Caroling had disbanded for the evening, all the members of the Hogwarts choir were filing away from their central location in Hogsmeade, Jordyn Dimbleby amongst them.  She didn’t really like many of the people in the group, really, but she did enjoy singing and it gave her the chance to get out of the house a few evenings a week when she was assigned to carol with the group, led by Professor Flitwick (who was surprisingly musical!), and then she could do what she liked. 

On this particular evening, her mother and father were in the audience, watching their daughter perform with the group, admonishing her with applause and waiting with a large mug of hot cocoa.  Taking it with much gratitude, Jordyn sipped at the frothy mixture and sighed happily as it slid down her throat, warming her to the core.  This warmth radiated through her and she was happy to button up her red jacket and cozy up as they walked toward the bon fire. 

It was Christmas Eve, and while in the past they might have been spending a grand vacation in the Mediterranean away from the cold, it was a year for saving, so Jordyn used her choir as an excuse to not be able to leave (though it had never been a problem before), and they were going to go to the Hogsmeade bonfire, something slightly special – and Jordyn could be with friends and things while her parents mingled as though nothing was wrong.  Jordyn was used to this game, pretending, and she didn’t mind so much anymore, especially as she still had her nice things and it was still easy to hold the cover up. 

So, of course, as soon as they got closer to the bon fire, Jordyn pulled away from her parents, as she was clearly too cool to hang out with them at such a public event, though not too cool to take their cocoa – and she headed around the fire, looking for familiar – worthy faces, seeing a lot of the other choir people, casually waving hullo at them though not committing to conversation with them yet, and Jordyn looked around for a seat, seeing a very comfortably situated chair with cushions and everything! 

It was designed for two, of course, but Jordyn could use the space.  It was supremely comfortable.  Leaning back, she smiled easily and put the cup up to her lips.  The fire crackled and popped, casting shadows across the crowd.  The glow also drew across Jordyn’s face, lighting under the brim of her hat, so her face was illuminated, but not entirely obvious – though one could spot the boots from miles away, she supposed – they were a pair of her favorites. 

Whatever the case, she began to hum a Christmas tune, sipping at her cocoa and enjoying the fire, hoping someone worthy would happen upon her on this lovely Christmas Eve.  It seemed most of the worthy people were probably at home or at some splendid party, which Jordyn might have been doing – save for choir. 

Coming from money meant that you never had to apologize for your actions or deal with your own wardrobe. His parents always made sure the robes laid out for him were going to be dapper, despite his desire to blend into the fabric of the walls from time to time. There were no Pennyapples who were not snappy dressers, his mother made it almost a fact that her children would not run around like little ragamuffins. So instead of wearing the current fashions of the day some muggle children wore, Atticus found himself looking almost like a paper doll with a peacoat in some situations.

While many of his mates had gone off to their homes for the holidays, Atticus preferred to avoid that route. The last thing he needed this holiday was his mum telling him how he would look with some girl she met near the potioneers that week, or his father asking if he took anyone into a broom closet. They just didn't get it, and he certainly wasn't going to let them chose the life he was going to live. So instead he made himself scare from their nosey owls and pestering requests to come home.

Home, it wouldn't be very homey for long. Once school was out, and he secured a job with Tilly to get himself set up financially, Atticus hoped that he could forget the whole thing. Not that he didn't care much for his family, but his need to be himself was stronger than his need to conform to their desires. To be himself he must, and today was no different. Though he was dressed to the nines, something his mother would be delighted to see, he was off to partake in some of the fool hearty partying that others were enjoying. Making his way to Hogsmeade, Atticus buried his hands into his coat, hoping to keep warm the idle hands he rarely kept unsmudged. His finger tips were often  covered in ink of some sort, and this was expected by many of his friends. It had been something they teased him for, but no one seemed to mind. A bonfire was brewing, and he looked towards the flames and saw a familiar silhouette sitting upon a chair. Grinning to himself, Atticus decided to move in.

Casually strolling towards the figure he determined was Jordyn from so far away, Atticus decided that someone like that shouldn't sit all by her lonesome. Not if he could do something about it of course, Atticus placed his rather spotless hand on the back of the chair and leaned down to whisper in her ear slyly, "Now it seems rather sad that someone like yourself would be sitting by themselves... perhaps you would let me keep you company for a bit," he grinned a rather sly smile as he awaited her answer. Atticus, who had been rather stuffy for a long time, found himself slowly breaking from that mold as time went on, perhaps his friendship with Devlin was finally paying off.

There was something supremely delightful in being hard to approach.  Jordyn watched as some people from school walked by, glanced in her direction, gave her a nervous smile and scurried on their way.  It was a power trip that she never got tired of and wondered what she would do in the future that would give her the same rush.  She really liked planning things and organizing, but she was not sure where she could set herself up in that way, perhaps interior designing… she would enjoy that, though she wasn’t sure how her parents would feel.  They always murmured things about legal training and getting her into a secure position with some family friends, not that it didn’t appeal to Jordyn, but really!  She could be so much more… interesting than that.

