Waverly, despite the promise of summer fun, was in a word: bored.  Having been back from a month in Egypt for a week or so, her home life wasn't as stimulating as it used to be.  She was darker, for sure, though it wasn't so evident with her already naturally tanned skin.  She tried finding something interesting to do with her friends, but with the hype of the foreign schools coming over put things on hold for a while, much to her dismay.  Her mothers (mostly Althea, since Zora was working all the time) wanted to spend some quality time with her upon her arrival home, anyway.

With one sigh she stepped into the fireplace, grabbed a handful of Floo powder, muttered 'Hogsmeade Train Station' and sent herself through the network of Floo, eventually dumping her out into a new soot-covered floor.  Waverly wanted out of the house, and she decided the best excuse would be to stock up on her favorite sweets from Honeydukes.  Swatting the excess soot from her bare legs and shaking her hair out in front of her, she stepped formally into Hogsmeade.  Maybe I should have been here for Orientation if I was so bored, she thought, picturing what it would have been like with students from all four schools joined in one location for various festivities.

Waverly was interested in interacting with the foreign witches and wizards as much as the next girl.  She was fascinated by other cultures, as was evident in her eagerness to go to Egypt that summer.  Though it was hard to get excited for being thrown into a sea of strangers who didn't speak your language.  Figuring it would be best to meet them one at a time, preferably once school starts, she talked herself out of going to the Orientation and decided to write some poetry instead.

Stepping into Honeydukes, she wondered what the other schools did in their free time, since they had to shack up in Hogsmeade.  They probably don't have much freedom, she thought with mild disgust.  Being under the supervision of their teachers an entire month of their summer vacation.  I can't imagine...  Waverly didn't know what she would do if she were in that situation.

Corey wasn't one to stay inside when he could help it and with the Castle not ready for the visiting delegations to board, he found himself stuck in the carriage they traveled in. Even with all the enchantments in the world to make it accomodate everyone who was attending, it was still too cramped for Corey's tastes. But then, given the option, Corey would sleep out under the stars. While others might be unsettled by the creatures roaming around, it's where he seemed to feel most at peace.

He looked forward to this trip because it would provide him a whole new area to explore. And that would start now with the little wizarding village of Hogsmeade. The day before he had joined his classmates in the Scottish dancing. Today he wanted to visit some of the shops.

Corey decided to head into Honeydukes, as he imagined a sweetshop would be most kind to his budget. Grinning, held the door open for an exuberant bunch of youngsters and then followed behind them. If anyone would know what was ideal to try, they would

Corey was unprepared for the rows upon rows of sweets that assaulted his eyes and the smell was quite intoxicating. He stood rooted in place for a moment until an impatient person from behind him gave him a nudge forward.

"Je désolé," he murmured. He bumped into someone else as he was walking and he immediately apologized. "Oh, excusez-moi." The girl seemed to be close to him in age and he gave her a quick nod and a shy smile.

But Corey's wonderment at such a place remained. He reached up to run a hand through his shaggy hair and not even really giving a thought that she might not understand his next words, he said, "Tout le monde est sucrerie..." (All the world is sugar.)

Waverly tensed up at the sudden touch from a stranger, but the sound of a sincere apology in what sounded like French calmed her nerves.  Just a foreigner, she thought which prompted her to turn and face him.  Well, since I'm here, I might as well try and introduce myself.  The boy was tall, around her age and fairly good-looking.  What are you talking about?  He's gorgeous!  She felt herself blushing being under his gaze: blue eyes pinned her on the spot, and she didn't know what to do.

Her eyes widened at the next set of unfamiliar words that came out of his mouth.  Waverly didn't know French.  She didn't understand the content of his words, either.  It sounded friendly enough, though.  She remembered similar situations on her trip to Egypt when she encountered the locals trying to sell her various items or complimenting her on her outfits (at least that's what she told herself).  For a moment she was at a loss for words, both stunned by the beauty of the boy and the unknown language, but with a sheepish smile she gave a small shrug, raising a hand to her chest for indication.

"I do not understand," she said a little slowly and clearly, shaking her head for emphasis.  Waverly was about to give up on interacting with him if he didn't speak English.  What would be the point?  We'd spend the next few awkward minutes communicating like Cave Men.  Don't be fooled by his looks, she told herself, feeling silly for reacting the way she did.  She then hardened her surge of emotions like so many times before, unwilling to be putty in his hands.

