Disclaimer: I took quite a few liberties here (forgive me, die-hards). I do not claim rights or own anything mentioned in this story.

Fair warning: the POV is omniscient, so it's mostly 3rd POV but I'll go in and out of people's thoughts (mostly Arthur's)

There was a chill in the air as the wind swept the random snow flurries across the grounds. Hogwarts looked majestic as always, lights dancing along the snowdrifts and the stars twinkling high above in the sky. There was an audacious feeling in the air as the weeks before the holiday break approached. The Yule Ball was just around the corner (a matter of days really) and the students were frantically searching for someone to go with them to the sacred event.

Since the Battle of Hogwarts many years ago, there had settled an amenity between the Houses. It was much more common to see Gryffindors and Ravenclaws or even Hufflepuffs intermingling in the corridors or even dating. However, the same affection didn't spread so much for the Gryffindors and the Slytherins. The students were more or less civil of course, but there was still a twinge of discord that ran between the two Houses.

The students mingling in the Great Hall, some leaving with their friends or on their own and others wandering to the different tables now that the nightly feast was disappearing from the tables. O.W.L.s were around the corner for the fifth years and many of the seventh year students were feeling the familiar stress as well of life-changing exams. A vast number of sixth and seventh year students had been recruited to tutor the struggling fifth years on their upcoming O.W.L.s, all the while preparing for their own various tests.

Students that were looking for certain occupations – such as Aurors or Ministry work were required to take entry level examinations for their positions to see if they could even qualify to intern in the position that they desired. Others who were pursuing a teaching field were preparing for their entrance exams to the prestigious classes that would allow them to continue their passion. And then there were the students who were relaxed or already had their futures lined up for them.

Many students speculated that the captivating Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team would pursue a career with the American National Quidditch Team (seeing as that was his home country) or even daring to hope that he would play for England. The grace and the ease with which he commanded the team and the field brought many spectators to each of their matches – ranging from Gryffindor's (of course) all the way to the Slytherin students who found themselves captivated by the charming American as well.

Rumors flew around the school that the Captain, a seventh year by the name of Alfred F. Jones, had yet to ask anyone to the Yule Ball and that much speculation had been brought upon the subject. In fact, anytime that the American would approach someone to ask a question, he would be met with furious blushing and innumerous whispering. The blonde male just shrugged it off and went about his day, continuing to smile his blinding smile at anyone who chanced to look his way.

"Hey Mei!"

"Oh my God! Alfred F. Jones is coming to talk to you Mei! He's going to ask you to the Yule Ball! Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!"

"Hey, do you know where Kiku is? We were going to study for Transfiguration together…"

"Oh…..no. I don't."

"Oh okay! Thanks anyway!"

"….Maybe he just has to work up the courage?"

The conversations usually went like this, sometimes followed with a burst of overflowing tears and always with a dumbfounded expression. After all, virtually every female student practically begged the Fates for a chance at the blue-eyed American. There were times when Alfred would even receive chocolate-covered rum cordials filled with the complicated Love Potion; but as he had never been one for rum, so he would always give them away to his friends.

Which brings us back to the moment where Alfred quietly wandered through the corridors of the sprawling castle, stopping every once in a while to observe a painting and chat with its occupant or even gaze out the window at the frozen landscape. To get into the American's head, he thought that the comments of him being the 'most handsome and eligible bachelor in all of Hogwarts' to be a bit of an overstatement.

He was tall, almost shockingly so as he stood at a good 6'3" with blonde hair as thick and dark as honey. His body was lean and muscular, but not overly so. In fact, Alfred was even convinced that he still had a good amount of fat that hung around his middle (probably from his hobby of overindulging on the food – but it was just so darn good!). His skin looked as if it was permanently tanned by the sun, even in the dead of winter, and cerulean blue eyes that were constantly alight with energy and excitement.

He found the whole infatuation thing a bit flattering, but also slightly ridiculous. Couldn't these girls just get it through the heads that he didn't return their affections?! It was great for his ego, but frustrating as well when he would receive love notes in class and disrupt everything when they would explode in a shower of flowers and fragrance. Alfred would always laugh it off and bask in the attention that it normally brought, but as the Yule Ball was approaching, the notes and tricky love potion-laced sweets were starting to become severe.

But there was always one person that Alfred could count on to bring him back to Earth. Well, a few actually. One being his twin Matthew, a shy Hufflepuff whom Alfred could always speak to no matter what. Another being his dear friend Kiku Honda, a Ravenclaw boy with a tendency of silence whom Alfred had come to know during their first year when he accidentally set Kiku's robes on fire. And the last was one that was the least likely to bring reassurance to the American, a snarky Brit named Arthur who belonged to the Slytherin House.

