One month ago, almost exactly, Sasha had been gathering the last of his things and stashing them in his trunk.  His stepfather had, finally, left him in peace to pack after thoroughly expressing his disappointment in finding the rather flamboyant man that was Kronos Malvivicus in his stable - in both verbal and physical ways.  He would have been leaving the next morning for Germany.  A month ago, he'd still had a family.  A month ago ... well, it hadn't been normal.  It had been ... he didn't know. 

But now ... he was standing in one of the many empty classrooms along the back sixth floor corridor, nervously brushing out the non-existent wrinkles in his dark blue sweater.  He'd needed a distraction.  If he'd left himself to his own devices, he'd have spent the entire night lost in memories and flashbacks. 

Despite the need for a distraction, even he couldn't really believe what he'd done.  What he was doing.  And, there was no way he could convince himself this was anything more or less than what it was: a date.  Those two very words had featured prominently on the small bit of parchment that had found its way to the Slytherin table earlier that day.  This was ... plain and simple. 

Sasha Schlagenweit had asked Ferguson Amherst on a date. 

Of course, Sasha was careful to make sure no one else was aware of that fact but that didn't make the whole endeavor any less daunting.  He had no clue what he was doing.  He had no clue what he was supposed to be doing.  It had taken him two evenings to write the invitation (it was remarkable how often one got interrupted while trying to do something very private) and he'd stared at the owl for a forty-five minutes before he'd given the letter to the creature. 

Yes, Fergie had kissed him.  (In the bathroom on the other end of the hall - Sasha was very well aware of this fact.)  And, yes.  Sasha had kissed him as well.  Despite everything thought he understood, Sasha didn't really mind the fact he'd kissed the other boy.  But still ... this was just ... this was so far from what he was used to. 

The fact that the only other date he'd ever been on had ended with the girl dumping him because he hadn't been aware the date was a date - or that they'd even been dating - wasn't helping his nerves at all.

The result: already this was proving to be as effective a distraction as Sasha had hoped it'd be. 

He bent over to straighten and even out the loops of the laces on his dress shoes before quickly glancing up as the door opened.  If it wasn't Fergie, he really had no idea what he was going to say. 

Though.  He wasn't entirely sure what he was going to say if it was Fergie, either.  "Hi.  Allo."  It was a starting point.  And, proof his voice was working.  It was a good start.  "It's snowing."  It was snowing?  Really?  How foolish was that?  "Not in here, though.  Of course.  We're inside.  Outside.  It's ... Hi."

 If you had told Fergie two months ago (or even two weeks ago) that he would be meeting Sasha Schlagenweit for a date, he would have shaken his head and written you off as a crazy person. He'd never been on a date before. To be honest, he had just sort of assumed he never would, at least not while he was at Hogwarts. Not because he didn't want to, but the chances of finding someone worth liking who actually liked him back had seemed slim to none.

 Even now that he was standing here, outside the classroom door, he didn't quite believe it. That, however, was the advantage of written invitations over verbal ones. You could easily misremember or even forget what someone had said. But if you ever found yourself doubting your memory when it came to the written word, you could just go back and look it up. Fergie had taken the small slip of parchment out of his pocket and read and reread so many times that day that he was fairly certain he had it memorized. Everytime it stayed the same. Still in Sasha's handwriting, with the same words arranged in the same sentences that still meant the same thing - Sasha wanted to go on a date with him.

 This was enough to render the Slytherin both extremely giddy and extremely nervous. The butterflies that always showed up around Sasha were in full fluttering mode, his heart was beating at an impressive rate, and he found himself having to rub the palms of his hands on his jeans because they were not as dry as he liked. Here was hoping that stopped, just in case there was any hand holding. Sweaty palms were gross. Fergie did not want to be gross.The Slytherin took a few slow, calming breaths and smoothed his hair down, and finally pushed open the classroom door.

 And there was Sasha, stumbling his way through an awkward greeting. The corners of Fergie's mouth turned up in an involuntary grin. "Hi." The Slytherin closed the door behind him and made his way across the room so he could briefly press his lips to Sasha's cheek. Somehow the fact that the other boy seemed to be just as nervous, if not more so, as he was managed to put Fergie more at ease. "It's a good thing we're inside, then. I didn't bring a coat." A blazer, yes, but that wouldn't exactly have kept him warm in the snow. "Thank you for inviting me." That was right, wasn't it? It was what he would have said in response to any other invitation, surely the same etiquette applied to dates.

