XIII. LUNCH DATES AND UNREQUITED WHATSITS
The next morning, Sirona awoke to see Caroline's smiling face hovering above her, and Sirona nearly rolled right off her bed in a fright from the unexpectedness of it all. Caroline chuckled as Sirona sat up.
"Whatcha got to go waking me up like that for?" Sirona exclaimed; Caroline waved a hand dismissively in response and turned to walk back to her own bed.
"I've been up for over an hour already," Caroline said, and Sirona reached over for her wristwatch that was sitting on her bedside table. Upon seeing that it was far too early for a Saturday and seeing that her other three roommates were still snoozing, she groaned and fell back onto her pillow, turning to bury her face in it.
"Why?" she whined. "It's Saturday!"
"Well, obviously I've been preparing your outfit choices," Caroline said, waving her arm at her own bed, which had clothes strewn about it in an orderly fashion. "I've narrowed it down to three."
"Can't we do this later?" Sirona asked, her voice muffled by the pillow.
"I think I've waited long enough," Caroline said, flicking her wand at Sirona's bed, causing the covers to fly off of her. Sirona whined into her pillow before finally resigning herself to the fact that Caroline was not about to let her go back to sleep. She rolled out of bed, her feet hitting the cold wooden floorboards of the room as she forced herself over to Caroline's bed. "What do you think of them?"
Sirona glanced over the outfits and pointed at one.
"The red one," she said, picking her covers and bed sheets up off the floor and tossing them onto her bed. Caroline frowned.
"You didn't even look!" Caroline exclaimed as Sirona started to haphazardly tidy her bed. "And after I've gone through all this effort of helping."
"No offence, Care, but I don't recall asking for help on dressing myself," Sirona said, but she glanced back over at the outfits nonetheless. A rather bold-looking necklace caught her eye as it rested on top of one of the shirts. "What the bloody hell is that thing?"
"It's a statement necklace. If you knew anything about fashion, you'd know that."
"What statement is it supposed to be making?" Sirona asked, eyebrow raised. Caroline snatched the necklace up and tossed it aside.
"Well, if you don't like it, then don't wear it. I'm only trying to help. Personally, I'm favouring the black and white plaid skirt."
"It's kind of short for the middle of November," Sirona said, eyeing the skirt that was paired with a black casual waistcoat and white undershirt, the lapels of which seemed freshly pressed.
"That's what the stockings are for. Besides, if you're cold and he doesn't at least offer you his jacket, then you know he's not a gentleman," Caroline said.
"That's a ridiculous and outdated notion," Sirona muttered, and Caroline rolled her eyes, gathering the other two outfits up off her bed. "Well, I haven't finished looking," Sirona said.
"Doesn't matter," Caroline said, walking to a closet that she and Sirona shared. "I've decided you're wearing that one. Go on and change."
"I'm not meeting Auguste until lunchtime."
Caroline pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut in annoyance.
"I swear, how do you manage without me? You have to make sure it looks all right!"
"Keep it down!" came the sleep-slurred voice of their dormmate, Sarah Fawcett, from somewhere behind her closed bed hangings. Sirona sighed, and in the hopes of not waking up the rest of her dormmates, she just complied with Caroline's wishes, stripping herself of her pyjamas.
Sirona felt only marginally uncomfortable in the skirt, which was much shorter than the black and dark grey pleated skirts of her school uniform. She didn't mind the top, but told Caroline that she would not be wearing the black stockings that came up well beyond her knees, opting for a pair of warm black tights instead — knee-high stockings were fine, but thigh-high stockings were always a hassle to Sirona, always rolling down at the top, never staying put. Sirona prided practicality over style, which drove Caroline insane sometimes. Caroline was the type to charm the stockings to her thighs and not worry too much about how she would be getting them off later. Sirona laughed when Caroline told her this.
"One day you're going to do that, and a boy is going to want to take you home, and then what? You're going to spend half an hour in his bathroom trying to get your socks unstuck from your legs!" she said, amused at the thought.
