Jordyn was on pins and needles - simply pins and needles!  It had been the most exhausting and anxiety ridden day of her life - and she had barely even begun to pay attention in class. 

All day she just sat and contemplated the small piece of paper she had received at breakfast.  It was miniscule, almost inconsequential - but what was packed in that small, tiny piece of paper was a game changer.  It was the biggest game changer of Jordyn's sixth year. 

Who knew a politely written and neat little piece of paper would have her in such a tizzy.  It wasn't so much about the paper, really, it was about the sender, and what the sender's intentions could be.  Possibilities, being as endless as they were, Jordyn couldn't keep her brain from moving to a hundred different places.  Now, to be perfectly honest, it wasn't the most eventful year for her personally - other lives were moving at full speed and changing in ways Jordyn hoped never touched her own life, but this: this had her ignoring classes and students breaking rules - only contemplating what could have ever induced Seraphin Olivier to send her a note to meet him in the courtyard.

Of course, they were still friendly, but Jordyn tried to play it cool.  She didn't want to be over enthusiastic, after all.  And she didn't want to try too hard - but after recieving the invitation, it seemed like everything hinged on trying - so she tore through her wardrobe as quickly as possible, taking out what she perceived would be seasonally appropriate, keeping her warm after class hours, and be suitably appropriate as well.  She couldn't very well agree to meet with him looking like a hussy.  So, she dressed in demure green and a red cloak with brown accents.

Jordyn rushed from the common room, trying not to dishevel herself in the process on the way to the Courtyard.  She didn't want to be late - but she also didn't want to be too early.  Standing before the doors, Jordyn tugged on her cloak and took a deep breath.  She did her make-up, she dressed herself impeccably, and now she was getting ready to have a Friday afternoon meeting in the breezy, cool courtyard with Seraphin Olivier. 

So many things could go wrong.  Jordyn was keenly aware of this.  But, she wasn't going to let it.  She pushed the door open and went through, the paper that started it all still in her cloak pocket, and Jordyn idly fidgeted with it as she moved through the doorway and into the biting November weather.

Séraphin pulled up the lapels on his coat, keen to keep out the November coldness. Hogwarts, in short, was miserable. So much grey slate, grey stones, grey weather - it had nothing on Cannes and Beauxbatons. Even English people looked miserable. The dowdy witches and wizards in Hogsmeade scurried around with scarves pulled up to their noses, frowns the only thing visible through reams and reams of itchy wool and tired-looking canvas. The sooner the sunshine came back, the better.

Things, though, weren't all doom and gloom. The formidable Madame Bisclavret had informed her champions of the upcoming 'Yule Ball' - a castle-wide extravaganza that supposedly had all the luxury and pomp of even the most prestigious of Beauxbatons galas. Séraphin seemed dubious at first until she'd unveiled details and plans for the night ahead. It did seem most charming. There were a few conditions in place, though. Despite being an 'optional' formality on paper, Madame Bisclavret had urged her pupils to find a suitable companion to attend with - ones that were outside of the Beauxbatons arena. Something about 'integration' and 'a fine message for the press.' There were a few girls from school Séraphin had considered, but branching out seemed most appealing to him and his headmistress.

Especially since meeting Jordyn. She seemed incredibly appropriate - refined, intelligent, pretty (in that very English modest way, of course). After consulting his parents, they'd asked for a brief description of the Dimbleby female - after all, it was them who'd be most wrathful if Séraphin was seen with a trollop on his arm. They'd approved, and Séraphin had set in motion an owl asking her to meet him. He believed without question she would be there: a little charm and enigma always worked wonders.

Heading out into the courtyard, his good lady was in the door at the opposite side, dressed in her fine house colours. He was glad of the quietness. For too long, juniors at Hogwarts had giggled and pointed and he wanted to save both himself and Jordyn the embarrassment of onlookers. School gossip spread like wildfire - especially with exotic, foreign students around. Giving her a modest, polite wave as he approached, Séraphin gracefully trotted up the stone steps, meeting her in the warm glow of the doorway. A kiss of greeting was planted on each cheek. She was warm, and incredibly well-presented, and she smelled lovely too. Jordyn always made an effort. It made Séraphin smile.

"Uh, hello," he quietly murmured, a hand gently grazing her elbow and guiding her into the relative warmth of the open doorway. "Thanks for meeting me, nothing is the matter, I am not causing no trouble I hope." Séraphin's English, although a little shaky, was worlds better than their first meeting. Less hesitation, more expression. "You look remarkable." Again, a slightly awkward choice of compliment but a compliment nonetheless.