Sasha smiled when he saw Ferguson slip into the classroom though the color rose, instantly, in his cheeks.  His mind that had, until that moment, been reeling with what ifs and what on earths and what was he thinking suddenly grew quiet.  Whatever those questions were, whatever the answer was supposed to be suddenly to be growing progressively less important as the Slytherin crossed the room towards him. 

Of course, that didn't mean the nerves were gone.  Oh no.  They were still there.  In full force.  They just had managed to find some new issues to flutter over.  Like what one was supposed to do when they found lips pressed against their cheek.  Presumably, the ideal answer included something more profound than grinning goofily and chuckling but the real answer was proving elusive. 

"I- yes," he said.  "I didn't bring a coat, either.  I mean - to school, of course.  Just not ... here.  I'm glad, you know, the owl found you.  To bring the invitation."  Because, yes.  It was highly unlikely there was a Hogwarts school owl so incompetent it wouldn't know the way from the owlery to the Slytherin table. 

Sasha pursed his lips but decidedly ignored the itch on his forehead that he suddenly felt an urge to scratch.  "I know this isn't quite the typical first date.  I mean, I guess I don't really know what they're supposed to be like in the Wizarding World.  I assume there's no going to movies and pizza and pop or something."  All which translated to: Sasha was completely winging it.  Well, the winging it was supported by at least some logic.  "On TV, it always seemed like first dates were about, you know, getting to know the other person - which seems doable, even if there isn't a movie involved.  The pizza and pop, though, seemed a little easier to arrange.  I wasn't really sure about the other part."

Had Fergie been aware of Sasha's nerves on the subject, he would have readily put the other boy at ease. Or at least tried. Because, personally, he found the grinning and chuckling to be more than profound enough a response. It was certainly enough to prompt an equally goofy grin to appear on his own face, and he impulsively leaned up again, this time to plant a quick kiss on the other boy's lips, soft and sweet.

The Slytherin boy blushed as he pulled back and bashfully ducked his head, still grinning. "Hi," he repteaded, stupidly. His brain seemed to have decided to switch to running on autopilot. "You smell good." And autopilot, apparently, had decided to make him say embarrassing things that were supposed to remain safely locked inside his head. Sasha had an alarming knack for sending Fergie tripping over his words. Fergie was beginning to suspect the blonde's awkwardness was catching.

But there could only be so much awkwardness in one room at a time, and Sasha was already filling up the quota. Fergie would just have to pretend he hadn't just totally embarrassed himself (which suited him fine, and wasn't that difficult, once the vibrant blush had dissipated), and don his invisble, sequined trimmed -hey, just because it was invisible/imaginary didn't mean it couldn't be fabulous- superhero cape and become the Anti Awkward once more. For the good of the planet, you know.

"I'm glad it found me, too," he agreed, nodding. Owls were handy that way. Even when you didn't have the right address, they somehow seemed to find you anyway. He wasn't sure how that worked, but it was damned convenient. "Though I guess if it hadn't, you could have just asked me in person." It would have been adorable, he thought, and probably would have included a lot of stammering and blushing. But he liked having the written invitation. It was a tangible memory, something he thought he'd be hanging onto for a while. Yeah, he was a sap. So sue him.

Fergie leaned back against the desk at the front of the classroom, listening as Sasha talked about typical first dates. Pizza and pop... that sounded pretty good to him. Of course, to be honest, they could have just sat there and made out talked all evening, and Fergie would have thought it was perfect. Who needed typical? He was just glad Sasha had asked him out. For a long time, a very long time, he'd thought that would never happen.

"I've never actually been on a date before," he pointed out, switching on an old wireless someone had left in the classroom and turning the music down low. Music was good for dates, right? And maybe later he could convince the Ravenclaw to dance with him. He'd never danced with another boy before, and it was one of those things that showed up frequently in his sappier  day dreams. "So I wouldn't know the difference, anyway. Pizza sounds excellent. What kind?"

