Benches all around the greenhouses scraped across the hard-packed dirt floor as students gathered their things and bundled themselves up against the bitter cold rain.  The greenhouses were, thankfully, magically warmed for both students' and plants' sake but that only made the transition out into the cold evening all that more shocking. 

Despite the general reluctance to cross the threshold between warmth and cold dampness, the greenhouse started to empty as Sasha slowly gathered his things and slipped them into his bag.  He took an unusual amount of time, rearranging the impressive stack of books at the bottom and otherwise killing time until most of the other students had slipped out into the dark. 

Brunn, as Sasha had hoped, stayed behind.  After taking a deep breath, Sasha walked up towards the Durmstrang student.  He still wasn't certain what he was hoping to achieve.  He'd convinced himself common courtesy suggested that Sasha give the young man some sort of warning that Abby would be accompanying him to the Yule Ball.  Despite the awkwardness, a warning was bound to be preferable to surprising the young man in front of the whole school during the Champion's dance. 

"Excuse me," Sasha offered.  "Can I have a word."  He had no idea how much Brunn and Abby were in communication or if, during those communications, Abby had ever mentioned him.  So, it was possible the other young man had no idea who he was.  Or, he could know quite a bit, depending on how much Abby gabbed with him.  "I know we really haven't met.  I'm Schlagenweit.  Or, Sasha."  Sasha extended his hand, though almost entirely out of pure habit. 

Tyr had remained behind. Unlike the others, he didn't have a class after this one, which left him some time alone.

Hogwart's greenhouses weren't like the ones at Durmstrang, and so far he found himself sort of missing the ones he was used to. It was odd, since it was the first time he'd missed anything at Durmstrang (other than his father's absence, but Hogwarts had that in its favor as well).  But a greenhouse was a greenhouse, and with no one in it, it was easy enough to slip off to the flower beds and inspect their status.

Thus when Sasha walked up Tyr was busy transferring several small rose bulbs , and he looked up at him curiously for a moment before finishing his task. He looked at Sasha's hand and quietly raised his own dirt-caked hands in a silent but polite decline, then went back to digging.

"Hello," he said, voice his usual quiet monotone. He looked Sasha up and down. The boy was well dressed and groomed but seemed unsure of himself; the sort that wasn't too likely to be a threat, he decided. "Brunn," he added, introducing himself. He picked up the watering can, the enchanted object beginning to water the plants as per instruction.

"Can I help you?"

Sasha nodded when the other young man lifted his soil-covered hand and introduced himself. With an awkward shrug, the Ravenclaw lowered his own hand and considered sitting before thinking better of it. 

Deciding to approach the young man had, apparently, been the easy part.  Especially when compared with the seemingly daunting task of figuring out what he was going to say and how.  He wasn't here to gloat or brag or anything; this hadn't really been a contest.  Or, even about Brunn at all. 

"I know you probably don't know who I am," Sasha offered.  He assumed it would have been obvious if the other young man did.  Abby, after all, had the ability to make the most mundane of topics seem fascinating and memorable.  "But, I'm friends with Abby- Abigail Reid.  We're pretty good friends.  I know that you're ... well, I don't really know what your role is in everything.  Beyond the big-"  Sasha wasn't quite sure where that thought was going so he abandoned it.

"Look.  I don't know how ... public ... your situation is at your school.  I just wanted to let you know that Abby's accompanying me to the Yule Ball.  Since I'm a champion, it'll ... everyone will see us.  So, I didn't want you to be taken by surprise or embarrassed in front of your classmates.   Or, I don't know.  I just wanted to let you know and I'm sorry if this causes you any trouble."

Tyr did know who Sasha was, generally speaking. He was fairly observant, and found the differences between various schools interesting enough for him to people-watch the various students...as well as the fact that being observant and people-watching was his job. No doubt at Durmstrang, Sasha would have been rather like himself - of course, the student was muggleborn. They didn't allow that sort of person at Durmstrang.

Tyr watched Sasha with a stare that was both polite, but somewhat overly attentive - the look persisted through Sasha's stutters and pauses, until Sasha seemed to be finished speaking. Tyr was not the sort to interrupt.

"I see," he said finally, when Sasha was done, and Tyr blinked slowly, gaze falling to the ground for a moment. The arrangement with Abby wasn't one Tyr thought about much. The girl, the few times he'd met her, seemed nice enough - if a little scatterbrained and energetic. Compared to Magdelana, Abigail buzzed like a frantic bee. But his personal like or dislike of her didn't factor into matters much; he'd marry her if that was what his father wished. If it wasn't, then he wouldn't. Simple as that.

