A/N: Yaay! The plot has finally begun, and I have defeated writer's block once and for all! In other words, America is grounded for a week and I finally have personal space again. Papa is reading over my shoulder right now, so-

Papa: Honhonhon, is this a fanfiction account that I see?

Me: Er, no, papa, it's just-

Papa: And look, you're even writing about mon amour Arthur and me! Arthur! Come look at this, mon cher!

Me: ...

Well, I hope you like it! Gotta run, before Dad comes-

Chapter Five: The Impossible Assignment

The air was thick and cool, fog curling from the lake like the tentacles of the giant squid, stretching lazily as it awoke. September had snuck by on little cat feet, giving way to the soft chill of October breezes. Winter was on its way, but for now the trees in the forest were brilliant shades of red and yellow, and the air was content to give a mere nip at the nose before moving on, just to remind one of who was the boss.

Arthur smiled, breathing in the scent of damp leaves and fresh, clean mist from the heavy rain last night. He loved fall; especially in the mornings, when the sun was hidden behind a muting blanket of soft gray cloud. It was peaceful, he thought as he strode across the cushy grass to his first hour class. Care of Magical Creatures was always a good way to start off the day, even if he was tired... the past month had been plagued by an unexplainable insomnia for the usually heavy sleeper.

With a small sigh, Arthur wondered what sort of interesting creature their professor would have today, until suddenly he was slammed to the ground by something warm and uncomfortably reminiscent of another human body.

"Oh, merde!"

Francis.

Wait—Francis?

"What the bloody hell are you doing out here?" Arthur demanded loudly, struggling his way out from under the Frenchman's body enough to breathe again. They had landed in a heap of tangled limbs, and Francis shot him an unamused glare from where his torso was currently crushing Arthur's knee.

"I happen to be in first period Care of Magical Creatures," he deadpanned.

"Wait... You are?" Arthur asked, completely thrown. The frog wasn't in any of his morning classes!

"Dropped Arithmancy," Francis amended, noticing the Brit's confusion as they fought to extricate their legs from one another. Finally they fell apart with relieved sighs, and lay there in the damp grass for a moment, regaining their breath.

"And why did you just molest me?" Arthur's usual wrath was back, in all its British glory. Francis sighed, running a hand through his wavy hair and glaring at his frenemy.

"The ground is slick," he answered smoothly, matching the wrath with an equally cool tone. "And I'm clumsy."

Arthur snorted derisively, getting to his feet. "Not what I've seen," he muttered, still halfheartedly determined to keep up their bickering, though it had suddenly turned friendly. Francis hopped up gracefully, completely disproving his own point, and grabbed both their bags from where they'd fallen on the lawn. Instead of handing Arthur's to him, though, Francis shouldered his own and then fell into step beside the Brit, carrying Arthur's bag over the other shoulder.

It took a second for Arthur to notice this, but the look that flashed across his face for the split second when he did was absolutely priceless. "Wh- Francis!" He whined, quickly snatching his bag from the other boy's grasp. "Do you delight in making me feel like a girl?"

Francis smirked wickedly. "Oui."

Arthur scoffed and crossed his arms in a huff. "Well, I hate you too," he retorted.

They bickered happily all the way down to where the Care of Magical Creatures classroom was located, just inside the trees of the forest. It wasn't even a classroom, but Arthur didn't know what else to call it, honestly, so he just called it a classroom.

A large clearing parted the thick grove of trees and underbrush, sweeping open into a beautiful place lit by the morning beams of sunlight peeking timidly through the blanket of clouds. They were like spotlights, illuminating the tiny white flowers that grew amid a thick, soft blanket of clover, and glimmering on every tiny dewdrop to transform it into a tiny star.

They did the same magic on Arthur's eyes.

"Magnifique..." Francis murmured in awe, taking it all in. He set his bag down in the cloak of clover, sitting beside it contentedly and gently picking one of the tiny white flowers in front of him. He marveled at its delicate creamy petals for a moment, before picking them off, one by one.

"What're you doing, frog?"

Arthur's voice cut into Francis' thoughts, and he smiled, shooting the other boy a cheeky look as he let the empty flower stem fall to the ground.

"She loves me," he smirked.

Arthur groaned, rolling his eyes and plopping down on one of the stumps they used as chairs and occasionally desks. "Is that all you bloody frogs think about? Love?"

Francis suppressed a childish grin as he looked down at the flower's slim green stem lying amongst the clover.

"Oui."

The day slipped by uneventfully, aside from the what-the-bloody-hell-is-that-FROG-doing-here attack that Arthur had when he learned that Francis had not only been moved into his Care of Magical Creatures class, but also his second hour Transfiguration. It would've been good that Gilbert was also there, except for the fact that he kept laughing at Francis and Arthur's neverending catfight, and of course that just made Arthur angrier.

