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Blanc didn't know if he was the type of person to join up for clubs. Things that were fun tended to be more spontaneous than an organized activity, although if his sister were going to, he should probably try to too. He put his name down for the ones that sounded most interesting, although he...

Name: Blanc Glass House: Gryffindor Year: First

Name: Blanc Glass House: Gryffindor Year: First

Name: Blanc Glass House: Gryffindor Year: First

Name: Blanc Glass House: Gryffindor Year: First

Blanc was feeling uneasy at Hogwarts. More so than he'd anticipated. Perhaps he wasn't brave enough to be a Gryffindor after all, and the hat had made a terrible mistake. At least it had kept him with Rouge. He'd felt a little sorry for Rose, knowing she was all by herself up in the Ravenclaw...

Mate

Blanc peered out on the pitch at the players, a bewildered look on his face. To him, they all just looked a bit stressed, sweaty and frustrated. Every now and then there would be a student who also looked like they were going to need to sit down after the tryout, the nerves maybe getting the...

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MAte

Blanc frowned at the girls response, it not making any sense to the first year. "Why are you here then?" he asked, "If you go to the owlery, you can see so much more from there. Here, the view is all blocked by the pillars and stuff," he nodded his head toward the pitch, where the players were...

Blanc didn't think riding a horse was going to be like riding a broomstick. He had experience with one, but not the other. Even Rouge who was much better than he ever was at not falling off a moving seat would have trouble, he bet. The first year was wrapped up warm and sat on his own watching...

Blanc didn't bother wiping away the tears in his eyes, so much as he did his best to distract himself with the food that had appeared in front of him. "Yeah," he said to his mom as she returned, not looking up from the pair of them. "Is there another drink?" he asked. Afterall, the first one had...

I'll date you

As Blanc's behind met the blanket, he was quite sure he'd managed to land on the stick he'd been carrying. Mama may have cleaned his shirt, but it wouldn't help the welt that was now brewing on his ass cheek. He did his best to ignore it and the wells pooling in his eyes, concentrating instead...