"Who says I won't just keep them on while we go at it?" Caroline asked cheekily, a smile of her own growing on her face. She pulled out her wand and held it to her silver bracelet. Sirona's arm shook. "Down to the common room. Let's go," Caroline said, ushering Sirona out of the room.
They waited nearly fifteen minutes for Roger to come stalking down the stairs from the boys' dorms, clearly grumpy at having been woken up.
"Oh, what is it this time?" he asked, and Caroline waved dramatically at Sirona.
"What do you think?"
"What?" Roger asked.
"About her outfit!" Caroline said in a that-should-have-been-obvious tone.
"Why do you insist on waking me up for such ridiculous things?"
Sirona let herself fall onto a couch as Roger and Caroline bickered like an old married couple. Admittedly, while she didn't quite care about her outfit choice for the day, Sirona was a bit nervous about her date. The last date she'd gone on was disastrous; she'd had to bring Zacharus along, and he'd spit up all over her. The worst part was the fact that she couldn't just magic the mess away with the cute, concerned Muggle boy sitting across the table from her.
Then again, Sirona wasn't really sure what she had to be nervous about. It wasn't as though she had big plans for her and Auguste even if it did turn out well. Even with the Muggle boy at the beginning of summer, Sirona knew that she was just too busy for a steady boyfriend. Being a girlfriend — a good one at least — required time that she just didn't have to spare at the moment. But there were times in which she caught herself thinking, What if . . .
Of course, that was just all wishful thinking, at least until she was finished with Hogwarts. Or that's what she kept telling herself. She knew that after graduation that she'd have to get a job if she were going to help support her little siblings. Who was to say that she wouldn't be just as busy? She already anticipated her mother using her as a free childcare service because, well, that was already happening. Still, Sirona held out hope that she wouldn't be too busy to have a social and romantic life once she graduated.
Before Sirona knew what was happening, Caroline was pulling her up from the couch, having finally convinced Roger that the "male perspective" was needed, which had she not been so tired, Sirona would have objected wholeheartedly to. Roger finally looked over her before focusing back in on her face.
"The outfit's fine, but you've got a giant pimple right above your eyebrow," he said, pointing at it, and Sirona frowned, swatting his hand away.
"I know, thank you very much," she said irritably. "I haven't had time to worry about my face and hair yet. She pulled me down here right after I got dressed. Besides, you're one to talk with whatever that is growing on your upper lip."
"Oh, like I had time to shave," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'm going back up to bed. Perhaps if your date goes well, you'll see about me meeting the veela-girl?"
"I don't even think she and Auguste are friends, Rodge," Sirona said. Roger frowned.
"Then, what's even the point of all this?" he asked, throwing his hands up in exasperation as he turned to go back up to his dorm room.
"Ignore him," Caroline said. "He's just angry because you've got a hot date and all he has is his hand." She directed the last part more so towards Roger than Sirona, and he managed to flip them off just before being completely out of their view as he climbed the staircase. "Now," Caroline said, turning back to Sirona with a gleam in her brown eyes, "we do need to fix your hair and face."
Sirona rolled her eyes because she knew what Caroline's next words would be.
"Please, please, please, let me do your hair and makeup!" she implored. Sirona sighed.
"I highly doubt you're going to give me much of a choice anyway, so sure," she said, caving especially easily, probably because she was still a bit sleepy. Caroline let out a tiny squeal of excitement before dragging Sirona back up the stairs to their dorm.
Sirona and Caroline opted to skip breakfast. Well, Caroline opted for them to skip breakfast. Once she got going, there was no stopping her, not even for food. By the time that Caroline had finished — after well over an hour and a half of them arguing about styles and about what Sirona simply refused to put on her face — Sirona's stomach was growling. She had to admit though, Caroline had done a fantastic job on her hair; she'd somehow managed to make it seem bouncy and voluminous without curling it, something Sirona had never been able to manage. The eye makeup and lipstick were a bit darker than what Sirona typically wore, but she supposed it went well with the outfit. All-in-all, Sirona was happy with the look.