Now the three boys flopped down in their study period at the end of the day, soon to be joined by a very grumpy Patrick and the eternally cheerful Antonio, whom Arthur didn't know very well but didn't have any issues with either. They exchanged brief glances when, instead of the Potions master, who usually supervised them this hour, Professor Dumbledore walked in and closed the doors behind him. But no one commented on it. Instead, they decided to continue digging in their bags for homework and pay the abnormality no heed.

But today, instead of letting them get out their books and start on their homework assignments like an ordinary teacher who wasn't the slightly loony headmaster, Dumbledore cleared his throat for silence. Immediately the room fell quiet as every student's gaze fell upon the headmaster's soft smile and twinkling blue eyes, suddenly raptly interested as he began to speak.

"I know that this is usually your free hour," Dumbledore announced. "But I have an extra assignment to hand out."

He waved his wand and a stack of papers flew to his side, and with another nonchalant wave the papers zoomed away to claim owners; or rather, claim both of their owners. Two names were writing themselves as if from an invisible pen in the top blank, and Arthur groaned when he saw that he was doomed with the frog.

Francis, however, smirked in satisfaction and then turned back to the headmaster.

"Your assignment is to write a one-stanza riddle capturing one of the many legends surrounding Hogwarts. It can be from Muggle or Wizard perspective, but it has to rhyme and be exactly four lines. Your riddle is due at the end of this hour. Good luck!"

And with that, he sat back to enjoy the show.

"This is bloody impossible!" Arthur burst out, slamming his fist down on the table. "It's not even related to magical learning! It's—"

Before he could further his rant, Francis shoved a hand over the Brit's mouth.

"Calme, mon cher," he said flatly.

Arthur tried keep ranting, though, so Francis just glared at the other boy until he slowly but surely decided to shut up. Finally Arthur had quit struggling, and Francis was free to speak, but still didn't remove his hand.

"If I take my hand away, will you stay quiet?" Francis demanded.

Arthur groaned through the hand, but grudgingly rolled his eyes and then pried it away from his mouth.

"Fine, you frog," he muttered resentfully, which Francis took as a 'yes'.

"Alright. First off, this is not impossible. Secondly, sorry to burst your bubble, but it does happen to be related to History of Magic. Thirdly, your partner is French. That should be self-explanatory."

Arthur glared. "Of course. I forgot you frogs are obsessed with all things surrounding Valentine's day."

Francis grinned evilly. "Touché, mon faithless Brit."

He turned to the paper and glanced it over approvingly, noting that the directions were written completely in poetry, before looking back over his shoulder at Arthur. His green eyes darkened so nicely when he was angry...

Francis snapped out of it and remembered what he'd been about to ask. "What legend do you want?"

Arthur shrugged moodily. "Your choice."

Francis sighed, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Arthur, you're the one who's lived in England for your whole life. I have only been here for a few months."

This seemed to cut through the huff, and Arthur's ears went slightly pink with sheepishness. "Oh. Er, yes."

Francis just looked on expectantly, watching Arthur quickly regain his wits and dive into thought with a will. He smiled in spite of himself at the Ravenclaw's thinking face; Arthur glared intently at the table, biting his lip until abruptly his head snapped up.

"Why not the legend about the four founders?"

Francis smirked. "Now there's one I actually know."

"I'm leaving the poetry to you, frog," Arthur snapped, sinking back into his previous mood and flopping his head onto his books.

"Fine with me," Francis shrugged, still smirking, and started on the four lines. Arthur lost himself in thought as he listened to the other boy work, occasionally muttering something under his breath to see if it rhymed or swearing in French when it didn't. Apparently Francis was a practiced poet, however, because the swears didn't happen often.

Just as Arthur was beginning to float off into a daydream, Francis sighed in frustration and turned to him. "What rhymes with—"

Word of sssnake, hidden in linesss

You will never sssave in time...

"What?" Arthur demanded, standing up suddenly. Francis looked completely confused.

"Arthur, I asked what rhymes with Slytherin. Arthur?"

"Didn't you hear that?" he asked, sitting back down slowly. "That voice... it was like a snake, only talking..."

Francis patted his shoulder awkwardly. "No... but if it makes you feel any better, I am a parselmouth. Come on, you're just tired."

"Yeah," Arthur muttered, still looking around warily for the source of the voice. "I'm just tired."

"You're a wuss, you know that?"

"Poetry is a fine art, mon lovely Brit."

"I'M NOT YOUR LOVELY BRIT!"

"Then explain why you follow me everywhere."

"I CAN'T HELP THAT I HAVE MOST OF MY CLASSES WITH A BLOODY DAMNED FROG!"

Arthur and Francis were arguing again.

"I have a perfectly good poem I could recite right now, off the top of my head," Francis smirked.

"Oh, do tell," Arthur snorted in disbelief, rolling his eyes huffily.

