It Isn't All About The Mistletoe

With a little, almost incoherent ‘humph’ sound, Sevastian Luka Krum managed to poke his little blonde head through the neck of the grey turtleneck jumper his nanny had sent him by owl. Eva had been sending more letters recently, in the run up to Christmas. Sevastian’s delicate descriptions of the crisp white snow that the grounds of Hogwarts were laden with had seemingly made her miss him even more and so the letters were becoming even more frequent than they had already become. As Christmas neared, her letters always became more excitable and more eagerly anticipated on Sevastian’s part. He felt as if he missed so much while at Hogwarts, especially as Christmas neared. The house in Russia was always abuzz with activity at this time of year and so Sevastian was always a little bit dejected because he missed so much of the excitement. Still, Hogwarts was not without its own forms of excitement. Sevastian had helped the House Elves decorate the kitchens - that was something.

Sevastian had also helped decorate the Hufflepuff Common Room. He loved sitting in there now. Christmas created that impossible warm feeling. Everything always looked so bare when it ended, so naked, so empty. He was determined to absorb as much of the Scottish Christmas Hogwarts had created as possible before returning home to the bitterly cold Russian home that would be full of Krums by the end of the week. Sevastian wasn’t particularly looking forward to that aspect of Christmas but if he could block all of his loud, unrelenting relatives out and focus on having a good time then there was no way he couldn’t have a good time! He couldn’t wait to go home. He was fit to burst.

Of course, things were never going to go quite as well as Sevastian hoped. It was never going to be smooth sailing.

When he got into the common room, his Head of House drifted away from the group of studying Sixth years to meet Sevastian at the top of the stairs. He broke the news gently, having known how excited the boy was. Sevastian’s face visibly fell, his bright disposition darkened a little and he seemed to just droop. The Head of House made to say something to reassure the boy but he turned his head, rejection and upset written across his face. He took the news with grace beyond his years and although he was clearly distraught by the news, he took it, accepted it and seemingly moved on in all of three minutes. He gave a heavy sigh, pursed his lips, shrugged on his coat and breezed past the Professor, thanking him as he passed.

Sevastian pushed through a group of Seventh years that had come back from Hogsmeade with a case of Butterbeer and left through the portrait. He stalked through the dungeons, winding his buttercup and charcoal scarf around his neck as he walked. He was incredibly careful not to crash into anyone and he had to spring out of the way of students, young and old, carrying books or cases of Butterbeer. It looked as if Hufflepuff was having a party. Really, Sevastian should have known. In fact, he probably did. His thoughts were clouded with anger though and as he flew up the steps towards the ground floor, he knew that there was only one place he could go to relax. There was only one place where he could clear his mind and gather himself once more.

Pulling a hat onto his head and tugging his woollen gloves down over his long, pale hands Sevastian emerged from the castle and began to trudge through the thick virgin snow that covered the ground. It didn’t look as if anyone had attempted to journey outside this way at all. He could see the tracks the carriages, the Thestrals and those on foot had left behind but that lead down to Hogsmeade. The path down to the frozen lake was still obscured by snow. No foot-print trails had been created, it was still as thick as ever.

The land began to steepen as Sevastian walked and he made his way up the embankment that overlooked the lake. The sun was low in the sky, drenching the scenery in a hazy glow. He came to a stop felt the sides of his lips twitch up at the sight of the trees carrying the burden of the snow, the birds skating across the ice that blocked access to the water and just the pure, honesty beauty of the scene before him.

Slowly, Sevastian began to lower himself down until he was sat amongst the snow. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, drinking in smells and listening attentively to the sounds that whirled around him on the wind. Here, Sevastian was at peace. The family that had scorned him so were a world away. Here, he could relax, even if he was going to get frostbite on his bum.

Julien Delacour crouched at his personal mirror. He had made a personal dressing table out of his trunk. He gave a yawn, followed by a stretch, before he settled himself down in front of his trunk. The mirror was placed on it, and the began to stare at his reflection. Not too shabby, he thought to himself. It seems as if every morning, a self-affirmation is going on in one of the Ravenclaw dormitories, involving one boy smiling to himself to a mirror, his head full of praises for himself. But he had bed hair. He was going to turn that ruffled top on his head to one fit for the outdoors. And by outdoors, he meant outside of the dormitory. Julien smiled to himself, showing some teeth, before he reached for the hair spray. As soon as he deemed his hair fit, the boy proceeded to check on his growing muscles. It was not much for a boy of thirteen, but he was working on it. Julien felt his biceps, and pressed against his stomach abs. It did not look as if there was an improvement from yesterday's check, but he could deal with that. Weekly checks always proved more rewarding.

