During each subsequent visit, Hogsmeade seemed to get progressively less...ghost townish.  Apparently, the dilapidated, forsaken appearance of the town was one of the many anti-muggle protections on the town.  None actually made it impossible for muggles to find and occupy it - they just made it very difficult and unlikely.  It was, apparently, 'unplottable.'  Meaning, it certainly wasn't in any Frommer's or Fodor's and didn't show on any maps.  As far as Jacoba had managed to tell, even the average topographic map of the area wasn't quite right.  One couldn't just stumble upon it.  They had to know it was there to find it.  And, even then, they had to know what it looked like for it to look like it should. 

Jacoba had visited the little village on several separate occasions by now.  Each time, through the course of conversation, she learned more about the place bit by bit and, as her mind gradually filled in the proverbial architectural blanks, her surroundings seemed to follow suit.  She was fairly certain it still wasn't what it was supposed to be but it was vastly improved from that first day Jacoba had met Neely in that little pub. 

The town was bustling with activity.  Jacoba readily remembered her own boarding school trips to town and understood, fully, the excitement of being released from obligatory behaviors of the school setting.  There were kids everywhere.  In every little pub and shop and coffee shop.  As it was Valentine's Day, there was plenty of adorable, questionable or bizarre behavior to be gawked at or avoided. 

Or encouraged, if this were her usual crowd.  But, alas, it wasn't.  So, Jacoba was destined to pass the time, wandering aimlessly and feeling far too adult like amongst the sea of adolescents until it was time to meet up with her brother. 

The Three Broomsticks seemed to be the least Valentine's-Day-Advantage-Taker's dense (unlike that coffee shop down the street) and Jacoba ducked inside to warm up.  With a fresh firewhiskey in her hand, she scanned the room for a non-existent empty table.  With no empty tables at hand, Jacoba opted for the next best thing: a table with a potential kindred spirit.  Amongst the sea of clean haircuts and carefully grouped fashion ensembles was a head of hair that would be just as comfortable in a metal concert as the streets of Berlin at two in the morning. 

"Mind if I take a seat?"  Her accent was considerably stronger than her brother's.  "It seems empty tables are considered a bit of a valuable commodity." 

So far Valentine's Day was HARD. All this sitting around and waiting for the dance to get started. He had time to kill so why not go to Hogsmede? Get a little firewhiskey to loosen him up (because of course he needed that). Not too loose, though, she still had to do his evening makeup and supervise Fauna and Quinn, his glitterati gal-pals. They all had to work together to make sure everyone looked fabulous (some more than others but hey he still loved them and recognized how hard he was to compete with).

But all of that would come later. Except the firewhiskey. That was going down now and Fir had already taken a seat at the bar and gotten a served. He hadn't completely been able to avoid showing off previewing the epic that was to come in the form of his presence and outfit in the evening. His jacket was glittering in the candlelight and had to be enchanted or pulled from the girl's rack (or both) because glittering menswear was not that easy to find. Go figure.

He manged to get a table, but had kept the chairs slightly pushed back and angled invitingly. It was never too late to for a last minute promise of a slow dance with a cute guy or girl. So of course Fir was delighted when the latter came up and asked him if she could sit down. My, my, that was an accent there.

"Go for it!" Fir said happily, taking a large gulp of firewhiskey. "There's plenty of room. Well, the the immediate area anyway. But the more the merrier. I'm Fir. Like the tree not the animal fur. Long story. Anyway, who are you and what brings you here? 'Cause I'm betting you ain't local and I would have seen you in school before."

Not to mention that she looked too old to be Hogwarts age, but you didn't tell girls that. One advantage Fir had when talking with women was that because he had shared interests, hobbies and pasttimes, he understood their complex minds a lot better than many other guys his age. It was just one more level to his awesome.

At the invitation, Jacoba and her drink took a seat.  On the heels of his introduction, her eyes widened and a grin stretched across her face.  She cast a quick glance around the pub room before turning back to face Fir.  "A sleek punk look with a hippie name,"  her grin grew mischievous as she tilted her head down just enough to give the impression of a curious schoolmarm gazing over non-existent glasses. 

"If you're a closet conformist, I'll be highly disappointed."  Of course, if he was a closet conformist that was probably not the best way to go about perpetuating the conversation.  Which might be for the best in the long run. 

"Jacoba," she offered in return, pausing to take a sip of the firewhiskey.  Which, really, that whole secrecy law was a shame.  She could make a killing reselling this stuff to muggle bars and clubs.  There it was- a massive business opportunity staring her right in the face.  It was like international trade.  Only, not really international.  Imports and exports. Except for the whole secrecy embargo.  With that in the mix it was more like smuggling and embezzlement.  Unfortunate minor distinction.

But, with the sip of drink past, it was back to the conversation.  "Hogwarts, you mean?"  Chances were, that was a stupid question.  Last she'd heard there weren't many other schools around.  "You're right on both accounts, though.  Definitely not local - currently living in London.  And, I've been in Hogwarts...well, on the grounds and in that hospital cabin once.  That was about it, though.  Castle still looks like a pile of ruins to me.  I haven't really been invited in so I don't know if it would crumble like the ruins it looks like or do what Hogsmeade is doing."  She tilted her head up and gazed around the room before turning back.