Francis cleared his throat, fully aware of the fact that what he was about to do exceeded the standards of 'evil'. He was nearly laughing at the prospect.

"Roses are red, violets are blue. God made me pretty—what happened to you?"

Arthur was briefly reduced to incoherent sputters of rage that may or may not have been words.

Patrick, Antonio and Gilbert were hanging back, trying desperately not to laugh as the two bickered happily about Francis supposedly being a girl and Arthur having no taste for art whatsoever. Their study hall had finally ended, and of course Dumbledore had just had to read their poem out loud to the whole class. Arthur had been ready to die of embarrassment, and as soon as they were out in the hall heading down to dinner, had begun berating Francis as an outlet. Francis, on the other hand, just shot the remarks straight back in his face with seemingly no effort whatsoever, and was absentmindedly examining his fingernails while he let Arthur rant.

Better out than in, his mother had always said.

Actually, for some reason Francis liked to annoy Arthur, and also enjoyed it when the other boy finally snapped and started using him to vent on. Even though they'd only been friends for about a month, Francis knew more about 'his lovely Brit' from the rants than anyone else probably did from knowing him for six years and only having normal conversations.

For example—Francis made a mental listing of the most recent five things he'd learned:

1. Arthur thinks poetry is for Valentine's Day

2. He hates Valentine's Day

3. Tea is like manna from heaven with this idiot (blech!)

4. His favorite color is dark blue

5. He listens to rock music.

Francis smirked in self-satisfaction, tugging himself back to the present and smirking even wider when he realized that Arthur was still ranting on.

"...and I do not belong to you, so why can't you get that into your thick skull—"

Francis tuned him out again.

6. Arthur does not like to be told what to do.

Francis continued ignoring him for a few minutes more, humming a random tune under his breath, until suddenly they rounded a corner and found a buzzing crowd of what, at the time, seemed to be every student in the entire school.

"What the..." Even Arthur shut up to wonder at the massive group blocking the hallway, all chattering and shouting excitedly. He stood on his toes, craning his neck to try and see what they were all so thrilled about, swearing under his breath when he was still too short to catch even a glimpse. Francis just looked on with mild amusement.

Arthur turned around to glare at the frog. "You're taller than me," he stated sourly.

"And?" Francis prompted with that perfect silk slithering through his voice once more. In reality he was trying not to laugh.

"Be useful."

"What's the magic word?"

"Gah! Please, you stupid bastard!"

Francis smirked, nodding with annoying grace and leaning up to see over the heads of the crowd. It was still hard to get a clear view through the sea of heads, but he caught a sudden glimpse of something that made a wide grin spread across his face. Francis laughed, reading more and covering his mouth with his hand to keep from giggling. Finally! Something he could do!

"Well?" Arthur snapped impatiently, tapping his foot.

Francis laughed again, turning to him with a real smile for once. Not a smirk, not even an evil leer, but a true smile. It made his eyes light up, like the sun was shining from their deep ocean depths, and suddenly the way his light blond waves fell around his face was almost... handsome.

Wait—what? Arthur shouldn't be even noticing his eyes, much less thinking about them!

"Quidditch tryouts next Saturday!" Francis was practically glowing. "There's open spots on all four teams..." He craned his neck to see more, nearly bouncing when he saw the very position he'd been praying for. "And Slytherin needs a seeker!"

Arthur fought the smile forcing its way onto his lips at seeing the normally composed Frenchman like this; he was nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet with happiness. Even so, he just rolled his eyes and turned on his heel to keep walking.

"You should try out for the Ravenclaw team," Francis told him seriously, appearing at his side.

Arthur snorted derisively. "Sure. And make a complete fool of myself."

"No, I mean it, Arthur!" Francis persisted, putting a warm hand on his shoulder. "You're light and fast, and you'd be good on a broom. Trust me. I would know."

"And how would you know, frog?"

Francis's voice suddenly turned quiet. "Because I was Captain of the Quidditch team at my old school by second year, and we won the championship for the next four years in a row until I left."

"O-oh," Arthur stuttered after a short silence, noticing the way the other boy looked down sadly as he spoke. Only then did he realize what it must feel like to be miles from home, in a brand new school where nothing is familiar, with brand new people, and to have suddenly stumbled upon the one thing you truly felt like you knew how to do right.

"I... alright. I'll try out," murmured Arthur, before hurrying away toward the Ravenclaw dormitory, to hide that he was blushing furiously.

Francis watched him go.

A/N: Phew, they're finally leaving me alone again! Did you like?

Before I forget, I need to ask that if there are any French-speaking peoples reading this, I REALLY need to know if there are any issues with my translations. I only know a few French phrases (mostly ones from Papa that may or may not be fanfic-appropriate...), so I've been using Google Translate and have no idea how accurate my current ones are. Thanks!