Jacoba paused, longingly, outside the window of the joke shop.  Even a muggle like her could recognize the inherent worth in some of the items on display - despite not knowing what half of them actually did.  She was sure she could improvise.  And, again, it occurred to Jacoba that if it weren't for that whole statute of secrecy thing, she could make a killing reselling that stuff to muggle kids.  Imagine it!  If that Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder really ... well, she wasn't sure what it did.  But, it sounded killer whatever it was.  And, she could easily mark up the stuff like 500% or more! 

But, those thoughts were all curious musings - nothing more.  She would never actually act on those ideas.  The money wasn't worth getting cast off from the wizarding world.  She was still, very much, a visitor - a guest.  One that most of the officials in the world were simply tolerating.    Jacoba was sure hawking their wares to muggles would put her on the fast track to overstaying her welcome and it simply wasn't worth the risk.  Not with Adon here.  And Sasha. 

And, apparently, Sasha's friends. 

One glance over her shoulder confirmed that Fergie didn't share her same enthusiasm for the shop of mischievous toys.  That wrinkled nose of disapproval spoke volumes.  "If you were in my shoes, you'd be showing more enthusiasm, too," she offered simply before turning her back on the shop and continuing on to the next more (supposedly) suitable shop.  On the few other occasions she'd been to Hogsmeade, she'd restricted herself to the places she had business at - which meant mostly the Three Broomsticks.  But, now, she was taking the opportunity to explore - escorted by a true native tour guide. 

"You should see what we have to settle for for pranks.  Ever seen the disembodied finger?"  A favorite among dads, it seemed.  Well, not her dad - but she'd seen friend's fathers (and tv sitcom fathers) use it.  She held up both her hands and tucked one thumb behind, 'pretended' to remove her thumb with the other hand.  Having never bothered to practice that particular prank (since it was quite lame and really only effective on those under the age of three), it probably was a rather pathetic looking. 

Zonko's. Fergie suppressed a sigh, nose involuntarily wrinkling in distaste. He didn't understand why, out of all the shops she could explore in Hogsmeade, Jacoba would choose this particular one to stop and stare at. Seriously? It was a joke shop. People like Figaro Sellaphix shopped there. And that was completely fine - for them. But it wasn't exactly Fergie's cup of tea.

It did fit with what Fergie had learned and was continuing to learn about Jacoba's personality, though. She was certainly much more... outgoing than her brother. And mischevious. Reminded him of his cousin Margo, in some ways (which was kind of frightening). And if it meant Jacoba liked him and wouldn't disapprove too much if/when it eventually came out that he was dating her brother? He would suffer through Zonko's. Twice.

Fortunately, it didn't look like he was going to have to. "I'm not sure I can imagine any scenario where I would be enthusiastic about that place," he admitted, relieved, as he stepped forward in order to keep up with her. "It's not really my style. My brother dragged me in there a few times when we were younger - I don't really have happy memories there." He did still have the occasional nose biting tea cup nightmare, though. Thanks a lot, Duke.

Fergie's eyebrows lifted and he laughed as Jacoba demonstrated this disembodied finger thing. "Impressive," he commended, grinning, and clapped for her performance. "I bet you're the hit of the party with that one. Were there any other shops you were interested in? I know they're not as sophisticated as Zonko's, but they have their own appeal."

"Oh, come on," Jacoba offered with a glance back over her shoulder in the joke shop's direction.  "There's got to be a scenario.  You just haven't opened your mind to the practical applications."  Unfortunately, Jacoba couldn't use examples from Zonko's - she was too unfamiliar with the products.  She had to resort to muggle options. 

"Like, in the muggle world we've got these key chains that make obscene noises, right?  Farts and burps and all that good stuff.  Let's say you're studying in the library and someone comes to sit at your table and you don't want to share?  You can't just ask them to move but a few good peeps from the fart machine and they'll move on on their own."  One could only imagine what practical uses could be found for what was in a wizarding joke shop!

