much was most definitely clear and as she rose from where she was sat, deciding to go and have a peek at the bridge to see if anyone – teacher or pupil alike – was coming, an acorn fell from one of the trees, bopping her on the head and causing a yelp to break from her lips.

Rubbing her head, Dora looked up and glared at the tree that was silent if only for the whisper of the wind through its leaves. Grumbling to herself she closed her book and shoved it in her bag before beginning to trudge up towards the bridge, wondering whether she’d find anybody at all or whether she’d gotten the wrong day completely!

Outfit!
OOC: A tad naff but c'est la vie!

"Go on. What're you waiting for?"

The voice was soft, gentle even. There was an unmistakeable lull in it. It wasn't difficult to see why, and how, Craig was adored by the ones who adore him. He was magnetic to the sort of girls who had issues after issues of subscriptions to the fairy-tales of the bad-boy. The boys hated him. Sure, the six lads in his posse are the only exceptions. Yet, a week wouldn't go by without someone griping about what Craig did to them for mere amusement. Still, Craig knew how to pick the people he wanted to manipulate. It wasn't everyone and anyone that was under his spell. It was a wonder that the boy was not placed in Slytherin in the first place. Well, there certainly was one possibility for that, and Alaric was almost certain about that. Craig was too poor for a House that was discerning of the families that every student come from. Craig had hardly met the cut. Besides, he wasn't malicious. He just needed something to keep him going; a distraction from the pits of his family situation.

Alaric eyed the cigarette cautiously. He hated to be put in a spot. He hated, even more, to be thought of as an uptight coward. Stealing a look at the other boy, he sensed the impatience, and possibly mockery, building up in the advocate. No, he wasn't going to present Craig with that advantage. As it is, he was the only boy left among the seven lads that Craig didn't have something to wind him up about. It definitely helped that Alaric cheated, too. What's a nameless boy got up against a descendant of the Krums? Sure, Krums seemed to be running around quite a bit recently. There were too many of them. It was almost impossible to keep track of the family tree. Yet, while he was one of the many, it was a name that carried sufficient weight for influence. Alaric wasn't stupid. He certainly wasn't afraid to pull its weight for his own.

Lifting his wand, Alaric nodded ever so slightly as Craig slipped the cigarette to him. The atmosphere in the air was tense. Alex pretended to concentrate really hard on some detail on his own wand. Yet, Alaric knew that he was being watched by his friends. It wasn't that it was wrong. It was just the fact that he was stepping out of his comfort zone. He hated that. He wanted to be in control. He was just going to have to wing it, and pretend that he had been doing this all his life. His life. Alaric couldn't believe that he had agreed to come along with Craig and Alex for their sneak out for fags. It was a momentary slip of consciousness, in his opinion. Why did he feel like he had to pretend to be like them; one of them? The invitation was not extended to the other boys. It was as if Craig and Alex had decided that the rest of the lads were not cool enough for something as cool as sneaking away from people to have a couple of smokes. Suddenly, without difficulty, Alaric realised why he was eager to take up the invitation. They had thought him cool enough to be a part of this new elite in their posse system.

Having lit his first cigarette with his wand, Alaric attempted to quickly assume the look that Craig would channel at times like these, hoping that he was not trying too hard. Craig grinned now. He turned to Alex, nodded; and the two boys smirked. Alaric smirked along as the tension was eased in the air, as if the final rite of passage was finally secured. Yet, the boy didn't enjoy the cigarette. He had thought it would be delicious, at least, what with all the talk about addictions and stuff. Why was that?! He took the cigarette out from between his lips and studied it as he blew a puff out from a prior smoke. It didn't look too fancy either. Ignoring the bad taste in his mouth, Alaric continued with conditioned confidence and ease. Crag and Alex were barely putting him on the spot any longer. Instead, they began to chat on about Hope and Glory, the twin girls that they were apparently sleeping with now. Or so they boast say.

Suddenly, the boys began to panic. "F****. Stamp it out!"

As the sound of footsteps grew louder, Craig and Alex attempted to fan away the remnant smell of their cigarettes, actions of which Alaric found ridiculous. There was no way that this evidence could be cleared of without a spell. Muggles, Alaric thought in cheeky amusement. Calmly, he stamped his cigarette out with the heel of his shoe, dusting his hand absent-mindedly against his robes.

"Pfffffffffft." A chain of laughter ensued. Alaric turned to see what had amused Craig and Alex.

"It's only you!" Alex bellowed and howled in laughter along with Craig, who really was the exemplary for a clone like the former. Craig pointed at Alex now, mocking hypocritically, "And to think you were so scared!" Only one voice of laughter continued. Then, Craig brought his pack of cigarettes out again and lit another stick.