With a lazy sigh, Julien got up from the ground and reached for the set of clothes he had set apart the night before. It was a habit. He had to plan his outfit for the next day, before he could actually go to bed in peace. The boy slipped into them and checked himself in the mirror. He definitely had the Delacour looks, especially in the complexion department. Julien nodded to himself in approval and satisfaction before he left the dormitory. He made his way down the Ravenclaw tower and soon found himself breathing the air of the outdoors. And by outdoors here, now he meant the true outdoors, where nature was the boss. Julien stopped in his fast tracks for awhile, snuggled both of his hands in the pockets of his coat, and sunk his head a little lower into his coat. It felt cosy, his coat, like a big blanket. But it was a blanket that was not too hideous to be seen in. He was thoroughly bored with his school robes, and thought that this outercoat could pass off as a robe.

When he took a breath of the air, Julien had sniffed the spirit of Christmas, or so he conjures it in his mind. He smiled to himself. Christmas had always been his favourite time of the year. First of, he liked a change in season because it offered opportunities to don a different set of fashion everytime. But mostly, it was the prospect of a Delacour Christmas in France that was pleasing to the boy. His mother had recently moved back to France to stay with her parents, and Julien was notified about the move by owl. He was also recently assured that all was well, and that she was waiting for him to be with the other Delacours again this Christmas. The prospect of the streets and towns of France, and idle time spent with his cousins, had perked the boy up. Indeed, he was very much in a festive mood, so much so that he broke into a bit of a Christmas tune, but he merely hummed it. Too bad that he was tone-deaf, and anyone who heard it would have thought that this boy sure was pretty, but he should definitely keep that singing to someone else.

The scenery was rather dull. It was winter, one could not expect much colour. Snow had covered most of the grounds of Hogwarts, and the lake had been frozen by now. Julien eyed it with a nostalgic sigh as he made his way quickly, for he never could walk slowly, nearer to the lake. It was as if he had already began to miss the flow and ripples of water when the wind glided over it in caresses. The movements on water always made him feel beautiful, because they were always graceful. At Hogwarts' lake, at least. Finally, Julien reached the embankment of the lake. He was about to turn to his left to begin a stroll, although who was he kidding, he hated strolls for their extremely slow speed. However, Julien stopped. Something, or someone rather, had caught his eye. He caught sight of a flow of incredible blond. Julien squinted as the tried to make out who that was, but thought that he had never seen this person before. He looked around and realized that the lake, at this time, was scant of people. Julien figured he might as well look for a companion, given his brilliant mood. He could possibly spread the cheer, although he never bothered doing so on more ... normal days. Christmas made you go the extra mile.

Julien changed his tracks and began to make his way to the owner of the blond flowy hair. He was, honestly, not very interested. He thought it must be a girl, lonely and possibly pining away, or feeling morose about school. But the boy shrugged to himself and continued anyway. The pebbles crunching at his every step, Julien finally situated himself next to the blondie. He waited to be noticed. He was incredibly accustomed to being noticed, to being the centre of people's attention, wherever he walks. Unfortunately, it seems he merely gets the attention of girls. As much as Julien could appreciate that, he had learnt that boys were rather much like a better cup of tea to him. Still, he had only learnt that preference of his earlier this term. Before this, he was solely in love with his hair, and that was all. Julien cleared his throat softly, as if to signal his presence. He did not know how to go about greeting this person. And seeing that he thought it was a girl, he really did not feel like making an effort. Girls usually just came on to him anyway.