Walking alongside Fergie, Jacoba watched as clusters of students passed them on their way to whatever endeavors they were pursuing.  She glanced down at Fergie, an eyebrow raised.  "No?" she asked, curiously.  There wasn't anything in the boy's tone that indicated he didn't want to talk any further about these less-than-happy memories and he'd brought it up himself.  "Because of the shop or because of the brother?" she asked. 

"Thanks for humoring me," Jacoba said with a grin as the boy laughed.  "Not all muggle pranks are that corny.  Or lame."  Jacoba looked around the street at the various window fronts.  "To be honest, it all still looks pretty shabby.  Apparently, it's a muggle thing - the whole concealment bit.  It used to be completely ghost-townish but I'm not sure I'm seeing all the shops, yet.  Like that," she paused and pointed.  "Is that shop actually abandoned?  If that was in a muggle city, the it'd be deemed unsafe for occupation."

The look Fergie directed at Jacoba was aghast enough that he felt certain it conveyed just the right amount of horror. Was she serious? Did he honestly look like the kind of person who would use something called a 'fart machine' in any situation? "You're joking." It wasn't a question. She had to be joking. She might not know him well, but it didn't take a genius to see he was not obscene-noise-keychain material.

"And," he added teasingly, raising his eyebrows, "you're sure you're Sasha's sister? Sasha Schlagenweit. About yey tall," he lifted his hand up several inches above his head to demonstrate. "Blonde hair, blue eyes, charming grin, and the easiest blush trigger this side of the Atlantic?" But then, it wasn't like Fergie's brother was much like him. Family was weird that way.

Speaking of Duke. "Mostly the brother, I think. He and I have never really seen eye to eye on... well, anything, really." Fergie shrugged, and stepped aside so a pair of lovesick fourth years could walk by, since they seemed determined not to stop holding hands even for that brief moment. Saps. (Like you have room to judge, a small voice in the back of his head quipped. He told it to shut up.) "Marmaduke is more brawn than brains, very concerned with being 'macho'. And I'm... well, me. He's always enjoyed tormenting me. That place," he jerked a thumb back in the direction of Zonko's, "just gave him more fuel with which to do so."

It was strange to think of looking at Hogsmeade through a muggle's eyes, with everything broken down and shabby. It was a small town, true, but most of the shops were kept very much up to date on repairs and things. It was so cozy and cheerful - thinking of it appearing anything else was... odd. "That's Honeydukes. It's... no, it's not abandoned. It's the sweets shop. Can you... do you want to go inside? Or will it still look like a pile of rubbish?" He wasn't exactly sure how that worked.

Fergie's shocked look was met with a bright, amused smirk.  "Perhaps," she offered with a little too much amusement in her voice.  Whether or not it was intended as a question was, largely, a matter of technicalities.  She'd interpret it as one if it suited her need for amusement. 

She laughed, brightly and nodded her head.  This wasn't the first time she'd heard someone ask if she and Sasha were, indeed, related.  "So they tell us.  Of course, it wouldn't be the first family scandal if we weren't.  Regardless of actual genetics, though, we are speaking of the same, straight-edged, stick-in-the-mud kid."  She spared the young man next to her a curious, sidelong glance.  Their choice of descriptions Ferguson used was rather curious.  "There's not a whole lot of familial resemblance between us, I know.  Despite only having half of our family's genetic material, he fits the Schlagenweit mold better than I do.  For better or worse." 

"Ah," Jacoba offered, sympathetically.  "He's one of those?  Sounds pleasant."  Only if one recognized the sarcasm in her tone.  "So, he's a bullying, macho jock and I assume he's not thrilled you're gay?  Yeah, I can see why you're not that fond of that shop."  She glanced back over her shoulder at the joke shop before turning forward, again.  "And, he's older than you, right?"  She took a few more steps and shook her head, again.  "Hopefully, my brother never thought me too much of the bullying older sibling.  I think I got pushy at times but, hopefully, never bullying." 

"Honeydukes," Jacoba repeated, glancing at Fergie before looking back at the shop.  Sure enough, the small, rickety sign in front of the shop spelled HONEYDUCKS.  Jacoba couldn't remember if the sign had been there a moment before.  Through the dusty windows, Jacoba thought she might be able to see the outline of dully colored sweet displays.  "If you can promise the roof's not going to cave in on us, I'm up for it."  It still looked like fairly rubbish-like.  "If I never go in, it'll probably always look like rubbish.  After you," she tagged on. 

