A/N- Oh, I had fun with this chapter. –cackles evilly- Since I'm in a good mood, I've decided to award a FREE KURIBUN TO THE 100TH REVIEWER! -coughs- That's what… only a few reviews away? It's just a little press of a button, typing something meaningless or worthwhile like "I love your story :) -heart- -heart-", and there we go. It doesn't even take you five minutes, yet I notice many people hesitating to review. Why is that?
And now, for some old news.
I made Harry such a wiener. -groans- Now that I look back, I cannot believe I stooped this low for the mere sake of comedy. Forgive me, my precious readers. You deserve better from me. I will make his god awful personality and cliché ukeness mature as the years pass by. However, this does not mean I will stop trying to drive in the humor. And so, a shoutout to Somegirl-Morning! Thank you for bringing me back to my senses. I had lost sight of where this was heading, and I'd like to thank you for the dash of cold water. Yes, this has gotten a bit too goofy for my tastes. –bows humbly- I appreciate it very much, milady.
Because I'm starting to think our little Harrykins is getting lonely up there, I'm adding Kyoya to the fray. Make note that this is not the final pairing and I needed to put someone from OHSHC up there, so might as well be Kyoya. Now, I shall make one thing clear. The final pairing has been decided (even though technically, this is the ninth-turned-seventh chapter if you count a few deleted chapters and A/Ns). No more trying to sway my vote. You have been forewarned. So, is it Tom, Kyoya, or a threesome? –shrugs- You'll see. I'm considering making this Mature for some explicit scenes… any opinions? And to those who responded to my plight last chapter, thank you. Now, one lucky winner shall get a… gift! (Another freebie, if you will... this thing won't happen much.) Participants are everyone from the last A/N chapter. –draws out a raffle ticket- And the winner is… DUN DUN DUN… Rin Hitokiri!
Kudos to Crystallyn (I would've loved for you to but I understand), blackroses2433, Kai Minomono, Lady Knight Keladry, SilverMichaels, Katsy17, hpets (-hugs-), Marauder Heir, and himitsuri for reviewing the last chapter(coughtheA/Nchaptercough). Everyone, thank you all for your reviews so far, but these two (Rin Hitokiri and Crystallyn) helped weigh in my decision to give you a better-quality chapter. –winks- You should thank them, y'all! So, Rin-san, get ready for a little guest appearance!
I haven't done this for a long time… so I'll do this now. I do NOT own anything except the structure of this chapter. This means, the world of Ouran High School Host Club belongs solely to Bisco Hatori, the characters of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, any brands mentioned here to their respected designers, the assortment of colognes to their manufacturers, Chelsea Dagger to the Fratellis, all the characters to their respected mangakas.
DUE TO COMPLICATIONS, THIS CHAPTER WILL REMAIN UNBETAED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE
'"You're alive," she said blankly to Harry.
"There's no need to sound so disappointed," he said grimly, wiping flecks of blood and slime off his glasses.
"Oh, well... I'd just been thinking... if you had died, you'd have been welcome to share my toilet," said Myrtle, blushing silver.'
~ (Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets by J.K. Rowling)
Trivial Affections
Chapter 7
"Wonderful, you found me another suitor?" Fleur Delacour questioned, absentmindedly twirling a strand of her silvery-blond hair around a finger. Underneath her long lashes, her pale blue eyes peered stonily at her father. It had been a rather uneventful evening really before her father decided to storm into her room, uninvited and brandishing a sheet of paper crumbled in his hand.
Monsieur Delacour, her father, was a reputable business typhoon in the leading industry of women's wear. Throughout his life, he had been known to be a jovial man, pleasantly plump and full of helpful advice to give to his fellow coworkers. Then again, he was also known for his spontaneous bouts of rage. Thus, he would look terrifyingly enraged to anyone not used to seeing him this way, ruthlessly stroking his pointed black beard on his round face and wearing holes into their Persian rug to reflect his inner turmoil. Her eyes strayed to the stubble, pointedly tuning out whatever he had to say as he opened his mouth.
Raising his voice to protest, he insisted, "Fleur, ma fille aimée, you must understand. 'E comes from a respectable family, and my obligation as your loving father is to secure your future. You know I always want ze best for you."
"I love Bill," she deadpanned, successfully hiding a frown as her father scrunched his face up in blatant mortification at the mere mention of his name. "Mon Dieu, father! Why do you 'arbor such contempt for 'im?"
"You will not mention 'is name in my 'ouse," he exploded, dragging a hand roughly through his sparse hair peppered with specks of grey. "Never repeat William Arthur "Bill" Weasley's name, ever, in my 'ouse, ever again! You understand me?"
Ever since his beloved eldest daughter had been introduced to that abhorrent archeologist, substituting in for an ailing English professor in the Beauxbatons Academy, she came back a changed woman. Not to mention the fact she was minor and he two times her senior (she was still in high school); she was also dating an older prétendant who held no regards to etiquette and the Delacour tradition! It had been harmless at first, their encounters nothing more than a fleeting interest. But soon it escalated into something more and the boy started coming over to their house under the guise of tutoring his daughter in Advanced English.
He should've seen it coming.
Because that delinquent came waltzing into her life, her grades had dropped beyond the point of complete horridness. Until now, never had anyone in the Delacour lineage received marks below a solid "A". Imagine his surprise when Madame Olympe Maxime, the headmistress of the Beauxbatons Academy, mailed him his daughter's first quarter report card, informing him that disciplinary actions will be taken if Fleur's grades did not improve by the end of Second Quarter.
Aggravated, he threw his hands into the air for dramatic effect. "Fleur, what do I 'ave to do to knock some sense into zat 'ead of yours? Can't you see nothing good will come from your illicit liaison with ze boy?"
"…Admit it, père. You 'ave a personal grudge against 'im."
"'E's a dropout!"
"'E only, as you put it, dropped out because 'e wanted to get an early start on his career! School was only 'indering 'im from performing ze best of 'is abilities."
"'E's a Weasley! 'Is mere presence has already affected you in a negative way. Just look at your grades." His hands dove into the pockets of his silky bathrobe and came out with more crumpled sheets. "Regardez, Fleur!"
She gave a tiny shake of her head and with endeavor, she calmly stated, "You're overreacting, Mon Dieu! I assure you zat I am still on top of my classes despite my one 'B'."
"Precisely Fleur, a 'B'," he groaned, his voice almost drowning in the sea of whispering household servants. He tactfully chose to ignore them, choosing to concentrate on his weary daughter. "No one in ze entire Delacour history has ever gotten a 'B'. I am at my last straw. Fleur, please, from a father to 'is daughter… please consider going out with who your mother and I chose for you rather 'an zat Weasley."
Her stiff mask slipped, softening slightly at his pleading tone. Gently, she replied, "Father, you know I love Bill. You can't force me to choose between you and ze man I adore."
Crestfallen, he presented the very image of a defeated elder with shoulders hunched and smooth features set in a mask of disaproval. With a sad, fleeting look passing across his somewhat-appealing face that many remarked resembled an egg's, he started, "To think you'd actually defy your parents." Tilting his head to resemble a curious bird, he studied the cool façade she instantly adopted upon his scrutiny.
Interesting…, he briefly thought. "Very well. If zis boy is someone you're willing to spend ze rest of your life with, then I propose a bet."
"A bet," she parroted, her eyes flashing uncertainly. She simply arched a bleached brow in response.
"I will," here he paused momentarily before giving out a choked, "acknowledge your relationship with ze boy if you agree to zese conditions. Since loverboy is somewhere in ze United States—Egypt, was it?—you will attend St. Lobelia Girl's Academy, one of the most prestigious private institution in ze East. From what I understand, ze school excels in promoting creativity, interdisciplinary 'ought, and well-roundedness."
Her arctic decorum fading fast at his remark, she openly gaped at her father sporting newfound confidence at each word uttered. "Mais-"
"-Do not question me, mademoiselle Fleur Delacour!" he quickly interjected, now booming over the twittering behind him. "If I can see zat you can support yourself without ze intervention of your boyfriend and still acquire 'igh marks in a different environment 'ousands of miles away from ze Weasley brat, I might reconsider my probable disownment of your rank. You will have my blessings. However, if I get wind of anything less zan expected from my eldest child, zen you can kiss your ami goodbye. I will renounce you.
