Happy late Valentines Day~!
As usual, I am going to start off with a long apology. Seriously, it's been almost two months and nothing from me! I'm bad, I know. But, in my defense, there was midterms and the Olympics and a lot of snow days and yeah...(and I might have been distracted by starting a frozen AU fic...)
Any ways, a lot of people are asking about A Clockwork Spade and I am willing to put up a summary of the end if you all want it. It is a complicated ending, much like the story, but I have no plans to finish the story entirely.
I don't have a lot to say about this chapter other than it's really just the introduction of Francis and a little plot advancement...Enjoy~!
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or Harry Potter.
Warnings: Some language.
"Is he really a muggle?"
"Oh, yeah, I heard about that yesterday."
"A muggle?"
"Who?"
"Arthur Kirkland, who else?"
As if on cue, Arthur shuffled into the defense against the dark arts classroom, his books locked securely around his arms. He was always a studious child growing up and diligently translated his muggle habits into the magical world by practicing with Gilbert every day. Progressively, more students began to accept him since he arrived and even went as far as to invite him to lunch or study sessions. He was even invited to try-out for some Slytherin broomstick-football sport he had absolutely no interest in partaking in. But nonetheless, there was progress.
Despite all of this improvement, Arthur was turning out to absolutely despise this class and the academy itself - no, it was certainly not the class load or the adjustment to magical life; rather it was the rest of the student body. Or rather, the Gryffindors.
As he walked to his desk, Arthur watched as the students were clustered in corners according to house, their hushed voices obviously calculating his movements. A few girls from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff went as far as to glare at him and one even stuck out her foot in hopes Arthur would trip over it. He knew they were targeting him - they were still adolescents, even if they were wizards - and he tried not to let it bother him. He'd been bullied plenty of times before so this shouldn't be any different.
Arthur rolled his eyes at the students, choosing not to incite their petty interests with his vicious scowls because he knew full and well that never worked particularly well. Rumors were always lies anyways and he had no reason to overhear such awful words. Instead, he focused his attention to his book and sifted through his novel with long digits until he found his bookmark. He was fully prepared to finish off the entire chapter before class began until a figure approached his desk from the front.
"Arthur, is that really you?"
Arthur scowled bitterly at the voice. He could pick out that insufferable accent from a crowd, but never expected to hear it at Hogwarts, of all places.
"Oh please, don't try to act like you're pleased to see me," Arthur chased, his eyes never leaving the small font in his book. He was much more interested in his fairytale book than catching up with a familiar face. Even after five years, Arthur could still remember everything about Francis: soft features, the pretentious way he held himself and his aura that couldn't be described as anything other than overall absolutely French. No, he didn't hate the French as many would believe, he just despised Francis Bonnefoy.
"Cold as always, I see. Although what else should I expect? You've always been so rude to me," Francis said pretending to be hurt by Arthur's words. He went as far as to take out a cream handkerchief – with an obvious cursive B printed on the front - from his breast pocket and dabbed at imaginary tears. Arthur only rolled his eyes at this overdramatic act he always put on.
"Don't try to act like a victim, Francis; it doesn't suit you," Arthur scolded. "If I recall correctly, it was you who would always taunt me about my eyebrows-"
"Oh please have you even looked in a mirror or did they all break-"
"And tricked me to wear female clothes and grow my hair long."
"That was no trick; I sincerely thought you were a female, an ugly one at that."
Arthur shrugged and pretended not to be hurt by Francis' awful words; it would only feed into the ever growing fire. Although, maybe it was his odd, childhood admiration to Francis that made him feel just slightly offended on the inside, but he'd never let Francis know that.
"I did just insult you," Francis commented, his hands at his hips. "I do miss when you would bicker at me for hours."
"Aren't we older than that?"
"Could you at least seem a bit interested and get your head out of that book? That is what a gentleman would do," Francis began, a smirk so evident in his tone of voice. Arthur pouted stubbornly knowing Francis had won their petty fight; curse his compulsion to be a gentleman.