After Caroline was finally finished with her, Sirona was put under strict orders by her friend to not mess anything up, so while she waited for lunchtime to roll around, Sirona chose the safe option of sitting in the common room and copying the star charts that she had meant to get finished the day before. She had finished the first chart and was well into the middle of her second one when she heard one of the other chairs at the table being pulled out to be sat in; she looked up to see Damona eyeing her curiously.
"Yes?" Sirona asked, dipping her quill into the dark blue ink at the centre of the table.
"You didn't dress this nice for the Muggle boy at the beginning of summer. Does that mean you like the French boy more?" Damona asked.
"What was wrong with how I dressed for Dominic? I thought I looked rather nice," Sirona said, thinking of how she had really liked the green blouse she'd picked out before Zacharus had vomited all over it.
"Nothing, it's just, you're wearing a dress this time."
"It's a skirt, first of all, and second of all, Caroline made me wear it if you must know," Sirona said, getting mildly irritated. "Besides, what does it matter what I wear?"
Damona shrugged and opened her mouth to fire off another question. While Sirona loved the fact that Damona was a brilliant young girl, she forgot that the reason behind that was because Damona insisted on asking questions about literally everything, which could be a bit tiresome.
"Does this mean he's your boyfriend now?"
"No, it does not," Sirona replied. "It's just one date."
"So, you won't be going to France this summer to visit him?"
"Damona, if I could afford to go to France, you wouldn't be wearing Sonia's hand-me-downs."
"Mara said that Sonia said that he knows Mum's dad," Damona pressed and Sirona sighed.
"Why must you all be so nosy?" Sirona asked, accidentally putting a dot representing Jupiter in the wrong place. She stared at her hand and the offending spot on the page as though they had personally colluded against her before setting her quill down and crumpling the paper up and pulling a fresh piece of parchment towards her, ready to start again. Damona just shrugged.
"We always find out about the boys you go on dates with," she said in a nonchalant voice. "That's why we know the Muggle boy doesn't work at that bookshop anymore, so you can stop avoiding it when we go home now."
"Well, if you know so much, why is it you never call them by their names?" Sirona asked. "It's quite rude to call people 'Muggle boy' and 'French boy' when you know their proper names already. I swear you're just as bad as Roger calling Fleur Delacour 'veela-girl.'"
Damona shrugged.
"Not like they ever stick around long," she said, and while Sirona knew that Damona had meant it in more of an observation-of-fact way rather than a judgmental way — not to mention the fact that Sirona sort of kept it that way on purpose — the small statement still stung a bit. A little voice in the back of her head wanted to tell her little sister to be quiet, that she didn't know what she was talking about, but Sirona remained silent, reminding herself that Damona was just a kid.
Luckily, Sirona was saved from responding as she looked down at her wristwatch and noticed that she would need to be meeting Auguste soon. As she shooed Damona away and carefully rolled up her star charts, Caroline walked into the common room, a bright smile on her face; Roger walked in after her, looking less enthusiastic. They had agreed to walk with her to the Beauxbâtons carriage at least before going their separate ways — well, as separate as they could anyhow; Sirona suspected that her friends were probably also going off to Hogsmeade with the majority of students allowed to visit.
As they made their way down to the grounds and out towards the gigantic powder-blue carriage, they noticed a group of Beauxbâtons students gathered outside of it. Sirona spotted Auguste almost immediately, and she smiled at the familiar nervous feeling in her gut. Things like this made her feel a lot more her actual age; she normally felt a lot older, a by-product of having too many responsibilities. She looked at Caroline, finally allowing herself to let out a girlish squeal of excitement before they closed the distance between them and the foreign students.
"I was beginning to wonder if you 'ad forgotten," Auguste teased, causing Sirona to check her watch again.
"I'm only seven minutes off the agreed upon time," she said, still smiling.
"'oo are zey?" came a voice from behind Auguste, and Sirona could tell that the boy was refraining from rolling his eyes before he turned to address the person behind him.
Fleur Delacour had her silvery blonde hair tied back, and she wasn't dressed for a fun day in the village. On the contrary, she was dressed in robes similar to what Sirona would wear for Quidditch practice, and Sirona guessed that the Beauxbâtons champion was being put through rigorous training before the first task, which was just days away.
