About Time--FrUk

The end of January in England brought with it freezing temperatures and snow. The latest storm rolling through was bringing more of the white power to add to what was already on the ground.  It was already up to at least the mid-calf on most students—knees on some of the smaller first years.  Professors were outside busily performing spells to at least keep the pathways clear.  Classes would be held no matter what. Most students grumbled and trudged on, hurriedly working to get inside but one student ventured out away from the school doors.

Arthur Kirkland, a seventh year Slytherin, loved the weather and would just as soon be out there then inside with his loud, obnoxious classmates.  At least out here, he could think without interruption.  

Currently, he was on his way to the owlery.  Not that he had a letter to send or anything, he just liked to visit the birds. They were lovely to be around and talk to, far better than a great majority of his classmates.

He climbed the tower and reached the room in no time. At first, he smiled at the birds; a great number of them all huddled together for warmth, feathers ruffling from the slight wind that came through the windows.  But then, he noticed he was not alone. Much to his annoyance, he joined the company of the most insufferable person in the whole school.

The person looked up from stroking his own brilliant, large snowy owl and gave Arthur a wide grin. “Arthur! I ‘ad zhe feeling you would come up ‘ere today! Always when it snows, oui?” He said brightly.

Francis Bonnefoy, also seventh year Slytherin and great irritant to Arthur. The Englishman just rolled his eyes and moved over to be with his owl; a burly tawny owl.

“Don’t you have somewhere better to be? Somewhere warmer? This cold has to be killing you, I know that full well. You’ve complained about it enough in the past for me to.”  Arthur said. He presented his owl with a treat and smiled as he ate happily. A gentle pat on the head and his owl hooted its thanks.

“Oh, oui. I do. I am suppose to be in study ‘all at zhis moment, actually.” Francis said nonchalantly, as if skipping classes was nothing.  Arthur scoffed at him.

“Then you should bloody well be there! Don’t come crying to me when the Headmaster tosses you out on your ear.” He retorted, choosing to focus solely on his owl. Those large brown eyes were beautiful and he couldn’t get enough sometimes, they almost rivaled those blue eyes Francis had. He shook his head, where had that thought come from? Then he heard Francis laugh.

“You are so predictable, mon ami.  But non, I ‘ad something important to send out with my owl.  So it could not wait until class was over.” He said calmly. The fact that the owl was still there did not escape Arthur and he again rolled his eyes.

“Well, what are you waiting on? Go on, send your owl out and get to class!” he stated, turning his back to the Frenchman. While he was in a slightly better mood then usual and more apt to tolerate him, he still put on his act. He did vaguely wonder how Francis knew he would head here and why he knew Arthur always did when the snow started falling.  That was a little odd.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Francis pull out a red envelope—that honestly looked like a Howler, which intrigued Arthur—and hand it to his owl. The bird grabbed it with his foot and without a word of instruction from Francis, took off out the window. Arthur was perplexed, who in the world could Francis be yelling at? He hardly ever heard the man so much as raise his voice.

Though he hardly had time to ponder it. In through the other window, the one closest to him, flew Francis’ owl. Arthur raised an eyebrow before yelping in surprise. The animal landed on his head and started brandishing the red envelope in his face while pecking his head, wanting a treat for his good work. Arthur panicked and tried to bat the bird away without hurting him at all and was growing irritated as Francis seemed unconcerned.

“Francis! Get your bloody bird off my head! It’s gone mental! Why are you just standing there?! Do something, arg!” He yelled as the owl’s talons gripped his head tight. Francis smiled and placed his hands on his hips.

“It looks like it wants you to take zhat letter. I believe its address to you.” He said slyly. Arthur glared at his before reaching up to finally snatch the letter from the bird.

“You…you git! What are you playing at? Almost getting my eye’s taken out because you are too lazy to hand me a letter! Making your bird do your dirty work for you thepoor thing! But don’t expect me to give him any treats! Insufferable…this is what was so important you had to skip class?! For a ruddy prank! You are incorrigible!” He yelled, waving the letter around and completely ignoring it. Francis just continued to smile.

“Open it, sil vous plait.” He replied simply. Was it Arthur, or did he see a slight dusting of red blush adorn Francis’ cheeks when he said that? Must have been the cold. It had to be.

He grumbled and ripped open the letter. After, annoyingly, a spell went off that produced a shower of glittery hearts to rain down on his head, Arthur quickly shook the letter out and read over it. His mouth fell agape and he turned a bright red.  He looked from the letter then to Francis and then back to the letter.

Mon cher Arthur,
A trip to Hogsmeade is planned for February 14th. As you know, this is the day of La Amour. I humbly invite you to join me at Madam Puddifoot’s café. She always decorates so nicely for Valentine’s Day and I know that she serves your favorite tea.

Meet me at Honeydukes beforehand for a special sweet treat.
Lovingly,
Francis Bonnefoy

It took Arthur several moments to even process what the letter said. Francis. The Francis Bonnefoy, annoying, troublemaking, school flirt who could have absolutely anyone he wanted in the entire school, that Francis was asking Arthur out. On a date. A real date.  He had to go over it several times in his mind to make sure it was really happening.  Not that he would ever tell a single soul but Francis was his best friend in the school. They were closer even than Arthur was to that American Gryffindor.  

In a daze of emotions, the young British boy turned scarlet red, stuffed the letter into his satchel and stormed out without so much as a word to Francis. Though he didn’t get far, he stopped right outside of the door and took a deep breath.

“Took you long enough, ruddy git.” He called as he adjusted his bag and began trudging down the stairs. “See you at Honeydukes.” He called even louder as he then began running through the snow to get back to the building.