Overhead, the clouds were swirling like silvery-grey cake mixture being pushed around a mixing bowl with those white spoons in the kitchens that bore suspicious burn marks on the handles. That palpable feeling of anticipation was ripe around Sevastian and it wasn’t being caused by him alone. As he cast his slightly dull silver eyes across the area and he noticed the way passing animals had their heads uplifted towards the sky, as if daring the clouds to release their splendour. Little brown rabbits that left delicate little tracks leading into the forest had seemed to have gathered at the edge, on one of the few collections of stone, mud and bark that did not bear the weight of the snow. Their little noses were wiggling, their mouths slightly parted, and Sevastian found his self lifting his chin and peering up at the sky with the same glow of excitement slowly but surely lighting up his snowy gaze.

As the first few flakes of ice began to fall from the sky, Sevastian felt a laugh, as small as it was, spring from his throat. He closed his eyes and let the flakes fall onto his eyelashes and catch in his hair. He tipped his head back and let the flakes collect on his cheeks and he even, much to his own surprise, parted his lips and poked out his tongue to taste the virgin snow. Sevastian closed his lips around one of the flakes and felt it melt in the warmth of his mouth. As the water ran over his tongue and his teeth, he realised that surely there was another reason why you shouldn’t eat yellow snow. The first reason was obvious but the second should have simply been because the newest snow, the purest, whitest snow, was the best snow. Sevastian knew there would only be a certain amount of time he could stay outside if there was a heavy fall. This was light and airy, like the angels atop the tree.

There was a distinctive sound that broke Sevastian’s thoughts and certainly broke his peace. It was the sound of snow being crushed underfoot. It was similar to a squeaky blackboard or teeth rubbing together. It set Sevastian’s teeth on edge and it made him shudder to no end. He decided to ignore it and focus instead on the sounds of the birds singing Christmas carols. He peeked at the person who had elected to sit beside him though he didn’t give him any more attention than that. Sevastian turned his head back to the world over the side of the embankment and continued to scan the scenery for the animals and the little signs of Christmas - from the sprigs of Mistletoe that were growing due to the magic that crackled and popped around Hogwarts to the Deer that were frolicking in pairs by the lake.

At the sound of a throat being cleared, Sevastian turned his head, figuring that it was probably best to give the person even a shred of attention. As soon as he turned his head though, he couldn’t stop himself from staring. The boy that had sat down beside him was truly beautiful. He was a boy; that was the best way to explain his appearance. He was carefully crafted and had this boyish look about him - the look of utter mischievousness. Sevastian could feel the beginnings of a smile teasing his lips, urging them to push upwards towards his eyes. Sevastian tilted his head to the side as the smile spread across his face, brightening him up to no end.

“Hi,” He murmured, his voice warm and welcoming.

The student was vaguely familiar but Sevastian didn’t know where he’d seen him before. As he sat there, his eyes flicking across the boy's face, he tried to figure out where exactly he'd seen him before. His mind flicked through the lessons that would be over within a few days and he tried to pinpoint which one they shared. In the end though, Sevastian could only sit and wait for an answer from the boy as he truly had no idea. Knowing his luck though, it was probably a Herbology lesson - the only lesson where he felt that catching up on his sleep was a legitimate need and reason to do nothing.

He could feel the only other body in the area of his proximity turn to stare at him. Julien wanted to sigh in obnoxious complacency, as if he had gotten sick of people staring at him for his good looks. But before he could do so, a voice had ruptured the serene scene. Well, rupture was not a fair word to describe the entrance of the voice through the serenity of the air. Basically, it felt to Julien like a tiny ball of warm air rose up and out of the body, to touch his skin through the chilly winter air.

Surprised to hear the voice of a boy, Julien felt his head shoot up and towards this person. Surely he had not mistaken that long blonde hair. No, he did not. The realisation dawned on Julien that this blonde person was a boy, and with it, his interest was piqued. Cautiously, he peered over at the boy's face. It was beautiful. He had thought his own complexion to be flawless, but this other boy had perfect snow-like skin. Julien's heart gave a little thump as his eyes captured the breath-taking scene. Tiny flakes of falling white snow, and the beauty of a boy set against that dreamy setting. Smirking to himself, Julien stepped closer to this boy, eager to make this acquaintance significant.

"Pretty, isn't it?" He paused, as if to incite some misunderstanding of that remark, purporting to refer to the boy, but really referring to the snow. "It's a pity that we can only enjoy it in tiny nibbles." Julien paused and allowed his tongue to flow out gracefully as he licked a tiny snowflake in a cheeky fashion. "Because the big ones can be so ... hard ... to handle." Julien grinned, his eyes twinkling in their beauty.