Placing both hands behind his back, Séraphin looked every inch the etiquette-informed troop - a true example of Bisclavret's harsh tutelage beneath the smiles and big, flouncy hair. "I was wondering, do you have an escort for the Yul-ay Ball yet?" He stuttered once, no nerves, no awkwardness. This was a straight-forward invitation.

Standing for a moment by herself, Jordyn reached up and played with a strand of her finely curled hair.  She started to bite on her bottom lip only to stop abruptly, realizing that her teeth could get stained, a rush of horror traveled through her. 

She quickly bowed her head and gulped, raising her lips and rubbing away at her prominent front teeth vigorously, hoping if there were any stains, they wouldn't show up.  And, more importantly, no one had seen that happen.  It was almost ludicrous how inelegant of an action it was.  Snapping out of it, she took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders, and took another few steps further into the courtyard, unobstructed by the doorways and stone structures that could have hidden her frantic need to rid her teeth of a glaring red stain. 

It was especially good because Seraphin was already approaching, looking as put together as he always did.  It felt like pixies were flying around in the pit of her stomach and she couldn't help but smile, even showing teeth! It was so important that this went well, and seeing the tall and so very handsome French boy approaching just reminded  her of that.

Of course, they greeted one another and the pixies were even more agitated as his lips grazed her cheeks, she returned the gesture, as it was expected - and was entirely pleasant!  Seraphin smelled wonderfully and the warmth of another person was welcome as November wind whipped through the courtyard.  "Hello," she said brightly, glad to see him on time, and actually there.

If Jordyn were to be perfectly honest, she briefly considered that this had been a set-up to embarrass her publically.  It still could be, a leftover seed of doubt taking root, but she squashed it - not wanting to let it ruin this moment. 

"It was no trouble at all," Jordyn wanted him to be sure he knew that - even if it had taken up most of her thoughts and actions for the day - things like this were supposed to!  "I'm glad nothing was the matter," she added, with a shy sort of smile.  It was good to know this meeting wasn't something bad - though an immediate flare of uncertainly reared its head, because the thought hadn't crossed her mind before.  She hoped, that despite his confidence now, his use of language was still... sometimes questionable. 

Of course, as he complimented her, another blush rose to her cheeks.  "Thank you," she said quietly, unsure of how to respond.  Was it right to offer a compliment back?  Maybe... She wet her bottom lip, afraid of the biting cold sucking all moisture out, and she added, "You look cold," she added with a hint of a giggle - especially as they moved back to the space that had just moments before housed Jordyn from untimely stares at her lipstick malfunction.

It seemed, however, that this was not to be a long conversation.  The air was veritably sucked out of her, eyes wide at his question.  Was he just asking to ask - or was this just an inquiry.  Jordyn had a choice to make.  She could be presumptuous, though that seemed like the far more likely to blow up in her face method, or she could take a more humble, subdued approach, which, after what felt like endless hours of thought compressed into several seconds, she took. 

"I don't," a simple statement, despite being loaded with a lot of expectations and possibility, "yet."  She hoped he would clarify - make it known whether or not it was actually what she thought: an invitation - or some sick joke at her expense.

"It was no trouble at all," Jordyn cheerfully replied, ever the reasonable schoolgirl. It seemed like anything Séraphin  asked for was no big trouble - from the tour around Hogwarts to the various questions surrounding etiquette inside the Scottish castle. The girl was always so accommodating, which was incredibly refreshing; Séraphin was more acquainted with tittering, arrogant Beauxbatons girls that simultaneously desired and envied the former French Minister's son. A complete golden boy through and through. Running a hand through pristine, matching hair, he simply smiled in response.

Stuffing chilly hands into his peacoat pockets, Séraphin was caught off-guard by her observations. "Er, of course I'm cold, it is very cold today." Another misfired joke lost in translation. He took everything incredibly liberal and after a momentary expression of confusion, Séraphin softened his gaze and patted Jordyn's shoulder like a father dusting off his daughter's best coat. "You spend so much time in cold air you don't even the feel cold air anymore!" Laughing heartily, he was completely unaware of how awkward his own expression was. Most other Hogwartians heard the rumours surrounding Séraphin and let the boy continue on his merry, thoroughly intercontinental way. "You are funny, Jordyn."

His conversation steered toward the Yule Ball and thankfully, Jordyn was without an escort. He sort of presumed this - not that she was undesirable or anything, but Séraphin and his peers had noticed that their English counterparts were riddled with bouts of bad skin, terrible teeth and matted, uncompromising hair. The Beauxbatons boys must've been a refreshing yacht upon the sea of male mediocrity in which girls like Jordyn had to swim - he was more than willing to throw her an anchor.

