Hogwarts was very different from Beauxbaton. With a trained eye you could pick out the moss growing between the lower stones of the structure, wrinkle your nose as the stall doors in the bathrooms creaked everytime someone opened them, and you had to polish your shoes after every single Potions Class in the dungeons—the water on the ground was always mixed with some stray ingredients, creating a hazardous mess

And the uniforms. No more comforting light blue silks that allowed skin to breathe in the hot weather, gave easy mobility when dueling. Now you had to put on a tight cotton shirt, a tie of the most atrocious colors that scratched against your skin. The skirt wasn't that bad, maybe even potentially cute in some circumstances, but not when spells wizzed around Hogwarts halls threatening to lift the piece of fabric.

But the students here weren't too bad. On your first day a red headed girl, a fellow 6th year, let you borrow her potions book. Your first British friend, Lily Evans. You walked into the Great Hall during breakfast, shoving a small gift box into her hands—it was the beginning of a friendship.

"That looks expensive." Lily studied the bracelet inside the gift box.

Mary peeked over Lily's shoulder, gasping at the insignia on the bracelet. "That's designer. Carte Blanche. Merlin, Lily, that's about what Cartier is for muggles."

Lily gaped looking back at you. "I can't, that's so expensive."

You shook your head, shoving the gift box back to Lily. "Non. Pour toi."

Weeks later, coming back from the quidditch pitch after morning training you were ambushed by Lily and Mary. Something about a party, a lot of pleading to come and promises of being able to wear whatever you wanted.

And here you stood. In the mix of red and gold, two colors that didn't and should never mix together. Lily dragged you over to the group in the back - the organizers of the party, no doubt. James, the one who acted like he was immune to Lily's glares as he tried—which sounded a lot like begging at this point—for a date.

"Oh, I wonder where Sirius is." Lily looked around.

James shrugged. "Probably doing his eyeliner again. You know him, likes to make a grand entrance." James grabbed both of Lily's hands. "Come on, dance with me."

Lily sent you an apologetic look, giggling as James dragged her onto the center. You sighed, moving along the wall to the drinks table. Maybe the liquor in Britain wasn't bad? Cheap and disgusting. No Cote de Nuits, Cote de Beaune or Merlin forbid even a Don Melchor. You settled on Butterbeer. It wasn't bad, slightly sweet and you liked Madam Rosmerta.

A hand went over your shoulder to grab a bottle of the table, and definitely to catch your attention. You turned, ready to roll your eyes and give some snide remark to yet another pick up line, "you must have Veela in your blood, because some bullshit compliment.", but he only looked away, watching the center dance floor taking a sip of the butterbeer.

Grey eyes met yours, the smudged black liner around them making the color stand out against the black curls and pale face. He looked down at you, watching you just the same as you watched him. Nothing was said. Just silence and the inability to look away. And the guy smirked, giving you a little nod before moving away through the crowd.

You didn't follow him. Lily just happens to be sitting next to James and this guy, fanning herself with her hand from all the dancing. Her face lit up, waving you over, as she gestured to the grey eyed male sitting on the other side of James.

"Oh, and this is Sirius. Sirius, this is the Beauxbaton friend I told you all about."

He, Sirius, set the bottle on the small coffee table by the couches, looking at you with a new interest. He leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees, giving you a warm and slightly charming smile.

"Tu as l'air bien."

His words made you actually crack a smile. It wasn't even the words, but how Sirius said it. Not to show off to others, but looking straight at you, words that were only meant for you.