"Do not worry; zey are not 'ere to spy on your training. Zis is Sirona and 'er friends. She is going to show me around 'ogsmeade today," Auguste said, and Sirona could hear the exasperation in his voice as Fleur looked them up and down. To Sirona's surprise, and everyone else's, Roger spoke up.
"I'm Roger Davies," he said, the look on his face displaying that he, too, was surprised at his inability to remain silent. "This is Caroline. If you would like, we could show you around the village."
Caroline looked offended, and Sirona heard her mutter under her breath, "I'm not some bloody tour guide!"
Fleur regarded Roger curiously, and Sirona suddenly realised that while she had originally thought that Fleur must've had dozens of offers from guys every day because of her inhuman beauty, maybe the opposite was true. Perhaps boys were often too intimidated to actually speak to her and only gawked at her.
"I am training today, but perhaps anuzzer time?"
Sirona thought Roger might stroke out right then and there as he nodded fervently in agreement. Caroline finally pulled him away only after Madam Maxine came out of the carriage to usher Fleur to some unknown place for training. Then, Sirona and Auguste set off across the grounds towards the gates, passing along the Blake Lake. Sirona watched as one of the Durmstrang boys rushed off of the ship as Caroline and Roger passed by. Sirona sniggered as she watched the boy slow his pace as he approached Caroline as though maybe hoping that he could make their encounter seem casual and random.
As they walked down the High Street towards the village, Sirona and Auguste took to speculating on what they thought the first task might be. Maybe the champions would have to fight a mountain troll. Or perhaps they would have to solve a series of dangerous puzzles. Whatever it was, Sirona was certain that it was going to be something spectacular — well, so long as no one died or was seriously maimed.
"Well, where should we go first?" Auguste asked as they finally entered the village.
"I was thinking we would grab a spot of lunch at the Three Broomsticks and then I'd show you around some of the shops, if that's all right?"
"You're ze expert; I am a mere tourist," Auguste told her, the brilliant smile on his face making the butterflies in her stomach from earlier start acting up again.
"Right, well, it's right over here," she said, and she led him into the crowded little pub. They made their way through crowds of witches and wizards to the front to order two butterbeers, one order of fish and chips and one order of Cornish pasties. Auguste insisted on paying for the food, which Sirona didn't put up too much of a fuss about since she was a bit tight on money with the twin's birthday just around the corner — she'd ordered Damona a set of glass pens, the insides of which were enchanted to reflect a starry night sky; she had bought Damara a set of Extra-Loud Exploding Snap cards with a different player of the Holyhead Harpies on each card that she'd caught Damara admiring when they'd been school shopping in Diagon Alley that summer. The two took their drinks and found an empty table to sit at while they waited for their food to be prepared.
From where they had chosen to sit, Sirona could see the Weasley twins, Ron and Lee sitting at a table not far off. It seemed as though George and Lee had spotted her and Auguste as well because the two had immediately made a series of kissy faces and suggestive gestures, which thankfully Auguste did not seem to notice. Fred and Ron had looked curiously over their shoulders to see what the sudden fuss was about. Ron had merely rolled his eyes and turned back around, and Sirona expected Fred to join in on the silent teasing, but to her surprise, he did not. Sirona managed to discreetly flip her middle finger up at Lee and George before opting to ignore their antics.
Sirona had forgotten how nerve-wracking dates could be, and she was lucky that Auguste was charismatic enough to keep the conversation going after she'd quite awkwardly run out of Quidditch-related things to talk about, which was the only thing that she knew for certain that they had in common. Auguste was much more adept at bringing up interesting topics while the two got to know each other a little better. By the time their food had arrived, he'd had Sirona laughing after a dramatic retelling of how one of his friends had thought it be funny to steal one of the Wood Nymphs' lutes and run around behind couples that were being overly affectionate in public to serenade them with horrendous parodies of popular love songs. In turn, Sirona regaled him with stories of her own, which mostly all included at least one of the Weasley twins because those seemed to be the only havoc-wreaking stories of hers worth telling.
