Silence Is Golden

Isaac sat on a bench in the courtyard. People passed by him rather quickly; no one wanted to be out the cold. Isaac didn’t mind the cold. He loved the cold. But it being so cold made him think about Russia. He wanted to be back home, in Russia. England could never be his home. It just wasn’t the same. Everyone else besides Isaac and his grandparents seem to be adjusting. His grandparents kept talking about going back, they hate England. He wouldn’t be surprise if they leave during Spring break.

It was nice to be outside. It was so quite. The silence let him gather his thoughts and think about things. He noticed things he didn’t notice before. He could even identify certain birds in the sky by their songs.

Henri had made her own popsicles. She had nicked some small bowls from the kitchens, as well as some pumpkin juice, and had made some nice little sticks with the use of magic on one of her classmates' trunks. She could have frozen them with magic but, as cold as it was outside, she had decided to place them in a box out by the greenhouses.

She was checking on them this morning, finding that they were still slushie, but quite well on their way to being delicious popsicles. It was by the greenhouses that the urge to smoke began to itch at her. She attempted to brush it off, but the craving was gnawing through her stomach, clawing its way up.

She succumbed, pulling out a carton of cigarettes and lighting one. She made her way towards the courtyard, unconcerned about detection in her 'illegal activity.' So far, her nose had remained clean.

In the courtyard, she spotted the other transfer student. She flicked her eyes upwards briefly. How was it she had been so cool in her arrival and he had been so insignificant. It bugged her a bit, how unimportant this boy in her own circumstances were. She decided to shake him up a bit, and plopped down next to him. She indicated the cigarette in her own mouth. "Want one?"

Isaac noticed the girl right away. He wasn’t big smoker but he had tried it. You’d be lame at Durmstrang if you hadn’t by the time you were fourteen. He didn’t answer at first he had to arrange his thoughts. He didn’t want a cigarette and he didn’t know if it was Kosher to do it or not, he had never really questioned that until now. Some say smoking is Kosher, other’s say it’s not. He just never really got that ‘joy’ out of them that people talk about.

“I can’t smoke, it isn’t really kosher,” Isaac said as clearly as his Russian accent let him. He ignored that fact he had smoked before without questioning it but then again he was thirteen and it was only one cigarette.