Jazz had been through a lot that week.  For one thing she was mugged.  Johnny's onyx ring, her wand, crystal penguin necklace, crystal leaf ring and leather bracelet was stolen by a Wacky-Old-Harpy.  What a stupid thing Jazz did: wandering around Diagon Alley at night, alone.  How stupid could someone be?  One would think she knew better.  She thought she did.  But evidently not.  She was disgusted with herself and angry at the mugger.  If only she could do wandless magic: then she wouldn't be in this situation.  But who really can do wandless magic?  Well, besides Voldemort and Dumbledore, she didn't know anyone else who could, and she was no way in hell anywhere near their league.  Still, she never hated herself more than she did now.

But Kirby wanted to see her, and who was she to disappoint someone?  Begrudgingly tying her converse, she noticed the bareness of her hands and shuddered in self-loathing.  Ever since she was mugged she had never felt more out of place or just plain lost.   Being a muggleborn, a wand was something extra special for a witch or wizard.  Add that to the weird sentimental tendencies of Jazz Hawke and you've got a cocktail of despair.  Johnny's ring... don't even get her started on that.  It was the last thing she had to connect herself to him ever since he went AWOL.  Now what?  His ring was the thing that made her feel better when everything else was pushing her down.  It was what brought her down to earth and made her feel safe in the darkest of times.  It's what gave her hope.  Maybe she shouldn't have put so much into a material possession.  Maybe she shouldn't be holding on to Johnny in the first place.  But don't tell her that.

Once confident and unabashedly goofy, Jazz was now slightly cynical and self-loathing.  She idly wondered if this is what Church felt all the time, but then pushed those judging thoughts away.  Despite the goofiness of her panda t-shirt, she was lacking in energy and didn't feel like she had a genuine smile in her.  So why was she going to meet up with Kirby at Hogsmeade?  She didn't really know; nor did she want to linger on that subject, either.  What mattered was that she pocketed the disappointing sit-in wand of mahogany and unicorn hair, took a deep sigh and disapparated on the spot.

Reappearing in the streets of Hogsmeade, the usual bubbly sensation she felt when apparating didn't bring giggles to her heart.  Not even a quirk of a smile graced her firmly set lips as she passed an especially fluffy puppy barking happily at her.  She was not herself.  Normally she would squee the hell out of her mind at the sight of such an adorable animal.  Animals were her weakness, and especially cute ones put her over the top.  But now she just didn't care.  And that was just... uncharacteristic, to say the least.

Opening the door into Honeydukes, the multicolored and joyful merchandise made her sick to look at, but she kept her face neutral as she scanned the store for her ginger acquaintance.  Maybe I shouldn't have come.  I'm not in the place to socialize or entertain.  Maybe if I leave now I can avoid seeing him.  Her tired eyes wavered, the dark circles under them was a direct result from her lack of sleep the past week.  Makeup didn't appear to do anything and she didn't feel like using the pathetic sit-in wand to magically cover them up.

Hogsmeade was as festive as it had ever been, since a boat-, carriage-, and dirigibleful of foreign students were due to arrive the next day, but Kirby found himself unable to completely get into it. He was certainly excited for the upcoming Tournament and the foreign kids, but there was a more pressing matter to him here at home. Jazz Hawke, the cute, lovely girl he had met at Diagon Alley had been attacked, and he was here to see if she was going to be alright. Even though they had only just met...

What was he doing, anyway? After something like being mugged, Jazz should be with her family. And Kirby certainly wasn't family- in fact, they weren't even really friends. What was he thinking? Why had he been so anxious to meet her when she assured him she was fine? Never mind that he didn't quite believe her; the Ravenclaw boy was never normally this impulsive. But his sensitive nature cried out, and he found it difficult to ignore. So, here he was, uncertain if Jazz would even show up. Why should she, anyway?

His red-topped head poked out above the bright stacks of Honeydukes as he walked through the shop, his lanky arms piled with sweets: a package of Peppermint Toads each for his parents who liked dark chocolate, a Chocolate Frog for Greg who preferred milk, another for Evan who had begun collecting the cards, and a package of Fizzing Whizbees for Alison. He had just added a box of Fudge Flies for himself when he heard the door jingle, and turned to see Jazz walk into the shop. Without him noticing, his face lit up, and remembering her last note, he picked up a couple of Blood Pops as he made his way over to the blonde. "Jazz, hey!" he greeted, offering the Blood Pops to her by leaning the pile toward her, "You wanted some, right?"

Jazz's heart in her chest dropped at the sound of her name being called.  Damn, he saw me, she cursed herself, throwing away the idea of bolting.  Forcing a smile, she turned to face Kirby as he made his way over to her.  She quirked an eyebrow at the mountain of goodies he held.  He already picked out my blood-pops, she noted with a slightly sheepish 'thank you'.  That was sweet of him.  She didn't catch the irony in that mental statement like she usually would, since they were in a sweetshop.

