Monroe wasn't sure that Nick even remembered the first time they had met, or if he did, he certainly didn't mention it. Perhaps he was embarrassed, though Monroe personally thought he had no reason to be. Losing both your parents at age eleven, no matter the circumstances, warranted collapsing in tears in the closest empty corner. If the closest empty corner happened to be a deserted aisle of Flourish & Blotts, so be it.

Having a difficult time finding the Standard Book of Spells -Grade Two , Monroe had begun searching, in vain, for a store employee or, at the very least, his parents, who, it seemed, had their hands full with helping his siblings. He found instead a younger boy he didn't recognize sitting cross legged on the floor with his head buried in his arms, crying. He stood stock still for a moment, resting one hand on the nearest stack of Transfiguration Today , unsure what to do. On the one hand, he thought the boy might have wanted to be left alone to cry in peace, and what business was it of his in the first place? On the other, Monroe wanted to do anything he could to make the pitiful sound of the boy's sobs stop.

With a resigned sigh, he moved closer and stooped down to place a hand, he hoped reassuringly, on the boy's shoulder. Then, thinking that he really ought to say something as well, "Uh, what's, uh, the matter?"

With a sniffle, the boy rubbed at his eyes and looked up at Monroe, though his gaze initially drifted around the aisle. He looked as though he wasn't quite sure how he had come to be surrounded by shelves upon shelves of books.

"Everything," the boy said placidly. Then when Monroe just stared at him, eyebrows raised, suggesting that 'everything' was a bit vague, he listed his woes sullenly, each subsequent problem sounding more dire than the one prior, "I can't find my books. I have to go to school where I don't know anyone. I'm going to end up in Hufflepuff. I'll never see my aunt. And..."

He paused and wiped the back of his hand over his puffy eyes, "and I can't tell my mum or my dad about any of it. Ever."

Something about the finality with which the boy said "ever" had Monroe bite his tongue against asking why he wouldn't be able to just send his parents an owl every now and again. He studied the boy he would soon know to be Nick carefully, once again at a loss about what he should do. But, in this case, it seemed doing nothing had been the best course of action.

"They're dead, you know," Nick said looking down at the patterned carpet before picking at it as he stretched his legs out across the floor.

"Oh," Monroe said. He didn't know. He couldn't even begin to imagine. He moved to sit down on the floor across from Nick.

"Died in a car accident almost three months ago. Well, that's what my aunt says, anyway," Nick said matter of factly with an edge of bitterness in his tone. "She acts a bit funny whenever I ask about it."

"I'm sorry," Monroe said, privately thinking if it had been his parents, shudder the thought, the less he knew, the better. "Well, I hope your aunt is nice, at least."

"She tries her best," Nick said with a wistful sigh. "But she just isn't my mum."

"Well, I doubt anyone else could be. Sort of a one person gig," Monroe said, sincerely doubting that would make the kid feel any better. He was desperately wishing he could abruptly change the subject. He really didn't know what to say and was very afraid he was going to say the wrong thing and make the kid burst into tears all over again. He was saved from the necessity of continuing the conversation, however, by the appearance of his twin sister, Rosalee.

"Did you find your books? Mum says you have to hurry so we can all get fitted for new robes," Rosalee said quickly with a brief glance at Nick.

"Tell mum I'll meet you at Madam Malkin's," Monroe said. "It's just a few shops up. I'll be fine. I just have a few more books to find."

As Rosalee walked away, Monroe stood up and offered his hand to Nick to pull him off the floor, "Maybe I can help you with your books? You know, solve at least one of your problems. And, you know, being in Hufflepuff's not so bad. I mean, I'm not, but, uh, my friend Hap is."

"Thanks, I'm Nick, by the way, Nick Burkhardt," Nick said affably taking Monroe's hand as he offered his own name.

They spent the next fifteen minutes, mostly quietly, searching for the respective books of a first and second year Hogwarts student. Nick found Monroe's spell book on one of the lowest shelves in the shop with little difficulty as he was of the estimated height for the average reader, unlike Monroe who was almost a foot taller than most of his classmates. When Nick's aunt turned up, inquiring if Nick had found all of his books, and gave Monroe an oddly scathing look, the two parted ways.

XXX

The next time Monroe saw Nick was at the sorting ceremony a few weeks later. While Monroe had been absorbed in a conversation his fellow Ravenclaws were having about the unusual provenance of a bezoar, Rosalee shook his shoulder. "Isn't that the kid that you were with when we were in Diagon Alley?"

Monroe nodded dumbly as he watched Nick climb nervously onto the stool. The hat considered Nick for nearly a minute before vehemently shouting,"Gryffindor!"

Although Monroe wasn't entirely sure why, because he barely knew Nick, he felt a twinge of disappointment. He had the feeling that not sharing a common room or classes with the other boy would not lead to them becoming the fast friends he had strangely hoped they would be. And he wasn't wrong.