"What a waste of the previous ones, eh?" Alex continued weakly, attempting to hide his displeasure of Craig's unfair accusation that was only levelled at him. Alaric watched the boys and felt his mind drift off, floating from inconsequentiality to other inconsequentialities.

"Teeeeeny-weeeeeny, teeeeensy-weeeeensy, eeeeety-beeeeety." Craig began to sing what has been customary in Isadora's presence. The two were certainly not friends, and it was not hard to understand why. Craig's penchant for teasing tended to get the right sort of girls for him - the ones who were desperate for some attention, and were a little masochistic in their desire to be reigned over by the wiles of an unreliable boy. It was difficult to tell if the boy's attempt to be malicious, what with the general attitude towards the taint in the Kirke family. Yet, he really thought it was going to steal the girl's attention away from his mates. Foolishly, Alex took the cue from Craig's singing, and called out what the former would typically use in conversations out of the girl's earshot.

"Oy! Little Bitty!" With the two boys distracted by each other's attempts at being the bigger jerk, Alaric rolled his eyes and leaned back against the bridge. Still, he stole glances of curiosity at the girl. "Everyone" said she was weird, and her family was sheer madness. Alaric thought that his family was the mad one. Yet, of course, the Krums were the admirable remnants of the elite Pureblood community. The Kirkes, despite their history, were dirt and cobblestone now.

The Covered Bridge had been blown to smithereens and re-erected countless times and as Isadora approached its beacon of light she found herself appreciating its presence as both an icon and a passage between the grounds and the castle. She adored the way the torches attached to the struts would blaze but never catch the rest of the structure and see it go up in fire and flame. It was magical as well as being Muggle and it was perhaps one of her favourite bridges; bar of course the one that crossed the river that swam eagerly through the woodland she called home. The mossy, cobbled arch was the link the village of Ackleberry had to the woods and vice versa and beneath it sat one of the ugliest trolls that Isadora had ever laid eyes on. His name was Paul and in fact, Paul turned out to be quite friendly indeed. Often around Christmas time, Isadora’s grandmother would bake jam tarts and the girl would be sent up with a parcel for the troll. He in turn would give them woollen socks that he’d spent much of the autumn months knitting into shape.

Now, while the covered bridge at Hogwarts did not house any sort of real trolls beneath its arc, it certainly allowed trolls to traipse across it. As Isadora neared she heard the calls of one particularly roguish troll and she found herself wondering whether it was worth going any further and for a moment, she seemed to stop before striding, albeit hesitantly, into the glare that the torches spread out through the mouth of the bridge. Her pupils grew smaller as she stepped into the light and she brought her hands up to rub at her eyes before looking again, allowing the three boys to come into focus. It was only then that she began to smell the smoke and the stench of it elicited a cough from the lungs of the girl, prompting her to step off of the wooden board and back onto the crunchy grass of the embankment that she had just staged a weary uphill battle on.

Isadora’s eyebrows furrowed down over her eyes as she looked at the boys, watching with veiled dismay as they openly began to resume their foolish activity that would have seen them in detention for weeks. Feeling braver, Isadora stepped back onto the bridge and slowly made her way towards the three though making sure she kept a distance as she didn’t want to feel even shorter than she already did. Tempted though she was to retort back to Craig, to call him out on his twatishness, Isadora stayed quiet and merely crossed her arms over her chest in response to the boy’s teasing, averting her eyes over to Alaric, the only one who had remained quiet since her arrival. Her eyebrows rose a little, questioning him silently, before lowering immediately, her gaze flitting back to Craig so quickly that even the owl roosting high above them on one of the towers, could not be sure whether she’d looked at him at all.

“You’ll lose your oh-so-precious looks,” Isadora told them simply, her eyes flicking down to the cigarettes before returning quite easily to Alaric who seemed to be the most awkward of the three. He clearly did not belong. Isadora sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down on it as she weighed up her options but, figuring that he was the nicest of the three, inquired gently. “You wouldn’t happen to take Care of Magical Creatures, would you Alaric? I believe there was a night lesson though I am not sure when it started.” The girl smiled in a way that she hoped was reassuring and looked back warily at the other two boys, curling her mitten-ed fingers into her palm in silent preparation for the ridicule that she was almost positive she would receive.

It didn't take long before thoughts drifted to Valerie. As if it wasn't enough that Alaric possessed an awfully short attention span, he couldn't keep his mind off the other girl. Certainly, the antics of the other lads failed to amuse him, too. It had been funny when he was eleven; or at least, they had been a riot when he was eleven. Now, at fifteen, he was getting bored of Craig and Alex. The latter was worse than the former, especially since it was blatant to everyone how hard he was trying to be Craig. With his cigarette already stamped out and not replenished by his friends, Alaric bit his lower lip and thought about Valerie Llewellyn. It was a pity that the memory left him nothing but a bit of soreness. The girl was barely interested in even a conversation!