"I am sick and tired of your behavior and frankly, I am appalled you would dare raise your voice against your mother—a woman who suffered 'ell and back only to receive what? Nothing except your recent bouts of selfishness, zat's what! Zat is why I'm giving you a chance to redeem yourself. If ze atmosphere of pure-bred, sweet girls capable of civil conversation cannot change your unruly ways, zen I see you are beyond hope. So, I am withdrawing you from Beauxbatons and enrolling you in another. We 'ave all be 'oping for you to be chosen for weeks and weeks!Today, you will be departing in our private jet. You may bring one of our 'ousehold domestiques to accompany you as you get situated."
Incredulous, she could only stare dumbly at her father, clearly winded from the long rant. "You cannot possibly send me off and expect me to live 'ere for fours years," she hissed, her alto voice low and husky from outrage. "I've heard of ze school. Their professors lack ze skills Beauxbatons 'as. Besides, what about my friends? What about my-?"
"-I suggest you start packing your bags," her father said coldly, jerking a thumb at the crowd gathered round at the threshold of her room. "St. Lobelia is ze number one private school in Japan for women, and is considered on ze top three in all of its nation. If their teachers are truly awful, then zat school would not be where it is today. Zis is a chance many would die for! Now, carefully decide who your companion will be for ze next four years of your 'rial."
"Fine," she snapped, pointing at a squat maid staring shell-shocked at the manicured finger directed at her. "Myrtle, get over 'ere."
"M-me?" the lucky maid stuttered, twisting a chunk of her dark, lank hair round her stubby fingers. She nervously adjusted her thick glasses, pushing them up her acne-pocked face. She quickly shuffled over to her mistress's side, fiddling at the hem of her blue skirt decorated with bronze ribbons.
"Yes, you, Myrtle!" the blonde sighed, pinching at her temples. "Don't 'ell me 'ere's another Myrtle zat I don't know about." Slightly miffed, Fleur turned her attention back to her father. "And in contrast to your set conditions, I wish to set a few myself. First off, I want Myrtle 'ere to receive ze same education as I. As my traveling companion, I cannot expect any less 'an the best. I desire to converse with 'er at a certain intellectual extent but I cannot do so with ze current level of 'er schooling. So, she has to accompany me 'roughout all my classes, learning what I learn and knowing what I know."
Monsieur Delacour waved his hand flippantly through the air. "Zat can be easily arranged."
"And because I know you're such a considerate man, I only 'ave one more request."
"Diamonds as a farewell gift?"
"Don't be ridiculous. I only require you provide me ze benefit of a doubt, and allow any tête-à-tête with whoever I want. And yes, zis includes Bill and my sister, Gabrielle."
His jaw clenched involuntarily at the offhand mention of the Weasley's name again. Gritting his teeth and thrusting his hands into the pockets of his purple bathrobe, he painstakingly kept the contempt from shadowing his next words. "Do what you please if it gets me my desired results. By ze way, you do not 'ave ze luxury of small talk. Our pilot, John Philippe, will be waiting for you outside by ze hanger. It should only 'ake you an hour at ze most. I suggest you do not make 'im wait any longer zan necessary."
Taking his leave, his silken robes billowed dramatically out behind him as he waddled out of her room.
Pausing for a moment, he stopped and thoughtfully stroked the pointed scope of his beard. "Oh and also, pack only ze necessaries. A plane can only 'ake so much." A small smirk gracing his lips, he skipped happily away with a bounce to each step he took. He didn't need to look back to confirm the staggered look on his daughter's face. Yes, and ze Master proves he's still got it, he thought with utter glee.
So what has he done to incur such cheerfullness?
With Fleur out of ze house and Gabrielle at her slumber party, Apolline and I get ze 'ouse all to ourselves. No more disruptions! Now, time to go down the checklist. One, did he yell at his daughter for her bad grades? Yup, check. Use the anger as a front for manipulation? Check, check, double check and off she goes to the hanger.
Of course, he did not mention any of this to his beloved elder daughter.
Figures.
As Monsieur Delacour cackled his diabolical schemes to himself, the servants scurried away after his leave, disturbed at the dark face he was giving them, and that left our two females all to themselves.
Myrtle glanced at the young mistress out of the corner of her glasses, and rolled her eyes at the bored look on the blonde's face. It was just her luck be stuck with the young heiress when she could be watching anime. And I wanted to watch the new BL series today, she wailed to herself. My anime! Coughing loudly to shake the blonde out of her dazed reverie, Myrtle headed into Fleur's walk-in closet and lugged out a huge travel case. "Well, young mistress. You heard the Master. We must start packing your-"
"-Wait, wait. …If we're departing 'oday," the young heiress started slowly, her eyes widening comically past the point of saucers. "Where are we supposed to live for ze next four years?"
"…Crap."
'Meanwhile, a few days later in Japan….'
"Sod off, you snakey git."
"Potter, for the twentieth time already, I am truly sorry for what occurred in our annual Christmas Ball," Tom said, clearly exhausted from being in his current kneeling position for hours at end. "I cannot possibly ask for your forgiveness and I am glad the silent treatment has dissipated, but must I endure more? I don't know what came over me and on behalf of my brother, I offer my profound apologies-"
It had been about six days—but to be punctual, it was actually six days, thirteen hours, forty-seven minutes, and point two seconds—since the incident That-Shall-Not-Be-Named transpired. Irritatingly enough, the freshman clung to his stubborn ways and refused to forgive the sophomore who unfortunately dealt the delivering blow to both their reputations.
To think the bitter vice-president would resort to begging the recently promoted club dog for forgiveness; the horror... Not to mention the fact "Kiss-a-Holic" was recently added to Riddle's aloof status, the reputation he painstakingly cultivated these past two years had sunk low. And of course, he wouldn't be here beseeching the boy if it hadn't been under the orders of the eccentric king.
Tom groaned, shifting so that he sat on his haunches. Damn, the pain was getting to him. To make matters worse, his feet was numb and putting pressure at the soles of his feet added a whole new level of awkward sensation. Hey, it was routine for him to kneel before Harry every time the boy entered the Music Room to start his hosting duties. Worse yet, he had to stay in that position until the freshman decided to finally leave the room, leaving Tom staring sadly at where the boy once stood. He missed conversing with the boy even if all their interactions were made up of nothing more than shameless teasing.
Sentimental, much?
Harry pinned the most murderous glare he could muster up at the sophomore, ignoring the equally heated glowers directed at the back of his head. "You know, all I was aiming for was a chaste peck on the cheek, but you had to force us into a liplock. And then, the situation spiraled way out of control—with a man, no less!"
"Again, I wish to point out the twins tripped me and that led to the liplock. I admit was acting irrational—jealous to a certain degree and damnit, I will not explain again—being your first kiss and all, but I didn't expect this to be blown out of proportion. I simply did not consider the consequences of my actions and might I mention I was not the only one who shared the same-"
"-Oh no, don't you drag Haruhi into this."
Tom scowled, cutting short an exhale of indignation. "Look, you know very well I was not the only one against the kissing-"
"-Yeah, but you were the only one that caused this in the first place."
"Again, the twins. So, now for the twentieth-first time, I'd like to offer my sincere apologies for doing something so incredibly stupid that probably traumatized you for life. Please forgive this idiot in front of you, and let bygones be bygones?"
Heaving a frustrated sigh, Harry grudgingly accepted the twentieth-first try at getting back into his good graces. "Fine, fine. This is probably gonna bite me in the arse later on, but apology accepted."
Ducking his head and grumbling under his breath, Tom mumbled an almost inaudible, "Took you long enough."
"Don't get me wrong. As funny as it is to see the almighty Tom Marvolo Riddle groveling at my feet, it was getting kind of annoying." He snuck a quick peek at the sophomore's female entourage, swallowing hard at the intense looks tossed his way. Ack, he thought. Fangirls and their unshakable devotion to players.
The elder host followed his gaze, smirking faintly when his crimson gaze landed on his devoted lambs. "Aah, if my female version of the Death Eaters," he teased, "alarms you, then you should see Bellatrix Lestrange."
"Bellatrix?"