Corey held his hands up in mock surrender as he stepped back from the foreign girl, not wanting to invade her personal space for too long. But he didn't retreat too far because he immediately found himself staring at how lovely she was. Corey was used to the same type of cookie cutter girls roaming the halls of Beauxbatons, with their overdone, high maintainence looks and aloof, high class attitudes. It was rare to find one who stuck out enough to catch his eye. The fact that he traveled a lot and regularly met people of varying race, culture, lifestyle and social standing also attributed to his discriminating eye.

Usually it was an interesting feature or the way that they carried themself and this girl certainly fit that bill. She was different, in a good way.

Realizing that he was staring and probably unnerving her by doing so (as evidenced by her blush), he averted his eyes and muttered another apology. But this time it was in English.

When she told him that she did not understand, it took him a moment to process what she was referring to. His brow furrowed as he wondered what else to say. But when it finally sank in that she meant what he had said earlier, his eyes widened.

Corey shook his head and tapped his fingers to his temple before flashing her a sheepish smile. He didn't say anything for a moment more as he searched for the right words to translate what he had said. "Um....I think what I was meaning....or---" he scrunched up his face as he continued to search for more words, "--amazed by...?"

He dragged his hands through his longish hair as he always did when he was nervous and finally finished with, "Well....the candy is everywhere here."

It was getting increasingly hard to block her emotions.  Watching the French boy fluster and think of the right words to say was undeniably adorable to Waverly.  Well, his English probably isn't that good, she told herself.  Her logical side was trying to beat the romantic side senseless: a method that nearly always worked with her.  But when it all came down to it, Waverly was a romantic at heart.  It was evident in her love for romantic comedies and her favorite book series The Slither Girls.

"Oh, of course!  Lots of candy... in a candy shop.  It can be a little overwhelming at times.  Good thing us wizards and witches have a high tolerance for such things." she said with a nervous laugh, surprisingly squeaky, motioning around the shop with her arms like a flailing lunatic.  Suddenly very aware of herself (even more so than usual), she felt uncomfortable in her skin.

Running her hands over the length of her dress as if an unsightly wrinkle had suddenly appeared there, she looked for something else to say to keep the cute boy from leaving.

"Uh, how good is your English?" she asked a little desperately, wishing she could speak French if only to communicate smoothly with this boy.  "I mean, it's good.  But, I mean, are there limitations?  Or am I already saying too much?  The only French I know is Bonjour and Beret.  I wish I had brought my sequenced beret... it would've looked fabulous with my outfit."

Corey listened carefully to what the girl was saying. Usually he didn't have a problem understanding English and when he spoke it himself, he was quite good at it. But sometimes when others spoke fast or just with certain ways they said something, it became more difficult to decode what was not his native tongue. Even though he used English quite often in his travels due to it being a universal language, Corey was still much more comfortable saying whatever he had to say in French.

The Frenchman could tell that the girl was nervous mainly because of much she was saying all at once and also because of the body language and frantic arm movements that went with it.

Carefully, so as not to startle her too much, Corey reached out and gently took hold of her wrist, hoping to perhaps calm her a bit as he spoke. "My English....is fine. Not always the best....but that is expected, non?" He grinned at her. "I don't mind speaking English with you." Then he frowned as he thought about what she had said. At first he didn't understand the context, but then his face brightened once more and he laughed. "I could teach you some more French. Peut-être? Err....maybe? If you would like?"

Waverly didn't realize the way she spoke too quickly might have been confusing for the French boy, but when he grabbed her wrist the whole world stopped in place.  Call it cliche, call it cheesy, but her skin felt like it was thrumming with a mysterious energy from the moment he touched her.  She had been touched innocently before by cute boys, but it never made her feel like this.  It felt... tingly, but in a pleasant way.

Trying to ignore the sudden urge to lace her fingers with his, she didn't realize the warm smile that seemed to slowly grace her lips as she searched his aqua eyes.  The words the boy spoke barely registered with Waverly in her reverie, and the sound of his laughter made her heart thump harder.  Waverly believed in love at first sight, however ridiculous she knew it was, but didn't want to admit that this was one of those instances.