Meanwhile, Craig took a long drag of his cigarette. Stealing a glance at him, Alex did the same. The first boy turned from his side to look at the girl, giving her a cheeky eyeful as she neared them. Yet, before any of the boys could speak, they heard her. Then, Alex started, without a single thought to what he was going to say.

"What's the matter, Bitty? You scared?"

Even Craig rolled his eyes at that.

"Ignore him." He started. The wounded look on Alex face actually amused Alaric, who had his attention back at the group. Craig stretched his arm and offered his pack to Isadora.

"Live a little, Dora." He plastered the grin, or the smirk, that had gotten him the girls he had gotten. The voice, too, resumed its magnetic lull. Well, it was so to some. Unfortunately for Craig, when the girl next spoke, it was Alaric who jerked his head up in attention. It seemed the least expected, what with his reluctance to be involved in the scene. Yet, with some uncertainty, he nodded slowly. Then, with more confidence that he was really being addressed to, he ended the series of slow nods with a firm one.

"Well, actually, we all do."

"Really? We're going to talk about classes now?" Craig stared in disbelief, a faltering attempt to mask his displeasure at being ignored at the expense of Alaric. Alex was still silent from the betrayal earlier. Too bad for him, Craig turned with a stare, expecting to be backed up on his words.

"Uh-yeah! Yeah! What even are you? You think you're a Ravie?!"

And that was the last straw. As if it wasn't bad enough to be overlooked for his friend, Craig had lost his patience thanks to Alex's stupidity. Turning to Alex, he raised his voice.

"Really?!"

With that, the taller boy of the two turned, flicked his cigarette far from out of the bridge without putting the light out, and headed back to Hogwarts Castle in a huff. Alaric had to hold back a chuckle. It was really another one of those days when Craig and Alex both annoyed and amused him with their dynamics. Alex looked from Craig to Alaric to Isadora, then back to Craig. He would have rather remained with Alaric. After all, he wasn't prepared to deal with the other boy's anger. Still, he never felt needed by Alaric, ever. The boy was too much of his own person. It was, perhaps, one of the reasons why Craig never really had much of a hold on Alaric as much as the other boys. There certainly was a struggle for who had more influence over the lads. Craig was just in denial about the results of it. Having participated in teasing Isadora earlier, Alex thought better than to stay.

"I'm uh-"

Alaric nodded quickly, dismissively. Alex checked the expression on his face momentarily, hoping for permission, then scooted back after Craig. Alaric lowered his amused eyebrow before turning back to face the girl. Now that the other boys were not around, he wasn't sure what to do anymore. Then, he remembered the questions.

"Yeah, we do take Care of Magical Creatures, which is ... " He paused to think. "It should be an hour from now. You're pretty early if your reason for being out here is to get to class now." Alaric smiled, then looked again at the path that the other two boys had taken. For a moment, he wished he had followed suit. He wouldn't have to think of what to say now. The girl looked rather expectant, thought he hoped it wasn't an expectation for him to talk. Yet, of course, despite the influence of the lads, Alaric was not used to following the tails of the others. Besides, he was friendly. Still, he was friendly in the presence of people; not person. He was awkward around person, especially if she was a girl, even if she wasn't Valerie. At last, he decided that it wouldn't hurt to try.

"I suspect Craig and Alex's gonna have a row now." Finally, he was free to laugh about his friends. And this he did.

Honestly, Isadora didn’t really understand boys. The only boys she’d ever really concerned herself with were her cousins and it certainly wasn’t romantically! In fact, the only boys that she’d ever really been around that weren’t related to her were, of course, Alaric’s gang of miscreants - though make no mistake by thinking that it was voluntarily done – and her cousins’ friends. But in most of those cases she wasn’t the only girl. This was an exception and though Isadora didn’t necessarily have a problem with that, she couldn’t help but feel somewhat unsettled by the boys that now surrounded her; and she really, really didn’t like Alex.

Straightening her shoulders, Isadora’s fingers curled and unfurled into and from her palm, a sign of her irritation. She deliberately avoided his gaze and took a step back, distancing herself from the smog that was surrounding both Alex and Craig. The girl looked at Craig, befuddled by his disregard for his own life. Isadora opened her mouth to retort but was, much to her relief, saved by Alaric who, whether he realised it or not, prevented Craig from further reproach by his fellow Hufflepuff and confirmed what she had been hoping: there was a class that evening.