"An urchin so completely enamored with me that she used to stalk the outside premises of the orphanage," Tom explained, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I swear, sometimes I still see her haunting me outside the grounds of the Ohtori Mansion. She's very much like Renge, the little one."
"Uh, you know… as much as the topic of stalking interests me, I have absolutely no clue as to who you're talking about."
"Renge Hoshakuji, a girl captivated by my brother's charms," he sneered, rolling his scarlet eyes at Harry. "I don't see how come you've missed her all these months. She's like the bloody typhoon. You can't miss her."
"You mean the carrot-top I see hanging off his arm whenever I pass by the Student Office?"
Tom chuckled, "Right on the dot." Pushing himself off from the arrangement of marble tiles set into the floor, he stretched languidly, his close-fitting wife beater sliding inches up from his midriff. Instantly, eyes were glued onto the tantalizing show of skin and many mouths watered. It didn't help that the man chose to slip on a pair of low-rise, elegantly cut satin trousers barely hanging off the jut of his hips.
Tugging nervously at his starched collar, Harry quickly averted his gaze anywhere but at the club's vice-president. Hearing a satisfied purr coming from the other's throat, Harry looked back curiously and instantly regretted it. Great, the man was smirking at him now.
Smug bastard.
'And as time skips forward, our two Frenchwomen find themselves in Japan, right in the heart of the St. Lobelia Girl's Academy, an all-girls' boarding school.'
"…And yeah, this school is pretty amazing but I doubt it can match the widely acclaimed Beauxbatons," Senior Rin Hitokiri concluded, finally coming to a halt in the school courtyards. The fourth-year undergraduate was a rather attractive African American girl, her mocha colored skin an exotic and welcome discrepancy to eyes tired of uniformity. Blushing and embarrassed from the compliments, her deep set of brown eyes had darkened to the point of black when Fleur had fretted over her, praising the senior for the softness of her curled midnight tresses.
Fleur sent a silent scoff at her words, eyeing the school grounds of the institution with transparent dislike. The founders of St. Lobelia must have a fixation for Persian blue, she mentally concluded, staring up at the lush greenery decorating the rims of the water fountain. Everywhere she went, the white sheen of the tiles greeted her vision and the whiff of various feminine perfumes decorating the blue-tinted halls brought new waves of nausea. "I concur, she said dryly.
Myrtle moaned, scrubbing her hands over her face. "And to think I'd be used to wearing weird clothes. But ick…." Pointing at the burgundy knee-length pleated skirt she had been forced to put on, she hurled a pout at her mistress equally sharing in the chagrin.
Fleur rolled her eyes and gave an affirmative nod of her head. Holding in her breath from the scent of traveling strong fragrance, she mirrored Myrtle's action, only she was far more violent with each downward plunge. "You know, I 'old rather 'igh regard when concerning ze Asian-fusion 'rend. I just 'appen to share ze same sentiments of 'ow 'ighly ridiculous zis uniform is."
Before she headed to the academy, she threw on the same standardized uniform she had been given upon arrival in the foreign state. Like Myrtle, the upper part of her clothing consisted of a sailor-style collar that ran down and melded with the sheer white of the silken blouse. Laced through a barely discernible loop attached to the blouse, a latte-tinted ribbon with splayed ends resembling that of a rippling butterfly was tied in the front, nestling in the center of her breasts.
Their student guide examined the offending garment with amusement, poking the skirt and laughing softly at the flabbergasted look gracing the blonde's face. Grinning, she playfully slapped the foreign-exchange student on the arm. "Oh yeah, the seifuku. I know the uniform looks Sailor Moon-ish, but you have to bear with it as long as you're stuck here. And don't complain about the color. Unlike me and my friend Myrtle here, the color does wonders for your fair complexion!"
'St. Lobelia Girl's Academy…. It is truly a woman's paradise. Boasting over thirty years of history, it is a gathering of maidens, by maidens and for maidens.'
Peeping over her shoulder and affirming they were out of range for potential eavesdroppers, she crooked a finger, signaling for the two transfer students to lean in. Warily, the two did just so to satisfy the tendencies of their curious natures. "Alright, you're probably going to think I sound crazy but trust me, this school is pretty whacked," Rin warned, her hand in near proximity next to her lips. "Sooner of later, you're gonna meet the school's three princesses."
Fleur raised an elegant brow, tilting her head to a side. "Princesses… ze academy admits genuine sovereigns?"
"Tch, no. I don't know if you're the type to freak out about this, and I really hope you aren't since they're really nice people, but they're a bunch of… you know." Rin looked over her shoulder again and lowering her voice below a whisper, she mumbled, "The 'L' word."
Myrtle's ears perked, her face taking on a flushed tone. Eager, she stammered breathlessly, "You mean… lilies? As in a shoujo-ai, girl on girl live-action?"
"…If you mean total eccentric lesbos, then yeah."
Fleur cast a coy smirk at the exotic senior. "Oh, lesbiennes? It is to be expected since zis is an all-girls' boarding school." Heh, she giggled, rocking back on the balls of her feet. Her father had kept a tight leach on her when concerning her selection of friends, so she had been ordered not to make any friends except those that he approved—and women who loved those of the same sex were far from those he approved of. But since she was in a school inhabitated by the crowd he disapproved of, this meant her father didn't know and if he didn't know, that meant she could do whatever she wanted. Without her father here to keep monitor on who she befriends, she could choose who she wanted to hang out with and she looked forward to that. I bet Bill would get a kick out of zis if 'e was 'ere.
"Um, you don't understand. When I mean 'total eccentric lesbos'... I mean, total ECCENTRIC lesbians. Trust me, since you're the newest transfer student this late in the school year—and we don't get a lot of foreign exchange students—I'm giving you a heads-up before you eventually meet one of the crazies. All the girls you've seen so far can't compare to the three we have at school, and these three are like hardcore feminists with a plastic Barbie-doll disorder. The others are nice, but I advise you to steer clear of these three. Now, there's the Lady of the Daisy, Hinako, the youngest member of the club's leading council; the Lady of the Lily, Chizuru, the vice; and the worst of the bunch is the Lady of the Red Rose-!"
'With benevolence and virtue as their motto, the school seeks to make young ladies out of girls. However, those who hold this secret kingdom is not the headmistress but rather the reigning force on campus would be the….'
Out of the blue, the tooting of a shrill whistle sounded and the blasting of drums that accompanied the deafening noise didn't cease to stop the young heiress's exasperation. A voice shouted, "Make way, make way! Let Lady Benibara through."
"-BENIO AMAKUSA," Rin finished, roaring over the noise.
The drums built up in tempo, beating away at a frenzied pace as a lone figure came to view. Sighs and girlish squeals rang in the blonde's ears, each echoing loudly as the persistent twittering came nonstop. Swiveling her head, Fleur growled at the commotion, suppressing the urge to call for silence. Just great, a pounding migraine had now joined her homesickness.
Myrtle stuffed her fingers in her ears, fruitlessly trying to block the clamor. "...WHAT IS UP WITH THE RACKET?"
"IT'S THEIR FANCLUB!"
"WHAT?" she screamed.
She yelled back, "THE FANCLUB!"
"Hold up, girls!" cried a girl in a T-shirt emblazoned with the dialect "Master Benibara's Guardian Club Official" running across the small of her back, and prevented the horde of screaming girls from advancing further. "Hey, you! No breaking ranks! Everyone, keep to your rows. Lady Benibara wants a look-see at the new exchange students!"
"My, my girls. You all look delectable as always." A soft-spoken yet authoritative voice spoke up, cutting through the piercing shrieks like a dash of cold water. Immediately, all the girls parted from the middle, each dashing to a side to make way for the voice. The girls in the front of newly-formational rows sank to their knees, staring up at the approaching figure with admiration reflecting their reddening faces.
A towering brunette came into the trio's line of vision, an attractive female amidst the flood of maidens. Xanadu eyes shifting left and right, Benio smiled at her adoring fans, flicking her long side bangs skillfully in a grand display of splendor. Squeals ensued in reaction and two very confused set of eyes followed her footsteps. Coming to a stop, she beamed at the Frenchwomen, her arms swept to take a flourished bow. "Beautiful maidens, I welcome you to St. Lobelia. I presume you are our new transfers?"
