Outfit | Title Reference

Hogwarts was beyond freezing. Without the warm, attractive beauty of Cannes, Séraphin was reduced to hiding behind thick woollen scarves and canvas chinos and heavily-lined jackets. Cupping his hands to hot and heavy breath, he awaited his assigned 'tour guide'. Of course, he could be doing without such formalities but the word of Madame Bisclavret was law. Apparently it was essential that the Beauxbatons golden boy became well-acquainted with his surroundings on an individual level, and his peers were to follow the same lengthy process. Unaware if Salem and Durmstrang were being subjected to the same unnecessary rituals, Séraphin leant against the courtyard wall and sighed.

Hogwarts had been somewhat of a disappointment. It was all so British, and all so woefully rural. He expected a cosmopolitan vibe of London, and a certain quirkiness that pervaded the continent - instead he found professors decked head-to-toe in tartan and shy, retiring students that often giggled and squeaked whenever he made an introduction. Séraphin was aware of the high regard the female students of Beauxbatons placed upon the youngest Olivier boy, but this was a whole new level. English girls weren't as romantically unabashed in their pursuit of the opposite sex. Things were a lot more subtle, which was attractive in itself, but the giddy heights of teenage hormones were too much for Séraphin to bear.

Realising his posture was less than polite, he straightened up immediately. Pocketed hands soon returned to a neatly clasped position at the small of his back, and Séraphin was sure his hair was particularly coiffed. Even if these Hogwarts pupils didn't care less for the appearance of a pretty French boy, his parents had always stressed the importance of self-maintenance. Perhaps it was a Beauxbatons thing? Madame Bisclavret was rarely seen without a head of huge blonde hair, feathers and diamonds, and a presentable uniform was an essential part of school kit.

A brunette figure appeared, and Séraphin bowed forward a little, half-smiling before nodding as a knowledge of English was plugged into his brain. "Uh, are you a Madame Jordyn Dimbleby?" It wasn't broken in any sense, but tinged with a velvet-imbued Parisian accent.

As a prefect, it did not seem odd to have to have to give a tour of the school.  She hoped she would not have to do it very often though.  Something like that could really get in the way of her studies.  She wanted to make her last two years as immaculate as possible.  It wasn't as though the other years weren't good, but it really  started to matter now.  And being at school, well, it put her in the mood to get down to business, even if it was almost her birthday and she had fifteen thousand other things to think about. 

It wasn't worth worrying about now, she just had to memorize the layout of the castle and show this person around.  She had been given a name, Séraphin Olivier.  It was masculine, for French anyway, and a name she was familiar with! 

The Oliviers were an upstanding French family, at the forefront of French politics and society, if there was anyone to talk about on the continent, she had heard it was them.  Every magazine ran stories about them and their work with charities, as well as their troop of sons who were more and more appealing as she continued to read - far reaching connections, all of the things that made this a perfect opportunity. 

The family was handsome, she knew that, but since he was still in school, he wasn't exactly the paparazzi targets his other brothers were...  Jordyn Dimbleby was not going to take any chances.  Her family did not have a reputation, at least further than her father's old job, and she wouldn't start his impression of the Dimblebys with a ragamuffin appearance.  She wanted to make sure she was presentable, of course, and made great efforts to look as put together as possible.

After assembling an appropriate outfit, that would not only keep her warm in the castle, but also show off a simple elegance, at least as far as she thought, she did her hair and gave herself a pep talk in the mirror for a good fifteen minutes.  It wasn't as though this would be that hard - would it? 

So, with that, Jordyn finally felt prepared enough to go to the courtyard, one of her favorite places on campus.  Her heels clicked against the stone floors and she sighed happily, it was like going home - just something so familiar, you forgot what you were missing when you were too busy making a fool of yourself in public with Xavier Tawse.  Goodness, she could not forget that night soon enough!  Not that she ever would...

When she finally entered the yard, Jordyn just about died inside.  Thankfully she was a well bred English lady or she might have betrayed the fact that her heart started beating three times as fast as it usually did in her chest.  She immediately recognized the facial structure and similarity between Séraphin and his family in all of the magazines, plus he stood out anyhow - style was definitely present. 

Jordyn took a deep breath before she approached and composed herself.  Serenity, Jordyn.  Be calm, she reminded herself and put on a soft smile, her hair bouncing on her back and shoulders.  "I am, and you must be Séraphin Olivier," she replied smoothly, unsure of the appropriate greeting at this point.  "I hope you had a smooth trip," she managed to say, though immediately regretted it, thinking she sounded like an idiot. 