"Thank you for informing me," he added, looking back to Sasha. "I am sure Miss Reid will be pleased," he added, with a slight smile. His smile was nice but exceedingly brief; it flashed across his face and then vanished, replaced by the politely blank look that was his default expression.

In some ways, Brunn's response was easier than Sasha had been expecting.  It had been simple, polite and uncomplicated - superficially, at any rate.  By any official measure, Sasha had accomplished all he needed to and more so.  He could walk away with a clear conscience and not have to think twice about it. 

In fact, etiquette probably dictated that was the best course of action.  Anything beyond what he'd already told Brunn wasn't any of Brunn's business.  And, of course, he couldn't expect anything more from the young man than Brunn had already offered.  The proper thing, of course, would be to let that whole side of things rest and stay out of the Brunn equation.  It didn't involve him.  He wanted Abby to decide what would make her happy, free from any outside pressure or manipulation.  Sasha had already decided he'd find a way to be happy - and supportive - of whatever choice she made. 

With that thought in mind, Sasha turned and started towards the greenhouse door, hesitating after only a few steps.  Despite his better judgement, he turned back.  "That's it?" he asked, unable to hide his bafflement.  "You're sure she'll be pleased?  It really ... it doesn't bother you?  I mean ... you aren't angry?"  Of course, for his sake, Sasha preferred him not to be angry.  But, this was Abigail!  She was worth getting angry over. 

"I know this isn't really my place.  That this is none of my business.  But, I -"  Sasha frowned, slightly, and forced himself to take a moment to consider his next words carefully.  "Do you like her?  Or, is she mostly an obligation?"  In retrospect, taking the moment hadn't really bought him much.  The questions, he knew, were out of place.

Tyr had knelt down, reaching for the half-buried rose bulbs again, when Sasha spun on his heel and returned. Sasha's formal and refined attitude now semi-absent, replaced by what seemed to be surprise. Tyr looked up at him and gave him a very polite but nonetheless nonplussed look.

"No, it does not bother me," he said, after a moment.

Given Sasha's tone, that didn't seem sufficient, and so after another beat of silence (during which he resumed work on the plants) he spoke again. "Miss Reid has been good company, from what I have seen of her. Should she chose to accept the match, I have no argument against it."

Annoyance flared when Brunn confirmed his apathy towards the whole situation.  Sasha couldn't understand how this didn't bother him.  Were the tables turned, Sasha would have ... well, he would have expected the alternative.  Even so, he would have felt some jealousy.  Disappointment.  Something. 

The annoyance died quickly, though, as Brunn elaborated.  He hadn't said it in so many words but the response near confirmed it was, at least for now, mostly an obligation.  He would have to be densely naive to believe it was just that simple.  He'd been in a similar situation not that long ago and, he had to remind himself, if it weren't for the unfortunate turn of events last year, he'd still be in it. 

Despite what the purebloods would believe, the social classes of the muggle and wizarding world shared many similiarities.  Perhaps more than the lower classes. 

Sasha crossed back towards the bench where the Durmstrang student worked, sitting on a stool on the opposite side of the workbench.  "If she, you know, doesn't chose to accept it-"  Did Brunn have any idea just how many people on Team Abby were rooting against him?  "Is it going to ... will they ... will there be any consequences for you?  I mean, will you get into any trouble?" 

Evidently the boy intended to stick around. Tyr didn't mind, strictly speaking; Sasha so far wasn't the sort of company he was used to having, which was rather nice. Though he certainly was a curious sort, wasn't he? Tyr was almost flattered; no one usually bothered to ask him about these things, or even pretend to care - though he supposed, in this case, it was a somewhat negative form of care.

Ah well - Sasha had yet to attempt to kick him or hex him, so he supposed he could put up with questions.

He paused at Sasha's question, but it was momentary - then he was back to work, carefully placing the bulbs. "Yes," he said, the work of gardening hiding the very slight shudder that ran through him. His father would be unhappy, that was for certain; but his father was always unhappy at him, so he supposed it wouldn't be much of a change from the usual. Father was always unhappy, and made his displeasure known. Tyr resisted the urge to rub his throat and the scar that had been made there.

Quite frankly, he did rather like Abby, in a general sort of way - she was cheerful, friendly and rather harmless. A bit over enthusiastic compared to what he was used to, but still. The idea of being married to her was, he'd admit, a tad distressing. Relationships, even just friendships, were something Tyr had never been able to do. Marriage was doubly frightening in those circumstances.