Admitting defeat, Arthur glanced through his eyelashes at Francis. The memory of the child that had always taunted Arthur or convinced him to wear dresses had matured rather nicely, much to Arthur's dismay. His youthful flaxen curls had darkened into the color of honey butter and caressed his heart-shaped face effortlessly. His sun kissed skin now had blond stubble peppering his chin and tracing his high cheekbones. However, his childhood friend stretched taller than Arthur remembered - he was only a few centimeters taller the last time the two met yet he was now at least a head taller – and filled out with a muscular frame compared to Arthur's rather scrawny physique. Although now, Francis bore the crest of Ravenclaw - despite that Arthur thought his manipulation would fit much nicer in Slytherin – and wasn't a trusted ally.
"Happy?"
"Elated," Francis snorted sarcastically with distaste evident in his voice. He always wanted to be the center of attention, as Arthur remembered, and would often steal toys or books to do so. "What's taking your attention anyways? A muggle book on magic?" Francis effortlessly lifted the book from Arthur's hands and, much to Arthur's dismay, by the corner.
"Hey give that back! It's not yours!" Arthur reached for the book rather childishly but was thwarted by Francis flailing the book around. After a few more fruitless attempts, Arthur pouted in his chair, crossing his arms irritably, as if to acknowledge defeat and Francis turned the book this and that quite uninterested.
"Oh don't get your eyebrows in a knot," Francis remarked and examined the title. "Through the Looking Glass? Is that a beginner's spell book?" He turned the book around one more time, a tad disinterested. "It's a bit small to be a spell book, though. Of course, I never needed a spell book seeing that I'm so advanced for my age. It's a shame everyone can't be as talented as myself. What a world that would be!"
"No it's not a spell book," Arthur scowled at his pompous behavior. "It's just a novel. Even someone as uncultured as you has read a novel, even if it was nothing more than pop-lit rubbish." Francis arched an eyebrow.
"And what do you know about culture?"
"Plenty!" Arthur defended. "I, for one thing, at least know what a novel is."
"Oh please," Francis laughed at the notion. He erected himself into an upright position glancing down at Arthur condescendingly and clicking his tongue.
"What's so bad about me reading a novel? Shouldn't that be normal?" Arthur asked. The Ravenclaw student stopped his laughter.
"No, no, I just mean…it's so…you," Francis mustered. "I'm just surprised you're not knitting sweaters or drinking tea like you usually did." Arthur narrowed his eyes.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh nothing." Francis tossed the book onto the desk landing it on its pages as Arthur scattered to mend the book of its broken spine. He held the book between his arms and glared at the Ravenclaw student.
"Well if you're not going to respect such classic literature-"
"Arthur, I'm looking out for you," Francis said, his expression softening. Arthur raised an eyebrow at his expression possibly deciding whether it was real or one of Francis' ridiculous overdramatic bouts.
"Looking out for me? Oh please-"
"I'm serious Arthur." He leaned in close to Arthur, whispering words into his ear. "People are beginning to say things."
"I don't exactly care. They're always saying things about me. I'm not some vain girl like you," Arthur spat.
"You better watch your tongue," Francis warned darkly. "I am a prefect."
"That doesn't give you any right to take my things!" Arthur picked up his book and flattened out the pages so the spine would not be ruined. "Why are you here anyways? Did you follow me?"
"No, I'm in this class as well, if you haven't noticed," Francis retorted. Arthur rolled his eyes at Francis' comment.
"I meant in Hogwarts."
"I am a wizard, unless your memory is fading, and sadly France only has an all-female school and, as lovely as it would be to be amongst such lovely young ladies, I could not attend. And I absolutely refuse to go to an Eastern European school so Hogwarts was my only option, even if Britain is one of the worst nations in the world."
"It's in Scotland, not Britain. You should be lucky Seamus didn't hear you."
"Scotland, England, Britain; same thing if you ask me."
"Shocker."
"You hurt me," Francis sighed with a faked hurt expression. "You know I could write you up for that, but I won't because I am just so very nice."
"You're a saint," Arthur retorted sarcastically with one roll of his eyes.
"Finally you realize!"
