Sasha had decided to take his own advice.  Early that morning, as soon as the day had worn on enough for curfew to be lifted, Sasha gathered his things, fetched his football out from under his bed (trying not to wake his roommates that early on a Sunday) and made his way out to the grounds and onto the lawns.  The day had dawned brisk and the air had been slow to warm up but the sun had been making enough of a presence to make sitting out with a light coat comfortable. 

Revising was, of course, the main goal of the day - there would continue to be so much of that in the coming weeks.  Interspersed throughout the day were scheduled honest, real study breaks.  Yes, they had been integrated in to the actual, written study schedule and granted their own identifying color; Sasha doubted he was quite to the level of spontaneous, unprompted casual activity.  But, goofing off was officially in the day's schedule of activities. 

He was in midst of one of these study breaks when he spotted Flo approaching.  As Sasha’s attention turned towards the Slytherin, so did his foot as it bumped the football off in her direction.  He jogged a few paces after the ball but drew up as it rolled into a gentle hollow in the ground and rolled to a stop off to the side. 

Study materials were fanned out in an nice, orderly pattern a short distance away with a few scattered science texts mixed in with the spell books.  Of course, his magic studies would continue to take precedence until exams but Sasha couldn’t resist occasionally cracking open his Chemistry text when he stumbled across a curious comment in his potions notes. 

“Good morning,” Sasha offered, with a slight grin.  The Ravenclaw had exchanged polite pleasantries with Flo since their strange conversation in the courtyard a few weeks back, but Sasha had become increasingly convinced she’d decided to consider their encounter a one-off, to-be-put-in-the-treasure-chest-of-memories type of thing.  Watching the young woman approach, he couldn't help but try and gauge the nature of this interaction.

“Hopefully, it’ll keep warming up.  I’m ready for some warm days."  Weather was always a safe place to start.

There was something about the essence of the lake that Flo embraced wholeheartedly. Saturdays were perfect half the time for an early walk in the lake. Just before sunrise, the prefect could already be found wandering aimlessly around the area, breathing in the calm. Earlier on, she wore heels that helped her height, but soon, her feet began to ache, and she had to take them off or suffer walking around with future blisters. Unstrapping her shoes and taking off her coat, used to the cold, she began to carry it alongside her heels on one hand - the other expertly balancing a grimoire she made herself.

Transcribing relative passages have become her forte. It astounded her, knowing things that not a lot of students must’ve been privy to. Sometimes it took a bit of tweaking to get the readings correct, but since she started off as an innately excellent learner, she didn’t have to spill blood every second of every day. There wasn’t really a lot to be worried off - last time she’s checked, everything was in their proper places. Hopefully troublemakers won’t step up to the task and she won’t be called in to do some lecturing. She didn’t have a lot of things to say, and it doesn't help that they won't listen anyway.

She just broke out of walking around in circles when a foreign material neared her personal space. She could spy it from her peripherals, and gave it a quick glance.

It was Schlagenweit.

Try as she might, casual bumps with the bloke occurred. Not that she was avoiding him like the - what did the muggles call it? The plague? - day might be ruined because of his presence, just that ever since that conversation, it was as if she had been obliged to exchange informal greetings with him. It was surprising to observe, with her uptight schedule and duties, how they started out as mere strangers. Batch mates, but strangers to one another nonetheless.

She felt like she might be labeling him a 'friend' soon if this continues.

Sasha chirped out a pleasant greeting and grinned at her, but she took a look behind her to see if it was truly her he was referring to. When she faced him again, she pointed a finger at herself in question, silently asking him. Later on, she returned the pleasantries: “Bonjour, Monsieur.”[1] she beamed.

Then, abruptly, as if they’ve known each other for long: “Alors, on se recontrer,”[2]she’d say, chuckling daintily. “Nous devons cesser de nouveau.”[3]It was a simple joke, but one to be used when it implied friendship. She didn’t know what they (Sasha and her) to one another but she didn’t spend time thinking of it. The more she thought of it, the more the coherent side of her mind corroded.

1.	"Good morning, Monsieur." - French
2.	"So we meet again," -French
3.	"We have got to stop meeting like this." - French

The Ravenclaw stayed where he was for a few moments, trying to gauge Flo’s reaction.  He watched as she glanced behind herself, not sure if she was expecting, or hoping, he was talking with someone else.  Finally, the Slytherin returned the greeting.  Sasha took a deep breath and trotted after the ball, bounced it up in the air with his foot and caught it. 

