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[attr="class","lost1"]tous les mêmes et y'en a marre

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[attr="class","mouths1"]The library was peaceful in the evening hours. Where Matthew was lingering, browsing through the books and organising them meticulously once he had finished his business with them, few students loitered. He was free to look and to enjoy without interruption.

He found it all very comforting. This peaceful silence, the lack of any noise except for the shuffling of shoes in another row of books every once in a while... he liked it. This was a peace that he hadn't had since he had moved to the Jones household, and God knew how much he loved it now.

The students he'd had to tutor had gone off long ago, having understood the materials much faster than he'd expected, and Matthew was left with almost three hours before curfew. He had been unsure what to do at first with this free time. After all, this year had been so busy, and tossing the Triwizard Tournament into it? It was even more hectic than what Matthew had been expected in his penultimate year at Hogwarts, even if he had seen it coming. He was used to being busy all the time, with no pauses for rest or even for a moment of lonely quiet.

But soon enough, he'd fallen easily back into the routine he'd had during his first few years of Hogwarts. He'd found his way into the History section earlier in the evening where he had been tutoring, and that had turned int browsing. He looked into books that had anything of interest to him... about the Ministry of Magic, about the Dark Arts, whatever he could find. He had been through all this before, of course, but now he was sharper. He picked up details that he hadn't before, and all of it went into a thin little book that he hid in a pocket he'd sewn onto the inside of his robes. There was nothing here that gave him anything specific, but he drank in every drop of information offered to him in even a scrap of a page. All of it went into Matthew's own book, in neat and precise handwriting. He needed every bit that the open sections of the library had to offer, until he could find another wealthy source of information.

Matthew had yet to find a way into the Restricted section. There was where the staff kept all the information that he really wanted. He could ask a teacher, yes, but even if he knew a few who would gladly sign away a note for him... he couldn't imagine that any of them wouldn't ask why he wanted access, or why he needed such books. And they would surely remember that Matthew Williams had an interest (no matter how slight he could make it out to be with his charm and with his well-spoken excuses) in the Dark Arts.

So, that was that. Matthew had to play it... "cool" for now, as Alfred would say. There was nothing remotely cool about his obscure interests, though, and Matthew was well aware of it.

But he wanted them. And no one was going to stop him from pursuing them.

With his work in the History section all completed, Matthew steadily progressed into the Legal section. There were some interesting cases here, ones that he hadn't fully perused what with how much work he had to do in the past couple of years. But now, since he had a few hours all to himself... Matthew started his work.

After all, he hadn't expected that he would have any company for the night.

[attr="class","lying1"]✎ Gilbert Beilschmidt pls feed my child information

ulla

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Reach out your hands Don't turn your back Don't walk away How in the world Can I wish for this? Never to be torn apart Close to you 'Til the last beat Of my heart // words: 1074 // Tags: Matthew J. Williams // SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG!!!

Gilbert had mastered the art of pretending he didn't give a shit. Naturally he studied during exam season. He'd be a fool not to. But most people didn't know how much Gilbert studied (a lot) because they never, ever saw him. Gilbert was the master at sneaking books out of the library when other students weren't around and hiding under the covers to study. He wrote his essays out in the morning or between classes and he knew every nook and cranny in Durmstrang where he could retreat to study without being seen. It seemed a little absurd, to go to such lengths to preserve the image that Gilbert had carefully nurtured for himself, but Gilbert had come too far to abandon it now. He was a good student, he wanted good grades...he just didn't want anyone to know. He was at Durmstrang to rebel, to wipe off the image of the good, responsible son. But in his rebellion, Gilbert had learned a very important lesson. To rebel through failure was pointless. To rebel through success, on the other hand, was a worthwhile pursuit. So Gilbert pretended, threw his every fiber into pretending. He strutted around Durmstrang like he owned the place, hiding his dotted i's and crossed t's away from the world and turning in his near perfect grades to his father, who simply nodded curtly. They still weren't on speaking terms. Nothing but the most basic of phrases was ever exchanged between the two of them. Gilbert felt sorry for his brother, who often had to negotiate the icy silence at the dinner table. Then again, Gilbert thought, there wouldn't be an icy silence if his father didn't insist he actually sit at the dinner table for dinner. It was okay though, he was of age now. Gilbert was going to ace his studies and sail off into the world on his own. Antonio said his place was always open, so maybe Gilbert could crash on the couch until he earned enough money to get his own place. He would prove to them all that the Beilschmidt name could continue without his father. Yet...Gilbert's grip tightened slightly on the Potions book he was reading. What would become of Ludwig? His younger brother was the most important person in the world to him. And Gilbert felt guilty, that he had left his brother with their family burden. He couldn't simply abandon Ludwig. The boy deserved better. Gilbert was supposed to be better than that. It wasn't like Ludwig really wanted the family duties. Of that, Gilbert was convinced. Ludwig was just too good of a Beilschmidt, too good of a person to say no. It had taken Gilbert months to convince Ludwig to even try a sip of beer. Imagine saying no to beer! That took some serious willpower that Gilbert did not possess. It was a good thing Gilbert was stubborn. Life would have been so different if Ludwig had never tasted beer. In Gilbert's wildest fantasies, he dreamed of whisking Ludwig away somewhere where they could both do what they wanted. But then he'd also have to drag Toni with him. And Feli, for Ludwig of course. And probably whoever Toni was dating at the time—Christ, what was it with people and relationships? Gilbert sighed before getting up and stretching. This corner of the library was empty as usual, especially at this hour. He'd discovered it back when he'd still been a student at Hogwarts. Gilbert, of course, knew everything about Hogwarts. Probably more than most of the seventh years, and it was a fact that Gilbert prided himself on. He wasn't one to leave a single stone unturned, and though he hadn't needed the false identity of a slacker back in those days, Gilbert had enjoyed peace and quiet when he was working. This little nook was probably only known to him and the former librarian who had shooed him out of here once. He should move on from Potions though...Gilbert had reread the same page at least four times now. Besides, he knew the material well and he could always come review before a test. Potions were awfully boring too...nothing compared to Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was there that Gilbert excelled (grudgingly, he admitted, in part because of the extensive education he'd received on it prior to Hogwarts and Durmstrang). Gilbert's secret love, however, remained in history. The History of Magic was often a boring class to most students, but Gilbert revelled in it. He loved the tales of old wizards from medieval times and once he and Toni had traced their family lines all the way back to their roots. And though Gilbert no longer officially belonged to the Slytherin House, it would always be his home. Perhaps he would study that subject next then, to award himself for finishing Potions. Gilbert had his notes, but he'd need the text to fill him in on a few details. It'd also give him a chance to stretch his legs after a few hours of hard work. Satisfied with his plan, Gilbert made his way to the History section leisurely. He always liked the library when it was quiet, when the only sounds he could hear were the ticking of the clock and the scratching of his quill. He hummed to himself, hands in his pockets. Maybe he'd sneak into Hogsmeade for some butterbeer afterwards, find Ludwig and... “Scheiße!” The German curse slipped from Gilbert's mouth as he tripped over something. Jeez, the quality of librarians must have gone down since he was last here, who left something just in the middle of the shelves— Gilbert looked down. Oh. A blond guy sat on the ground, looking disheveled and somewhat confused. “Shit, I'm sorry, man. Didn't see you there.” Gilbert managed a smile and extended a hand down to the kid. He might be a stereotypical slacker, but he wasn't a complete jerk. Besides, who was Gilbert to pick on someone who was studying this late at night? “What's a kid like you doing here so late anyways? Shouldn't you be scurrying up to bed soon or something of that sort?” Ironic, because Gilbert had next to zero regard for the rules. Gilbert leaned against the bookshelf with a grin. Oh well. Gilbert had never bothered himself much with thinking about the many contradictory actions he made. Besides, this was just as good of a break from studying.