"Hi, Kirby.  Looks like you're going to buy out the entire shop," she said, trying to make a joke, but her usual lighthearted sarcasm sounded halfhearted and a little bored.  Ignoring it, she grabbed the blood-pops and looked at his attire for some type of distraction.  Her eyes lingered on the leather-bound cuff on his wrist.  It reminded her of her leather bracelet: one of the many things stolen from her not days ago.  Snapping out of her reverie, she awkwardly shuffled her feet and looked back up at Kirby, trying to smile.

Okay, what now? she wondered nervously, trying to think of something to say or do to end the growing awkward silence.  Usually she could smooth things over by making light of any given situation, but she didn't have it in her today.  She idly wondered how she looked to him at that moment.  Sad?  Angry?  Tired?  Nervous?

Jazz's less-than-enthused response not only deflated the boy, but confirmed his strong suspicion that she was not as alright as she claimed to be. Her outfit- pretty much devoid of any colour- might have tipped him off if he paid attention to that sort of thing. Still, he returned her half-hearted smiles with genuine ones, "Yeah... my family seems a lot bigger when I go to sweetshops." When her gaze stayed on his bracelet, he shifted the items in his hands, unconsciously uncomfortable. "Did you want to look around?" he asked awkwardly.

Jazz seemed drained to him... practically the opposite of the bubbly girl he met fifteen days ago. A sadness tugged in the pit of his stomach at this, though his rational mind told him it should be expected. She had been attacked and robbed- a dire violation that made Kirby wonder about the state of the world. Though any philosophical questions had to wait. In order to free himself, he stepped over to the counter and placed his future purchases down, assuring the cashier that he would indeed be back to buy them. He then returned quickly to Jazz, to the tension... to the question that hung in the air unasked.

But that was not to last, as his soft baritone dropped down to nearly a whisper- "How are you?"

Jazz could see the concern in Kirby's eyes.  She immediately felt guilty.  Why did I tell him of the mugging in the first place?  It's not like we're friends.  The only other one who knows is Church, and I didn't even have to tell him since he's the one who rescued me.  Jazz was slightly confused.  She was never one to seek attention by broadcasting her misfortunes for others to see.  If there was one thing she hated it was being pitied.  Yet here she was.  As he walked to the register she had a mini panic attack.  She was terrible about expressing her true feelings verbally.  Writing was easier, but it was still difficult to find the right words and put it in the right format.

Maybe that's not what this is... maybe he just wants to hang out? she thought hopefully, but after Kirby's heartfelt question, it was quickly diminished.  Jazz didn't like beating around the bush.  She hated lying and she despised pretending to be a certain way when she wasn't.  Yet all her instincts were shouting at her to do all three.  It would be easier.  To just wear the mask and hide behind the lie.  But that wasn't her.  Not anymore.  Like the mural in Diagon Alley, she had destroyed that part of her life.

If she was to feel blinding rage, she would kick and bite and tear down the walls.  If she was to feel pain and suffering, she would cry herself to sleep every night.  This is what she vowed to herself, and she couldn't turn back on that promise.

"I'm not doing so well.  But if I were to talk about it I'd rather it not be in the middle of a sweetshop." she said softly and lowly.  So, without another moment's hesitation, she made her way to the register with her bag of blood-pops with every intent on buying them so they could go somewhere more private.  That is, if Kirby was up for it.  I don't see why he would.  Sure, he's a sweet boy, but we hardly know each other.

Jazz's reply was like a punch to the gut, and Kirby felt frozen by the guilt bubbling up in his chest. "Right, yeah, of course," he responded softly, watching her go to the register, silently adding in self-derision, "Idiot. Why would she answer that in the middle of a shop? You're a right tosser, Krause." Still, her honesty was appreciated, despite the cutting realisation of his tactlessness. After this brief pause, he straightened his slouch out out and followed the Gryffindor to the counter. Pointing to the Blood Pops in the blonde's hand, told the cashier, "I'll take those, too." He quickly set his money on the counter in an effort to keep Jazz from protesting.

The Ravenclaw took a moment to consider the girl by his side. There was a certain anxiousness that came off her in waves, maybe anger, maybe sadness- or perhaps both. Both understandable, yet somehow unacceptable to Kirby. Less understandably, at least to him, he found himself missing the funny girl who painted that deep, layered mural at Diagon Alley. "Where can we go?" he asked, knowing that the ensuing conversation would most likely be one of the most uncomfortable in the young wizard's lifetime, but not wanting Jazz to think him callous. After all, he did genuinely care about the girl's well-being.