Or, at least, he tried to catch it.  It was one of those maneuvers young burgeoning footballers loved to think they'd mastered because it looked cool but, apparently, was prone to getting rusty when not practiced.  The ball bounced off the inside of his calf and rolled a few paces away.  The Ravenclaw sighed slightly and shrugged.  That hadn’t gone nearly as smoothly as he would have liked. 

“Allo,” Sasha offered in return, offering a slight grin in return.  His grin faltered, slightly, and he licked his lips.  Did she mean it or was it a joke?  Was she really requesting not to meet like this?  She’d seemed amused but, amongst those in their social strata, humor was sometimes used to veil an earnest insult or request.  But, the humor wasn’t followed by any additional insistence or subtle gestures that implied he should move on. 

He, finally, grinned.  “At least it’s not after hours,” he offered, his own humor awkward, as usual.  “After all the rain, yesterday, seemed like a good idea to get out and get some fresh air before classes consumed us, again."  Sasha glanced up at the overcast sky.  It wasn't quite the glorious spring day he would have liked but it was better than the downpour they'd had.  "I was studying but got distracted."  Sasha pointed to the pile of books then to the ball. 

Then, just to be sure: "were you coming out here to be alone?" 

Deborah hushed back a chuckle as the Ravenclaw tried to catch the ball. When it bounced off though, she lost the battle for holding it in and it erupted. A frank one, since she found it amusing to the eye. She couldn’t applaud his efforts for her hands were full, but if they weren’t, she would’ve done so. Flo didn’t know what he was playing but from the looks of it, a muggle variant of a magical one. Nodding at him, she closed the grimoire, before setting down her shoes and nonverbally transfiguring them into comfortable school ones. Slipping her feet into them, she walked to his standing, all the while still not breaking off conversation: “After hours kill me. All these students sneaking out, being pulled in for patrols… someone has to invent a spell to keep them in bed past curfew.”

"I was looking for a rainbow," she said quietly, looking up at the sky to spot it. "Or anything that will do for a quick sketch, right after I finish my translation. Starting the day early has become a part of my routine."

She sat next to his books and eyed them, before asking: "May I?" she pointed to his belongings. There were complex illustrations that piqued her interest.

And potion books. You can't begrudge a Clarencieux potions.

She looked up to him, head tilting slightly in question. "Typically I come out here to be by myself, then company shows up and I am no longer alone. There are different kinds of company, don't worry - I don't think of you as a distraction." she expressed her approval with a radiant smile. "How about you - am I a distraction then?"

“Them?”  Sasha asked, catching up with the ball and, this time, reaching down to pick it up.  With an awkward half-smile, he shrugged as he returned to her.  He let the ball drop next to his books; this time there was no errant bounce or mis-kick that sent it off in an unintended direction.  “Don’t you mean ‘you all.’  After all, I’m not supposed to be out past curfew anymore.  You probably were supposed to chase me indoors the other night.  It was annoying, sometimes, though.  Especially when they’d play dumb.”  It had been over six months since Professor Storm had stripped him of his prefect badge.  Though the reasons for the demotion had never been made public, Sasha knew he was lucky to not have been expelled.  Still, he sometimes had to remind himself about observing curfew. 

The Ravenclaw followed the Slytherin’s line of sight up towards the sky and scanned the horizon.  “Runic?  Translations, I mean?” he asked, looking back towards Flo.  There was a small minority of Hogwarts residents that seemed to be out and about before the majority; the burden of pursuing two curricula had forced Sasha to join their ranks since his first year though he was usually restricted to Ravenclaw tower.

Sasha nodded when Flo pointed to the pile of books.  “Ja.  Natürlich[1].”  He followed her lead and knelt down, perching on the soccer ball with his feet on either side for balance.  He folded his arms across his knees and rested his chin on his arms.

“I just come out here to be out of the way,” Sasha confessed with a slightly awkward grin that, he hoped, conveyed he shouldn’t be taken entirely seriously.  “And, your not a distraction.  Even if you were, it'd be a pleasant distraction.  I was revising for potions,” he gestured needlessly at the potions text.  “I have a habit of combining related topics.  Wizarding and mundane.  Just in case I run across any similarities.”  It really hadn’t happened, yet.  At least nothing more profound than acidic ingredients rusting cast iron cauldrons as well as pots.” 

He offered a slight shrug.  “Chemistry.  It’s a subject muggles study.  Sort of similar to potions?  But, it would be more like trying to figure what it is in beetle wings that turn a particular potion clear.  Or what stirring clockwise or anti clockwise does to a potion.” 

1.	Of course.