Smiling brightly, Isadora hopped forward towards Alaric but paused hesitantly when the boys began to bicker. She could only watch, equally as befuddled before, as they grumbled at each other before the other two took off, back towards the castle; leaving Izzy-Dora with Alaric.

The pregnant silence that stretched out afterwards left the girl feeling somewhat awkward. Looking up at Alaric she decided to loop her arm with his and tug him gently in the direction of the grounds, hoping that he might follow, but upon his explanation, hastily pulled away, her cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment.

“I like to be early.” Dora told him quickly, hoping to smooth over the matter. “Besides, if you’re early then usually the Professor will let you see what she has in the paddock. I heard they have Hippogriffs from Flanders!” Dora’s smile broke from her flushed cheeks and she began to bounce a little on the balls of her feet as she rattled off what happened.

The girl decided quickly that she was better off leaving Alaric. He would be happier with his friends, she figured, and she was probably only making him feel awkward. Taking a step backwards, Dora gestured towards the grounds.

“I had better go down and see if the Professor is about. Sorry for bothering you, Alaric.”

And with that the girl turned around and made to leave the relative comfort of the bridge in favour for the chill of the Hogwarts grounds.

Alaric's eyes widened. It wasn't as if he never socialised with girls or that he was a conservative person. Yet, it was true that he socialised more with boys, and that he was only really comfortable with girls who were already his friends. It wasn't difficult to understand, then, why the arm looped around his caught him off guard. In surprise, Alaric jerked his arm a little, then regretted the move. He really didn't want Isadora to think that he had a problem with it. Too bad for him, she had removed her arm soon enough. At that, the boy really felt a tinge of regret.

Alaric eyed Isadora curiously, half attempting to understand why she was supposed to be a nutter, and half admiring the look of excitement on her face when she talked about the paddock. Alaric smiled. He wasn't sure what to say to her. Yet, he felt as if the opportunity must be taken. After all, he was a friendly sort of person. The question here about getting acquainted with Isadora Kirke was therefore driven by another - why not? He made to speak, but was beaten to it. A cold gush of air blew past as he felt it brush lightly past his robes. Isadora's voice hardly belonged to the situation of the turning weather. Yet, she cut it short. Before he could formulate a reply, the girl had turned to leave.

"Dor-" Unsure if he was allowed to, Alaric corrected himself. "Isadora," he began again with more confidence in his voice. "You're not bothering me." Then, quickly, "Where're your friends?" Yet, as soon as he asked her, Alaric stopped to look at the ground, feeling awkward now that he had unwittingly asked a personal question. Then, suddenly, he looked up again and continued. "Hey, I want to see the Hippogriffs too! You can't tell me and not bring me there with you now." Alaric nodded and smiled again, taking the necessary steps to catch up to the girl. "I could use a friend." He nodded.

The initial intention that the young Hufflepuff had had was to go to the Care of Magical Creatures class that was taking place after the usual schooling hours for those that really did want an Outstanding when it came to their O.W.L’s and, eventually, their N.E.W.T’s. Embroiled in that intention was not the desire to make something silly of herself, though, and with reddened cheeks, Isadora did her best to remove herself from the situation she had come to find herself in; in the hope that by the paddock with the animals she could gather her countenance once more and perhaps think about facing Alaric Krum in the morning. Now, make no mistake in thinking that Isadora was a prude. No, far from it, she was just under the impression that Alaric was suitably amused by someone else and Isadora had no intention of trespassing where she was not wanted. Not that she liked him or anything, it was just common courtesy.

Yet, despite plan two, she had to boycott that for plan three – a plan she did not have at all!

Isadora stared openly at Alaric, her face contorting into an expression of embarrassment once more before she too lowered her eyes to the ground, a knot forming in her stomach at his question. The girl shrugged her shoulders and crossed her arms over her chest, retreating into herself whether she realised it or not. He should have known the answer. He need not have asked it. Isadora exhaled, the execution of which seemed tinged with sadness, and looked up at Alaric again, imploring silently with him to recover and fill in the hole he had begun to dig for himself. And, much to her delight, he did; the last sentence meaning more to Isadora than she would ever dare let him know. Who would have thought it? Alaric Krum, the golden boy, wanting a friend in a young girl whose family would not be touched by other Purebloods with a ten foot pole.

It was for this reason that for a moment, Isadora’s eyebrows furrowed and her eyes narrowed in confusion as to Alaric’s motives but upon realising that he was probably being as genuine as he could possibly be while talking to her, Isadora’s features softened and she smiled brightly at him.

“I’ll race you then!” She declared before darting off down the embankment, leaving Alaric’s side for the second time already that night in a manner just as unceremonious as the last.