'…The White Lily Society or what is commonly known as the Zuka Club, an association formed by young ladies for the lilies blooming amongst the Garden of Eden.'
Remembering her manners, Fleur curtsied in response, nudging her maid hard in the ribs. Myrtle gave a small yelp and she scrambled to do the same—albeit clumsily. The heiress murmured, "No need to greet us, mademoiselle, 'ough we do appreciate ze sentiment."
Eyes twinkling, Benio nodded, appraising the fair beauty before her. "And I see you are French. Despite the thick enunciation, I must commend you for your fluency in Japanese." Once again, she bowed courteously and this time, took Fleur's hand. Studying her with dark, probing eyes, blue stared back into gray as the school's biggest It-girl sized up her competition.
At last something seemed to satisfy the brunette as her head bowed down and swiftly, she placed a chaste kiss at the young heiress's hand.
…Merde.
Shrieks of jealously soon followed.
Myrtle stared openly, slack-jawed at the sheer audacity of the other. Ohhhhhh my goooosh, the fan girl side of her musically squealed. Yuri! Eager to share the news, she turned to look for Rin only to find their student guide had disappeared. …Huh, where did she go?
"My dear maiden," Benio said, unaware the said maiden looked ready to commit murder. "Your beauty exudes such exquisiteness, your radiance becoming! Oh, should lightening strike me where I lay at this moment, I shall die a happy woman. But fear not, I shall wait for you at the doors of paradise, free to envelope you in my arms and continue our rendezvous in the afterlife."
Fleur's right eye twitched violently at the gesture. Quickly, she hid the spasm behind the hand she wrenched out of the other's grip, twittering politely at the words of the Zuka Club President. The brunette's lines seemed so rehearsed and truth be told, it made her stomach nauseous. Plastering on a forced smile, she painstakingly replied, "Merci, mademoiselle… Benibara? Fret not; ze wrath of paradise is far too busy to send you to your early grave."
Like how she did it back in France, she averted her eyes from the blinding smile. Hopefully, the female president took the hint that the young heiress was not interested and they would leave it at that.
Ecstatic at the atypical reaction, Benio could have clapped her hands together in utter glee but refrained from doing so as it was not dignified. Finally, a challenge! "Please, Benio, my sweet maiden. For you, you may call me by my given name." Outraged protests ensued, but she paid no heed to the clamor. "Truly, we are blessed with your admittance. Aah, quel belle sourit. Et la seule chose que tes yeux ne me disent pas, c'est ton nom."
Fleur gave a tight-lipped smile. If this was what their guide had meant, then eccentric lesbian indeed."…Thank you for complimenting my smile, Benio. I am Fleur Delacour and before you ask, no, I am not interested. Certainly you are rather charming, but I already 'ave a boyfriend and I must refuse."
Benio's eyes widened tremendously, and she backed away with quickened fervor until her elbows bumped against her nearest fan in sight. Her lipstick smeared lips quivering in a dejected manner, she made odd choking noises at the back of her throat. Her hand trembling as she lifted it up with difficulty to point at the newcomer, she stammered, "B-b-b-b-boyfriend? …As in those abhorrent, egotistical brutes with absolute uncongenial, beastly behavior and burr? You are DATING a lower life form with several qualms to see WOMEN on equal terms?!"
"Désolé, Benio, Bill is not like zat." A frown made its way down the blonde's lips. "Right, Myrtle?"
Myrtle nodded ecstatically at the mention of her name. "Bill is actually pretty nice… he's like a real-life Ichigo Kurosaki from Bleach. He looks tough on the outside but he's a total Daisuke Niwa on the in, but way hotter and with longer hair."
No one bothered to mention they didn't understand a word uttered from the girl's mouth except for the devote anime fans. But, all the recognition was cut short by the wails belonging to the countless number of females. The brunette just stood there, looking ready to faint at any moment with her ashen visage and puckered brow.
"B-but… a man?" Benio said in disbelief, producing a handkerchief to dab at the corner of her eyes. She turned her head to stare down at a random girl from the crowd, both sharing equally mortified looks. "My dear, he has brainwashed you! Men are simply lower life forms who pretend to be chivalrous by saying those saccharine words in their own ineptitude to ensnare our fragile hearts. Am I right or am I right, maidens?"
"RIGHT," the girls chorused.
"I see you all are very acrimonious individuals indeed," Fleur said wryly, ignoring the aghast looks directed her way. "Now, see 'ere-"
"-YOUR LADYSHIP! WHAT IN GOD'S NAME ARE YOU DOING OUT HERE WEARING NOTHING BUT A GARTER BELT?!" screeched a voice that sounded suspiciously like a certain senior, and many heads punctually twisted around in vain to search for the alleged sight. It was not uncanny for their unconventional principal to do something out of the ordinary, and no one would put it past her to pull such a stunt. Nonetheless, all wanted to catch a glimpse of the picturesque woman in skimpy clothing.
While the St. Lobelia students were frantically looking around for their headmistress, the senior quickly snuck to the transfers' side, tapping them lightly on the shoulder. The Frenchwomen jumped, quickly smothering their startled cries as Rin winked, placing a finger on her lips as an indication for silence. Motioning for them to follow, she scurried away from the frenetic crowd.
Soon, the trio found themselves outside of the academy gates where Rin came to a sudden halt, causing the two to collide against her back. Rin simply smirked, shaking her head. "See, what did I tell you? Total eccentric lesbos, huh?"
"A whole crowd of them," Myrtle quipped. "Hey, is Lobelia a secret rendition for lesbians because I don't think I've seen a single straight woman around here. And where are you taking us?"
"To tell you the truth… I get sick of being around them sometimes," she said, rubbing the back of her head sheepishly. "They're cool and all out of school, but here... they can be a bit bizarre and switch from a nice, docile kid to someone ready to go on a manhunt. So whenever I get the inkling to see some men, I sneak out of the school. All and all, you guys are pretty much free for the rest of the day. I've already shown you around the school, and I don't think you want to go back and experience the whole 'men-are-awful' ignominy again. And, oh yeah, Fleur, way to tell off the school's biggest flirt."
"Merci," she said, inclining her head in token of gratitude. "I must admit, zis is ze first 'ime I've seen zis much lesbians in an all-girls' academy."
"Tch, Lobelia is waaaaay different from the ones you've probably been exposed to."
Myrtle huffed, not liking it one bit at being ignored, and repeated, "Where are you taking us?"
"To see some eye-candy before you get subjected to men deprivation. But I think you might get a heart attack when you first see them, so here goes. There's Mori…."
'The Host Club members welcome you to today's main course—a selection tactfully chosen by the Shadow King himself. Being granted permission, our delectable hotties have donned an array of clothing set to tempt and entice your senses.'
"Umm, upperclassman Tamaki?" a girl tentatively began, twiddling her thumbs and shyly looking down in her lap. "What made you decide to wear… um," she broke off, too embarrassed to even finish her sentence.
"So as to be pleasing in your eyes."
One blurted, "You're hot!"
"It pales in comparison to your radiance," he crooned, sweeping tapered fingers through his tumbled blond hair.
For today's apparel, a black vest was slipped over his shoulders, effortlessly melding into his silhouette and leaving his arms deliciously bare. Underneath the open vest was a sleeveless taupe muscle shirt and earlier, under watchful eyes, he had shimmied into white trousers completed with a glossy black alligator belt that looped snugly around his slim waist. Truth be told, he looked just like a male model coming right from the photo shoot financed by a well-known fashion industry.
"So," another began coyly, "how come you're so beautiful?"
He tilted his head and cocked an elegant eyebrow, appearing as if he found the question a little puzzling. Leaning in encouragingly, he breathlessly whispered, "How could I not? My body was designed to be pleasing to your eyes, and yours alone."
A girl twittered, "And why is your voice so… sexy?" She twirled a strand of her cinnamon-shaded hair and found it so fascinating she averted the king's steamy gaze.
"So my passion may reach the depths of your heart."
'Lineage first, money second… that's the order of precedence in the high school division of Ouran institute, where the host is the main luxuriant recreational club.'
At least he gets points for his originality, Harry contemplated to himself, staring from across the room at the interaction between a king and his swooning patrons.