It was the first class of the year - Potions. A class held in the darkness of the dungeons below the school. A class that Slytherins were traditionally good at, right? Alfred had been quick to make friends and become the object of affections for the red and gold-clad females in their class. He was dressed the same as the rest of the students, traditionally white button up under a beige sweater, dark slacks and the black robes that covered it all. A red and gold tie was loose around his neck, but still knotted so as to not be out of dress code and a scarf of the same colors draped over the back of his chair. It wasn't the clothes that caught the girl's attention, but the accent. The pure Southern drawl that was assuredly American that brought the young girls to his cauldron, begging him to say random phrases and swooning when he obliged.

It was here that Alfred met Arthur. A British boy with messy light blonde hair and eyebrows the size of caterpillars. He had the most shockingly green eyes that Alfred had ever seen; like the grass after it has rained, so fresh and alive. The other boy was so pale that he looked like the porcelain dolls that his Mother collected back home, and his cheeks were bright red as he stared hard at Alfred.

"What are you staring at?" The boy spat, his peridot eyes narrowing with irritation.

"Uh.. your eyes? Dude, they're like…awesome!" The Brit's eyes widened momentarily and his blush deepened before he flicked his wand and suddenly, Alfred was drenched in water. A small smirk formed on the boy's lips as he waved his wand tauntingly at the American, much to the chagrin of the American and his followers.

Thus began the love-hate relationship of Alfred F. Jones and Arthur Kirkland.

Over the years, the two boys turned into young men. Alfred keeping the same carefree charm and somehow managing to grow from an adorable little boy of eleven to a breathtaking young man of seventeen. There was still an air of childishness that hung around him and though Alfred looked the same, he had changed from the boy that was girl's crushes to a devious fantasy. Not to mention that over the years, Alfred had proved himself to be a bad boy at times and bit of a prankster… but Arthur on the other hand had changed as well. No longer was the shy little boy but he was a young man of eighteen, full of attitude and fire.

His small frame had grown somewhat taller (though he stayed around 5'9" or so) and leaner. He was teased about his figure being feminine what with his delicate features and small waist. If one could look past the venom that the Slytherin boy had dished out, he could truly be seen as breathtaking as well. But with so much discord between him and his least favorite American, many refused to even afford him the second glance to see just how lovely he really was.

Eventually, the two boys had fallen through various compromises and agreements. The Slytherin boy was especially gifted with his magic but lacked the skills to make even the simplest of potions whereas Alfred was virtually the opposite. Around their third year (after being threatened by Headmaster Yao that if the two didn't quit fighting that he would expel them both), they reached a compromise. Alfred had been failing the mandatory Divination class and Arthur had been failing his Potions. The two had agreed to meet and tutor the other in their class, but only upon the grounds that they could do so privately. After all, they had a reputation to maintain.

The two boys were known to have an obvious dislike for the other and made it extremely public. In fact, such an obvious display of distaste towards one another earned Arthur quite a few enemies in the female department at the school. After all, who could hate the ever charming and sweet Alfred F. Jones? It wasn't something that particularly bothered the Slytherin boy. He despised the way that the Gryffindor would gloat in the attention that he received and paraded around with his little troupe of followers.

Arthur would even attend the Quidditch matches to cheer on the teams that opposed the Gryffindor Captain, if only to spite the American and his female fans. The Brit would keep his eyes trained on the American Keeper and many of those who sat near him would keep their eye on him in case that the student would cast any charms on their favorite player. Most assumed that he attended the matches to observe the Keeper and would report any weaknesses that he found to the opposing teams, after all, the teams only got better each time that they faced the Gryffindor team.

In return, Alfred would occasionally send the tainted rum cordials to the tsundere Brit; something that Arthur learned very quickly to throw out as soon as he received them after an incident where he ate some and became overwhelming enamored with a busty Ukrainian Hufflepuff. Yes, their distaste for one another was something that the public was well-aware of. It had even gotten to the point where some of Alfred's dearest (read: obsessive) fans began to send the Slytherin male hate letters and would charm books and various objects to attack him on the stairs. Fortunately, Alfred put a stop to the menace as he proclaimed that the battle was between him and Arthur and not his devoted fans.

Arthur still managed to receive charmed sweets and things from 'potential interests' that would cause him to be violently ill and occasionally his books and papers would fly from his hands and he was forced to chase them down, but that was about the extent of it. This was yet another reason why Arthur would bury himself in the Library; namely the restricted section and study fiercely for his impending exams so that he could attend the necessary classes that would enable him teach in the future.

If asked, the Brit couldn't care about the approaching Yule Ball. He was much too busy with studying to deal with such trifling things. But on the inside, like every student that wandered the ancient castle, he did truly want to go. It just seemed that no one wanted to go with him, other than that frog Francis, but even he was going with some Hufflepuff boy, Mark was his name? No… Miles? Anyway, Arthur had found that he was much more content throwing himself into his studies than dwelling on the fact that no one had bothered to ask him in his final year at Hogwarts. It wasn't like he couldn't ask anyway, but to be honest, he found it useless. No one would ask him and no one would accept. End of story.