He took another inch closer to the boy, although he took care to settle his eyes on the surface of the frozen lake. He took care not to appear too ... upfront. After all, the boys barely knew each other. "Some people know me, some people don't, but most of them like to remember me as Julien Delacour." He had said all of these very gently. Thankfully, he did not try to say that in a sing-song fashion. Otherwise, it would foil his attempt at an unforgettable first impression.

For a second or two, Sevastian took his eyes off of the wonder before him and lifted his gaze up towards the sky as a pair of Robins flew over head, singing in time with one another. Sevastian’s face lit up again and he jumped up to his feet, eager to capture their appearances in his mind and keep his eyes on them until the very last second. Sevastian rose up onto his tiptoes, adamant that he was going to watch them fly off into the distance, but his concentration was broken as quickly as it had formed itself and he lost them. Sevastian’s face fell, his eyes scanning the air, desperate for his little red-bellied friends. He heard the last few notes of their song, and lowered himself back down flat onto his feet. When he realised the cause of his loss, his eyes turned accusingly to his company who had commented on the scenery. He wasn’t wrong but that was beside the point. And why was he so close?

Sevastian swallowed, his Adam’s apple quivering a little as he looked at the boy with saucer eyes. If he wasn’t mistaken then his words were not without a second meaning. They were double-entendres, innuendos, and it made Sevastian take a step back in shock. His cheeks reddened immediately upon realisation - though whether it was from the cold or from the embarrassment or a mixture of both was not clear. Sevastian pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and stared at the boy openly, wondering what had brought on such a response. He’d said ‘Hi’ - that hardly warranted that sort of response. Perhaps there was something he’d missed in the gossip rings. Was ‘Hi’ some sort of euphemism now? Sevastian didn’t want to know particularly so he stopped himself from blurting that particular question out. Sexual activity was on the up - but why, Sevastian did not know. He didn’t understand the draw of the act itself. He understood the draw of people, not what it led to.

“It’s beautiful,” Sevastian stuttered out a panicked response, a weak smile joining his words.

The Russian Krum was hardly the most experienced of lads. He could be witty when the need called for it but he was shy, naive and a little too meek for his own good. His father would be disgraced to see his son making a fool of himself as he was. His father’s ancestors had removed them from the hedonism of the inner part of the Krum family but it was still expected for each and every individual son and daughter to hold themselves the way the inner family members would - with enough grace and dignity to know when and when not to spread their legs. Sevastian had no idea. He had been brought up naive and had remained naive. He saw the way some of his cousins smirked in the hallways at him, as if there was a big joke going ‘round that he wasn’t in on.

This was probably one of those situations where he should have turned the charm on in response. That switch must have been faulty though because the light bulb was sputtering. He couldn’t do it. His mind had failed him; all he could do was stare.

Swallowing, Sevastian decided it was probably best to introduce himself. He could at least do that couldn’t he? He could, he would, so he did.

“I’m Sevastian!” He introduced himself, his voice sounding more controlled than he’d thought. It was level and did not betray his nervousness - though he did not doubt that his face did. He was simply floored by the figure before him; the beauty before him. He decided quite quickly to elaborate, murmuring that he was a “Krum,” that he was, “Sevastian Krum,” before reaching up and running a hand through his hair. He smiled a little and cleared his throat. “I, um. Why are you out here...Julien?” He asked gently. Sevastian rubbed his arms, as if proving his point. “It’s freezing!”

Julien tried to imagine what the boy saw. Of him, that is. It always had to return to him. Julien imagined seeing himself from the boy's point of view, and felt that he could almost quiver at the vision of himself. It annoyed his sister sometimes, when she would retort at him for his narcissism, claiming that it would eventually be his downfall. Julien had simply thought that she was jealous that he was prettier than her. Her retort was familiar, though. It must have been the muggle legends or myths in their library in France. Still, it was healthy sibling rivalry, not too big of a deal.

Julien smirked to himself at the boy's words. Good, he thought to himself. He liked to stun them pretty ones. Perhaps his desire to overpower boys was merely that - to feel the power that the sensation would give him. But no, Julien would not have thought this way in his third year. He was merely beginning to explore his feelings and desires, and learning the effects he could have on people, romantic or not. On his own, Julien did not believe in romance. He believed in beauty, and the pursuit of gratification. Perhaps, then, it could be called a romance with beauty, and also ... happiness?