The ladiesman spotted the freshman gazing at him disapprovingly and in good spirits, he cheerfully waved to Harry, misinterpreting the air the latter emitted. Then in a lighthearted manner, Tamaki beckoned the new recruit over with a cherubic look of innocence fixed in his wide-set eyes. Rolling his eyes, Harry grinned and nonchalantly flipped him off, stubbornly staying where he was—with Tom rubbing soothing circles on his back while entertaining both their regulars.
Going with today's theme, the lights of the Music Room had been dimmed and energetic hip music blasted from invisible speakers tucked somewhere in the area. Heeding to the blonde's instructions, the twins had reluctantly turned the volume down so that it wasn't such a hassle to overhear and make small talk. To give a more exotic vibe, songs from American bands were played rather than those of the latest Asian music artists. On the right—the space occupied by the British foreigners and the twins—neon blue spotlights coursed over their bodies, illuminating the hard planes of their figure. And to the left, hues of pink and purple cast a glow on the two juniors, and the one and only sophomore.
Since he was the apple in Tamaki's eyes—Harry had rolled his eyes when the twins cracked the not-so-funny joke—he had been specifically instructed to wear the pre-ordered assemble flown in from the most recent New York's Fashion Week. Out of all the hosts, he was given the special treatment— à la mode scrutiny of how he fit into chic menswear and strict supervision in the changing rooms. Practically eager to showcase her collection in a foreign country, the up and coming designer Hermione Jean Granger—mostly known for starring as Emma Puckle in Hogwarts: the Movie—shipped an entire rack of her menswear compilation immediately after being phoned. It took only a mere half a day for the collection to land in Japan to be carted off to Ouran High.
Harry glanced down at his obligatory apparel he had been forced into and grimaced at its complete scantiness. It didn't really help that his clothing was far tighter than everyone else's. A dark, evergreen sleeveless turtleneck hugged his torso, stretched tightly across his chest and spread loosely at the bottom. Skinny leather pants were swathed around his legs, the black material wrapped snugly at his calves and thighs. A red wristband decorated with silver orbs hung from his wrists and at the end of his feet, he wore peep-toe platform boots.
Lifted from the obscurity of hazy recollections was a memory, clear as a bell, of Remus shifting him on a knee, briefly taking the chance to educate him on gentlemanly protocol before Sirius intervened. One of their lessons seemed to fit his current situation—at the same time, it also didn't fit—and he wasn't all to happy about it. Wordlesslymouthing the exact terminology his godfather dearly departed to him, he muttered crossly, "Ladies walk on the inside of the street and hookers walk on the outside of the road."
"What was that? Is something the matter, Potter?" Tom's velvety voice cut through his reverie and almost as if a blanket had been lifted from his eyes, he came back to reality. Crimson eyes gazed curiously into verdant ones. "You don't seem too tight."
"Ugh, sorry. It's just these clothes… it really constricts your breathing, you know?"
He eyed him with concern but the shorter man waved him off, and he relaxed. Rolling his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug, Tom replied, "Well, don't wear yourself out. You are our newest addition to the team and it's easy to get tired at this stage. Our policy to flaunt the newcomer so we get a decent idea as to who you attract and unfortunately, your type comes and goes. Oh, and do you mind serving the ladies over at the Hitachin table? They look a bit haggard."
Harry sighed, slowly getting up to his feet. "Sure thing. Do I have to do anything besides asking what they would like to drink?"
"Not particularly unless you want to risk stealing their girls," he said coolly, smiling at the girl trying to engage him in mindless conversation. "I must warn you though, should the twins throw a fit, you are held responsible for all potential damages."
"Right, gotcha. So stealing customers is a big no-no."
'To be feted in a garden overflowing with handsome men who emits piquant cologne that subtly exudes masculinity, each tailored and designed to set the mood for romance.'
"Oh my, what's that fragrance? It smells great!"
Hikaru grinned, leaning his chin against the palm of his hand. "It's Acqua Di Gio by Giorgio Armani. Miss Granger thoughtfully packed these cool hoards of cologne with the clothes, and we like this scent. It's spicy, fruity, and it gives off this sophisticated yet rebellious vibe."
Chosen from the rack of imported clothing, Hikaru selected a white denim shirt with green strips running down the sides of his torso and his rolled up sleeves, the shirt layering the rainbow-lined tank underneath. A black and white checkerboard-patterned scarf with fringes decorating the hem was draped over his shoulders, almost cutting off the Granger-brand printed audaciously on the back of his shirt. Tanned, loose-fitting cargo pants flowed along his legs and at the cut, multicolored basketball shoes decorated his feet. Three bands and a silver chain ran across his wrists, each building up in darker shades.
The girl with chestnut tresses clapped her hands in delight. "That sounds just like you! Classy yet sporty!"
"Aw shucks, thanks. Besides, how do you like the theme of the day?" he angled his head towards the younger brother, his gaze focused on fiddling with the hem of his white shirt. "It's pretty wicked, huh?"
Kaoru aimed an awkward grin in return, running a hand through his spiked hair. Unlike his twin, he chose a far simpler design consisting of a simple, white dress shirt and elegantly cut black trousers flaring at where his ankles should be. Silver clip-on earrings were attached to his ears and adorning his slender neck was a long silver necklace made up of many chains. On his feet, he wore multicolored converse sneakers, comfortable yet reputed to be tasteful on the go. The younger sibling cuddled closer to the eldest, gazing softly at their flock of compliant females. "To tell you the truth, Hikaru, I'm kinda jealous. Sure the nightclub trend is cool but," he bit his lip, dejectedly lowering his head. "What if someone catches your eye? Nightclubs are known for many celebrity hook-ups and I don't want to lose you. That'll mean I'm no longer needed."
Hikaru's gaze softened and he reached out to lay a hand on top of his brother's. "Hush, my sweet. Trust me, in my eyes, you'll always be my number one."
"It doesn't really work when you act like Grade 'A' bona fide players," Harry mumbled under his breath, slipping a glass of sparkling water onto their table. The cubes of frozen water clinked against the rim of the crystal flute, just as loud as when he placed the glass of fizzing water down. A few girls noticed this and thanked him to which he shyly responded back to while most ignored his presence altogether, fancying on focusing on the lovey-dovey presentation instead of him.
"…So Tama-chan sprayed on Kenneth Cole Reaction—that's where the melon and apple smell's coming from—and they made me put on the Armani Code cologne!" Hunny beamed, enthusiastically swinging his legs back and forth from his perch on Mori's knee.
Like all others, he traded his blazer in exchange for a white tee and hooded knee-length windbreaker thrown on top of a black V-neck hoodie layering the white shirt. Genuine fur decorated the outside rim of his collar and wrapped around the junior's shoulders, providing him warmth from the frigid air cast from the air conditioner. Traveling downwards, he wore plaid-patterned shorts—the red edging barely reaching the end of his kneecaps—and on his feet, he wore black plimsoll sneakers.
"It smells amazing," his girls assured him, fussing over the cute lolicon. The third-year looked just adorable in his new attire—the mere epitome of what you would label as devilishly cute. "And it fits you… but why does it smell like baby powder and vanilla?"
Hunny sniffed and asked cautiously, "You don't like it?"
"No, no! Baby powder is in! It's definitely good on you!"
"Thank you," he said happily. Clapping his hands, he chirped, "Oh, oh! Can you guess which cologne Takeshi has on?"
A blonde hesitated, staring at the tall upperclassman with half-lidded eyes. "I'm not sure… but it smells something masculine and rich. It makes me wanna eat him up. It reminds me of a blend of lavender, spice and… tobacco?"
Mori suppressed a shudder at the breathless tone she took, her eyes glazed over with want. He managed an awkward smile, shifting his cousin's weight on his legs. Today he sported a sleeveless, brown-bison feather-down jacket made of nylon parted down in the middle, and a white undershirt with the words "Siberian Husky" printed in block letters across his chest. He wore black track pants with white piping running down the side of his sturdy legs. "It's Dolce and Gabbana," he finally mumbled, albeit stiffly.
"Kya, he talked!"
"Oh my gosh, my boyfriend uses the same brand!"
"It's not half bad. Granted, Riddle's smells like sex on toast—oh my gosh, don't you love that saying?—and Harry's a whiff of fresh air, but I'd like to know the price of yours, upperclassman Mori."