"I would prefer that not be taken into account, however," he said, standing to go and get one of the watering cans. "Miss Reid's decision is her own."

The first part of the answer had been expected.  The Ravenclaw nodded his head, wordlessly expressing his understanding.  He wasn't surprised and he knew as well as anyone that expressing any sort of pity or sympathy would probably not be welcome.  He, himself, would have dismissed the same with offense.  It was reality.  Sympathy would change nothing. 

What Brunn said next, however, took Sasha by surprise.  He looked up at the young man and pursed his lips, again, before nodding once more. 

"I appreciate that," he offered.  "I ... you're right.  I don't want ... I think she's getting a lot of pressure from other directions and  I don't want to be adding to it in anyway.  I don't know the specifics and it's none of my business and ... I should be quiet."  Sasha frowned, and looked down at his hands. 

"I'm sorry.  I should probably leave you in peace," Sasha concluded, pushing himself to his feet.  He glanced around him as if looking for something before turning, briefly, back to Brunn.  "I just ... if she does decide to go through with it, I hope you know how lucky you'd be.  And, that you're honest with her.  About-"  Sasha's voice trailed off and he shook his head.  "If nothing else, she deserves no less." 

The smile that showed on Tyr's face was very slightly brighter and a bit more genuine than the usual polite one he bore, and he nodded slightly to Sasha. "Thank you, Mister Schlagenweit," he said, as he picked up the watering can and drew his wand, filling it with water.

Miss Reid is luck y to have a friend like you. He wanted to say it, but found himself struggling to - the words caught in his throat, as they so often were. He focused on watering the freshly planted bulbs, lips pressed together.

His father wasn't as good man. Tyr, above all other people, knew that well - and while his father's plans with this marriage were not ones he was necessarily privy to, he had learned long ago to guess his father's plans ahead of time. For the cheerful English girl, the match would be nothing but misery, even if Tyr himself did not wish it to be so.

Tyr found himself not really wanting that fate for her, as odd as it was for him - he rarely cared what happened to anyone, really. But Abigail Reid seemed to lack many of the flaws he used to make himself dislike people.

He could hear Sasha moving behind him, and he looked over his shoulder, the words coming before real conscious thought did.

"Mister Schlagenweit," he said, face openly worried - then confused as he caught himself, struggling for a moment with what to do. He swallowed, looking back to the roses. "I - my apologies," he said, turning the watering can to begin on the roses. He couldn't do much, could he? His father would - the thought of disobeying the man nearly made him visibly shake. "Never mind."

Sasha stopped and turned back towards Brunn.  Even Sasha could see the young man was struggling to say something but, after a few moments, he seemed to think better of it.  The Ravenclaw continued to watch Brunn as he turned back to the roses.

How strange this whole encounter had turned out to be.  Sasha had never actually hated the Durmstrang student but, from a distance, there'd been enough jealousy (if Sasha were being honest) to color the Ravenclaw's perception.  Though Sasha had never intended to make this encounter confrontational, he'd come into it expecting anything but the odd empathetic sympathy he was feeling now. 

"Yes?" Sasha asked, even though by now it was apparent Brunn didn't intend on continuing with his thought. 

Brunn had turned back to his task and Sasha contemplated continuing on his way up to the castle.  For the third time time that afternoon, Sasha abandoned the easy escape and returned back to the Herbology bench.  "And, you can call me Sasha.  It's ... I'd prefer it.  Or, you can always make up your own.  It's what everybody does."

"I don't want to get you in trouble," Sasha offered, sitting back down on the opposite bench.  "I know what it's like.  My parents were very demanding and made their disapproval quite ... apparent.  I'd be in the same position if they were still around.  But, just so you know, I'm not ... I don't know.  If there's anything I can do-" 

The other boy didn't depart, yet again. Tyr found himself halfway hoping he would, and made a focus of the watering can for a moment as Sasha began asking questions. Tyr wasn't - people didn't talk to him. He wasn't really sure how to react to sympathy, much less someone taking an interest. He wondered what Sasha had to gain from it.

Still, his brow creased slightly in confusion. "I am sorry," he said. "I'm not sure I could think of a nickname for you, Mister -" Sasha had asked him to call him Sasha. Odd, but he could accommodate. "Mister Sasha." Schlagenweit just didn't seem easy to attach a nickname to.