Why couldn't he be ugly? she thought, hopeless against a handsome face - and that accent!  Ugh.

"Ah, a pleasure to meet you," he smiled, a hand falling to her waist as he kissed each cheek instinctively. Bold lips grazed her soft skin as her perfume filled his nostrils. Séraphin failed to contemplate anything that may be lost in translation. Many had been somewhat taken aback at this bold (and oh-so-French greeting) but the young Beauxbatons student had every intention of upholding his national pride during the Tetrawizard Tournament. This Jordyn girl was pretty - in a very English way. She was without the high-cut cheekbones and full lips of beautiful French girls, but possessed her own appeal. Understated, well-formed features, a certain modesty in knee-length skirts and tucked-in shirts.

Trying to shake such analysis from his mind, Séraphin gave a nod, smoothing out his jacket. He wasn't here to admire the local talent. He was here to win, and this would be a fantastic way of scoping out the competition. Judging by her polished prefect badge, it seemed Jordyn belonged to the same scholastic strata as himself - and he expected to see her as a rival in the Tetrawizard tournament. "The journey went as well as I hoped," he said with a smile, each word carefully precise and articulated. This wasn't his native tongue, and Séraphin took every care in appearing fluent. "Our carriage is very, uh, comfortable. It did not take so long from Cannes to arrive." Ah, Cannes. The very mention of the place brought a longing for sunshine, good food and luxurious oceans.

Beginning to walk alongside the girl, Séraphin's hands returned to the small of his back, gazing at the architecture of the courtyard. Hogwarts Castle was impressive, but in a far more imposing manner than the Palace. It was a stark contrast to the Scottish skyline rather than a compliment, and stone towers and battlements were foreboding to say the least. "Do you know if our dormitories are to be inside your castle?" he asked, raising eyebrows inquisitively. "Madame Bisclavret - our headmistress - was saying we would be placed alongside you Hogwarts students?" The concluding syllable of every sentence was slightly raised, as if Séraphin was constantly questioning.

"Perhaps I will be sharing in your dormitory," he laughed, trying to make the meeting as least awkward as physically possible. "Uh, sorry, I mean common chamber. Or is it common room, I always seem to forget these British phrases."

Jordyn could not have felt more like a country bumpkin than she felt right now.  Being kissed on the cheek, it took her a very short moment to realize it was a greeting and she tried, as quickly as possible, to return it with some level of grace.  She was not so accustomed to touching other people.  It took a couple drinks, apparently, to get her to that point. 

He was charming.  Goodness, she didn't know how she was going to do this.  How she was going to do an entire tour with a boy she probably had no right even talking to.  His father was the former minister in France.  Her father got fired from his government position.  She worked herself to the bone to make up for the misgivings of her parents, to be sure, but if anyone ever knew, she'd just die.  Especially if it impacted her standing with the tournament champions.  He would surely be at the head of French competition.  He just looked smart, resourceful - he could have been a Slytherin, she appraised silently. 

She was glad to be moving though, and to see that he at least humored her question, even if it was stupid.  He was probably far too classy to do something like that.  Of course, her ears perked at Cannes and she could not help but smile.  "My parents and I visited Cannes - six years ago, I think," she blinked, had so much time passed?  But in the same way, had so much changed in just six years?  "It was quite beautiful," she complimented, "I should think it might have been a better choice for the competition."

She was most assuredly nostalgic for more than just the sounds of the ocean lapping against the pristine beaches.  She had status back then!  Cruel tricks of the world, she thought to herself.  But, she had to brighten up!  This was a tour and his first impression of their school.  She glanced at the school, following his line of vision, looking at the dark towers against the bright school.  She found a beauty in it, and blinked at his question.  "They must be," she commented thoughtfully, wondering where else they would possibly be staying.  There were so many they couldn't just keep them somewhere else. 

Of course, she instantly felt like she was going to die of embarrassment.  Sharing dormitories, oh goodness.  She tried not to show her blush too much and lifted one hand to her face, covering her mouth as she coughed just a little to cover her embarrassment.  She chalked it up to language and smiled softly, "I'll explain," she said with an uncommon softness; not to worry, if she could talk about something neutral - she would.

"We have four houses - Slytherin, Ravenclaw," the two best, she witheld her commentary, "Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor.  Those four houses each have their own dormitory - I'll be able to show you the entrances, and within those dormitories there is a common room, which connects to the girl's wing and the boy's wing."  She tried to use her clearest speaking voice, so glad she had at least been raised in London with the benefit of standard speech. 