Tamaki chose at this time to intervene, his clients watching him from the sidelines in adoration. He bounded from his seat, bowing charmingly before the clients that weren't his. Purple tints of the arranged lighting swathed him, casting a glow upon his figure. Leaning against the occupied divan, he murmured, "My dear princesses, I assure you the cost is meager as compared to your beauty. You can't put a price on such exquisiteness, but you can on trivial matters. If you must know, we got these as a token of thanks, courtesy of Miss Hermione Granger. However, I had Riddle-san dig up the rates and he estimated the value to be worth seventy-six euros via Internet."
The girl looked awfully appalled. "Seventy-six? But that's far too cheap for men's perfume!"
Bewildered, Harry gawked at the occupants, his jaw nearly hanging open in incredulity. He couldn't help but overhear their conversation despite being a few feet away. Seventy-six euros, he thought disbelievingly. That's freaking expensive… not to mention when you do the math and add in all the hosts, it would total… dang, almost seven-hundred sixty US dollars! YOU CALL THAT CHEAP, YOU FRIGGIN' RICH PEOPLE?!
"Like what our founding fathers said, you can't put a price on beauty," he spoke up haughtily, randomly striking a pose while his hands ran through his golden tresses. His sweat glittered from the effect of the spotlight, like beads of purple and pink. His voice lowering as if parting classified information, he breathed, "But I heard that commoners couldn't even afford to pay within that price range."
Many heads swiveled to stare at the one and only commoner for verification. Even the other hosts paused in their conversation, curious at how the scholarship student, unanimously known for being one of the poor would respond. Harry just chuckled nervously, sweating under their gaze.
"I… wouldn't know? It varies with each person."
Tamaki looked slightly put-out by his answer while everyone else nodded absently, following the flow before returning to their activities. Hunny opened his mouth to question him further, but Tamaki slapped a hand over the junior's mouth. Shaking his head ferociously,the blonde harshly whispered, "Hush, upperclassman Hunny! If Harry says it varies, then it varies! Don't argue with him! It's a common folks' thing, okay?"
"I can hear you, you know?" I may be ignorant of what you people are accustomed to, but I'm not tone-deaf. It's like explaining color to a blind person. Somehow, I feel like I'm getting dumber aqnd dumber each second I'm stuck here.
'Someone once said 'Misfortune always befalls you when you least expect it….''
"Oi, Harry," Hikaru suddenly called, weaving his fingers through his brother's. "So just about how many girls have you scored so far?"
It was near closing time, and most of the girls were already starting to head off to their next classes. Of course, being the Host Club, all seven members attended their classes at an earlier time and so, did not have to be present for the periods after Leisure Period. In normality, Ouran students had seven mandatory courses to take—each being split evenly to fit in Homeroom, Snack, and Lunch. Leisure Period in Ouran could be counted as those three breaks, or as an elective class.
When the Host Club was still in its development phase, the blonde had devised a plan that he struck with the Headmaster. All the hosts would attend their classes two hours prior the bell schedule and thereby skipping Homeroom (or what is known as "Period 0" to some students) in favor of attending their classes with no breaks at all. Callous, true, but this way they would have four periods to themselves, free to do whatever they want under the guise of club activities. But of course, this meant getting up at four in the morning everyday and staying hours after for those who had "Afterschool Activities" or chose to stay after school to visit their club. To put it simply, it was a hassle for Harry to convert to this outrageous schedule. That was why each host alternated, so one lucky student got to go behind the scenes and finish half of his assignments for the allotted hour while the remaining hosts served the ladies (and a few men). This way, each host would have less homework to finish at home and more time to study for upcoming exams.
All the hosts were gathered around the Hitachin table, each drawing up a chair to sit on. The roundtable—manufactured from solid oak and black trimming embellishing the rounded edges—was immense, wide enough for the seven men and a throng of girls to gather round without invading anyone's personal space. No one bothered to turn back on the lights and because of the twins' whining, the radio was left alone. Chelsea Dagger by the Fratellis was now being played, but no one paid attention to the lyrics being sung by the singer's coarse lilt.
Kaoru cast a disapproving frown at his brother. "Hikaru, don't say it like that!"
"What, it's true!"
"You do know there are girls here, right?" Harry deadpanned, pointing to some of the upset girls that chose to remain in the room. "Sorry guys. What I think that buffoon meant to say was how many clients I have so far. Now, to answer your stupid question, I think it's somewhere in the twenties if you exclude a certain some."
The president of the club tsked, drumming his fingers on the countertop of the roundtable. "You still have ways to go, even if you got your debt reduced by a third, Harry."
"Now, whose bright idea was this in the first place? You do know there are only like… what, about four-thousand, three-hundred fifty-four students with barley a third being female?"
"Yeah, so getting four hundred girls should be a cinch!"
"You friggin' crazy? You'd have to be graced by God and be a total bona fide player just to be able to score that much!"
The blonde snorted, waving his hand through the air frivolously. "Easy, I could do that in my sleep!"
"…So you weren't serious about Haruhi, huh?"
Tamaki gave a brusque jolt, leaping back from his seat and spluttering piteously. "W-what? No, I… Haruhi!" he wailed, clutching at his hair. He sniffed loudly, reaching out to grab the cynical freshman by the shoulders. "Son, forgive your Daddy! Daddy has cheated on your Mother!"
"If you cheated on her… then why are you telling me this?"
Snickers panned out as the sophomore discharged a distraught gasp, almost instantaneously reverting back to his habit of corner hopping. This time, long ago prepared and ready to go, he had grabbed a cardboard cutout of dark, roiling clouds colored in with markers from a nearby desk, and taped it to the wall adjacent to his corner to add to his picture of melancholy. The girls clucked their tongues, apathetic at the scene. Really, his dramatics were becoming a daily occurrence—an annoyance, really coming from the opinions of those who could care less of the frivolous sap. Those that did considered this side of Tamaki charming and delightfully brooding.
"Err, I didn't mean it that way. I mean, it's good to get it off your chest-oh, why the hell are you giving me 'the look' now? …Seriously, quit it. Hey, at least I'm not the one who admitted to two-timing."
The blonde gave a pitiful, crestfallen look before he turned his head away, facing the wall and muttering to himself.
Hikaru grinned after a short period of laughing his ass off, wiping a tear from the corner of his golden-hazel eyes. Patting his fellow freshman on the back in good nature, he drew closer and slung an arm over the other's shoulder, disregarding the verdant irises eyeing him guardedly. Suggestively wiggling the two of his maroon eyebrows, he spoke, "So after the affair broke out, what happened to your lover boy?"
"My… what?" Harry asked, flustered and taken completely aback. What the heck are you on now?
"I think our wittle student council pres has a crush on you," he replied in a sickly sweet sing-song voice that made Harry's blood run cold.
Kaoru quipped, "The same could be said of Riddle. Why kid, I never knew you were such a player!"
"What the heck, man?" He sent a disgusted look at the two, scoffing and flipping them the bird. "You know very well I don't swing that way. Not that I give a damn about seeing two men kiss and hug, I'd just prefer if it wasn't me. Plus, what happened between Kyoya and I was an accident. I repeat, an accident! And yeah, Tom hits on me but he's just teasing."
Tom shot him an incredulous look that went unheeded by the freshman.
"…And you're an idiot," the twins said bluntly, staring at their scholarship student in disbelief.
"Geez, what's with the sudden inquiry? It's not like we're gay that way for each other unlike you two."
Tamaki took it upon himself to swoop in, driving the redhead back and slinging an arm around the freshman's shoulders. Harry found himself staring at the offending limb, disconcerted on how quickly the Host Club president sprung back from his doom and gloom. Furthermore, everyone seemed keen on throwing their arms around his shoulders and he was getting peeved."The first step is always denial. Don't worry, Harry. Everyone here is open to all sorts of scandalous relationships usually frowned upon in today's society. Why, just take a look at these two!" He motioned to the two redheads steadily gazing back at him in renewed interest, smiling as they shook their fist threateningly. "It's both homosexual and incest!"
"Honestly, Suoh, have you gone mental?"