"Then perhaps you would come with me?" Séraphin asked, raising hopeful eyebrows. "It would be an honour, Jordyn."

It was simultaneously the happiest experience of Jordyn's life and the most mortifying.  Her comment had gone over like a lead balloon, and now, watching it sink to the ground, awkward and teetering on the edge, she could have just watched her chances go with it, cracking through the pavement, landing them somewhere back in the Chamber of Secrets, that was rumored to still existed below the castle and was entirely forbidden. 

She wouldn't have dared look for it herself, but she was very aware that if the ground decided to open up under her and swallow her, it was a probably place to land.  It might have actually been preferable to the blush that was surely taking over her entire face making her look like a rather unfortunate cherry or tomato. 

Shrugging, she could almost feel the warmth of his hand through her cloak (completely imagined, of course), but it was the most platonic touch - at least it seemed like it - just on her shoulder, soft, barely there - brushing, barely.  She just felt like she was going to die.  At least until he told her she was funny, and Jordyn practically melted into a puddle.  She giggled awkwardly, biting on the inside of her cheek, "Thank you - you are too." Perhaps it was appropriate they were equally lame in terms of humor. 

At least he could blame his on language.  She was just hopeless.  Jordyn envied all other seventeen year old girls who didn't look like idiots around the most attractive, put together, influential, and charming champion at the school.  They were heartless, blind, or not that way inclined... those were clearly the two explanations. 

She looked down, shy all of a sudden, and shuffled her foot against the ground, shoving her gloved hands into the pockets of her cloak.  Thankfully this one was suitably warm, and when he opened his mouth again, Jordyn looked up trying not to be expectant - but also entirely too expectant. 

Biting down on the inside of her cheek, she had to stop herself before she answered too quickly, a broad smile spreading across her features.  "Really?" she said at first, stopping herself - of course, he just asked - don't question it! Don't make him reconsider!  Her eyes widened momentarily before she cleared her throat and took a step closer, taking her hands out of her pockets and clasped them together in front of her.  "I mean, I would love to go with you," she looked up at him through thick, laquered lashes, "I'd love to," she had to repeat, maybe just for herself - it actually happened. 

"Superb," Séraphin replied, his voice polite and tinged with a streak of excitement. He'd never really been one to indulge in schooltime romances; Beauxbatons commanded the very best in behavior and academic record. The one thing that could simultaneously (and dangerously) compromise those were members of the opposite sex - and Madame Bisclavret had never took kindly to stolen kisses in broom cupboards and finding a boy in the girls' dormitory. This exchange with Jordyn, however, was not only acceptable but encouraged. Séraphin could really enjoy the whole process, from the awkward language barrier to the more awkward shuffling, as a normal, law-abiding teenage.

Giving her another gracious pat on the shoulder, his smile went from charming to chuffed. It was a victory, after all. "The champions dance, I heard from Madame Bisclavret," he explained slowly for his own and Jordyn's benefit. "I can dance. I think you should be able to dance too." Séraphin sounded more confused than concise: he knew that sentence wasn't so great. "I er mean, uhm, we can dance together on the night."

That wasn't what he meant at all.

"It'll be good." He nodded in an attempt to retain some decorum. "Shall I meet you somewhere before?"

Jordyn felt like a glass of champagne.  She hadn't had much champagne in her life, but she'd seen it in magazines almost too many times to count and the thousands of little, happy bubbles that pushed their way to the surface from seemingly nowhere was probably the closest thing she could think of that might start to describe how she felt.  It was exciting and sweet, and the way he smiled, looking quite pleased - ever polite, but there was less of that adult person in his face this time, much more of the young man he was.

Jordyn could only imagine she had the same sort of exuberant smile on her face, and she nodded at his indication that it was superb.  If only he could really know just how superb it felt to her!  Jordyn was used to being a social tool, a manipulation piece for boys.  For a boy like Séraphin to notice her, to want to take her to the Yule Ball... well, she hoped there wasn't some tall, leggy, blonde, French girl he was trying to make jealous. It did not need to be another Devlin-Freaky Fauna Halloween ball disaster for her.  She wouldn't survive it. 

Not when he was so cute, trying to tell her about dancing in his awkward phrasing.  Jordyn delighted in it.  Reaching forward, Jordyn grabbed his hand, in the most brazen move she had made in what felt like years, and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.  "It will be fantastic - and I can't wait to dance with you," she smiled brightly, and perhaps the most honest and innocent she felt in ages.

When he asked about meeting before the ball, Jordyn gave pause.  "I suppose that would be a good idea," she conceded, thoughtfully adding, "so we could arrive together." 

Tilting her head to the side, she asked, "Where would you like to meet?"