She glanced at him, smiling just a little, to show she was not offended, "I dare say you would be lucky to be in Slytherin," she pointed out, "Though Ravenclaw is not so bad either.  How is housing at Beauxbatons arranged?" she inquired with interest - she had never heard about that before.

Séraphin was warming to the girl. Not only was she extraordinarily polite, but she'd visited his beloved southern France province as well. "Your parents must have good taste in vacations," he replied, finally giving a nod at his own accomplishment and grasp of the English language. Séraphin was rusty round the edges, but practice made perfect. "It is a lot warmer over there, and we can go swimming and sailing in our spare time. I can't imagine you bathe in your lake very often?" He pointed over to the grounds, remembering the look of disgust from professor and student alike as they gazed upon the murky depths of Hogwartian waters.

"Ah, houses, I see," he murmured, listening intently to Jordyn and dissecting every single world that escaped her lips. "What is the Slytherin and the Ravenclaw? Why are they better?" His questions weren't accusatory in the slightest, but innocent. Séraphin did indeed possess a craving for knowledge, no matter how trivial or useless. He was to stay in Hogwarts for the majority of the year, so it'd probably help to know every intricate detail surrounding the school. An exchange for Beauxbatons history was also welcomed in his book.

Madame Bisclavret had briefly touched upon the housing system - only to brush it off as 'detrimental to the cohesion and inter-reliance of the student body'. Whatever that meant. "We do not have such a scheme in place. Beauxbatons is more about equality, I think is the word? We work together and respect opinion and debate and so on and so forth, uh, it is difficult to understood the four houses." Séraphin glanced at Jordyn, frowning but still smiling politely. The tour around the castle would take hours  if they were lucky, or all day if she was to be thorough. Not that there was anything wrong in that, but Séraphin could think of better ways to maximise upon his semi-lesson of English wizarding history.

"Where are we headed now then, Miss Dimbleby?" he asked, his elbow gently nudging hers as they strode alongside. "I'm free all day, so consider me all yours." Séraphin peered over his shoulder, soaking in the courtyard. His respect for Hogwarts was increasing with every minute spent there, and diversity was always something that needed assimilating before understanding. "Tell me, is there anywhere we can go for lunch or dinner? I would love to try some traditional English food whilst here." Such meetings were frequent amongst students, and Séraphin was unaware that the prying eyes and gossiping mouths of younger students would label an event of that manner as a date. Quick to correct his own politeness, he quickly placed a reassuring hand on Jordyn's shoulder. "My treat - of course. I wouldn't expect you to uh, finance my gastronic curiosity."

"I cannot say I ever lacked in fantastical excursions, no," she smiled, hiding her very recent lack of good vacationing.  If her parents had not been in denial for so long, they might have ended up in a better spot.  Now, papa was begging for menial jobs, and Mother was still attending to the maintenance of their house as though galleons were no object.  Not the subject at hand though, even if it plagued on her more than usually in recent months. 

She sighed, almost nostalgic for the ideal picture he painted.  Probably much nicer than their own lake, which was freezing on a good day.  "Gracious, no!" she exclaimed, a light laughter tinging her speech.  "I'd much rather go to Cannes for that," her nose wrinkled - she was a little more comfortable, though had to occasionally watch her feet for fear of tripping over the ancient stones.  It was obvious by some of the other visitors that they were used to much smoother terrain, tripping feet and embarrassed giggles were everywhere, it seemed. 

It was interesting though, the differences between the two systems.  They did not have houses!  It seemed so natural to be divided up, to all live together.  She did not have too much trouble discerning his meaning from his speech patterns, it was all put together nicely, despite a few errors here and there - Jordyn never betrayed her noticing though, it would be rude, and she did not want to offend him because of something as silly as a grammatical error. 

"Each house is founded on certain ideals - traits, if you will, of its occupents.  Slytherin is known for its emphasis on ambition, resourcefulenss, and cunning.  Ravenclaw is intellectual curiosity, which often translates into intellectual competitiveness.  Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs are not without their merits," she knew she had to be diplomatic.  He would have to interact with those of the two lesser houses,  in her eyes, and she did not want to pollute the formation of his own ideas, he would come to it naturally.  "But, I am, perhaps biased," she added with a devious sort of smirk. 

