#cattasticluv

Arthur was on his way back from the library when he heard it. As he approached the trophy room, he stopped reading his book and walking (a dangerous combination, but one he was used to), looking up in shock. It was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, and it was coming from very close by. It was late, and curfew was in an hour, so he ordinarily would not bother going to investigate. But the sound called to him, urging him on. Without thinking, he dropped the stack of books he was carrying, letting them all tumble to the floor with a loud racket, and lurched forward in the direction of the beautiful melody. It was someone singing, he was sure. But who could sing so perfectly? His question was answered when he stumbled into the armory, next to the trophy room. Inside, there was Francis, the newcomer from Beauxbatons. He sang alone at the other end of the armory, dancing as he did so. Arthur felt the urge to go closer even stronger now, drawn irresistibly forward by the beckoning sway of Francis’s body and the music serenading him. In his haste to get closer, he knocked over a suit of armor with a terrible crashing. The Ravenclaw student hardly noticed, still hurrying forward. But it did alert the performer, who turned to look at the fallen suit. His eyes landed on Arthur and he is lips curved up mid-note. Arthur continued to step forward, until he was inches away and Francis had swept him into the dance. He didn’t even know how to dance, but he was pulled along anyway, staring into deep blue eyes and getting quite lost.

  Nothing could have prepared him for what happened next. As they continued to twirl around, he only keeping up by sheer luck, or perhaps it was a spell, Francis leaned forward and kissed him. The song, of course, ended, but they continued to dance. Even without the music, Arthur felt a jolt of warmth fill him. He was too hypnotized to really even kiss back, he just stayed there in a haze of heat and longing and befuddlement. The only thing he was aware of was a burning desire to stay this close, be held like this forever. It could never stop, he could never let Francis stop dancing, terrible things would happen and he had to keep watching, being there, being touched… But finally, Francis stopped moving. As soon as the dance stopped, so did the enchantment. Arthur returned to his senses, and his eyes widened as he realized he was kissing someone. With a very manly yelp, he stumbled back, tripping over the suit of armor and landing with a smack on his butt.

  “What the hell did you do to me?” he screeched as soon as he got his bearings, glaring up at the gorgeous man.

Francis merely laughed, one hand raising to brush his hair back.

“You were the one who interrupted my singing, mon cher. Not that you could help it, but still.”

His voice was deeply accented, melodic, and almost as beautiful as he himself was. Arthur was still disoriented, and he hated how his words came out all muddled.

“Wha… wha… what??”

“Haven’t you learned about Veela yet, darling little English boy?”

“B-but… but you… but you’re…”

“A half-Veela, technically. But I can control my charm as little as you can control your cute accent. It is your own fault for coming too close.”

“W-well you didn’t have to… kiss me, you stupid frog!”

“But you looked so cute and kissable! Besides, I saw you looking at me when I was introduced to your house. You wanted to even then.”

Arthur was at a loss for words at that, sputtering and tripping over himself verbally. Finally, he just scrambled to his feet and hurried back out of the room. A soft laugh followed him, almost convincing him to turn around. But he didn’t. Red in the face, he collected his books and hurried back to the dorm.

   Arthur knocked on the knocker rapidly in front of his dorm room, still hazy in the head. He hardly heard the riddle as it was first croaked out to him, and tried to shake it off by physically shaking his head. “Say again?”

“Part of a bird am I   But I dwell not in the sky.   I can swim in the ocean,   But always I stay dry.   What am I?”

“What??”

Usually the answers came easily to him, but he just couldn’t focus.

“Part of a… dwell not… I… I don’t know, you blasted door! You know me, just let me in!”

“Incorrect, access denied.”

“Come on! You stupid knocker! Obviously I’m Ravenclaw, just open up already!”

“Access denied.”

Arthur pounded on the door uselessly, feeling panic well up in his throat. Just his luck, he had to wind up trapped out here just before curfew.