Before his mind could dwell too much on what he'd feared was an underwhelming response, Fergie's lips rested gently against his own.  The fluttering in his stomach gave a sudden jolt as he kissed the other boy back though nerves had taken an mistakable backseat to excitement and general giddiness.  "I ... that was, you know, nice," he said, quietly, after the other boy had stepped back. 

"It's the shampoo.  It's -"  He caught himself before delving too far into the ins and outs of the aromatic profile of his hair care products.  That really wasn't what the conversation was about.  It probably wasn't even intended to be a topic of conversation at all.  It had probably been more-   

He grinned, even as a fresh splash of color rose in his cheeks.  For a moment, his gaze lingered on Fergie before he remembered himself and nodded.  "Thanks," he offered in return, taking a deep breath to try and settle at least calm his nerves just a little bit. 

"I, yes, well, next time," her assured the Slytherin before giving the comment a second thought.  When he hadn't given himself that time to worry, the offer to ask in person had come rather easily.  Now, all he had to do was not think about the actually asking in person bit until after he had done so.  That appeared to be the key to doing anything with any amount of grace.  But, even if ability was questionable, the intention had been earnest. 

"Neither have I, really."  At least, not that he'd known about though now was probably not the time to analyze whether or not that night in the kitchens had counted as a date.  "But, then, that's good, I guess.  They can be whatever ... whatever we want them to be.  Right?"  While this idea of dating other boys wasn't as new for Fergie as it was for Sasha at least they were on even footing when it came to expectations of dates themselves.  "Well, I wasn't sure what you would want, so I ... I bribed the house elves into ... they'll make whatever we decide we want.  My sister just sent orange soda," he offered apologetically.  Care packages from home had been a rather novel thing for Sasha - he'd never gotten any before Jacoba had returned to London.  Since then, though, she seemed to be making up for lost time.  He had more orange soda than he knew what to do with. 

Which, apparently, brought them to their first 'get to know you' topic of conversation.  "What's your favorite pizza?  Do you like thin or thick crust?"

Fergie grinned up at the blond, feeling giddy and sort of light headed, but in a totally good way. Like instead of kissing Sasha he'd inadvertently gotten stung on the lips by a billywig. He even sort of felt like he was floating. It was just... It was all so...  Yeah. Nice - like Sasha said.

"It was," he agreed with a nod, reaching out to pick an imaginary piece of lint off of Sasha's shirt and smooth out the other boy's collar. Not because it needed it. Sasha's apparel was always impecably neat. Fergie just wanted another excuse to touch him. "It was really nice. We should, you know, do that again. Soon." Or now. Now was good, too. Anytime, really, worked for him, as long as it involved their lips meeting again in the near future. Frequently.

And, thankfully, it seemed that his distracted, unintentional comment hadn't been unwelcome or awkward enough to derail that possibility. Although he found himself having to fight the urge to lean over and smell Sasha's hair, now that shampoo had been identified as the source of Sasha's good smelling-ness (which wasn't a word, but whatever). That would just be weird. He settled for hitching his shoulders up in a bashful shrug and saying "you're welcome" instead.

"Next time?" Fergie repeated. Those two words sent the butterflies in his stomach tumbling around in a chaotic fluttering. And, all right, he'd figured there would be more dates after this. But it was still nice to hear. Really, really nice. His grin widened. "Not if I beat you to it," he pointed out with a flirtatious wink. And if that comment succeeded in making the Ravenclaw blush some more, Fergie wasn't going to complain. Because he was pretty sure that was quickly becoming one of his favorite hobbies.

"I like that idea," he told Sasha, when the other boy pointed out that this being their first official date, with anyone, meant they could make their dates what they wanted them to be. But mostly he liked knowing that this was Sasha's first real date, too. It just added another little heap of 'special' to the evening.

"Orange soda's okay." He waved off the other boy's apology. It wasn't his favorite or anything, but it wasn't like he hated it. It'd be fine. As for his favorite pizza - "I like thick crust, and I usually just eat cheese or pepperoni," he admitted, shrugging. "I don't like a lot of crazy toppings. My brother likes this ham and pineapple combo." He wrinkled his nose. "It's disgusting. What about you? What's your favorite?"