Again went the king and his corner. Harry heaved a perturbed sigh, ramming his hands into the pockets of his tight leather trousers. "Okay, now that was a bit harsh. I didn't mean it that way, King."
Tamaki paused in his sniveling, gradually turning his head back to face the suddenly self-conscious teen. Eyes red and watery, he mumbled, "What… did… you… just… call… me?"
The freshman pulled a face, grimacing as he slipped a hand under his high-raised collar to rub the back of his neck. The look that the blonde was directing in his way creeped him out, sending shivers down his spine. Piqued at the seemingly harmless query, he hesitantly responded, "Err, wasn't that what you told me to call you by? If it disturbs you, I'll stop-"
"KIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNG," Tamaki all but sang gleefully, thrilled at being called such a title willingly. Gaily, he waltzed around the music room, singing the word like a broken-record. "King, Kiiing, Kiinnnng, Kiiinnnnng."
Harry arched a high brow, his lips quirked in a suspended laugh. "And I see you're happy by my calling you 'King'."
"KIIIIINNNNG!"
"But I think we get it already. You can quit it now."
"Potter, leave the idiot to himself," Tom pressed, poking the younger man in the arm. He winced as their blonde shrilled at the top of his lungs, sending the ladies jumping. "Whatever makes him happy makes his clients happy thereby making me happy. You have admit it's kind of funny seeing him act this way."
"I guess so. I just wish he'd stop warbling because he's going to burst my eardrums."
Hunny tapped his chin thoughtfully, happily snuggling back into Mori's lap. "Are we gonna videotape this and post it on our blog?"
Their interest perking at the offered insinuation, the two redheads turned to face each other and shared increasing grins in return. They were excited to begin Operation Playtime, their favorite entertainment to pursue in throes of monotony. Exchanging mischievous amber gazes, the two abruptly stood up, their chairs scooted back and screeching in wooden protest. Hikaru beamed, "Hey, Kaoru?"
"Right. I'll go get the camcorder."
"As you can see, our school has gone through recent renovation. Each and every one of the designers put in an effort to give Ouran a unique appeal not found anywhere else but here." Kyouya said, gesturing at the structured pillars decorating the halls.
"Everything's so… pink," Myrtle said slowly, glancing at the all-around interior of the north corridor. "I mean, this even gives Lobelia taste as compared to this."
"Not a fan of the particular shade, I see," he noted, smiling slightly. "And might I inquire why you harbor such… displeasure?"
Myrtle huffed, "It's just… ugh, pink. Back at the young mistress's school, there wasn't a pink in sight! Besides, you'll never catch me in pink! Did you know what people used to call me behind my back when I first wore that color? Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! Miserable, moaning, moping Myrtle!"
"I see," he said unsympathetically, not at all seeing and instead focusing on the silent blonde by her side. "Forgive me for intruding, but why is it that I found two Lobelia students roaming our school grounds? From what I gather, St. Lobelia is far from Ouran High—at least, an hour drive. Shouldn't you be attending your sixth period?"
"We're new so we don't have classes yet. So Rin offered to show us around before she dropped us off, but she had to ditch and settle down the crowd. If she didn't, we would have to face a mob of angry lesbians ready to lynch us when we came back. By the way, what's up with these yellow armbands?"
"A school regulation, I'm afraid. All visitors who aren't our students have to wear the armbands around campus."
"Pft," Myrtle simply said, tugging on a limp ponytail. "Well, at least it ain't pink. Hey, in the courtyard, who was the carrot-top hanging off your arm? She your girlfriend?"
Aghast, he gave an indignant squeak at her presumptuous theory as he came to a grinding halt, causing the two to bump into his back. "I assure you, she… is… NOT… my… girlfriend. Our relationship is strictly professional!"
"Right… and I'm secretly voice-dubbing Hikari Hanazono from Special A—which I'm not! If she's not your girlfriend, then who is? Come on, you're like a real-life megane bishonen! Who wouldn't want to date you? If you grew out your hair, I bet you would look like a total Shoei Jinnai!"
The acting Student Council President raised an eyebrow, giving her the impression of being more than slightly intrigued. "Desire Climax?"
"Oh… heh. Yeah, smut. Wait, why do you even know it's from…. Don't tell me, you secretly read smutty manga in your free time! Eh, why you perverted sonofa-"
"-I only happened to come upon the manga since Renge was reading it instead of doing her duties as our historian. It was only fair that I take possession of said distraction before it further hindered her from doing her job."
"Sure, sure," she said skeptically yet proud that she unearthed a dirty secret from the bishonen in front of her. "If it makes you happy to think so, then by all means say it was in just confiscation."
"I believe you earlier expressed your wish to see the Host Club?" he hastily changed the topic, ignoring the way her lips curved up wickedly upon his dodge.
"Well, our student guide said we should scope out the place before committing ourselves to four years of not being able to see the opposite sex. She also said there were six handsome students who could charm the ice off a glacier."
"Seven," he corrected. "They have just recently sought out another."
"Cool. Now, going back to our earlier topic, why don't you have a girlfriend? You're hot, look physically fit, not at all anti-social, interesting, and you definitely have the smarts. In short, you're perfect! You can't be telling me you're single!"
He ducked his head, smiling nervously. Well, at least we're not talking about the questionable confiscation now. "Why, yes. That's what I'm situating. As you know, the life of a high school student is rather hectic and therefore, I cannot waste anytime on such frivolous matters. My significant other should be someone I can trust with my life, but I can only commence the search when my education is done and out of the way. I plan on dating though when I get into graduate or postgraduate school."
"In short, you're a romantic," Myrtle concluded, sidling up to his side. "Aww, that's so sweet. I like that in a man."
"...I'm glad you find me so," he said reservedly, eyeing her current proximity but choosing instead of speaking out in favor of ignoring her sudden clinginess—nevermind that it was the same arm his historian had clung to before their encounter at the courtyards. "Like I mentioned before, dating is out of the option until I can find a better time for such activities. I wouldn't want to receive less than a satisfactory relationship and in the end, learning the years of courting had been all for naught."
"You seem to 'ave a fixed mind on who you would want to marry," Fleur brought up, the first conversation she had in awhile upon arrival at the Ouran gates. "Surely you must 'ave someone, anyone, in mind?"
He gave a start at the French lilt that came with her unexpected pique. It took him awhile for his mind to comprehend and shift through the heavily-accented Japanese. "No… not particularly, no. Of all the females I've encountered so far, I find most of high maintenance and an effort to make light conversation with on a far more personal level."
"So you have dated," Myrtle pressed, poking a finger at his chest. She batted her lashes in what she considered flirtatiously, toying with the third button on his royal blue blazer, and it took all his willpower not to recoil at her actions.
"No, I'd simply stated I haven't met my ideal candidate. I had not once been on a date ever since my father arranged an engagement between me and the daughter of an associate."
"So who's your dream girl?"
"Let's save that topic for another time, shall we?" he said, coming close to gritting his teeth. Since when did their conversation turn to him? "We've reached our desired destination."
"Ooh, goodie. Although I bet they wouldn't look half as good as you-"
He calmly interjected, "You might be surprised." Though it killed his pride to admit so, he was all but willing to admit to his insufficiencies if it meant getting the girl off his back and out of his love life. Honestly though, Renge was bad enough but two otakus?
Placing a hand on a gilded door handle, he was about to give a pull when something—he was faintly reminded of an outrageous maniac he knew all too well stirring and prodding the apex of his mind—gave a shout, causing him to wrench his hand away from the knob.
What the-?
"…iiinnnnng."
Shit. "Ladies, right now is probably not a good time for a visit."
"What?" Myrtle squawked. "You mean we walked an hour walk for nothing?"
"I'm afraid so," he replied, glancing back worriedly at the door of the music room. He started ushering the two visitors away from the twin doors, sweating bullets at the exposure they might face within the vicinity of the obvious state of affairs. "Perhaps I can direct you to our other club activities? I'm sure they're just as interesting as-"
"-Heck no. I'm not leaving without getting a glimpse at the so called Host Club." Myrtle scowled, yanking her hand away from the sophomore's desperate grasp. "You're being irrational. What's the harm of getting a little peek? It's like they're-?"
"-KIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNG," cried a sonorous voice, deep and cheerfully low, cutting her off from her speech. The three standing outside jumped at the deafening volume, two in fright and one in alarm.