"Oh, yes, I would very much like that," she answered sincerely, referring to the offer of learning French.  Anything that would get me alone time with him is fine with me.  "And, I'll try speaking slower and not run off on a tangent." she added with a giggle.  "My name is Waverly Roh-Ballentyne, and I'm a sixth year Slytherin at Hogwarts." she said, formally introducing herself with a curtsy.  "I would be a seventh year, but my birthday is September first, the cut-off date."

His taking hold of her wrist seemed to do the trick and to his relief she was not too alarmed about it. Or at least to the extent of running away. With an easy going smile, Corey brought his other hand up to gently clasp hers. He let go of her wrist only to place that hand over theirs now together. He looked down and admired the contrast between his fair skin and her caramel hued one. His light eyes traveled up her arm and settled on her face again, taking in her loveliness. Before he spoke again, he had already decided that he liked her.

"Excellent," he told her with a nod. "I will teach you French and you can show me around here. Help me to....feel..." He paused to search his vocabulary again, brow furrowed. Then he offered warily, "At home?"

Realizing he had not yet jntroduced himself, he sheepishly appologized. "Pardon my rudeness. I'm Corentin Gaubert. But people mostly call me Corey. I am a Beauxbatons...my final year. When she mentioned that she was born September 1st, He immediately looked surprised. "Quelle coïncidence!" he exclaimed. "We have the same birthday! I am but one year older."

When she curtsied, he dipped his head and partially bowed; he never thought he was the most elegant at such things, nor did he place much stock in them as indicators of a person's good character. Grinning, he suggested, "Next month, we should meet and celebrate!"

Oh God, oh God, oh God, she thought frantically as the French boy covered his hands over hers.  It felt nice.  Comforting.  Like he was a baby blanket you could wrap yourself in and no other danger or evil could break through.  She could certainly feel herself blushing a deep crimson by now, and she wondered if her tanning that summer diluted most of the effect for the boy.

"I will teach you French and you can show me around here. Help me to....feel..." he paused convieniently, making Waverly unsure where he was getting at.  Feel what?

"At home?" he finally said; and just like that, it all made sense.

Her throat tightened; threatening to result in a high-pitched wailing if she tried to speak now.  Instead she allowed a short series of giggles escape to relax her throat.  It worked.  "It's a deal, then," she agreed with a smile, saying his name in her head over and over again.  "Corey," she added formally and clasped her free hand over his gently.  What are the odds that we have the same birthday?  It's like... fate, she dared to think.

"Why don't I show you around the sites after I find some sweets?  Maybe spin tales of local lore and you can teach me how to say certain things as we walk by them?" she asked with a hint of a flirt.  "Unless, of course, you have other important plans?"

Corey was relieved when the Hogwarts girl seemed to relax. He tried not to stare at her too long  for fear of making her more uncomfortable but he smiled when she seemed agreeable to showing him around in exchange for teaching her more of his language. Even if she cared not a wink for learning it, that was fine with him. He could manage to communicate with her without it.

When she suggested that she could show him around after buying some sweets, he nodded and laughed. "No, I have nothing else to do. I was just looking around for some chocolate when we met." He then tried to joke, "But I think mostly everything here would fall under chocolat in French." He took a moment to look around him at some of the confections and nodded.  He reached out and pointed to the Chocolate Frogs. "Grenouilles de Chocolat."

He looked back to her with interest and asked, "Which candy is your favorite, Waverly?"

Waverly's lips turned up in glee at his free schedule.  She was utterly grateful she had an excuse to spend more time with this gorgeous French boy.  "Grenouilles de Chocolat," she repeated, trying to fake a French accent.  "My favorites are sugar quills and licorice wands." she said, picking up a couple of each from nearby barrels.  "You like something sweet to lick?" she asked with a devious smile: her eyes shot into his like snipers picking off their enemies with quiet effectiveness.  "Or are you more of a sucker...?"

Waverly was fairly good at flirting; whether it was with good friends or complete strangers.  Though flirting with someone she actually liked wasn't something she was used to, so she wasn't sure if she was doing it right.  Of course I'm doing it right.  It's the same routine I would do no matter what.

Still, Waverly wanted Corey to like her for real and not just be another bimbo.  He probably has had numerous giggling girls throw themselves at him daily.  I mean, look at him!  So, she cleared her throat and pretended she didn't say anything embarrassing.