The Ravenclaw resigned himself to the fact that he'd, probably, be blushing through this entire date.  He doubted the warmth had faded much in his cheeks before it flared up, again, with the brush of the Slytherin's hand over his collar.  His eyes slipped down the hand and followed its track a moment before looking back up at its owner and grinning, sheepishly. 

"It was really nice. We should, you know, do that again. Soon."

"I- oh?"  Sasha's eyebrows furrowed as his mind raced to determine what communicative role that statement served.  Had it been a request?  An invitation for the future?  Soon was, of course, relative.  In some instances it denoted soon - as in not now but not after long.  In other cases it could be an attempt to request immediate action without sounding demanding.  But, if one were to look at the options analytically, it seemed unlikely the later interpretation would be unwelcome - regardless of whether it was correct or not.  And, he couldn't deny the fact that he didn't mind the idea. 

The taller Ravenclaw leaned over and, ignoring the fresh flurry of fluttering in his stomach, pressed his lips to Fergie's.  A strangled laugh of ... something (Sasha didn't know what or where it came from) ... escaped the Ravenclaw as he pulled back and looked down at the floor. "I ... so it's ...um-"  Sasha, indeed, flushed a little deeper when the Slytherin winked at him.  Fergie claimed this flirting had been happening for at least a few months before Sasha became aware of it.  How, though, was that possible?  It was hard to imagine having ever not noticed how surprisingly ... cute that was. "You know, starting to sound like a race," he finished, quietly.  A race.  Of who could ask the other out next, first.  There were worst races to get caught up in.  And, it wasn't all that objectionable to loose, either. 

"Just cheese is good," Sasha agreed with a nod, wrinkling his nose sympathetically in solidarity with Fergie's assertion that the ham and pineapple combo sounded gross.  "I don't really eat much meat-"  Or, really, any.  "-but my favorite's the margarita style?  You know with the fresh tomatoes and basil.  But, I'll eat most anything, really." 

Sasha glanced awkwardly around the room, scratching the back of his neck.  He moved over towards the corner of the room and, inwardly trying to curse his lingering awkwardness away, settled himself on one of the two beanbags stashed in the corner.  "Your brother doesn't go to Hogwarts anymore, right?"  Sasha asked.  He knew there was another Amherst running around (he'd actually been taking more note of such things since the start of the term) but that one was a girl.  He didn't know of any boys named Amherst.  "That must be weird, going to school with your siblings."  Except, of course, Sasha forgot that he, too, now went to school with a sibling.

Fergie could practically hear the gears turning in Sasha's mind as the Ravenclaw's brows knit together. Sasha had to analyze everything. It was a trait that Fergie sometimes found frustrating, but tonight he decided that (in this instance at least) it was kind of cute. It helped that in the end the other boy had come to a rather pleasant conclusion. As they kissed, the Slytherin let his hands rest momentarily on Sasha's waist - a place that, he'd discovered, his hands really liked to be. Sasha was just the right size for holding onto.

A slight, triumphant smirk tugged at his lips as he watched the Ravenclaw's flush deepen. The effect was just as endearing as he'd thought it would be, if somewhat tomato-y. "I could get used to that kind of race," Ferguson agreed, and chuckled. "No running necessary, and with such a good looking opponent? Sounds perfect to me." Not to mention the fact that even if he happened to lose, he'd still be winning. Why weren't more sports like that? He might have been more interested in participating, if they were.

"I've never had the margarita style," he admitted, shrugging, when the talk turned to pizza. "It sounds good, though. I'll have to try it sometime. We could have that tonight, if you like?" First date, first boyfriend, first margarita pizza. It fit the trend of the evening, anyway.

The Slytherin had never been a particular fan of beanbag furniture, but he had to admit that the chairs looked a lot more comfortable than the other options in the room. Besides, sitting in the desk chairs would have felt so... school-like. The beanbags were much more casual and date appropriate. Fergie took a seat in the unoccupied beanbag, arranging himself so that he was comfortable but not, he hoped, too sloppily slouchy.