"Sasha's not a stick in the mud," Fergie countered immediately with a slight shake of his head. Yes, he frequently teased Sasha about not knowing how to have fun. But the other boy was learning! And it was automatic, by this point, to defend the Ravenclaw. Even against his sister. "He's just... conservative. There's nothing wrong with that."

"I don't know." The Slytherin looked up at Jacoba with a grin, when she mentioned the lack of family resemblance. "You guys must at least share a height gene, because you both look like giants when standing next to us mere mortals."  Fergie himself was only five foot seven - shorter than Jacoba. But he still had time to grow! He was only sixteen, after all. "Tell me, how often do you two accidentally trample innocent townsfolk?"
 
"So, he's a bullying, macho jock and I assume he's not thrilled you're gay?  Yeah, I can see why you're not that fond of that shop."

It was said casually enough that Fergie almost didn't notice, almost replied on autopilot. "Pretty mu-" was all that made it out of his mouth before he realized what she'd just said. Ferguson stumbled, tripping over his own feet. When he righted himself (fortunately before crashing to the snowy ground) he just sort of... froze, and stared, for a long moment.

It wasn't like this was the first time someone had just guessed. But he'd never actually been called out on it by an adult. Gotten curious (or disapproving) looks, sure, but none of them had ever actually said 'oh you're gay' or anything. And while Jacoba didn't exactly count as an adult, she was close enough to one that it would be alarming enough on its own. But there was also the Sasha situation to consider.

But, that was stupid. It was stupid to worry about that. Figuring out he was gay didn't really take a genius, and while she might have been the first to speak of it outright, he was sure she couldn't possibly be the first adult to guess. He was fairly certain his parents knew, or were at least suspicious - they just refused to acknowledge it. That was how 'imperfections' were dealt with in his family... if they ignored it long enough, it was like they were hoping it would stop existing.

So Jacoba figuring that out didn't mean she'd figured the rest of it out. It didn't mean she knew he liked her brother, or, even if she did (because he knew he was fairly obvious about that, too - he couldn't help it), it didn't mean she knew he was dating her brother. Nobody knew that, outside of Jordyn, who he'd told, and Fir, who he'd been blackmailed into telling. And, he supposed, Callum Knight - but Callum didn't count. The other Slytherin had just guessed, before he and Sasha had even officially been a couple, and they hadn't actually confirmed it. Yet. This evening would change things.

But he was pretty sure it wouldn't change the fact that neither he nor Sasha were ready for people outside of school to know. Which was okay, because unless Jacoba was a legilimens, there was no way she would know. And muggles couldn't learn legilimency.

"I haven't exactly told him," he said at last, taking a deep breath and trying to will his heart to return to beating at a more normal pace. "I mean, I'm sure he's guessed. But I'm not... I'm not out, at home. They wouldn't... approve." That was putting it mildly. He wet his lips, and shot an anxious glance at Jacoba. Honeydukes would have to wait for a moment. "You're not going to say anything about this to anyone, are you? I just... I can't risk... please don't tell anyone."

Jacoba glanced at Fergie, grinning amusedly as the young man jumped to Sasha's defense.  It was nice to see that someone was standing up for her brother but of all the battles to attempt to fight, this seemed a strange and a fruitless one to choose.  "Really?"  Jacoba asked, arching an eyebrow.  "You and I must have slightly different definitions of 'stick in the mud.'  Even as a kid he was always pretty uptight and rigid.  Heh - just conservative, I'm sure." 

Jacoba glanced over at Fergie and, smirking slightly, made an exaggerated effort of looking down at him.  "It's the Waldgraf blood.  They, in fact, mixed with giants a few generations back so they'd have a better view of their serfs through the window."  She shoved her hands in her pocket and sidestepped as a particularly determined looking couple slipped past on their way to ... Jacoba wasn't sure.  One of the many nondescript dilapidated buildings that lined the main street.  "No.  Not a lot of accidental trampling."  After a few steps: "Usually just intentional." 

