He watched her carefully, “Well I do have an older brother, Roldolphus, and I suppose our family is rather well known,” he smirked inwardly glad that she had at least thought she knew the name, truth be told, a lot of people did. “It’s lovely to make your acquaintance, Miss Pedersen,” he flashed her his smile again. “Durmstrang? how was that?” he raised an eyebrow and took a seat next to her.
“Potions hmm?” he asked, picking up some of the notes and glancing over them, “I suppose I could try and help you out, which do you need help with?” he said calmly and casually, on the inside feeling this may be a perfect opportunity though not sure yet, it was too early to tell properly.
“An older brother? Does he go here as well? And yes, I believe I’ve heard my mother mention the Lestranges a few times…the Blacks, the Malfoys, and the Carrows are also oft-heard names in my parents’ circles.” Her grin dropped, however, when he asked about Durmstrang. “Oh…erm. It’s… a long story that I wouldn’t want to bore you with. Essentially I guess I just got bored and wanted to go somewhere new, you know.”
He was playing right into her hands, she noted amusingly. Maybe he’d even make a good beard — but she was counting chickens before they hatched. She leaned over her notes and pointed out some scribblings. “Well, here are the lecture notes,” she said, “and this is how the professor said to solve the problem. However, whenever I try to apply it to this problem —” she pointed to the problem in the textbook “— I always get stuck halfway through. It seems I can’t use the method he mentioned in class, and I don’t know how else to solve it.”
Rabastan sighed as he walked moodily into the common room. Today, as every other day, had been boring. He was in the mood for something interesting to happen, anything, really. He had just come back from the library, books in hand, when he had seen that awful Chambers kid in the hall, not bothering to waste any time on him he had glared at him until he was out of sight. He glanced around the common room to see if anyone worth his time was around. He noticed a very pretty girl sitting with notes spread out over her lap and a small smirk appeared on his lips.
He headed over to her, “Well, hello,” he said in a low voice, “I haven’t seen you around before,” he flashed her one of his charming smiles, “My name is Rabastan, Rabastan Lestrange,”
When this “Rabastan Lestrange” character had approached her, Mat had to fight the very strong urge to laugh. Amused half because he had obviously chosen the wrong girl to flirt with, and half because, well, how do you say ‘sorry, not interested’ without outing oneself? “Probably because this is my first year here,” she said in her light Danish accent, amused smile still playing on her lips. “I’m a transfer from Durmstrang. Mat Pedersen. Nice to meet you too, Rabastan.” She paused, thinking. “Lestrange…that is a very familiar-sounding last name. Your family is probably very well-known and powerful, isn’t it?” Which wouldn’t be too surprising. His poised, the way he was dressed — everything about him pointed towards ‘privileged, wealthy, upper-class.’ And she should know, seeing as she too belonged to that group of people…just chose not to act like it.
“Well, Rabastan,” she said, “while you’re here, I suppose you could help me.” I might as well milk this for all it’s worth, she mused. Not a Slytherin for nothing, after all. Smiling coyly at him, she said, “I’m having a little trouble with this potions problem. It’d be so great if you could look at it for me and help me out.”
