A Brief Meeting

[Fabio Santiago-Cruz]

Fabio Santiago-Cruz was not found near the Quidditch Pitch very often. It was filled with loud and brainless oafs. He tried to avoid those types of people. He was a migrant. He moved from place to place. As long as it was quiet, Fabio would be there. He sat in the benches writing an essay. He had several essays to do. Extra credit. Iligio always expected him to do it, and whenever he didn't, his father would know. Iligio was obsessed with everything that his son did. If Fabio was taken out of the equation, his father would have absolutely no life. Without Fabio, his father was nothing, but he did not realize how much power he had over his father. He was too engulfed his studies to realize much. Manipulation was not one of his personality traits. He finished his essay for Transfiguration. Now, time for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

 

[Kiefer Harris]

Most of the time, all Kiefer thought about was her. He loved the colour of her eyes and hair. The scent that she held was always intoxicating. A challenge was she, to him. She was quite adaptable to many of his ways and as for him, he knew that he was beginning to cope up with her. Kiefer Harris thought that it was enough daydreaming about that particular blonde and looked towards the opening that held great light. Judging by the streaming gleam, the weather outside was fair and conditionally good for flying. With a broom in hand, Kiefer put a little pressure on his grasp and looked at the people on the benches. He thought that Durmstrang never had those Quidditch games unlike Beauxbatons and Hogwarts which frustrated the young man. One of his favorite sports was not played in the school. "Durmstrang for the Dark Arts and all that," thought Kiefer sourly. Infamous for its reputation that taught the Dark Arts with no bounds, his school was like one of those evil castles that muggle fairy tales contained. They had almost everything, except for Quidditch. The thought repeatedly saddened the blond man yet that did not hinder him to stop his flying practices by himself. There were others who as well did the same thing and Kiefer knew them by face as he consistently saw them on the Pitch.

The backpack that he brought along with him was placed on the lowest part of the benches that stretched lengthily. Perhaps Kiefer was wrong; there were Quidditch games in Durmstrang and the last time was a very long time ago. Their current Headmaster just sucked at planning things. Kiefer never had an official game - only those that he had with his friends during the summer. He walked to the grassy part of the Pitch and there stuck his broom between his legs and mounted, ready to take flight. It was easy business to do that after all the years he had been practicing flying in the air. His primary nervousness regarding heights had vanished long ago and now he was soaring in the air. The feeling of the morning's air scratching his face to wake him up fully was bliss and there Kiefer started to fly normally around the area to practice his speed. Gradually he increased his velocity and turned sharply downwards to dive. Kiefer caught a few gasps of surprise from some girls nearby. He knew what they were thinking - he flew so steadily then all of a sudden, dived down. It was a test he posed for himself, if ever he could catch his own weight and fly parallel to the ground before it was too late.

Descending the air was much more of an easier task to do. However nervousness of a person can increase the chances of not going down to touch the ground. Instead of that the person may fly upwards with an unsteady balance. Kiefer looked at three people flying above as he got of his broom and caught it with his left hand. They seemed younger than him as he did not notice them from his year. Majority were doing decently whilst the one Kiefer singled out in his mind was awkwardly flying. A deep and amused chuckle rumbled beneath the base of his throat. He needed to get the gloves out of his knapsack that was lying a few meters away from another kid who was obviously younger than him. Silver eyes narrowed in question as to why the hell was he writing on some parchment. Kiefer remained looking at him as his hands rummaged through the whole pack to look for his gloves and when he found it, he got it with his right hand and decided to approach him slowly. "Hey kid, why do that in the Quidditch Pitch?" Emphasizing the word Quidditch might do the trick. Kiefer now began to put on his gloves starting with the right hand, whilst his left held the other glove and the Sienna Storm.
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[Fabio Santiago-Cruz]

Fabio had found it hard to concentrate. It was not as quiet as it first was when he arrived at the Quidditch Pitch. Defense Against the Dark Arts was the hardest subject for him. Theory was Fabio's specialty. DADA was a practical course. He had thought of getting a new wand because his was acting up. It made the boy want to snap it, but he still needed it. He had sent his brother a letter asking if his wand was giving him any trouble, and other things that he was not going to mention. His brother simply said that his wand was working well, and he was having a hard time adjusting to Hogwarts New Zealand. Fabio felt sorry for his brother. He was just so submissive and easy to take advantage of. It was not a surprise that father liked to pick on him, when he was noticed that is. Since he was a nice big brother, He allowed Royel to share a room with him. At times, his sibling got so scared he was not able to by himself. That was just how bad their home life was. Royel was too dependent to be on his own. Fabio did not approve of his brother being at Hogwarts New Zealand. It was apparently, "The best place for him to be," his mother's voice rang in his head. The fourth year came to his senses and saw a huge ink spot on his paper. He had managed to get three hundred words, but now it was ruined! Fabio calmly set his quill on the bench, and he balled up his parchment. He heard someone speak. He turned his head and rolled his eyes. "It was quiet." he told the boy simply and took out another piece of parchment. He did not think that he really deserved an answer, but he gave him one anyways. He picked up his quill again and started the write. He had set the balled up parchment on the bench. He had tried hard not to throw it at anyone.