One moment, her brother's friend was walking next to her, confirming her theory casually.  The next, he was a few steps behind her, frozen in place with an expression that, out of context, would have gotten a million hits on youtube.  At first, Jacoba wondered if she'd gotten it wrong - had come to the wrong theory.  But, that didn't quite fit with the near confirmation a moment ago.  "You alright?" she asked, glancing around them before returning to the young man.  "Did I say something wrong?" 

"Ah."  Jacoba turned away from Honeydukes, glancing around at the other pedestrians before nodding her head.  "I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have assumed," she offered, nodding her head in invitation as she stepped towards the side of the building and a little more out of the direct flow of foot traffic.  "It just seemed so obvious and it's pretty much such a non-issue in usual my social circle, I don't really give it much thought." 

She lifted both hands in a slow down, relax manner as he fumbled through a nervous plea for discretion.  "It's alright.  I understand.  I know a little bit about intolerant families.  I can even pretend I'm wrong if you'd prefer.  But, I obviously won't say anything to anyone if you don't want me too."  She arched an eyebrow curiously in his direction and opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it and closed it, again.  After a moment, she nodded.  "And, I promise I won't bring it up again, if you don't want me to."  After all, it probably wasn't that cool to be talking about such things with your friend's sister.

Fergie gratefully followed Jacoba away from the main road and towards the comparitive privacy of the side of the Honeydukes building. "It's ...fine," he struggled to keep his tone composed, but the way he leaned back against the outer wall of the shop and chewed his lip betrayed his lingering trepidation. "I was just - I was startled."

The Slytherin closed his eyes, counted to three, and heaved a deep breath, hoping it would dispell the last bits of panic. When he opened them he found that he did feel a bit calmer, so he considered the exercise a moderate, if not total, success. "Obvious." He repeated flatly, clearing his throat and shaking his head. It wasn't like this was news to him, really. It was just, "The adults that I know... No one's ever said anything. I'm sure you've noticed by now that the pureblood world can be a bit, um, old fashioned about things." Elitism, blood purity, arranged marriages... the list could go on and on, really. "It's the sort of thing they prefer not to acknowledge."

"But," he added, glancing from Jacoba to the pavement and back again, "it's really a non-issue for you? Like, if - " No. Bad idea.

Instead of finishing that sentence, he ducked his head and concentrated on smoothing the wrinkles out of his cardigan. "You don't have to pretend you don't know," he offered, after a few moments of silence. "Most people at school know." Or guessed. But they'd all know, after the dance. "It's just, you know..." He waved a hand, gesturing. "Everywhere else. I don't mind you knowing, but... yeah, if you could just not mention it to anybody else, I'd appreciate it."

"So, this world is behind on that, too," Jacoba asked, though perhaps needlessly.  She wasn't sure why she was surprised, in retrospect.  Perhaps, she'd simply been assuming that with all the focus and concern about muggleness and pureblooded lines and such that they were ... distracted from what she'd assumed, at first, was a more muggle discrimination.  Apparently, that wasn't the case.  Apparently, purist families were really quite universal. 

Jacoba settled against the wall next to Fergie, watching a stray snowflake as it drifted in some displaced solitary journey to the ground.  This conversation was obviously awkward enough for the teen; he probably didn't need her standing there watching him as he collected himself.  "I suppose it's really not that different in the end," she concluded, sympathetically.  "I could only imagine what my parents would have done if they'd suspected the same about any of us." 

"Of course."  Jacoba nodded, returning Fergie's glance with an encouraging smile and nod.  "I don't know.  Call me crazy but I tend to think that the world would be a much better place if people worried less about who other people love and more about who other people hate.  Our balance just seems a bit skewed with all of it.  Like, if what?"  She tagged, on, encouragingly, assuming at first the question had been cut off out of bashfulness. 

"I can guess," Jacoba responded as Fergie waved his hand, vaguely.  "And, I won't tell anyone.  Most people at school know?  Really?  Does my brother know?"