"It will be interesting, I think, to see how the two ideologies come together," she added as they passed under some of the great arches that lined the courtyard.  She was internally jostled by their elbows brushing more than she outwardly showed.  Her stomach twisted in knots.  "I think we will go inside for a spell," she informed him, "I can show you the great hall, where we have all of our meals, and most of the events of the school year," meaning there would most assuredly be several social events to welcome their guests as well as keep them entertained.  Jordyn was not going to complain.  If it meant getting to look ravishing and impressing guests - some of them like the heart-throbbingly handsome Olivier, she would be more than happy for it. 

And that's when it happened.  Jordyn felt like she actually might die.  Her heart fluttered, she knew it was not his intention, of course, why would it be?  But it was so forward, perhaps they had different perceptions of that sort of thing in France - they must have!  She'd have to ask Neely or someone, without being too revealing, about it.  She decided she would take the diplomatic route and act as though she was not even perturbed by the question. 

"Down a little ways from the school is Hogsmeade," she said informatively, "We go on weekends sometimes, and there are a few very traditional places there - with some local treats.  Have you ever had butterbeer?" she asked, trying to breathe through her nose and not betray how much she might have liked to find a corner and squeal in it.  It wasn't anything more than being a good host, she noted internally about fifty times - but seriously! Who wouldn't be excited? 

It was what livened her step as they passed through the entry into the castle and were greeted by the dark, stone corridors that always seemed to have a draft.  Jordyn found it comforting,  though others commented it was very cold.  "When you're a first year, you walk through here for the first time - alphabetical order, and into the Great Hall to get sorted, into those houses I told you about," she added, unperturbed by the moving portraits and their whispering while they passed.  She was concentrated, and as she approached the Great Hall, "Make sure you look at the ceiling," she smiled as she pushed the door lightly before they swung open to reveal the hall.

Listening closely to the explanation about houses, Séraphin was struggling to get his head round it all. Jordyn's lack of explanation about Grittingdor and Hucklestuff (or was it Gryffindor and Hufflepuff?) was a great reminder of how competitive some of these schools could be. He'd belong to the house most proud, the house most concerned with appearance. None of these Hogwarts banners seemed to fit the bill, however, and Séraphin could see himself at Beauxbatons and Beauxbatons only.

Conversation soon steered towards his proposal of dinner, however, and Séraphin was unaware of the connotations held by hormone-riddled schoolgirls. "Butter Beer?" he asked, confusion extremely apparent in his voice and the word broken up into every sound possible. What on earth was such a beverage? He was used to good wine, milk and fruit juices - beer wasn't really a French thing. Not one his family appreciated anyway. Ever since he could remember, a good bottle of red had been sat on the dinner table. It was standard issue for most clans in his homeland. Despite his penchant for more continental drinks however, Séraphin was intrigued. "What does Butter Beer taste of?"

Hogsmeade, however, he'd heard of. Madame Bisclavret had pointed it on on the journey over, and there was something extremely quaint about British villages. All stone and wood, huddled over locals discussing trivial gossip and quiet gatherings of students looking for fun outside of Hogwarts. It was sleepy, but in a different way to France. More community, less solidarity. "Are you from Hogsmeade, yourself?" Of course it was a narrow-minded question, but Séraphin took the smaller size of England quite literally. Most presumed that all of Hogwarts students' were from the surrounding areas; he never even considered places like London, Bristol, Leeds, Manchester, Birmingham, or any other big city for that matter.

As they entered the Great Hall, he followed her instructions. It was almost medieval in style, and the ceiling was quite a surprise. A little tacky, but a clever charm nonetheless. Hardly the palace, that was for sure. "Ah, lovely."

Jordyn could not imagine how some of this information took years to learn.  After all, she had grown up in the environment where Hogwarts was talked about without a shred of explanation, it was as though wizarding children in Britain grew up knowing the particulars of the castle before they even set foot in it.  Granted, the building had a great many secrets too, things that some of the professors didn't even know about it, but the overarching details, the houses, the structure, the very nature of the school seemed so second nature, she did not even think to slow down or explain further.

She was just happy to be walking about next to a very handsome student, even if she felt like she was making a fool of herself every fifteen seconds, perhaps, for all of her London born-and-raised dealings, she somehow felt so small and insignificant next to someone with such far reaching connections.  Her own friends were nothing to sneeze at, naturally, but it was nothing like being related to those people. 

Whatever the case, Jordyn just had to be professional about this and not make an idiot of herself.  If she just managed to stay in good graces, maybe she could become acquainted with his friends - and maybe by mid-year he'd be hopelessly in love with her (a girl could dream!).  That kind of focus was just what she needed and blinked, when he asked what butterbeer tasted like.  She couldn't imagine living in a world without butterbeer.