"My brother goes to Hogwarts, though.  He's a Raven's claw?  I'm hoping to catch up with him and a friend of his.  They're younger than you, though." 

Fir grinned widely at her description of him. "That just about sums it up. Got to tell you my parents were very disappointed I shunned their holistic kumba-ya ways and started buying motorbike magazines and non-organic hair gel."

He openly scoffed at the next statement. "Conformist? You insult me," Fir said with mock hurt. "Why just last night I had one of the most terrifying nightmares of my life- I had replaced my entire wardrobe with department store apparel and was living as a Muggle in a fabric-lined box with three sides. "

Given who was speaking, it was equally likely that his nightmare had indeed occurred...or he was just making stuff up as he talked.

"Now if you turn out to be a closet conformist...Jacoba, it will be I who will be very, very disappointed."

He did have to quirk an eyebrow when she asked if the school was Hogwarts. "For the sake of our continuing conversation, I'm going to pretend you did not just say that," Fir told her seriously. She was lucky she had sat down with such a considerate sort of fellow.

Wait a second. Crumbling ruins.

Fir grinned. "You're a muggle," he declared. "Well damn girl, I can forgive you the Hogwarts thing now. To be honest, I'm surprised you can even see the town at all. Bravo you."

Brother...Ravenclaw...younger than Fir...possible similar accent. It sounded familiar, but.....naww. Couldn't be, could it?

"This brother of yours wouldn't happen to be named Sasha, would he?"

"Solche quatsch" Jacoba mock muttered though an amused grin betrayed her as she shook her head.  "Hopefully, one day they'll recognize that punk's just the new hippie.  Same concept, just a different look."  Not to mention, conforming to a specific form of non-conformity was just ... dumb.  "Motorbike magazines?  Even when you can just blink an eye and be anywhere you want?" 

Jacoba raised her hands in something of a half-hearted apology or surrender but, rather than voicing an apology, spoke up in her own defense.  "You never know."  So, it wasn't the most skillful defense.  "I figured it was a fairly safe assumption."  Fabric-lined box with three sides.  "You were ... a vampire who shops at the Gap?  What had you eaten the night before?" 

"Despite my parents' best efforts, I don't make much of a conformist."  She was a muggle sitting in a Hogsmeade pub.  It wasn't just her parents that had, at one point, hoped she'd be a little more conforming.  "I mean, I know the part.  I just suck at playing it." 

Apparently, asking for clarification about the school had been a very stupid question.  Jacoba opened her mouth, intent upon defending her confusion when Fir seemed to come to the conclusion on his own.  She watched him closely as the realization set in, just in case the reaction wasn't a positive one.  The grin, however, was a good sign.

"Thank you," she offered when he offered to forgive her.  "Well, it wasn't easy to find.  I had a fair bit of help.  It's not exactly concealed, you know.  Well, it is.  It's just ... it's this weird you've got to know what your looking for to be able to see it.  Which, to be honest, is a bit trippy.  You...well, we - muggles - can only see it if we know what we're seeing.  Which means, you picture it in your mind and then it's there.  Kind of like the Lost Boy's food in Hook.  If you've, you know, seen movies.  If you aren't careful to remember what's really happening - it can start to feel like its your imagination coming true." 

"You know him?"  The surprise that met her brother's name was earnest.  "Ja, I know the family resemblance isn't that strong but they claim we're siblings." 

"God I hope not," Fir said putting on a face of mock horror. "Otherwise I will have bought into the whole 'no really. It's okay to name your children after plant life not matter how ridiculous you think it sounds' thing."

Egads, what madness, harmony and scarily big smiles would that evoke in the Cuween household if his parents decided punk was just the new hippie. The horror!

Horror quickly changed into an amused grin when Jacoba switched to motorbikes.

"While this is true, Floo powder is FILTHY, Portkeys rough up the user a bit and while I can and frequently do Apparate, I have not yet perfected that stunning entrance with flashing colored lights and glitter in the air. Besides, motorbikes are hot stuff. Loved them when I was a kid living in a muggle-only world, and then I came here and discovered you can make them fly."

 "No, no, no," Fir said, "Though that would be bloody awful, wouldn't it? I dreamed I was working in a cubicle for the rest of my life wearing Gap-esq clothing."

Task. Tsk. Tsk. He would have hoped a Muggle would have picked up a little better on that. The Gap vampire thing wasn't too bad, though. She had potential. And decent tastes in kids movies. Little known fact: Fir had a soft spot for Peter Pan.

Which was more than he could say for her brother. Because, yes, he was indeed sitting in the presence of the sister of one Sasha Schalgenweit. If it wasn't for the accent, Fir wouldn't have guessed it-there just wasn't that many German kids running around a UK school. 

"Oh sweetie, I know everybody," Fir assured the much less social awkward Schlagenweit. "Though I gotta say, you look nothing like him. And are far less twitchy- so far. Your let eye looks a little shifty."