Jazz flushed at Kirby's insistence to pay for her blood-pops.  She wasn't used to being around this sort of company; especially with those she just met.  Honestly, I don't need to be taken care of.  I hope that isn't what he's doing.  She didn't feel in the mood to politely reject his assistance, so she mumbled a thank you as the cashier handled his money.  Where can we go? she wondered, listing off names of places in Hogsmeade in her head.  Three Broomsticks?  Shouldn't be too busy at this time, I suppose.

"We could just... go to the Three Broomsticks.  There's usually an empty table toward the back that's relatively quiet." she suggested, taking the purchased blood-pops lightly.  "If that's okay with you," she added softly, averting her eyes.  She was about to whip out her wand and shrink them to fit in her pocket, but then remembered it wasn't her wand she'd be using.  Hesitating, she gripped the bag at her side and moved away from the register, heading toward the door.

Side-by-side, they walked to the Three Broomsticks; Jazz remaining silent and keeping her head down.  She didn't know why, but even though she naturally felt dread at the thought of talking about her feelings, when it was with Kirby it didn't seem so bad.  Maybe it had something to do with his sincere eyes and genuine words.  It was hard to come by that sort of thing, and Jazz was both confused and grateful for the opportunity.  Let's just hope I don't scare him away.  I don't even know where to begin...

For Kirby, paying for the Blood Pops was an attempt to make it up to Jazz for being insensitive and rude. It occurred to him that buying her something sweet after being a complete oaf was also the reason the pair met in the first place, but the melancholy that surrounded this meeting quelled any amusement at this fact. "Leaky Cauldron's fine," he answered, collecting his change and bag of sweets before following Jazz to the door. Before exiting, though, he turned and gave the shopkeep a "Thank you."

The silence unnerved him a bit, but Kirby figured he would let her be silent if that's what she wanted. He looked at her sideways frequently as they walked, her downcast head making him frown. Had she spoken with anyone else about the... incident? he wondered. Her tenseness would suggest otherwise, but he quickly shrugged it off. Whether he was the first or the hundredth person she talked to, he was going to do the best he could to listen and be supportive. It was only right. People had told him before that he was easy to talk to. There was, he supposed, nothing particularly intimidating about a soft-spoken ginger that looked like he'd been put through a taffy puller, which probably helped a lot. He simply hoped Jazz would feel the same.

When they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, it was sparsely occupied: a good place for a chat... or a deep, emotionally-charged conversation- whatever would be taking place here. They were seated right away, towards the back. Kirby laced and unlaced his bony fingers several times in silence for a while, still wondering to himself. Normally he was fine with the quiet, but right now it just didn't seem right. Not with her.

He had to remind himself that he didn't actually know what normal was with Jazz- he hardly knew her at all, really, which made things all the more complicated, and oh Merlin, Krause, would you just do something? "So... how have you been?"

Oh. Effin' smooth, mate.

Jazz could feel the tension between them and it made her even more uncomfortable to know he was really trying.  Just throw him a bone, will you?  But then he beat her to the punch, however awkwardly.  How have I been? she thought in disbelief.  She could see the self-criticism emanating from him in waves, making her feel guilty.  In hindsight, his question was a bit funny, considering the circumstances, and a hint of a smile graced her lips, but she ignored the humor and focused on a good answer.

"Well, to be honest, I feel quite stupid," she admitted with a sheepish look at the red-head.  "I mean... it's really my fault I was mugged.  Anyone who's idiotic enough to wander around that part of Diagon Alley at night, alone, is asking to be jumped.  Especially for someone who was distracted by a pretty pebble on the side of an abandoned shop." she said flatly, looking down at her hands, which had rested on the table lazily.  Normally she would be more concerned about germs in a place like that, but right then she didn't think anything of it.  She shook her head.

"Honestly, it's moments like that that makes me wonder how I made it this long without anything else bad happening to me.  Because of my stupidity, I'm without my wand and other sentimental things and I probably won't see any of them ever again.  Take all my riches and gold, but when it comes to the one connection I had left to someone who is out of my life: probably forever," she paused and bit her tongue to keep her from losing it.  Sighing in slight frustration, she leaned forward and rested her head in her hands, looking up at Kirby expressionless.  "That's pretty much how I'm doing." she added in her slight Irish accent.

She stared into Kirby's eyes in what felt like the first time, but had in fact done so their first meeting.  But there was something new in them and she couldn't figure it out.  "I'm sorry for whining.  I mean, we barely know each other and I'm pretty much spilling my soul to you." she said with a small laugh, realizing the irony in their situation.  Her hair, which was lazily pulled back, allowed a strand to fall into her face.  It was tickling her, so she attempted to blow it away, but only made it jump further between her eyes.