"It's sweet," she answered without a beat, "and frothy, kind of like butterscotch and cream."  She licked her bottom lip, thoughtful.  "It's a Hogwarts favorite," she smiled, "so you have to try it.  I personally like frozen hot cocoa, but if you are going to be here for almost an entire year, it is something to get used to."  She paused for a moment though, realizing how strange that must have been - being in a school that was not your own for your final year, presumably.  How hard that would be!

She shook her head though, with a smile.  "Not at all - London," she informed him.  The English community was small, to be sure, but she lived nowhere near one of those small towns in the middle of nowhere.  "You'll find students from all over the UK at Hogwarts," she added. 

"Are you from Cannes, originally?" she inquired curiously, walking up next to him in the Great Hall.  She loved this room.  She did a lot of studying in here, and socializing.  Next to the library and the Slytherin common room at one in the morning, it was usually, between classes, a very nice place to study.

"Butterbeer," he pronounced correctly, attempting to be polite. "It sounds very, uh... homely." Séraphin smiled, but a cautious feeling in his gut was a little too evident to hide: how very British. All boozed up, cheering, with comforting, warm alcohol. Could they make drinking any easier? If there was one thing the Oliviers held huge disdain for, it was public intoxication. Liqueur was to be enjoyed, not abused. "I'm sure it'll be delightful." Séraphin sure hoped Jordyn, who was faring so well so far, would prove his suspicions wrong.

As soon as she mentioned London, his ears pricked up. So, not everyone from England was a country bumpkin living in the back-end of nowhere in the middle of 'who cares?' in Scotland. It figured. Already, a few just assumed he was from Paris or Cannes - as if France had no other places of residence. It was an easy mistake to make, so easy that the great Séraphin had committed it himself. "I've visited a few times, whereabouts in London?" He didn't really have a clue when it concerned the English capital: he'd been to the regular haunts of the wizarding elite. Chelsea, Fulham, Belgravia, Earl's Court. Anywhere central, north, south or east and he was utterly clueless - why would anybody visit there anyway?

"I'm from Montpelier, it's a coastal town. Very, uh, picturesque." Jordyn, unlike Séraphin, had at least questioned before assuming. Bright girl. "My father was based in Paris for a very long time in his previous career, but we've always lived in the quieter regions of France. My maternal grandparents have been born and bred in Montpelier for hundreds of years, it'd be, er, sacrilege to live elsewhere." Flashing Jordyn a polite smile, his mouth full of perfectly aligned white teeth, he shrugged, fidgeting with his sleeve. "Sorry, sacrilege, is that the correct word?" There was only so long this masquerade of fluency would hold, so Séraphin figured he'd cut his losses sooner rather than later.

Images of his beautiful home in Montpelier crept into his mind, and proved a distraction to the imposing archways and towers of Hogwarts. "If you're ever in France, you'll have to visit. I'm quite the tour guide." Again, another polite invitation, but Séraphin was always welcoming of guests. Shame his father's security team didn't share the same sentiment.

Jordyn was so very lucky that her parents’ residence was willed down in the family, from her mother’s side anyway.  It was a quaint home, but it was theirs and they weren’t forced to leave, which was more than she could ask for.  If they had bought it before, she might have had to lie just to not die from embarrassment.  “St John's Wood, actually,” Jordyn informed him pleasantly.  They lived in an old Georgian that had passed through the family, which suited them nicely, even if the décor was a little faint right now – considering much of it had been sold.  “On Serpentine Avenue,” she added as an afterthought.  It was a beautiful place, she very much enjoyed where she lived, as long as people only saw it from the outside.

She didn’t much like visitors, and avoided people coming to her home.  She did the visiting, and was glad when the subject changed.  She couldn’t explain much anyway, it was an old neighborhood from the 1800s, built up more and more, but her family had been one of the first there, and having inherited it, they moved in post-haste.  She was glad to hear more about France though, and sighed at the thought of living on a coast. 

He seemed to think very highly of it as well, smiling – oh he had perfect teeth, she could have guessed, obviously with their image to uphold and the perfection of his family, his teeth would have to match!   She tried to contain herself, at least bridle in the teenage girl who wanted to giggle and squeak like a third year.  She was almost seventeen! Hold yourself in, girl.

“Exactly right,” she returned a smile, glad to see he was not so perfect.  Every second he stood there in all of his exceptionally intelligent and articulate glory with fabulous teeth and hair, she could not help but feel inferior.  Knowing his handle of English was not quite as perfect as his ensemble made him just a little bit more human – and her a little bit more at ease.  She could not help but chuckle just a little at his invitation. 