Despite the initial weak response, Julien was surprised to receive a pretty strong introduction on the boy's part. It made him doubt his earlier confidence about the boy's response. But Julien could care less to dwell on that. Moving forward, it could almost be his motto. He hated to pace. Everything had to move, everything had to progress, if they could even try to tear themselves from regression, as the latter seemed to be the recent nature of the world these days.

"Sevastian ... Krum?" Julien raised an eyebrow. The last name was familiar. Again, his memory would not fail him. Or at least, he would insist it not to. Ah, he remembered. "I believe you've a relation in the form of Cecilia Krum?" He was pretty confident that he got that right. There could only be one Krum family, just as Julien expected that there could only be one Delacour. The rest, if they happen to share the surname, would not even have appeared out of the realm where the world was oblivious to them. It sure is disgusting, his pride sometimes, but Julien turned away from it.

"Well, I don't know." Pausing, Julien turned to the boy as he began to answer his question. He took both hands out of his pockets and rubbed them together, mimicking the boy in a non-deliberate fashion. The boy basically reminded him of how really low the temperature had dropped to. "You tell me, Sevastian. All I know is that if I weren't out here, I would not have been rewarded with the knowledge of another Krum's existence. Tell me, Sevastian," he paused again. "How many more of you are out there in Hogwarts?" Julien was not exactly interested. Cecilia, he knew from the fact that she was also a Ravenclaw. And she surely was a friend to Julien, but if the rest of the Krums were merely girls, then perhaps he was only interested to get to know the one he was looking at now. Julien had no expectations, really. It just would not hurt to have a pretty boy as a friend.

Perhaps it was obnoxious of him. In fact, it probably was obnoxious - there wasn no perhaps about it. But Sevastian wasn’t surprised that Julien’s expression changed at the mention of his surname. Krum had become a household name in the 90’s as Viktor Krum flew the Bulgarian National Team up the league table. Since then, their family had been marred by scandal. Sevastian was never sure whether they were known for their good points or for the scandal. The recent rumour that had put the head of the family in a foul mood was that his son, Elijah, had gone missing. He’d last been seen at the train station in the town outside of Durmstrang. They’d lost track of him after that and all hell had broken loose. Cecilia was unfazed by it all but Sevastian didn’t think she knew; or if she did, she didn’t actually care. She was friendly enough but she, like her brother, had inherited the selfishness that the Krums boasted. Hers didn’t rear its head quite as often but at that point, neither did Elijah’s.

At times, Sevastian wished he could have inherited at least a few Krum genes. He’d been told he looked like his mother, that he had her smile and her way of looking at the world. So he had the Dragomirov genes - so what? He barely had any of them when it came down to it. Sevastian knew his father was sceptical. He knew that his father didn’t believe his mother. He knew that his mind was clouded by disappointment and pride. He was desperate to get rid of Sevastian. The boy was, after all, the biggest disappointment to Pavlo. Sevastian’s mother could blame her son’s difference in appearance on the fact that he was a Metamorphagus. She could not, however, explain his temperament. She couldn’t explain his soft, breezy disposition. She couldn’t make excuses for his delicateness and naivety. She couldn’t make excuses for him much longer. She could try but he was getting older. He either had to shape up and fall into line or suffer the consequences.

But there was only so much he could do. There were only so many lies, only so many smiles that could be faked and only so many days left until his life was written off on a certificate of marriage.

“She’s my cousin,” Sevastian replied slowly before adding, “third cousin, actually; one of many.” Sevastian swallowed and flexed his fingers by his sides, relishing in the familiar pop and click of his joints.

He hadn’t talked to Cecilia much recently. The Hufflepuffs he called ‘friends’ had gotten it into their heads that Sevastian and Cecilia were, to put it in a less crude manner, shagging. She was getting ready to go home for Christmas and he’d been off shopping with Angela in Hogsmeade, trying to grab a few last minute gifts for friends and family members. From Sevastian’s point of view, anything that happened between he and Cecilia was platonic. He didn’t entertain the idea of sleeping with her what so ever. Then again, he didn’t entertain the idea of sleeping with anyone so that wasn’t actually something he had to be concerned about.