Twin voices cackled, "That's it, milord. You're the king!"
A distinctively younger-sounding boy admonished, "Tama-chan, you're being too loud!"
"No, leave him be. This is the happiest I've ever seen him." Came a tired baritone, and Kyouya could just picture his brother pinching at his temples in aggravated exhaustion.
"You heard the man," a rich, yet appealingly youthful tenor chuckled, and Kyouya's cheeks instantly inflamed upon remembrance of certain events. "Besides, it's not like we're going to get any visitors. It's sixth period, not Leisure Period, and normally the club is empty around this time."
Karma, Harry, Kyouya silently groused, mentally wishing for someone to put him out of his misery. Karma.
"What… is zat?" Fleur inquired, standing on her toes to peep over the president's shoulder and stare curiously at the closed doors. "Do not 'ell me zat-"
"Like I said, you've caught them at a bad time," he repeated, gently nudging her down. "Their decorum is usually more thought-out and well-mannered… not the raucous bunch you're hearing now."
"King?"
"About that, I do not know and nor do I wish to find out."
Myrtle cast a skeptical eye at the source of all the madness. "You know, they don't sound half bad. They sound handsome, even!"
The young heiress shot her maid a dubious glance.
"Call it a woman's intuition!"
Kyouya offered warily, "Are you sure you do not wish to view other… clubs?"
"Yeah, I mean, it's not like they're having an orgy or whatever, right?"
Oh dear god on an English muffin, I hope not.
Tom paused suddenly, halting in his repetitive movements of massaging his temples. Frowning slightly, he craned his neck and strained his ears to capture what had acquired his attention in the first place. "Guys," he started softly, "I think we have company. And despite the song and the king's bloody awful singing, my hearing's just fine. I think we have surprise guests."
"You can hear people walking over all that racket?" Harry asked, skeptical at the sophomore's sharp audible range. No one, not even himself, had picked up anything besides the usual singing and declarations from their blonde. "And in sixth period?"
"It's not completely unheard of. There are some students who have Electives at this time, or just plain chose to skip class."
"Oh geez, you guys never catch a break, do you?"
"Welcome to the life of a host," he stated flatly, holding out his hands in a mocking gesture of a bow.
"Well, quite frankly, it sucks like no tomorrow. Can I resign?"
Hunny pouted, swiping Harry's head with his stuffed bunny. The freshman yelped, rubbing at his injured head and playfully sending a half-hearted glare at the junior. "No, Hatter can't quit. PLus, you made a commitment to the team and you still have a debt to pay off."
The blonde continued singing—his voice wasn't at all that bad if you were into sensual tenors—twirling about the room and waving his arms in a complex set of ballerina moves. "KIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNG!"
"Okay, so how are we going to snap him out of his 'King' funk?" Harry questioned, glancing apprehensively at the doors. "Someone might come and it's not like it's going to stop anytime soon." That and it's getting annoying listening to him scream 'King' after a few minutes. It's more exasperating than when he went all dramatic emo on us.
"Just leave him be," Hunny chirped, grinning innocently. "Tama-chan's acting like an idiot and anyways, everyone's used to it, so it doesn't matter what he does anymore. So everyone, hup hup! Come on, get into your positions."
Patting his hand through the air as a signal to hold up, Kaoru muttered, "Wait, wait. We're not done yet."
"We're getting to the best part," said Hikaru. "He's just about to beat his record."
"Are you sure I cannot show you ladies around our other social establishments? I'm sure you'd be equally as interested as-"
"-You tried that approach a long time ago. Now, scat! You're blocking the door."
"It's true. I'm just as curious as to what ze self-proclaimed 'ost Club is like."
Kyouya growled low in his throat, standing in front of the closed doors with a dogged glower. He argued, "There's nothing to be seen here. If you want to look at the hosts, come at a later date when they're not being social retards."
"It sounds like they're having fun," Myrtle insisted, shoving Kyoya away successfully. With Fleur hovering over her shoulder, she grabbed hold of the doorknob, disregarding his further protests. Practically bouncing on her feet from the excitement, she flung the double doors open and with a start, stopped dead in her tracks, abruptly meeting seven deer-caught-in-the-headlights gazes blinking upon her impromptu arrival. The three visitors stood smack-dab still at the threshold of oblivion, feeling as if they had stepped into an alternate dimension. Not to mention the fact the room gave off creepy, notorious nightclub vibes with the dimmed lighting and all. And it also didn't help that the seven hosts were all wearing ensemble that faintly reminded the three of rebellious punks.
Uncomfortable silence blanketed the immobile students and in an upside-down world, crickets could be heard chirping. However, being the Host Club, silence was not a golden rule. Chelsea Dagger by the Fratellis was still being blasted through the microscopic speakers, and the lights were dimmed—the pink and blue spotlights the only illumination in the room.
It was just that awkward.
Especially with the subtle smell of something that reminded them of the saying of sex on toast, a breath of fresh air, melon, citrus, vanilla, baby powder, and tobacco.
"…OH MY GODESSS! IT'S AN UPSCALE, UNDERGROUND PROSTITUTION RING!" Myrtle screeched, unable to bear with the not-so-silence anymore. Her pitch rising to new heights, she jabbed a finger at their direction before dropping swiftly in a dead faint.
A/N- Note, my French is rusty. If you happen to spot any mistakes, do point it out. Also, sorry for the thick accents but it is kinda necessary. This system should help you out: almost all the "h" plosives are gone and any word starting with a "t" should be replaced with a "z". I apologize for the many Fleur scenes. Sadly enough, this is the same situation I find myself in currently albeit less dramatic. -sniffs and joins Fleur in Tamaki's corner- Why did I have to go to (insert a fancy-smancy academy name here)? WHY?! Oh, and I really dislike Benio and her troupe (they're okay, but not particularly on my favorites), but I'm trying to tone her down a bit while keeping her in character. Something just seems plastic about the Lobelia trio.
I did not know what a "megane" was until I looked it up. It pretty much means a glasses-wearing hottie. –stares- And Kyoya does look like a potential Shoei Jinnai! I swear, he totally does!
I had toyed with the idea of who should replace Renge in the story. At first, I thought of Bellatrix, making the other hosts masquerade as lesser beings compared to her beloved lord. But then, I found out that got old too quickly so it was no go. –sighs- At least this way, I get to kill two birds with one stone. …You know, the lilies and the otaku scene? Myrtle makes a good otaku, hmm? Now, allow me to explain the brief mention of Renge. Considering this is AU and Haruhi is in her second year, I'd assumed Renge would've met Haruhi in her first year and regarded the latter as competition. And since Renge is a hardcore otaku, she would've flown to Ouran anyways to meet her prince even if Haruhi wasn't a host. I think her role is somewhat set, something that will never change even with the law of affairs bent out of proportion because of Harry's appearance.
The picture of what the seven hosts are wearing will be posted up next chapter, but it should be pretty easy to imagine with what I've given you so far. Also, this is a bit of an info-slash-fashion-overload chapter as well. I genuinely thought I died researching all those clothing, so you guys better like it! Honestly, man... looking up all those materials was torture. Though... any hardcore fashionistas are welcome to poke holes in my flawed depictions.
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Cast List (Japanese highschools have students stay another year after eighth-grade so if you base it from US highschools, while sophomores are generally 15/ 16 years old, Japanese kids are 17 years old unless they skip classes and whatnot):
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16. Fleur Isabelle Delacour- Second-year at Beauxbatons and forcibly transferred to Lobelia, sophomore, 16 years old
16. Gabrielle Delacour- Grade school, 10 years old
16. Monsieur Delacour- Head of the Delacours and the fashion industry for women's wear, 54 years old
16. Apolline Delacour- Wife and loving mother, model, 56 years old
16. William "Bill" Arthur Weasley- Archeologist and part-time teacher substitute at Beauxbatons, in Egypt, 23 years old (MD was overexaggerating about Bill's age)
16. Hermione Jean Ganger- Known child actress/ starling starring as "Emma Puckle" in Hogwarts: the Movie, reputed to be the youngest designer in the fashion industry (more like an aide that somehow got her amateur collection praised and sold), Senior, 18 years old
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Review? –grins-