“A bird’s shadow.”

“What?”

He spun around, nearly dropping his books again, and felt a jolt as he met a steady blue gaze. Francis grinned.

“It’s the answer to the riddle, mon cher. A bird’s shadow is part of a bird that’s not in the sky. It cannot get wet but it ‘swims’ when the bird flies over the ocean.”

“Yes I figured it out once you said it, but wh-“

“Why did I answer? Did you forget I’m a Ravenclaw too?”

He had, as embarrassing as that was. Francis was indeed a Ravenclaw, but one year ahead of him so they didn’t occupy the same bedroom. Behind him, the door clicked open.

“Er… well… thanks…”

  He hurried inside and up into the 5th year dorm room and, after putting his books down, collapsed into the bed.

“I can’t believe I made such an idiot out of myself…”

“Are you all right, Arthur?”

He looked over at one of his only friends, a skinny boy of Japanese descent, and sighed.

“You know that French kid who just transferred?”

“Francis?”

“He’s half-Veela and…well…”

“Ah. Hang in there.”

He received a very light pat on the shoulder, and then was left to sulk alone. Kiku never was very good at comforting people. With a sigh, he buried his face in the pillow.

“I’ll never be able to show my face around that guy again…”

  - - - - - - - -

  Arthur was forced to show his face again nonetheless. The next morning, he plopped down at breakfast beside Francis without even noticing it. Rubbing at his eyes wearily and lamenting his lack of good sleep (it was Francis’s fault), he nearly had a heart attack when he heard the voice again.

“Bonjour monsieur.”

“Holy sh- Francis! Bloody hell, I didn’t…”

As he turned red in the face, Francis raised an eyebrow, seeming amused.

“You didn’t what? Know I eat breakfast? Even Veelas must eat, monsieur.”

“No, no! That’s not what I… Good morning.”

“Good morning. I didn’t catch your name, little English boy.”

“It’s Arthur, so please stop calling me that.”

“Nice to meet you, Arthur.”

The beautiful French boy reached for a roll and began to butter it casually. Arthur cleared his throat before trying to speak again.

“Listen… about last night.”

“Hm?”

“I’m not… usually…”

“I know. You could not help it. The moment you heard me sing you were doomed.”

“You really can’t control it?”

“Well, I could if I focused very hard, but at that moment, since I was alone, I did not.”

“Well, then, why did you go and kiss me like that??”

“I told you, you looked cute.”

Arthur’s face turned red again and he scowled.

“That doesn’t mean you can kiss me without asking!”

Surprisingly, Francis actually stopped smiling at that, and had the decency to look guilty.

“Désolé, you are correct. I will be sure to ask next time.”

“There won’t be a next time!”

“With someone else, gracious.”

He took a bite of his roll before speaking again.

  “I must say, I miss the nymphs.”

“Pardon?”

He was determined to not sound like an idiot now, since it seemed Francis was willing to have a normal conversation now.

“Wood nymphs. In Beauxbatons, we have wood nymphs that sing at every meal.”

“Is that so? We don’t really have anything like that here.”

“I know, this school is dismally bland.”

“Hey! Hogwarts is like my home!”

“You have a very bland home, then.”

Arthur scowled at him as he innocently took another bite of the bread. It seemed, now, that rather than being charming, he was being deliberately annoying.

“Well, excuse us for not needing stupid fancy things to go about our daily lives! Besides, Hogsmead is a wonderful and exciting place to go on weekends so who needs anything else?”

“Ah, yes!”

Francis perked up at that, ignoring the insult, and set his roll down. He gave Arthur a smile, but one that was not so charged with magical charm. It was still dazzling.

“Would you take me there this weekend, Arthur? I am very curious about this place I’ve heard so much about!”

“Wh… Oh. Uh.”

Was that a date request? Arthur stared at him for a moment, the red returning to his face. But, eventually, he found himself nodding.