Sevastian bit his lip and pushed his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. He looked at the boy hesitantly, peering at him up through his eyelashes. At Julien’s question, Sevastian rolled his lip between his teeth, trying to remember who was actually in Hogwarts and who wasn’t. It varied, really. Some were at Durmstrang, some were at Beauxbatons and some were Merlin only knows where. He wasn’t entirely sure how many Krums were at Hogwarts but it was an assortment across the family. Most went to Durmstrang because that was where everyone else had gone. Only a few actually attended Hogwarts. It was typically classed as second best - so it made sense that Sevastian was there - in the family so it was rare for them to be sent there. His elder brother had gone to Hogwarts, though. Oh, who knew? They could have all been there for all Sevastian knew.

He shouldn’t spend so much time in the library. There, he seems to miss things.

“You’ll have to find out for yourself I’m afraid,” Sevastian replied with some regret in his tone. “I can’t give you an exact number. I am not even sure the family knows. It’s a case of whoever turns up for class I suppose.” Sevastian shrugged. “And whoever answers to Krum I guess.” He smiled and shook his head before tipping his chin into his scarf, hoping for a little bit of warmth. “I guess it’s mostly the girls. They’re here because they’re useless at Durmstrang. I can’t, um...explain myself, however.”

Julien nodded knowingly, as if he had gotten another ten points for Ravenclaw for his accurate guessing of the relation between Sevastian and Cecilia, as if it was that significant. Well, what was life without the small triumphs? Julien certainly celebrated a lot of them, big or small, he had many triumphs that he always thought fit to be celebrated. "Too many Krums in the world all from the same apple tree. I must say, though, some of the apples from this tree are just so ... pretty." Julien paused and looked at the other boy, a moment to let the meaning of that sink in. He grinned, amused at himself actually, amused at his own cheek at phrasing things.

"You know, there's a muggle saying; that an apple a day, keeps the doctor away." Julien reached a hand up to rub against his cheek, which had turned cold against the touch of the chill. "It's an old and boring saying, in my opinion. I like to think that I've got the better version of it." Julien checked to see if Sevastian was still listening, and if he was still interested. He hated to talk without a ready audience. People had pampered him for his looks, to the point that he had haughty expectations.

Julien began with his musings again. "A bite of a pretty apple at every turn, keeps the downturns of your lips at bay." It might have sounded corny, but it was the best that the thirteen year old boy could pull out of his pretty head for now. That was also how he got by with school everyday. Although France had more beauties, Julien had a good eye on some English students at Hogwarts, those who looked better than the average medriocre crowd. In every class, that had to be one that Julien could at least feast his eyes on, girl or boy, he was not very picky. Of course, it did not mean that he would talk to each and every one of them. If he did, then what were eyes for when one has got too busy a mouth?

"Well ..." Julien thought more carefully about what the Hufflepuff boy had said. "I can probably understand a little of that Krum business of yours. My cousins are all in France, attending school at Beauxbatons. The only reason why my sister and I are out here in Hogwarts is because of my father. He had insisted on Hogwarts. I don't understand why he did so, but he did." Certainly, Julien can never understand the Krum family tree. If he really knew, there were more Krums to go around than Delacours.

There had been many comparisons made about the Krum family but never had they been compared to a flourishing apple tree the way Julien had just done so; and when he did, Sevastian’s eyes widened. His face darkened to the colour of a ruby-red apple and he bit his lip, tipping his chin forward with embarrassment at Julien’s words. He laughed uneasily and peeked at Julien. Sevastian played idly with a piece of thread on his scarf and broke the thread before looking at Julien fully. Sevastian smiled brightly at him; glowing at the compliment. The cogs in his brain started to turn, in search of some kind of witty reply, but he faltered again and could only smile in response before ducking his head again as his cheeks flushed scarlet once more. Even the tips of Sevastian’s hair started to burn with the same rouge.