The idea from dropping the formal title was unthinkable, naturally.

He smiled ever so slightly, but shook his head. "I...I appreciate the thought," he said, gaze falling back to the can. "I doubt there is much you can do to help," he added, with a sidelong glance at Sasha. "My father is not...he's a very determined man," he said, tone wavering slightly. He wasn't going to insult his father directly, even now. "He tends to be..." There was an English term for it, wasn't there? "Rather put out if his plans don't succeed."

The can was empty, so he refilled it, holding it under his arm for a moment as he drew his wand. "Thank you," he said, rather more quietly.

Sasha had an undeniable knack for stating the obvious but even he had to admit that to say the other man's discomfort was apparent was almost laughable.  And, the more Brunn explained, the more Sasha completely understood why.  By now it was clear it was probably best to leave everything well enough alone.  But, the young man was usually very quiet and, unlike Sasha, didn't seem prone to nervous bouts of babbling.  The young man's usually reserve only accentuated the potential importance of what he was saying. 

The Ravenclaw shrugged off the Durmstrang's apology.  He wasn't sure Mister Sasha was an improvement but ... well, there were worse nicknames floating around. 

"His plans?"  Sasha repeated, his brow furrowing as he tried to make all the scattered bits of information fit.  "And, his plans are for you to marry Abby.  Specifically."  Which, in Sasha's limited experience with the pureblood world, didn't quite make sense.  Marriages in the elite classes were as much, if not more, about status as they were anything else.  How then, could marrying Abby be so important?  "Even though she's a squib?"  Unless status marriages worked differently in the wizarding world.

It just didn't make sense.  Especially since - well, Sasha didn't know how well off the Reids were.  He assumed they had some wealth given the prominence of the family.  But, he'd also assumed they weren't that well off.  Professor Reid taught at Hogwarts, after all.  She was a teacher.  Rich people just didn't become teachers.

Perhaps, Brunn's father didn't think the young man could marry higher up.  "Are you not the first born?" Sasha asked, the question purely quizzical, completely devoid of judgement. 

His family's situation - his entire family being he and his father, anyway - wasn't one he really talked about with anyone, even the ones who knew the situation. As far as Tyr was concerned, there wasn't much of a situation, anyway; what his father had done as a career he expected Tyr to do too, and that had been that. There wasn't much to discuss.

"Yes," he said, in response to Sasha. "That's what he wants." The exact details of why weren't ones Tyr was privy to, really. He assumed his father wanted both the money (what little there was) and the connections that came via the Reid match, Abigial's unfortunate situation be damned. And the girl was a squib. It wasn't like anyone else would want her.

"My father has no other children and no titles or lands," he clarified. "And little else, besides that. I suspect Miss Reid's appeal has more to do with connections and bloodline than any particular qualities she herself possesses - or lacks." His family was barely a family, as far as the wizard world was concerned.

So, Brunn was not a later born and the family seemed to have little influence beyond their blood status, yet, his father specifically wanted him to marry the squib of the Reid family.  So, presumably, this arrangement was being made because both families believed the match was the best either side was likely to do. 

The Ravenclaw scowled darkly as he shook his head.  Sasha was well aware he'd now, officially, crossed the propriety line that he'd been carefully stepping around only moments before.  Given how his last conversation with Professor Reid had gone, she was bound to disapprove.  Abby, herself, Sasha suspected would not be pleased.  Oddly, in a strange ironic twist, it was Gerhard, his stepfather, that was the one most likely to approve.  The man hadn't gotten where he had in the corporate banking world by turning a deaf ear to potentially advantageous information. 

"Does she know this?" Sasha asked, glancing up and across at Brunn.  "Does she know any of this?  How you feel?  And, why this is going on?  If-" 

If one had already crossed that proverbial line, did it matter how far from it they tread?  Sasha believed, even if he didn't have any ulterior motives, he'd be saying much of the same thing.  Even if the outcome was Abby deciding to date ... Sellaphix or Tawse or even a muggle, what only mattered was she was happy in the end.  That made a difference, didn't it?

"You must know, there are quite a few people who care about Abby.  And, even if she does decide to ... chooses you, I will respect her decision but we'll be sticking pretty close.  And, if she gets hurt with all of this, I ... I will hold you accountable." 

Sasha couldn't remember ever having actually outright threatened someone.  It was a strange, slightly nauseating and slightly emboldening sensation.  But, he felt no desire to apologize and certainly had no intentions of taking it back.