He took a deep breath as he flipped another page in his History of Magical Creatures, emerald colored eyes scanning over the detailed drawings of the Werewulf, and making sure to take the according notes on the Latin in the text. Such internal conflict was battling within the Brit as he struggled to keep his focus on the page that he was on, finding himself reading over the same line at least five times. Dammit, he should have never let his thoughts stray to the Yule Ball! Now he would never be able to focus on the sodding text…

"Hey."

If you were an observer in the Library at that moment, you would've been able to see Arthur's normally pale face open to a flood of emotions, most predominantly – shock and fear. Any color in his face fell immediately and gave him an eerie death-like appearance. Arthur had made sure that no one was in there with him and he even looked up when he heard people enter. How had he missed… maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him? Perhaps it was one of the school's ghosts?

"Whatcha studying?"

Oh no. There was no mistaking that voice, it was far too familiar. The blonde head was tucked down, his voice hidden but his eyes were wide as he stared blankly at the words before him. "What's it to you?" The Slytherin boy asked, beyond thankful that his voice didn't betray his emotions and wavered, but instead remained calm and steady.

"I didn't see you at dinner…" Pink tinged the Brit's cheeks at the words. So Alfred was looking for him, eh? That can't mean anything good…

"I was busy studying… unlike you, I actually care about what I'm doing after I graduate, not just expecting to do some career that will destroy me by the time I'm thirty."

The voice scoffed behind it. It sounded so unbelievably close that Arthur hardly dared to breathe aloud.

"So you opt to study and not eat? That can't be healthy, Arthur. And you obviously don't know anything about me at all… Quidditch is a hobby, not a career." If Arthur hadn't been so nervous at the moment, he could've sworn that the Gryffindor's voice actually sounded a tad…dejected?

"Here." The word was short and crisp, but immediately following the statement Arthur found himself staring at a small plate with a few scones and pumpkin pasties on it. It looked like heaven to the famished Brit, but he knew all too well the game that the Quidditch Captain was playing at. He chanced it and glanced over to the direction from which the plate had slid into his view and found himself staring at the taller American boy who was half-leaning, half-sitting on the table that he was using.

Alfred was watching him with an amused smirk on his face, the firelight from the lanterns dancing in his eyes. "I promise they're not charmed or anything." He swore, using a hand that was folded across his chest to gesture at the plate of treats. "You gotta eat somethin' Artie or you'll waste away." For a brief moment, the Gryffindor's face turned serious but the moment was fleeting and he was back to his usual grin.

"No thank you." Arthur growled, pushing the plate off his book and using a finger to pick the few crumbs from the pages of the book before him. Alfred sighed heavily and ran a hand through his thick hair and gave the stuffy Brit an exasperated look, "Listen Artie, I'm really try-"

"Don't call me Artie. My name is Arthur." The green eyed male sneered, keeping his hard gaze on the American that was less than an arm's reach away.

"Fine Arthur. I'm trying. At least give me the benefit of the doubt."

"Like hell I will!"

"Arthur-"

"No! Now what the hell did you come here for? To taunt me? To make your little fangirls hate me all the more? Now if you'll kindly leave me alone-"

"Are you going to the Yule Ball?"

Oh.

Oh.

Arthur froze, his eyes wide and unbelieving, his mouth slightly agape at the statement. No. He couldn't mean that. After all, they hated each other. But the expression on the Quidditch Captain's face was anything but joking. For a moment, the air was still and charged with a tension that even magic couldn't recreate, but it was broken when the so-called 'Golden Boy of Hogwarts' smiled sheepishly.

"Guess you're too busy for such 'tifling activities', huh?" Flourishing the last part with a faux English accent, he laughed a dull hollow laugh that sounded far too forced. With a small forced smile, Alfred pushed his lanky frame away from the table and gestured once again to the plate of pastries. "I promise they're not charmed or poisoned or whatever. Just… eat something, okay? You can't focus if you have nothin' to run off of." And with that, he was gone. Vanishing as quickly as he had appeared to God knows where.

"Oh God." Arthur mumbled quietly, his head sinking into pale hands and the long slender fingers entangling in his hair. Tomorrow would be sheer hell for the blonde, he just knew it.

Short. Gawd. I'm sorry. This has been in my head. I don't own the picture that goes with it, I just saw it and went with it. My first Pottertalia fic, so yeah. I have most of the ending written up, just gotta go through it. If you own the pic, tell me and I'll give you full credit.

I decided to stop it here to create some suspense Mwahahahaha.

Probably only gonna be like 2-3 chapters long so sorreh.