| Grace |

"Anything from the trolley dears?" the old lady asked, peering into the compartment.

The two girls were sprawled out on their respective seats, totally invested in their books. They had the compartment to themselves, mostly because whenever someone came to the door, Rose made it very clear she did not want anyone bothering them. She had an exceptionally intense glare that could be turned on like a switch, as Grace definitely knew; she was almost always on the receiving end.

"It's too intense, you go," Rose waved Grace on, too fixated on her book to even look up. Grace stared a hole into the side of Rose's head until she finally spared a glance. "What?" she asked, irritated.

Grace rolled her eyes. "Fine, but I'll need some money."

"Use your own money."

"Um, our parents gave you the money."

"Oh –right. It's uh, it's in my bag," she said distractedly.

"Where in your bag?"

Rose sighed in exasperation. "I don't know! Just look in my bag, my book is too good right now for me to be talking."

"Ok, holy shit, calm down." Grace rummaged in the bag until she found a small pouch with a bunch of weird coins inside. She quickly walked the few steps out into the hallway and closed the compartment door, apologizing to the old lady for the wait.

"Uh, do you have anything chocolatey in there?" Grace asked. She was not yet familiar with the U.K. delicacies, and everything on the trolley looked foreign but pretty good.

"Well, we have chocolate frogs and cauldron cakes if you're looking for something sweet," the food trolley lady said.

"What are those?" she asked, pointing to a bag filled with long, multi-coloured gummies.

"Those," came a deep voice from behind Grace, "are jelly slugs." A tan hand came over her right shoulder, almost grazing her arm as it picked up a packet. She shivered at the unexpected proximity and quickly spun around.

The person attached to the hand was beautiful.

Well, his chest was.

But as she craned her neck and looked up, she realized the rest of him was beautiful too. He was dark-skinned, had deep brown eyes that bore into hers and a strong jawline. All features she admired. Plus he was tall (or she was just short). That was most definitely a bonus.

Grace could feel heat on her cheeks, which was weird. Her cheeks never heated up. Don't cheeks only get warm when –?

She glanced quickly at her reflection in the window of the compartment and wanted to die.

She was blushing.

Grace Taylor was a red- cheeked, blushing bimbo.

Grace Taylor never blushed.

The two stared at each other. Only for a few seconds, but Grace had never felt like this before around an attractive boy. By now she would have made some cute, flirty comment and made sure he knew she was interested. Instead all she wanted to do was get away. Get away from this beautiful boy that was making her stomach roll with just a look. The fuck was this shit.

"Is that all you want dear?" the trolley lady asked the boy, kick-starting Grace's mind. She took a huge step to the side, and pretended to browse the selection.

"And some of these please," he said, plucking a package of what looked like red licorice. She followed his hand with her eyes, watching him pull out some of those weird coins and handing them to the lady. Grace made the mistake of looking too long and once again met his gaze. This time though, he smiled.

It was big and toothy and really quite endearing. She wanted to smile back coyly, perhaps add one of her famous lip bites and hair playing, but all that came out was a small, shy smile, one that was fit for Rose.

"Those are licorice wands, in case you wanted to know," he said.

"Oh," was all Grace could make out. She cleared her throat and tried again. "I might get some of those for my sister, she really likes regular licorice, so I suppose she'll like these too." She picked up a packet of those, along with some Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans that she heard were good and the two chocolate treats.

"Are you sure you want to get those?" he asked, nodding his head to the Bertie Bott's package. "You seem to be new at this, and when they say every flavour, they mean every flavour." He didn't say it in any mean way. In fact, he said it with a soft concern that made Grace feel even weirder.

"I think I'll take my chances. Thanks though." She smirked at him and bit her lip. She may not feel like herself, but she would never let this guy know that. Fake it until you make it.

"That'll be four sickles and three knuts, dear," the lady said kindly.

Grace looked blankly at her. Then down to the pouch with the money. Then back to the lady. She really wished she had paid attention to when her dad had explained the coins to them.

"Uh, are the sickles the gold guys? Or wait, I think they're these small things. And the knuts might be –" The boy put his hand over her frantically searching one. The touch alone made her already pounding heart go into triple time, and she looked up at him to see a small, amused smile on his really nice lips.

"It's alright love, I've got this one." He pulled some coins from his pocket and gave them to the lady (turns out the sickles are silver and the knuts are small and bronze) (so then what are the gold ones?).

"Sorry, I don't quite have the currency down yet," Grace admitted sheepishly, turning to face the pouch in her hand instead of him. "Here –" she rummaged in it until she found the amount of each coin he had spent and tried to give it to him. He shook his head and took a step out of reach of her outstretched hand.

"No, it's ok. I told you, it's on me," he winked, and Grace thought her face might explode from warmth because holy shit that was hot.

"Oh, ok. Well, uh, thank you...?"

The compartment door a couple down from hers opened and a boy with sandy hair poked his head out. "Dean! C'mon lad, we're about to start up another game and you're supposed to be on me team."