It would certainly help get some of the creative energy that was stored far below the surface to come out.  There were plenty of times in which it was suggested she try to harness more of that energy, but she was so logical.  Perhaps there was a way to meld it… she certainly had an eye for color and all things beautiful – and with someone else’s budget, it would facilitate her shopping needs, even if it wasn’t for herself.  Ruminating over such a thought, she sipped at her cocoa, glad that the mug was enchanted to keep the liquid inside a steady temperature (regardless of what it was), and sighed softly. 

She felt someone coming up behind her and for a moment felt the nervous tingle of butterflies in her stomach.  She kept her cool though, and her dark brown eyes looked over to the side, though her face remained forward, smirking slightly as she caught a glimpse at the young man who sidled up next to her, placing his hands on the back of the chair and speaking into her ear.  The warmth of his breath in contrast with the cold air caused shivers to run down her spine and Jordyn shifted in her seat so she could turn and look at the broody, reputed artist a little more easily. 

She found her face only inches from his at this point, and smiled wickedly.  “Good company is so hard to find, Mr. Pennyapple,” she informed him – though the sentiment was not meant to suggest he was not good company.  The well-dressed but still slightly tussled looking young man was excellent company, she thought, especially on a chilly Christmas Eve and at a bonfire. 

“I would be honored if you wished to take up the burden of being my good company,” she tapped the rest of the seat next to her, big enough for another person to share with her, and was hoping that she could coax him into sharing with her.  It would also keep her warm, which was welcome.   They were at the outer rim of the fire’s warmth, so she would like something a little extra – a coat was nice, but body heat was nicer. 

Trying to keep in a laugh, Jordyn glanced up at him, a challenging look on her face.  “The seat won’t stay open for very long, Atticus,” she warned, “Better take it now while you can.  I might even have some cocoa to share…” enticing, though she hoped not the biggest selling point as she smiled and batted her eyelashes just a bit. 

Atticus too delighted in people avoiding him when they could. Not that he was hard to approach in the same fashion his friend Jordyn was, it was more of an 'if I approach him he might make me barf slugs' sense. Which in Atticus's eyes was a supremely better way to get along than dealing with other peoples nonsense. Ah to be young and left alone to one's own devices, there was nothing better.

Power wasn't exactly something he was seeking, rather Atticus wanted people to just leave him be or get out of his way. If they didn't he found it was only right to make them pay. Maybe that was why he linked himself closely to Devlin, the other boy who was deemed most likely to charm a stone to spit out gold galleons. Atticus could pull off more with Devlin being the brains of the outfit.

Creativity bubbled below the surface of the young man sneaking up behind Jordyn, he was known as an artist and socially inept. Atticus felt that what and who he involved himself with was his business alone. If others wished to bother him on it, they would get very little patience or response. Now when it came to the beauty sitting near the fire, she was someone completely different. Atticus liked spending quality time with her, even if it was rare when they could. He enjoyed looking at her, and when he could, he would draw her likeness on parchment. It went well, she liked attention and he enjoyed giving that to her.

Giving her a winning smile, well as winning as the brooding artist could muster, he took the seat offered. "Well consider yourself in luck because I was looking to offer myself as company to just such a person." There was some chill in the air, though he could feel things heating up while others were fooling about and he had snagged the highly sought after spot next to Jordyn. "Enjoying the festivities? I find that only a few people have really given me reason to come out and join in the merriment." In fact the only reason he even left where he had been drawing was an desire to strike up a conversation with the very person beside him. "You look very well I might add," he allowed his eyes to once more give her a glance over and smiled pleased.

  "Enjoying the festivities? I find that only a few people have really given me reason to come out and join in the merriment."

Jordyn felt it was not appropriate to mention that she had just been signing with the choir.  It seemed like something nerdy to say and she did not want to appear that way in front of Atticus.  She was not a nerd and would not like her reputation to be marred because she happened to like to sing.  She would be fairly mortified, though she could always count on that fact that no one in choir actually liked her, save for a few friendly faces, but other than that, she was alone for the most part and just doing something she liked to do – not to belong to a group, she already had that.  Singing was just a hobby, not an identity.

She felt bad for the people that considered it their lives.  How disappointed they would be when it was all over, Jordyn didn’t have to worry about that.  She just had to worry about what she was going to say to Atticus, particularly because she could not mention choir and certainly could not mention being here with her parents of all people!  Oh! This was so embarrassing, if only she had Fergie to back her up here and say that she had come with him.  Instead, she smoothed it over by taking a sip of her cocoa and smiling softly, close-mouthed at him, swallowing before she opened her mouth.  “It’s been fun so far, though a distinct lack of proper company, up until now that is.” 

There was no way Jordyn was going to miss a chance to flirt, and the young woman could find no better partner than Atticus right now.  Batting her thick, dark lashes, she took another sip of cocoa, feeling it warm up the interior of her mouth and right down to the base of her throat and then stomach.  Delicious.  And she felt proud as a peacock as he looked her over.