Sevastian’s nanny had always told him little Muggle sayings, as if to make him a better person, one that was devoid of the prejudices his family carried. He knew the saying very well and when he was younger he’d take an apple with him when he had to go and see his doctor - or when the physician came to the house to check on him personally. Sevastian would always have an apple, in the vain hope that somehow, he’d get better and because of that apple he wouldn’t need the doctor anymore. He still ate one ever day - at breakfast after his main meal to clear his pallet. Seemingly though, the apples did not work because Sevastian was forever going to see Healers for some form of ailment or another. He wasn’t the healthiest of people in the world but he got over his illnesses as quickly s he developed them. His body never did respond well to flu, though. Once he came down with that, it was game over and he was in bed for weeks on end.

Sevastian smiled a little and nodded before murmuring, “I find that that saying isn’t strictly true. There are more than a few flaws to its meaning.”

He looked at Julien expectantly, waiting for him to continue, and smirked at the look on the boy’s face - the one that told Sevastian that yes, he was expecting him to be listening. Sevastian laughed quietly to himself and his cheeks bruised with colour again. Sevastian raised his eyebrows, curious as to the meaning of the actual saying that the boy had clearly made up. Julien seemed to like double-entendres so Sevastian was expecting one out of that. He couldn’t quite stop himself from asking about it though. He wanted to know more. That eagerness to learn was present there and he felt as if there was a lot to learn from Julien. The Ravenclaw - he was assuming - who seemed to be street-smart as well as the habitual book-smart.

“What happens when there is nothing left of the pretty apple though?” Sevastian asked curiously, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he looked at Julien.

Krum business. Right. Like him attending Hogwarts was Krum business. No, Krum business was covering up the incest that went on in the Bulgarian manor. Krum business was reminding everyone that they could sleep with whoever they wanted to as long as there were no pregnancies and the newspapers didn’t’ find out. Krum business was trying to get rid of the Angelova bastards that leeched off of the family like parasites. Krum business was covering up everything that was wrong with the family. His presence at Hogwarts was not Krum business; it was just a fact of life. In fact, he was probably better off there.

“Would you prefer it at Beauxbatons?” Sevastian asked hesitantly.

Julien had eyes now only for Sevastian's responses, as much as nature still held a beauty unrivalled by humans. He was curious about the boy though, and the reactions had all satisfied his amusement in one way or another. He also could not help but wonder why he never met Sevastian earlier, since they boy looked to be about his age. Well, any time was still a good time if they met, he supposed. Julien loved how the boy had began to blushed under his words. It made him feel good, actually, because he felt as if his words had the power to effect such a response. Well, it only felt good because he was interested anyway. Sometimes, Julien would see one or two girls blushing at his entrance in the common room, and he had thought them rather odd. He was biased, of course. This one was cute when he blushed.

"The pretty apple?" Julien began in a question as he considered the answer in his head. "Well, then, you find another pretty apple. The world is full of them. As long as you have an eye for them, you'll see them like hidden gems in a sea of people who would never catch your attention at any time of the day anyway. But, ah yes, we were talking about apples, not people. Well ... certainly it'll be odd if you continue at a tree once a pretty apple has been ... eaten all ... up." He smiled again. "It'll be better to move on to the next tree. Eating too many apples from the same tree is problematic, ain't it? It causes a bit of a confusion." He had lost it. He had lost his analogy of sticking to the apples and the trees. It was so obviously about people now.

"Sometimes," Julien began again. He was always someone who was quick to answer. Thankfully, he could think on his toes too. He knew of people who blurted whatever they said, and he had no respect for them. "Sometimes I think I might prefer Beauxbatons. It's the epitome of beauty there, and I listen to a lot of stories from my cousins who go there." Julien paused and thought about Hogwarts. "But sometimes I think that I can only appreciate things if they're ... challenging." He eyed Sevastian, not being able to steer himself clear from double entendres. "There's a charm about Hogwarts. Beauty exists here, they just need to be found, or realised. And then I can appreciate them better. So perhaps, if that was what my father had meant for, then Hogwarts could be really where I ought to be then."

"Merry Christmas, Sevastian Krum." Julien enjoyed saying the boy's name. His Christmas wish had been meant to unsettle the flow of the conversation. He liked doing that. It made Julien feel as if he could control conversations. "What year are you in?" Finally, he figured that he could learn a little more about this other boy, things he wanted to know to ensure that he would see Sevastian around in the near future. "And ... where is Christmas for you this year?" Julien expected the answer to, of course, be at the Krums'. Still, he had mentioned it for the sake of conversation.