"If you're just here to make small talk, I'd appreciate if you left." Arthur turned back to his page hoping to return to the magical – and not in a Hogwarts type of magic rather more of a fairytale, childlike magic – world of Wonderland. And he was at his favorite part as well: the Lion and the Unicorn were just about to fight for the White King's crown. He absolutely loved Lewis Carroll and could read this particular novel plenty of times. For Arthur, at least in Wonderland, he was safe.
"Can't I catch up with an old friend?" Francis asked, obviously not reacting to Arthur's not-so-subtle hints to leave him be for once.
"Just because our mothers' are friends does not make us friends! We were nothing more than forced playmates when they wanted their wine! What do you really want?"
Francis paused and looked down at his shoes, a bit alarmed and possibly hurt at Arthur's outburst.
"How's your book?" the Ravenclaw student managed to ask.
"Bonnefoy," Arthur threatened darkly.
"How's your boy toy Alfred?"
"Francis, really," Arthur groaned inwardly. Francis smiled happily as if he won some sort of petty game.
"So you are dating him!"
"You really are daft."
"You aren't denying it!"
"I'm not dating that American," Arthur said, drawing out the last word for emphasis. "He is absolutely insufferable and refuses to leave me alone, like some sort of lost puppy. Although, he isn't the one annoying me right now. Now can you please tell me why you're really here?"
"Fine, fine, I want to know if you're really a muggle," Francis blurted. "You'll tell an old friend, right? I swear I won't tell headmaster! Are you with the British gov-"
"Muggle? What?"
"I heard it from Mattie who said Alfred told him. So...you'll tell the fat American but not me?"
"Tell him what?"
"That you're a human."
"What does that even mean? Of course I'm human, aren't we all?" Francis rolled his glossy eyes.
"That you have no wizarding powers, that's why you were in Slytherin and not Gryffindor! Somehow you've tricked the sorting hat and Headmaster, but I'm onto you. You're pretending to be a wizard and for your evil acts you were banished to Slytherin. Tell me I've got it right! There's a reason I'm a Ravenclaw! I'm always right."
"What nonsense are you spurting? You know I can't understand your insufferable French accent."
"You really don't get it, do you?" Francis tossed back his head in a dark laugh. "You don't belong here."
Arthur gritted his teeth at Francis' words, never once imagining Francis, of all people, would say such nasty words when he knew full and well about his situation. They were once friends, – even if their friendship wasn't essentially real - for Merlin's sake! He clenched his fists around the short wand in his pocket until his knuckles turned a ghostly white with all intentions on exposing that filthy traitor into the slimy reptile he really was. However, his intentions instantly changed when he spotted that American stroll into the room, whistling some jaunty tune innocently.
"I'll show you who's a muggle," Arthur muttered under his breath and pointed the tip of his wand at Alfred. He had never actually performed a spell before – that is one, which went without any blowing anything up – and was pleasantly surprised when a yellow glow emitted from the tip, sending him stumbling backwards from the recoil. Before Alfred could counteract the spell or even reach for his wand, the haze swarmed around him, much to the dismay of the other students. When the miasma lifted, Alfred's Gryffindor robes were flattened on the floor and the young prefect was replaced with a squealing pig.
"Mr. Jones! Mr. Kirkland!" Professor Brangski exclaimed quite appalled at his students. Of course he just had to come into his classroom now. "You know transfigurations are prohibited on campus! You could have killed him!"
"But…I…" Arthur stuttered.
"To Headmaster Wang's office; both of you!"
To Be Continued...
A/N: I'm sorry about the cheap ending but I am planning to change the story so I must end it here.
Gosh, I just love Francis' character! Urg I just love Francis! And for some reason, I'm starting to adore Ivan as well! But not really together...sorry FrancexRussia (what's the pairing called?) fans.
There will definitely be more Ivan and Francis and definitely Matthew in this than before and maybe a little less Yao...
So in this version, Francis is Arthur's childhood frenemy rather than just a random Ravenclaw. And yes, he's a pretentious prefect douchebag but he's a lovable pretentious prefect douchebag!
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Au revior~
-SecondStarr