When the subject gradually changed to the topic of future plans, Sirona let Auguste talk uninterrupted. She personally didn't really know what she'd be doing after graduation; she'd probably take the first job that paid well if she were being honest. Auguste, however, had big plans for his future. He wanted to go straight into the busy world of government and politics, and Sirona couldn't see what the boy found so fascinating about a bunch of stuffy politicians in fitted dress robes, but she had to admit that the zealous look on his face when he talked about it was rather adorable. Admittedly, most of what he said went right over her head (as she wasn't well-versed in French Wizarding Politics), and she may have zoned out for some part of it, but she zoned right back in when she'd heard the name of Osmont Bordeaux.
Auguste seemed almost apprehensive to say more about the man, only mentioning him in passing once or twice, and Sirona felt herself itching to ask about him, which was odd because she'd never really given her grandfather much thought before and had never felt inclined to learn anything about him. Before she could finally manage to ask Auguste about the man, however, Sirona's eyes were pulled towards the door as a few familiar faces entered the pub. Her eyes lit up involuntarily upon seeing Saegon following Cissonia through the crowded pub with Zacharus in his hands. The initial happiness suddenly turned to anxiety as she saw they were making their way over to her. Sirona had forgotten about agreeing to meet up with Saegon at Hogsmeade, and she immediately began having horrible flashbacks to her date with Dominic from the Muggle bookstore. She immediately turned to Auguste with an apologetic look, interrupting him to say,
"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
Auguste looked confused, and she wanted to explain further, but Saegon and Cissonia had already made it to the table with Cissonia's fourth year Ravenclaw "friend" following behind them, looking between Saegon and Sirona anxiously.
"Where've you been?" Saegon asked, seeming not noticing the boy sitting across from his sister. "I thought Honeydukes was where we always met up."
"I told him you were on a date, but he never listens to me," Cissonia said, rolling her eyes as Saegon's own gaze finally landed on Auguste. Saegon's eyes seemed to widen just a fraction, and he leaned over to Cissonia.
"Maybe if you dropped the sarcastic tone once in a while, I'd know when you were being serious," he hissed through clenched teeth. Sirona shielded her face from Auguste's view as she stared down at the remainder of her Cornish pasty. She didn't understand why things like this had to happen to her; it was as if the universe was under the impression that she couldn't embarrass herself well enough on her own. She took a deep breath before putting on a smile and looking up at Auguste.
"This is my older brother, Saegon," she said. "Every once in a while, he pops up for the scheduled Hogsmeade visits, and I completely forgot about it. I am so sorry."
"I'm Cissonia, her sister, since she doesn't seem keen on introducing me herself," Cissonia said. Sirona wanted the floor to swallow her up. Her first date with the boy and he was already being forcibly introduced to part of her family.
"And who is ze little one?"
To Sirona's surprise, Auguste seemed quite amused at the sudden appearance of Sirona's siblings for reasons that she could not fathom but didn't dare question. As if on cue, Zacharus held out his chubby arms towards Sirona, and she couldn't help but smile at the toddler's cuteness. She stood from her seat to grab Zacharus out of Saegon's arms and turned to face Auguste.
"This is Zacharus, our littlest Bordeaux. Saegon's watching him while our mum's on holiday," she said, and she was relieved to see Auguste smiling brightly at the boy.
"Well, we'll leave you to it," Saegon said, and Sirona could sense the reluctance in his voice. She did feel quite bad leaving Saegon alone with Cissonia and her newest "friend," but she had to admit that his discomfort with the situation was a bit funny. "Suppose we need to order something to eat," Saegon continued.
Sirona looked down at Zacharus, who had taken to playing with the necklace she was wearing. She'd gotten over the initial embarrassment enough to realise just how much she'd missed the boy during her months away at school. She suddenly felt reluctant to give him back to Saegon. To his credit, Auguste seemed to notice her reluctance and spoke up.
"We could certainly watch 'im for you as you order your food," he offered, and at his words, Sirona felt the overwhelming urge to hug the boy, which wasn't something she often felt.
"Really?" she asked.
"Yes, it may surprise you, but I am quite good wiz children," Auguste told her. Sirona didn't notice the identical eyerolls from Saegon and Cissonia, and she couldn't hear the faux gagging noise coming from a certain someone at the Weasleys' table as though they'd been eavesdropping on the conversation being had.