The boy –Dean –didn't stop staring Grace in the eye as he walked backwards toward his friends. "It's really no problem. I guess I'll see you around."

And then he was gone.

Grace kept staring at the closed door he just went through, face red and heart still pounding.

That was weird. That was really weird.

"I guess you found something sweet after all," the lady said innocently, continuing down the corridor.

Grace was noticeably distressed when she came back into the compartment. Not that Rose paid her any attention; she was still way too immersed in her book to note how shaky her sister was.

Grace collapsed onto her seat and leaned her head against the window. The cool glass helped to reduce the red that lingered on her cheeks from her less than average (for her, at any rate) interaction. She watched the scenery outside –or tried to at least. With the speed of the train, all the greens of the trees blurred with the blue of the sky and created a never ending line of colour. She thought of how fast the train must be going to get to Scotland by early evening. Magic must help with that case. If only magic could help get rid of the blush that was still on her face.

It was the banging that finally caused Rose to look up.

"Um, what exactly are you doing?"

"What the fuck does it look like."

"Well, starting the year off with a concussion isn't exactly one of your best ideas."

"Well, being awkward in front of such a cute guy wasn't a good way to start the year anyway!" Grace's voice got louder with each bang of her head on the window. The glass was rattling even more now with the sway of the train and the added pressure of her hits.

Rose didn't know what was happening. Yes, Grace had always been dramatic, but this seemed to be a bit excessive. She opened her mouth to comment, but –

"Shut up! He's only a couple compartments down!"

"I didn't even say anything!"

"You didn't have to! Oh my god, how could I be so stupid? He was so cute and sweet and pretty and he paid for us, he paid for us and was all like "Oh no, it's on me" like who does that? Only perfect people and he is so obviously perfect!" Grace jumped up and paced the small space, running her hands through her hair in her obvious agitation only for them to get stuck.

"So what'd he buy us?" Rose asked, eyes following her sister back and forth across the compartment, fighting furiously with her hair.

She got the answer when it hit her head.

"Oh sweet, licorice!" Rose ripped open the packet and bit the top off.

"Now is not the time for sweets!"

Rose looked at her like she was an idiot. "It's always the time for sweets you dumbshit."

That was met with another item being thrown at Rose's head. Bertie Botts.

Grace sat back down in defeat, head in hands. She kept whispering to herself, but Rose could only make out the word "idiot".

"–I'm such an idiot, he's going to think I'm a loser, idiot, idiotic, fuck –"

"Oh c'mon, it couldn't have gone that badly. He –whoever he is –probably thinks you're cute and charming and he's totally in love with you just like every other guy you talk to. I think you may be overreacting a bit."

Rose picked up her book and began reading again, tearing into the licorice. Grace stared at her. How could she be relaxed at a time like this? Did she not understand the severity of the situation? What if Grace was losing her charm? What if she was so awkward around boys now that she ended up alone with ten cats, a goldfish and a pet turtle? What if –she couldn't even bear the thought, but it forged on anyway. What if she was turning into Rose?

Grace shuddered at the thought.

Not that there was anything wrong with her sister. There wasn't. Grace just liked actually socializing with people.

"You don't understand," Grace finally said.

Rose absentmindedly ate another bit of licorice and waved for her to continue.

Grace could hardly get the words out. "I –I," she gulped, and forced herself to say it. "I blushed." She said it as if it were the worst thing in the world. Which, to Grace, it was.

Rose froze. Slowly, she put down the book, and looked at her sister. Most people would laugh at the way Grace was handling the situation. "So she blushed, that's no big deal," they'd say. But when it came to Grace, it was possibly the biggest news since their dad told them they were moving.

See, Grace didn't blush. Ever.

She didn't get the nervous, stammering gene that Rose had. Grace was the strong, confident, I-don't-really-care-what-you-think person that hadn't blushed since they were five.

So ya, blushing may not be a major concern to normal people, but Grace was far from normal.

"You what?"

"Don't make me say it again!"

"But how did that even happen?"

"I don't know! One second I was looking at the candy, the next I was staring into these deep, beautiful brown eyes. But not like the dull, mud kind of brown. His were like melted dark chocolate, all liquid and hot and warming and delicious and – "

"Yes, ok, I get it. They were beautiful. Please continue."

Grace glared. "And I was so awkward. It was embarrassing. He must think me a complete idiot. I didn't even know a knut from a sickle!" She buried her face in her hands and groaned. "Also, which one is the gold one?"

"A galleon. There are seventeen sickles in a galleon and twenty-nine knuts in a sickle."

Grace stared at Rose. "Ok, well, whatever. We have more pressing matters. Like what the fuck is wrong with me."

Rose smirked a little. "It's obvious isn't it? You like him."

Grace was appalled. "Like him? I don't even know him! All I know is that his name is Dean, he looks like a god and is in a compartment a couple down from us with this sandy haired Irish kid. Plus, I don't do feelings."

Rose rolled her eyes. "Ya ok, whatever you say. Did you get anything chocolatey?"

Two more things hit her face.