“Well, sure, I guess… And I’ll show you how exciting it is! So you could never call this place bland again!” “Ah, bon, merci! But it is not technically part of Hogwarts, is it? So I could still call this castle bland.”

“Do you want me to take you or not!”

He got a laugh in return, and Francis picked up his breakfast again.

“Oui, oui. Then I shall refrain from insulting this place further, so I don’t lose my date.”

“It won’t be a date!”

“Whatever you say.”

Francis winked, finished his roll, and then stood to go. Arthur stared helplessly after him, wondering just what he was getting himself into.

  - - - - - - - -

  That Saturday, Arthur was sitting alone at breakfast when the new student sat elegantly down beside him.

“Bonjour, monsieur!”

That cheerful voice was so goddamn perfect, it actually annoyed him a little.

“Good morning, Francis…”

“You’re not a morning person, are you?”

“I actually am, most of the time.”

Not so when he was up late thinking about a fellow student too much.

“I never am, but today is our date, so I’m excited!”

“It’s not a date.”

“Why not?”

“Because I say it’s not!”

“Gracious, Arthur. Don’t give yourself an aneurysm.”

“Well, stop saying such things!”

Francis sighed dramatically, like he’d been asked to stop eating his favorite food, but nodded anyway.

“Oui, oui. Just tell me when you’re ready to go.”

  It wound up being another hour before he was ready, because once he was done with his breakfast, Arthur hurried to a lavatory to make sure his hair was neat and he looked nice. Not that it was a date. He just had standards, that’s all.

“Finally ready, mon cher?”

“Please stop calling me things I don’t understand.”

“That is an easy one! But very well.”

“Yes, I’m ready. Come on, then.”

  The first thing they did, much to Francis’s apparent chagrin, was Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, because Arthur needed a new quill. But after being whined at for bringing him to a “boring place”, Arthur finally led him somewhere decent.

“Mon dieu! I’ve never seen so much candy in one place!”

Arthur stood off to the side as Francis gaped in wonder at Honeydukes. Apparently, he had a sweet tooth. Who would’ve guessed?

“Yes, it’s pretty much the best place to get anything good. You’re lucky it’s not Christmas time yet, the shop’s packed full then. Can’t move an inch inside without bumping into three people at once.”

“Look at this! Sugar quills, how neat! You can eat them while writing!”

“But then you’re left without a quill.”

“How can you possibly not like candy?”

“I do like candy! I just prefer my candy to be shaped properly and not imitate useful everyday things.”

Francis stared at him mournfully.

“What??”

“I pity your parents.”

“Oh, gee, that’s not rude at all!”

“Oooh! Exploding bonbons, one of my favorites.”

Arthur was regretting this more and more every moment. But nothing could compare to the heart attack moment that came after Honeydukes.

  “Oh, what a cute little place!”

“Eh…?”

Arthur looked to where Francis pointed, and felt his face pale.

“Oh, bloody hell. No. We’re not going in there.”

“Why not? Are you the only Englishman who doesn’t like tea?” “I love tea! But we are not going into Madame Puddifoot’s! There is no way! I am not stepping foot in that stupid pink door!” “But it looks so cute! Come on, Arthur, please?”

“No! That’s where couples go and this is not a date!”

“Oh, come on! Please? Just for a little while?”

“No! Besides… There’s an even better place to see.”

“There is?”

Francis perked up at that, and Arthur sighed in relief.

“Yes, there is. Come on, it’s this way…”

    Arthur led them away from the main street of Hogsmeade and to the edge of town. There it was, in the distance. Arthur went up to the fence and smirked a little as he looked at it.

“There it is.”

“What exactly is it?”

Francis came up beside him and rested his hands on the fence, looking at the old, abandoned house with suspicion.

“It’s called the Shrieking Shack. Supposedly, it’s the most haunted building in Britain! There are dozens of ghost stories that are associated with that place.

“Ah, is that so…?”