A teasing grin followed that statement to let the woman know he was kidding.

"I didn't say they were identical," Jacoba quickly corrected, shaking her head though she was perpetually grinning.  "Nor did I mean that you needed to buy into their crazy hippie ways."  Hippies for parents.  Jacoba would have given her right arm for parents whose major shortcomings were naming her after a tree.  They could have named her after a bush or a weed for all she would have cared.  Lemongrass. 

"It's more it's the new way of beating the social norm.  Cousins from different worlds.  The hippies from a different form of reality.  Nevermind," she conceded as she sipped her drink.  She doubted continuing with the discussion would magically make her sound less weird. 

Jacoba wrinkled her nose sympathetically and shook her head.  "A Gap vampire would definitely be better than being trapped in a cubicle."  Cubicle.  Coffin.  There were some strikingly strange similarities.  "Better.  Not by much.  I did the cubicle thing for a little bit before coming here.  But, it definitely wasn't a Gap crowd."  Walking into an Amnesty International office wearing Gap (which wasn't second-hand) would probably have been quite scandalous.  Assuming, anyone working the phones could have afforded it. 

So, Fir was one of those social monarch butterflies - not only seeking out but reigning over social interactions.  Jacoba suspected her brother wasn't one of those grappling to be in Fir's company.  "Yeah, no," she said with a chuckle, shaking her head.  "I fell a little far from the proverbial family tree.  Much to my parents disappointment, I wasn't quite the model heir my brother managed to be." 

She shrugged indifferently, taking a sip of her drink before chuckling and grinning at Fir.  "I could only imagine he's a little twitchy around you.  You are a walking violation of every one of my father's rules on masculinity.  You probably scare Sasha.  And, you probably enjoy it."  She chuckled again and shook her head. 

Fir tilted his head, squinted his eyes and gave Jacoba his very best and cutest (yes, he did practice) confused look, after she went on abotu social norms and reality cousins or whatever.

"You are a strange bird, you know that?" He finally said before braking into a grin. "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship, Jacoba Schalgenweit."

He did have to shudder at the mere thought about working in a cubicle. The poor girl. That must have been a scarring experience. Fir wouldn't be able to survive. A cubicle simple didn't have enough room for his personality, ego or hair. It would like implode or something in a cubicle environment. One of the many reasons he had no desire to step foot into the Ministry with a CV. You either did desk work, dangerous hair-threatening work, or were one the handful of big wigs in charge. Fir would prefer to be a big wig (who wouldn't), but like hell he was starting out at the bottom levels lie the rest of would-be grunts.

"Model heirs are too dull half the time," Fir said, giving Jacoba an exaggerated eyeroll. "Believe you mean. I live with so many pureblood heirs, its ridiculous. Now several of them are my friends, but after you've met so many model rich pureblood heirs, you've met them all, know what I mean?"

Fir was way to close to muggleborn to be a heir of anything except well...hair. Oh wordplay. Wasn't like he had anything against the pureblood heirs and heiress (he really did live with soooo many of them), but a lot of them got lost in the crowd unless they had a particularly awesome/obnoxious fashion sense or were able to keep up with Fir's mile-a-minute personality. He was a high maintenance  sort of friend like that sometimes.

"Twitchy around me?" Fir asked with a smirk. "I thought that was just his usual expression. I've seen calmer rabbits two feet away from a starving fox. But you are right- I very much enjoy it. If I can't have a person's absolute adoration, why not go for curiosity and confusion? Either way I'm on the radar."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Jacoba offered Fir, lifting her glass in a haphazard toast of approval.  She'd been called many things over the years; compared to many of them, strange bird was a definite compliment.  It was, after all, about perspective.  And, the lifted glass served a nice twin purpose in relation to this prospect of a beautiful friendship.  "I'll toast to that." 

Jacoba snorted and nodded in agreement.  "Well, if it's any consolation, being a model heir is bloody dull most of the time.  And, in all reality, I'm a girl so I never would have been an heir anyway.  Just had to act the part."  It had been a rather archaic expectation. 

"To be honest, I haven't really met that many pureblood heirs," she admitted, looking towards Fir.  Did Adon count as a pureblood heir?  "I've gathered I'm not quite popular amongst most of them so I kind of stick to the muggle-friendly crowd.  Those that don't take my trespassing so personally.  So ... I take it you're not pureblood?  Or, at least, not an heir?  Or, are most pureblood heirs?  I guess my brother doesn't really count in this world." 

Jacoba was slowly finding a way to wrap her head around the complex subtleties of wizarding society.  It was more than slightly ironic but Jacoba sometimes felt her parents' intolerantly aristocratic upbringing helped prepare her to relate better than any other upbringing might have. 

"Well, pushing the envelope of his world view a little certainly won't hurt him; I give you permission to confuse him as much as you want.  I certainly tried to do as much as I could when we were kids."  That had been one the many sources of contention between her and her father.  He had always been terrified she was going to ruin him.  "And, he really actually can think for himself, even if he seems to resist it.  Evidence of independent thought was pretty well discouraged in our household."