Nick latched on quickly to a few fellow Gryffindors, a third year named Hank and another first year, a red-head girl named Juliette. Monroe rarely saw him, since they were in different years and different houses, but when he did, he never seemed to be without one or the other. And after a while Monroe was too invested in his studies and Quidditch tryouts and subsequent practices to really worry about unmade friendships. Or, more accurately, he tried his best to forget about Nick and did so with a modicum of success. He had other friends, with problems that Monroe was more than happy to help with, and Angelina Lasser, despite being Hap's sister, was nothing if not terrifying Quidditch competition.

XXX

Although they had successfully skirted any mention of the incident for going on two years now, Monroe had no doubt whatsoever that Nick remembered the second time he had significantly encountered him.

One Wednesday afternoon not long after the beginning of his fourth year, after a bit of squabbling about who had the actual rights to the pitch, the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw Quidditch teams had finally agreed to sharing for the time being. After the teams had gone through their respective exercises, thinking that it would likely be to both of their advantages, they decided to have a scrimmage.

The game started out peacefully enough, but Monroe, who was normally particularly deft at the art of broom handling, despite the ancient model of his broom, was unusually distracted by watching Nick search for the Snitch. It wasn't just that Monroe had noticed that Nick had become a full foot taller over the summer, but also that Nick, much to Monroe's disappointment, kept glancing longingly at the Ravenclaw keeper, Adalind. Nick, however, seemed to have noticed that he was being noticed and consequently gave Monroe a broad, toothy smile in a brief pause from his search for the ever elusive Snitch. Thereafter Monroe was far too flustered to concentrate properly on the whims of his broom let alone his real objective of knocking bludgers towards his opponents.

And due to this preoccupation, Monroe's broom had developed a mind of its own, though its agenda was not drastically different from that of its owner, and veered closer and closer to Nick. Nick, unsurprisingly worried that Monroe's intent was to knock a Bludger his way, angled towards the ground.

Rather unfortunately for Nick, this led to the tip of Monroe's broom swerving upward and battering into his forehead directly above his right eye. The shock of this caused Nick to swing almost entirely off of his broom. He hung suspended, holding on with one hand, as he clapped the other to his now bleeding forehead.

Monroe gaped at the air, staring at Nick in his plight, unsure how he and his broom had caused such a thing to happen. Then, when his mind caught up with his reflexes, he immediately dropped his bat to the ground and flew beneath Nick and, somewhat awkwardly and very apologetically, pulled the younger boy onto his broom.

Monroe held tightly onto Nick as Nick continued to clutch at his eye as they landed as smoothly as they could on the grass below. By the time they did, the entirety of both teams were watching them, with no particular hint of subtlety. Nick's friend Juliette, who was one of the Gryffindor chasers, was the first to run up to them and demand to know what had happened. After which there was a general hubbub about who had seen what, whether or not a penalty should be called, and whether or not it mattered as it hadn't been a real game. Finally, Nick, as the injured and heretofore ignored party, asked if someone, and he didn't particularly care who, could lead him back to the castle.

Feeling that responsibility fell squarely on his shoulders -in the spirit of good sportsmanship, of course- Monroe offered to help Nick up to the hospital wing himself. If he wanted to be alone with Nick on the walk up, well, that was his own business. With a begrudging nod from Juliette, who had pulled Nick off the ground, Monroe wrapped his arm around Nick's back and started leading him back towards the castle.

They didn't make it five feet from the Quidditch pitch before Monroe realized that Nick couldn't see where they were going.

Nick stumbled to the side and when Monroe didn't move in the same direction, he lost his footing completely. Monroe's reflexes, which had decided to be quick this time, prevented Nick from ending up face down in the dirt, but Monroe figured that wasn't likely to last if he didn't intervene.

"Nick, can I look at your eye?" Monroe asked, somewhat concerned that he had accidentally blinded him.

"Didn't you do enough damage to it already?" Nick asked, though his tone was teasing rather than bitter. He blinked furiously as he moved his hand away from his eye. It was no small wonder he couldn't see properly as a small trickle of blood was running into his eye as an equally small trickle of tears was running out.

As Monroe looked closer, pulling Nick's hair back from his forehead, he noticed two things, both of which were the subject of no small degree of anxiety. The first, however, was a much simpler and more immediate problem. Therefore, Monroe, choosing to ignore the second, concentrated all his effort on working to remove the small splinter of his broom from below Nick's eyebrow.

Aside from a few grimaces suggesting that the pain lie in more than just the humiliation of being taken to the ground on another student's broom, Nick remained still and fairly inanimate as Monroe used a summoned needle to wheedle the splinter out.

"Monroe, why were you staring at me back there?" Nick asked casually enough but looking hopefully expectant. He clearly did not realize that such a question prior to Monroe's examination of his forehead would have left Monroe flustered and at a loss for proper words. However, it now led Monroe to recollect his second dilemma. Nick was a Grimm.

A Grimm. A thing of myth or legend that Monroe, and his family, and other animagi families had long feared coming across. And here he was sitting next to one, his schoolyard crush with a currently bleeding forehead.

He wasn't exactly what you'd call frightening.

"I, uh, wanted to distract you from finding the Snitch," Monroe said lamely, pulling away from Nick and tossing the offending piece of wood into the grass.