As Saegon, Cissonia and the nervous Ravenclaw boy left, Sirona softly apologised again for good measure; though, she was finding it increasingly more difficult to care about proper date etiquette as she placed a kiss on one of Zacharus' chubby cheeks. Auguste waved a hand dismissively.
"You should not apologise," he told her. "Your family is important to you; zat is a good zing."
"It's just, I look after him a lot," Sirona said, smiling down at her little brother. "I really do miss him when I go off to Hogwarts."
"You don't 'ave to explain," Auguste assured her. "I 'ave a little sister back at Beauxbâtons; I know what it is like to miss your family."
"What's her name?" Sirona asked, finally looking back up at the boy.
"Eloise," he said. "She is about your sister's age. I 'ave a feeling zat she is getting into trouble wizzout me zair to keep 'er in line."
Sirona chuckled.
"My friends would say that you should let her do as she pleases," she said. "At least, that's what they always tell me whenever I try and keep my siblings in check."
"Well, if I let Eloise 'do as she pleases,' she would probably get 'erself into serious trouble or be expelled."
"Finally, someone who understands!" Sirona exclaimed. "You should meet my sister, Damara. It's only her first year, and she's more acquainted with school detentions than with her own classrooms."
As they spoke, uninterrupted by Zacharus' presence — on the contrary, Auguste seemed to think the boy endearing — a sigh went unheard a few tables over. A particular red-haired boy wasn't having nearly as much fun as Sirona was as he listened to her chat happily with the boy she barely knew, which was a hard feat indeed as the pub seemed extra noisy that day. In fact, despite the fact that Sirona was his friend, it was putting Fred in a rather foul mood to know that she was having a good time on her date, and he wasn't quite sure how to feel about that.
While Fred had worked out for himself some time ago that his feelings for Sirona had, at some point, grown past the point of platonic, he hadn't quite worked out any sort of plan of action yet, which was odd because typically, he seemed able to come up with a plan for almost anything. This was completely new territory for him, and he didn't like the unfamiliarity of it all, not one bit.
With George, Lee and Ron preoccupied with their own conversation, Fred chanced a glance over his shoulder. He wasn't quite sure what it was about her that made him so — nervous? No, nervous wasn't the correct word. Fred Weasley did not get nervous over girls. Apprehensive? No, hesitant seemed a better-fitting word; though, he'd never really been hesitant in his pursuit of girls before Sirona. He frowned as she laughed at something Auguste had said, completely and utterly unaware of the conflict she'd managed to stir up inside him. Damn her. How could someone be so infuriating without knowing it?
"Fred, mind coming back down to Earth, mate?" Lee's voice sounded, disrupting Fred's thoughts as he turned back to them.
"What're you looking at?" Ron asked, looking over his own shoulder to scan the area.
"None of your business, you nosy git," Fred told him in a slightly irritated tone, silently wondering when Ron would go back to being friends with Harry because his increased presence around them was beginning to annoy Fred.
George shot him a curious look, and Fred immediately returned to their conversation, pushing Sirona from his mind — something, he found, was getting harder and harder to do. This was another thing that Fred wasn't quite used to and only added to his irritable mood. He typically remained unbothered by most things or not bothered enough to think for too long about them. It wouldn't be conducive to his lifestyle if he worried about every little thing. There were exceptions (i.e. Bagman), but no girl had ever made the list — until now, that was.
If Fred had believed in karma, which he did not — he firmly believed that you made your own luck and should seek your own revenge — he would have thought that this was some kind of divine punishment for past wrongs. After all, it seemed as though the universe was playing a particularly nasty prank on him. It brought to mind a prank of his own that he'd pulled on Percy the previous year where he'd charmed the Head Boy badge to float just outside of Percy's grasp; Fred and George had had a grand time watching Percy chase the badge around Gryffindor Tower before he'd managed to break the spell. In this unfortunate scenario, however, Fred was the one having to figure out how to grab something that, while right in front of him, was seemingly just outside of arm's reach.