“Yes! Like the one about Nearly-Headless Nick’s friend, the one that’s got his whole head off, not just partly? Some people say he was killed there. They say he was a teacher here, years ago, and he ventured too far inside the shack…. Whatever’s in there wasn’t too happy with him, and without a weapon just knocked his head clean off. With just a swipe of a hand, or claw, or whatever that thing has…. Other stories say it was once home to a werewolf, who would come out every full moon and hunt the people in the village. They say the people of the town eventually went inside to kill the beast. It put up a great fight, but finally, it lay dead, and the whole town cheered. But as it was dying, the werewolf cursed them. He said, ‘may any who enters this place die as awfully as I!’ And you know what? It happened, too, the stories said. Every now and then, a person would go inside… and then they’d be found dead a few days later, by all kinds of gruesome ends. One was half eaten by giant spiders, one was trampled by centaurs, one was mauled, one got squished by a giant, and-“

“Th-that’s enough!”

  Arthur snapped out of his storytelling monologue, the dark grin and aura which had added effect to his stories fading. He looked over and saw with surprise that Francis had taken several steps back, and had his arms wrapped around himself as it trying to protect himself. He gazed anxiously at the building, nibbling his bottom lip, and cleared his throat before speaking again.

“I get the picture… Haunted and cursed.”

Arthur didn’t respond for a moment, watching him. Francis didn’t do well with scary stories? Huh. Before he could help himself, he smirked.

“Want to get clo-”

“NON!”

  - - - - - - - -

  “You are a terrible person.”

Francis sulked at him over his mug, sitting at a table in the Three Broomsticks. Arthur merely smirked at him, reaching for his own mug.

“You’d been teasing me all day, I deserved a little payback.”

“You almost frightened me half to death! My gorgeous hair is going to turn prematurely grey!”

“Please. You’re already gorgeous and it’s not about to change.”

He lifted his mug to drink from it, and then paused and processed what he’d just said.

“That is…”

“Oui? I am gorgeous, you say~?”

“You just called yourself that five seconds ago!”

“Ah, but it is so much nicer hearing it from someone else’s lips rather than mine!”

Arthur fell silent, face steaming red, and stared into his butterbeer. After several minutes, during which Francis continued to grin and he daren’t look up to see it, he finally managed to mumble something.

“Well, yes… you are gorgeous. You’re half-Veela for god’s sake.”

“Merci boucoup, Arthur.”

  That one sounded more genuine, which surprised him. He looked up to see Francis just… looking at him. But with such a soft expression, like he was looking at a kitten. Arthur took that in for a moment, swallowed his fears, and then leaned over the table. Before he could psyche himself out, he pressed his lips to Francis’s. He didn’t hold the kiss very long, but he really pressed into it, just to emphasize how much it meant. When he pulled back, the shocked look on Francis’s face almost made it worth it, but he was too nervous to really enjoy it.

“You obviously used some sort of stupid Veela charm again, so don’t look so-“

“I did not.”

“What?”

Arthur frowned at him, clutching at his butterbeer for dear life.

“You must’ve! Because I just… and there’s… I didn’t…”

“I didn’t use any charm. Did you hear me singing? You did that yourself, Arthur.”

“I… Oh.”

He looked down into his drink again, so he didn’t see it coming. Francis leaned forward over the table himself, hovering nearby.

“Is it all right if I kiss you again, mon cher?”

“Stop calling me that… yes.”

With that permission, Francis pulled him in for a deeper kiss, reminiscent of the one in the armory several days ago. It left Arthur breathless and rather fuzzy in the head.

“Are-are you sure you didn’t use a charm?”

“I’m sure, Arthur.”

But it didn’t feel like a charm anyway. The Veela magic had been intense, demanding, and urgent. This was warmer, and he found he liked it. He pressed his lips together to hide a smile, dropping his gaze again.

“Well, don’t get used to it. It won’t be happening again any time soon!”