Corey laughed a bit at her pronunciation of the French. He was aware that most from the UK had a hard time making his native tongue sound fluid or less harsh than English. He had learned long ago that the rolling R's and other soft sounds in French did not necessarily come naturally to everyone. But then again, he hadn't been perfect when learning other languages either.

Smiling, Corey followed her movements as she introduced him to the various candies in the store. He had just picked up one of the items she had mentioned when he was presented with her not-so-innocent proposition.

The candy slipped from his fingers to the floor in his surprise. "Pardon?" he queried, unsure if he had heard her correctly. As he wrapped his mind around the translation, he considered that he had underestimated this Hogwart's beauty. Perhaps she was less innocent than he thought?

His brow furrowed as he gave her a long, penetrating look. Corey was trying to read her, to see what was behind her flirting. Was it experience? Or was it an attempt to cover up the exact opposite?

Either way, Corey was intrigued enough to do more in an effort to decode her actions. Stepping closer to his new acquaintance, Corey reached out to take hold of one of her wrists again and gently tugged her towards him. His regard for her personal space was all but forgotten now as he looked down at her face which now was not too far from his own. Quietly, he said, "Peut-être..." He paused and then translated for her, "Maybe...I like both?"

He dropped the candy at her comment and looked at her as if she grew another head and her hair was alternating between every color of the rainbow.  Waverly panicked.  Oh, no, what will he think of me?  I just met him and already I've screwed this up.  It was hard to look at him, for fear of being judged too harshly for her slip-up.  Tearing her eyes away from him after great effort, she was thoroughly surprised when he stepped closer and pulled her towards him by her wrists.  An even greater surprise was the gentleness of the gesture given the situation.  In a gasp, she looked up at Corey in question, the closeness giving her emotional whiplash.  It was curious, to be frozen in place and yet melting at the mere look in his eyes simultaneously.

"Peut-être..." His soothing voice sent shivers down her spine, masking her confusion at his foreign words.  "Maybe...I like both?" he added in English, momentarily stunning Waverly at the meaning.  Swallowing nervously, she fought to not get lost in his beautiful aqua eyes.  Seeing nothing like them in her sixteen, almost seventeen years, she found it nearly impossible.  Everything about him was enticing and alluring.  Somewhere, deep in her subconscious, was a snap realization in that instance.  The realization that there was no way out of this.  She was stuck on him and nothing could break free of it.

He's not angry or annoyed.  He's... interested?  Or is this just a game?

She could only imagine how she looked in that moment: wide-eyed, open-mouthed and furiously flushed.  Focusing on regaining her composure, she swallowed the lump in her throat and half-blinked at him, relaxing her features free of shock.  "Be careful, Monsieur Gaubert," she said quietly with a hint of sly, adding her own French into the mix.  "Talk like that and you may end up in more trouble that no amount of sweets make worthwhile."

She leaned up to his ear on her tiptoes and whispered: "Unless you like a little danger?"

Corey enjoyed the little flirtation that was taking place between himself and this girl. There was something innocent about it that he had not experienced in a long time and that made it exciting and interesting for him. He was used to a more daring exchange

His brow arched at her words of caution and he cocked his head slightly to the side as if to regard her better. "Trouble? Moi? I don't think there is any trouble that my smooth tongue can't help me out of."

Somehow, the way he had worded that last sentence didn't sound altogether right. But he bent down as she aimed to lean closer to his ear to whisper her next challenging question. "Of course I love a little danger in my life, mademoiselle. Isn't that why we are all here for the Tournament?"

"Ah, yes, the Tournament," she purred lightly, her lips curling sweetly into a smile.  "Stick with me and the Tournament will be a cake-walk." she said, pulling away from Corey's hold with a wink before turning her back on him and going to the register, picking up her sweets on the way.

She walked with an air of importance, a confidence and natural grace that was reminiscent of a cat.  Her sundress moved with her movements rhythmically, almost as if it were a pendulum hypnotizing those who look.

During her transaction, she couldn't help the sly smile that played about her mouth, highlighting her features to that of victory.  Waverly could tell the French boy was interested, was intrigued, and she took whatever winning she could.

Now what will he do next?