She decided, since he was now human, she could be a little more… open.  “I might like that, though, I’m assuming your tour would have to be in French.  I’d have to brush up.  I’m also guessing you are a better tour guide than I am,” she admitted with a – could it be called shy? - smile, leading him toward the stairs. 

“I think we’ll go down before we head upward,” she informed him thoughtfully, “Slytherin and Hufflepuff houses are located down here,” she informed him, “as well as the kitchens and the potions classroom.  If you could believe it,” she smiled as her heels clicked against the steps, “we’ll actually be below the lake.  The slytherin common room windows look directly into the lake," she added, "some evenings, if you're up late enough, the giant squid or merefolk will swim by while you are studying."

"Ah, yes," Séraphin nodded in acknowledgement. He had no real clue where St. John's Wood actually was, or Serpentine Avenue for that matter. Rather than appear inept, the Beauxbatons golden boy simply pretend that all was well. The tone in her voice made it seem like she was from quite the notable dwelling, and so he was saving them both embarrassment by acting as if he was in the know.

As conversation steered towards a hypothetical trip to Montpelier that would never materialise, Séraphin simply grinned: she was rather complimentary. Clearly, Professor Reid had been quite particular in his choice of Hogwarts guides. This Jordyn character seemed to be the charmer amongst the Beauxbatons crowd - but he was quick to keep her at arm's length. She was, to be blunt, competition. The last thing he needed was to be sucked in by some pretty girl that would later crush him on the battlefield.

Walking down the stairs slowly, Séraphin's head was filled with connotations of this little meeting. To many, he'd be the former Minister's son, slowly taking a stroll with a random English rose. Luckily for him, journalists were kept at bay, and he was to be kept out of the French gossip tabloid circle. "Is that so?" he questioned, mildly interested in her spiel about the school's architecture. "I'm sure you'll have to, er, give me this tour again, I'm likely to get myself lost." Giving a polite laugh at his own joke, Séraphin placed a hand on her shoulder: "I hope that another session wouldn't be too much of a problem?"

His eyes meeting hers, Séraphin was doing all he could to seem friendly, polite and charming - but the French did have a habit of being rather forward.

Jordyn did not get to do this often.  Once a year, they showed the first years around.  But they were not handsome, they were not well mannered, and they certainly were not polite or charming.  Mr. Olivier was all of those things.  She didn't want to admit it, but whenever she looked at him, her heart basically raced in her chest. 

For all of the intelligent and tradition of Hogwarts, she could not say many of the residents were particularly well bred.  Many of the monarchy were certainly the belles of the ball, so to speak, but it wasn't a school-wide phenomenon.  Honestly, out of all of the schools, except perhaps Salem and their Yankee spirit, Hogwarts was certainly the strangest of all four competing schools.  It was practically written in their walls.  It was unfortunate, really, but Jordyn liked to count herself amongst the elite, and she did get picked for this task, which HAD to mean something. 

And it definitely had to mean something that he wanted to be shown around again! She hadn't even shown him a quarter of the castle, and he certainly touched more than any of the Hogwarts boys did.  Maybe it was because he did not know her well and the others wouldn't dare put their hands on her shoulder, but she was blushing mad - thankfully the dungeons were dark and she could angle her face away, though peer back from under thick lashes and smile. "It wouldn't be any trouble at al," she informed him, almost shyly - almost.  "Wouldn't want you to get lost and miss class, after all," she laughed, "or part of the competition!" 

She had to assume he would be competing.  She didn't know if she was going to, but it was a thought that played in the back of her mind.  She still had time to choose.  She couldn't imagine having traveled all that way for nothing though, unless of course, there was an ulterior motive.  She smiled and continued through, toward the potion's classroom. "We can also do the tour in parts," she smiled, "the interior of the castle today, the grounds another time?"

He could think about it while they continued on, and Jordyn pushed the door open, "We'll have potions here, if you take it," she informed him. "I don't have the common room password yet, or I'd invite you in," she informed him, with a somewhat deflated tone, "so we might as well start upward," and back toward the stairs they went.  "I think the most interesting part of the dungeons, before we leave, are the rumors of hidden chambers," she put it out there, just a rumor, she suspected was probably true, but had never seen them - or cared enough to look, "I'm sure this castle has more secrets than even I know," she wrinkled her nose and mounted the stairwell.