"Well, good job," Nick replied with an emphatic wave at his eye. Then with an air of confidence Monroe envied, he said,"Though, I was kind of hoping you'd say something else. I was kind of hoping it was because you like me."

That hopeful, expectant look was back in Nick's uninjured eye. A completely oblivious deer caught in the eyes of a wolf.

If Monroe were the predator that his ancestors had made animagi families out to be, he would be taking the opportunity to go for the kill.

However, he was not a predator, but a fourteen year old boy with a poorly disguised crush - a crush that he absolutely couldn't have. A crush that seemed to be saying he liked him.

If only Monroe could apparate into his room and lie face down on his four poster for the duration of time, he would.

Instead, his mouth opened and closed a dozen times as he sighed and bit his lip.

After floundering for a small eternity, he decided that the best way to avoid any kind of trouble was to shelf his feelings. He stared intently at his shoes before mumbling, "Well, sorry to disappoint you."

As Nick's crooked smile dissipated, it appeared that every line of his face fell with it. Monroe hadn't realized before how hopeful Nick had been, and now that he did, his stomach twisted in a painful knot. He didn't want to turn Nick down anymore than Nick wanted to be turned down. But a Grimm dating someone from an animagi family? It just wasn't heard of.

"Nick, we can't do this," Monroe blurted out, waving between them. "I'm an animagi and you're a Grimm. It would never work."

"You didn't know?" Nick asked, reaching his hand up and rubbing a finger over the white crescent shaped scar under the right side of his hairline. It was small and not particularly noticeable if you weren't looking for it. Or, in Monroe's case, looking not too far below it.

All Grimms had one. It was seared into their forehead with weak moonlight from their guardians' wand when they learned to walk. None of them knew if it hurt because they were too little to remember it being done.

Monroe frowned at it. It was such a small thing that he couldn't believe that all the meaning that came with it would always, always stand between them.

"And you thought I didn't know?" Nick asked. In contrast to Monroe's somber mood, Nick was brightening. He looped his arm around Monroe's waist cheerfully.

Monroe stiffened against it uncertainly; the proximity implied something different than it had before, but it was still necessary to get Nick back to the castle in one piece. Monroe half considered moving his own arm in kind. He really did like the guy, after all. And if Nick could get past so much bad blood and history, then, perhaps, so could he.

But then Nick proved he really didn't have any idea what he was getting into. "Monroe, my aunt has told me about all of the animagi families. You're not even old enough to transform yet. I don't think it's going to be an issue."

"Nick..." Monroe said haltingly as he rolled his eyes. Nick's aunt clearly hadn't told him all about animagi families. "The reason your family hunts families like mine is because we don't follow the rules. My parents started teaching my brothers, Rosalee and I how to transform before we were even old enough to understand how dangerous it was. I shouldn't have even learned it was possible until last year."

"But you can already transform?" Nick asked, his uninjured eye raised - so, so naive for his supposed mortal enemy. He nodded so Nick asked, "Can you do it now?"

"It's not a parlor trick," Monroe said, trying his best to sound aghast. But Nick's completely cool reaction to all of this made him want to do it if only to impress him.

Even though he knew he ought to flatten his feathers down, he wanted to preen them. Such were the problems of teenage hormones.

He was, therefore, bound to regret his next decision no matter what it was.

He was thoroughly convinced, however, that the choice he did make was the worst one.

He moved away from Nick's side and transformed. Then he growled low and warning.

Nick, contrary to any desired reaction to such a threat, laughed good-naturedly. Then he reached down to pet him.

Unamused, Monroe took his claws and scratched harshly into the skin of Nick's arm.

This was not a game, their ancestors had started this for a reason. Nick had to take it seriously, and if his own family was incapable of impressing that upon him, Monroe figured it was now up to him.

Unfortunately, he was making an impression on more than just Nick.

"Nick!" Juliette screamed from several yards away- too far away to have seen him transform. But definitely close enough to come to Nick's rescue - who, by all appearances, was being attacked by a wild animal. She raised her wand at Monroe and shouted,"Stupefy!"

He was knocked back and left lying dizzy and unfocused on the grass. As he slowly regained his grasp on reality, he heard Nick whispering lies to Juliette that he had gone ahead to the castle for help when he realized Nick couldn't see - that the wolf had come out of nowhere.

Juliette turned back and gave Monroe an uncertain look. "Nick, I didn't want him to hurt you, but I really hope I didn't hurt him either. Can I... Should I check?"

Nick looked back at Monroe, his expression difficult to read. "You only stunned him. I'm sure he'll be okay."

He frowned uncertainly at Monroe until Monroe flicked his tail. Then, as Juliette tugged Nick towards the castle, Nick gave him a short wave.

Monroe burrowed his head into the grass as he realized that Nick wasn't any closer to understanding the gravity of their difference.

The next few weeks, in which Nick tried to corner him in empty corridors and abandoned classrooms only reinforced this assumption. But he knew, he just knew it could never work. So he ducked him and hid, thankful that the castle seemed to specialize in providing unique means for doing just that.

And finally, Nick gave up. And that was that until an upper level Charms class two years later.