 

[Kiefer Harris]

How strange was this boy's taste when it came to searching for a place that was suitable for studying. Very, very odd. Not much of the population really took the Quidditch Pitch for a place that was best used for studying. Hell no, that was just plain weird. The young man felt that he needed to remind this young boy about the fact that this place was not a library even if it was bloody quiet. Even if it was murderously silent. Even if the air was eerily muted. This was a pitch, where people practiced flying or where couples came to snog the living daylights out of each other. Either way, "studying" was not exactly a normal thing to do in this area. Although who was Kiefer Antoinin Harris to dictate what this boy was to do anyway? Kiefer continued tugging his gloves to cover the whole of his hand as he just eyed the boy. Damn, it felt absolutely beautifully blissful to be wearing comfortable gloves that covered his hands. Rubbing his skin on the wood of the broom that resulted to hands that were rough was not really something Kiefer would flaunt.

Instead of going for a snappy snort as a reply, Kiefer continued putting on the finishing touches on his right hand glove, which was to clip it shut before doing the same to his other hand. The blond man felt a gale pass, whipping his hair in all sorts of directions. "Careful, it might fly away." A finger pointed to the parchment of the brunette boy. Fatherly as it seemed, Kiefer took no heed at that fact. He was the type to mention his concern very openly, even if others did not really want to feel the expressed uneasiness or worry that Kiefer provided. Perhaps to them it felt too intimate which they disliked. He finally clipped the glove on his right and proceeded to do the same with his left. Whilst fumbling with the glove and his broom, Kiefer took a step further to stop looking at the younger male. It would feel too weird that could be unbearable for the tall seventh year. Besides, he did not want to disturb the little fellow. How serious was his face when he actually took the exams; he did not know. However just thinking about it made him want to grin and spend the day in mock laughter. Yes, that was how Kiefer imagined uptight bookworms at night.

The weather was perfect for flying. Until the evening, Kiefer would make sure to remain in the Pitch to fly under the shimmering stars. If lucked washed on his shore, perhaps he could even find some company by the stands. Another breeze blew which stuck Kief's blond hair in all sorts of directions. Kiefer took no effort to pat it down. The mess that the moving air did to his hair was not an issue to the young man ever since his flying skills had begun to improve. The broom in his hand was held carelessly and he let it drop to the somewhat smooth looking ground. As he finally clipped the glove right in place, the presence of the younger boy still haunting him, Kiefer turned back again. "Speaking of flying, aren't you going to grab a broom and use the pitch later on?" Kiefer wanted to prod more about the kinds of essays he was trying to do but damn, never did he want to help a younger student because they had academic problems. Beside from that thought, a surge of irritation might grip the younger boy. Not that Kiefer really cared if he created a new annoyance but, now wasn't really the time he wanted to use his tongue for sharp talking. "That's boring stuff, I might have to add," he said, his silvery gaze stopping on the parchment for a fleeting moment before turning his back away from the kid.
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[Fabio Santiago-Cruz]

Fabio was wrong to choose the Quidditch Pitch. It was no longer quiet, so there was no reason for him to stay there anymore. He still wanted to finish his essay though. Moving around would cause him to forget all the wonderous ideas that were flooding in his head. But, the boy's voice was interrupting these pleasant thoughts of his. Fabio simply shook his head. He hated bein in the air. He saw no point in Quidditch. The sport was not only dangerous, but it was stupid. He would choke Royel if he even thought of trying to play Quidditch.

The thought of his brother made him stop writing. Royel. His Secret. How was he doing? Was he making friends? Normally, Fabio would not look so worried, but this was Royel. The fourth year was used to keeping an eye on his brother from afar. Now, he did not know what to do with himself now that his brother was so far away from him. Fabio was not used to feeling so uncomfortable, and he had not noticed how comfortable Secret's pressence made him feel. "I would prefer it if you kept your comments to yourself." he told the upperclassman, still staring blankly at his paper. He tightens his hands up into fists. He wouldn't allow himself to bite his fingernails. Not only was that unsanitary, it was a sign of insecurity. Royel would frown if he ever let his weakness show to anyone.