"Duke graduated last year. Thank Merlin." He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, shaking his head and letting out a slight sigh. "It was terrible while he was still here. Like having two Callums lumbering around." Except Callum, at least, had slightly more intelligent insults. Duke was all brawn and no brains.

As for it being weird... "I dunno. I never really thought about it before." He absently caught his bottom lip between his teeth as he considered it. "I mean, when I got to Hogwarts Marmaduke was already here, so by the time my sister showed up I was used to it. It can certainly be inconvenient at times." LIke when he had a new, adorable boyfriend he wanted to show off but couldn't because what if Stasia found out and wrote back home about it? "But that's the way things have always been." He shrugged. "Besides, you've got Ava here. I mean, it's not quite the same, but still..."

"Me too," Sasha admitted.  Though generally quiet in most situations, there was no denying that Sasha could get into the spirit of competitions.  He was certainly no stereotypical jock; he was more the quiet, calculating competitor who tended to put sportsmanship ahead of winning but he was still loved the competition. 

This was all still a novel experience and, admittedly, it was a little unnerving.  But, Sasha was determined not to over think that part and let it get in the way.  Oh - he'd over think pizza choices or the intended meaning of "soon" in relation to kissing.  But, not the bigger picture of being on a first date with Ferguson.  Just before returning to school, Jacoba had urged Sasha to, at least once or twice, act and speak on his impulses without trying to evaluate every single possible outcome.  She hadn't known about this, but this, he'd resolved, was something worth given the whole 'don't worry, just be' concept a try for.  Even if it meant he found himself saying frivolous and non-sensical things all evening. 

Of course, such a resolve would do little to prevent the blushing that those (now, finally) obvious flirtatious compliments brought.  Those were entirely uncontrollable and no amount of resolving or otherwise would stop them.  Sasha shifted slightly in the beanbag wishing but, despite the bashfulness, he couldn't help but grin.  "Well," he pointed out, sounding only slightly awkward.  "I do tend to get competitive sometimes."  Why yes.  In the whole wide world of flirtatious possibilities, that was the best he could come up with? 

"You haven't?  I ... well ... we should try it.  If you like fresh mozzarella, at least."  And, really, who didn't?  Mozzarella, fresh basil and tomatoes.  Was there a better combination out there?  "I, yes...well.  Uno pizza al Margherita, per favore."  He grinned sheepishly as he tugged a piece of parchment from his pocket and scribbled their choice on it.  He tugged out his old, trusted (though still somewhat misbehaving, even after 5 years) wand and tapped the tip of it against the writing several times before the writing disappeared.  Somewhere, down below in the Hogwarts kitchens, the same words appeared on a slip of parchment Sasha had left with the kitchen elves. 

Sasha wrinkled his nose at the thought of two Callums.  "He was a Slytherin, too?" he asked, trying to remember if he'd ever crossed his path.  Most Slytherins (at least prior to this year) spelled trouble for him and, as a result, all tended to blend together.  He just, generally, avoided green.  Again, at least before this year.  "I can't remember if I ever, you know, ran into him or anything.  He didn't have a weird ebony wand, did he?" 

"So, last year, you had two siblings at school?  And, you're all in the same house?  So, you see each other all the time?"  The reasons were, perhaps, entirely illogical (but he was practicing not worrying about that, wasn't he?), but that seemed such a strange concept.  Yes, he had been even further isolated when he'd come to Hogwarts but, the difference had been almost entirely a mental one.  "I just never saw my siblings that much.  Even before Hogwarts we were just ... I never went to school with either of my sisters.  I mean, I was three when Jacoba was sent off to boarding school in York; I went to Oxford when I was seven.  Anna went to Jacoba's school a couple years later.  We only saw each other over Christmas and summer." 

Fergie was right; he did have Ava, now.  Well...he always had.  He just never knew it was of consequence.  He still wasn't sure if it really was of consequence; it seemed they were siblings only by genetics.  "I guess.  She's still not talking to me.  She hasn't really since-" Sasha flushed slightly and shrugged.  That whole day in Hogsmeade, as Ferguson well knew, was probably very much worth forgetting.  He grinned, slightly, at Fergie before shrugging again.  Strange.  Apparently, his family was in Slytherin, too.