"You look very well I might add.”

It made her feel good, a compliment about how pretty she was – looking well and all, it meant the cold was not mussing with her coloring and making her all splotchy – she thanked the darkness of the evening for not revealing that, and a dastardly pimple that had creeped up that morning – she used a bit of paste to dry it out, but really, it was still there – she could just feel it screaming for attention on her face – she tossed her hair to distract from the heinous red bump, leaning in close once again.  “As do you,” she noted, with the dapper dress style catching her eye. 

“I haven’t met a boy so well dressed since I started being friends with Fergie,” she added with a giggle, “though, I must say… and you must keep this a secret,” she looked around, “but you may actually give him a run for his galleons – looking as dashing as you do this evening.”  She leaned away and looked over him with a little hint of a smile on her face, “is there any particular reason you are dressed in such a fetching fashion?”

Why people found they should be embarrassed by their extracurriculars was a question each person must ask themselves. Atticus kept mostly mum on those things that wouldn't be considered particularly Slytherin or manly to boot. Perhaps art club was seen as stupid by some, but he could cover it by using the male to female ratio as a good enough motive. Choir and band were a little more difficult to pull off, Atticus  pretended that he was forced into those against his will. If anyone was to ask, Atticus was likely to get snippy, not a long shot from his usual behavior.

Unlike Jordyn, Atticus was there on his own. He had looked for one of the crew and found himself bored to tears. So instead of just sitting in the room or going home for the holidays, Atticus decided to see what the Winter Festival had to offer someone like himself. Spying Miss Dimbleby was a pleasant surprise. If he hadn't come across the younger beauty, he might have been forced to take up another form of entertainment.

Atticus was known to entertain himself easily. Sadly, hexing others could be so boring without an audience, so it was better to stay close with friends or at least fellow accomplices.

Ah the compliments, Atticus let out a small laugh at his comparison to the brilliantly garbed Fergie. "If I were you I wouldn't say that too loudly, he might take offense to such a comparison considering I hardly think I can hold a candle to his fashion prowess. " With that he ran his right hand through his long dark locks of blackish brown hair. The mane he wore was similar to that of his elder brother and his father, the family trait.

"My mother always said that one should look their best when attending a public event or function, suppose her words of wisdom stuck. Enough about my dress, other than the fire being warm what keeps you here darling, surely it cannot be the stirring conversation of those around us." A sneer slid across his cool lips as he watched people mill about them like mice in a bag of corn feed.

A man with style was hard to find, unless he was like Fergie, and then… well, Fergie wasn’t exactly what a girl was looking for in anything but a best friend.  Jordyn loved him, possibly more than she could ever love a person romantically, but it was clear they shared more than a similar taste in fashion magazines.  But, whatever the case, finding a boy who actually like girls that could keep up with her in fashion – and debatably talent – was an encouraging and perhaps irreplaceable opportunity.

She cured Julian for making a fool of her and putting her in such an awkward position, she could only hope that Atticus did not listen to gossip or he didn’t care.  She certainly didn’t, and didn’t need to be seen as St. James’ girlfriend, quite the contrary, actually.  She wanted her freedom – it was planned, but she wanted it sooner.  She didn’t want to ruin anything that could possibly come of whatever it was she was going to have with Atticus Pennyapple (she was fairly certain that their love affair would shame even Romeo and Juliet, but failed to say this out loud), and Julian was just getting in the way.

Fighting the urge to huff, Jordyn realized that was not what pretty faces were made of and smiled instead, smoothing down her long, dark hair and gazing up at him as he ran his hands through his.  It looked shiny, clean, and well-kept.  Somewhere deep down, she rather wished to touch it herself, but remained in her spot, unmoving, just in case she would scare him away forever.  She had been warned, at times, her exuberance for things tended to do that.

So, rather than allow herself to be completely shamed and humiliated, she nodded – trying to restrain her enthusiasm.  And then, he called he called her darling.  Her breath hitched in her throat and she thought she might actually die.  She’d have to write about this immediately in her diary to tell Fergie about as soon as possible.  Clearly, Julian hadn’t ruined everything!  She could have squealed she was so delighted, but reminded herself that boys did not like crazy girls, and she was not crazy. She was a lady and should act as such. 

“Oh, you know,” she said flippantly, not willing to admit she could not leave without her parents, “I suppose just watching them,” she vaguely gestured to the masses that he looked down upon.  Obviously, Atticus Pennyapple was better than all of them, “is entertainment enough.  So glad something better came along though,” she smiled and scooted just a few centimeters closer, just a smidge, enough to almost feel the heat radiating off of him.  He was – she couldn’t even describe.  So dark, so mysterious, such a bad boy in a rebellious teenage trust fund baby sort of way.  Jordyn couldn’t contain herself when she talked about him – it was dumb luck she was doing so well now. 

“I’d probably be persuaded to do something different though…” she said, looking forward, trying not to be too suggestive, while also opening up the possibilities to almost anything, “if there were something to do.”