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[attr="class","mouths1"]Matthew had been crouching at the corner of the shelves, where History bled into Legal, as he flipped through a thick, relatively uninteresting tome. As he had been expecting, there was nothing that he didn't know here, and what was new was phrased in such a horribly dull way that he had no further inclination to pursue the information anymore. Legal issues weren't of much value to him, anyway, unless explicit details about the Dark Arts were presented.

There wasn't even much of that, unfortunately. It all trailed off into legal jargon and garble, and the words were all starting to blur together into a big blob of useless.

He had been wondering about whether he should shove the book back into its spot and call it an early night when he had been someone rounded the corner and unceremoniously knocked him from his squat and onto the ground. His glasses were knocked from their comfortable seat on the bridge of his nose and clattered onto the ground somewhere.

Ah. Fantastic.

“Scheiße!” he heard.

'German.'

The colours that he could see weren't the typical Hogwarts attire, and paired with the accent, Matthew assumed that he was from one of the other schools. Which school, he wouldn't be able to see until he found his glasses. How wonderful, making himself a fool in front of a foreigner. He patted the ground around him until he finally found the heavy frames. He picked them off the floor and slid them back onto his nose gingerly.

“What's a kid like you doing here so late anyways? Shouldn't you be scurrying up to bed soon or something of that sort?”

His vision returned, and he turned up to the boy, nose scrunched up in distaste. He already disliked the other's attitude. A "kid" like Matthew? He was seventeen, and even if he might look much more frail and smaller than Alfred, he was not a child, and he disliked being addressed like he was one.

Despite the effort he had put into keeping up his reputation, Matthew was tempted to give the other boy a piece of his mind. That is, at least, until he saw the uniform that the boy was sporting.

Oh. Oh, this was absolutely delightful. A student from Durmstrang? Matthew had been looking forward to finally meeting one of them. This would be interesting -- he would have to make the most of the opportunity.

But Durmstrang or not, Matthew still had to bite back the temptation to scoff at the new student. Everything about the boy, even upon first glance, drove Matthew mad. He looked like a typical troublemaker, the sort that only gave Matthew constant pain and annoyances. The posture, the cocky expression... and were those violet contacts?... Matthew disliked him already.

Few would guess that Matthew was a judgmental sort, but as passive and kind as he seemed, he had to admit that it was one of his few major flaws. He liked to think that he had a basis for it, though.

He had certainly judged Alfred correctly, after all. After all the years they had been together, Alfred had never once took a step or made a choice that his cousin hadn't long predicted. Despite what so many people claimed about the the appearance not matching the content, it was very much possible to judge a book by its cover. Matthew knew this well.

He glanced at the stranger, taking his hand from inside his robes where he'd quickly slipped his book into his inner pocket, and made to stand...

... hm. Wait. Matthew squinted through his glasses, raising a hand as if to adjust them, watching the newcomer closely all the while. Now that he was really looking, the student seemed somehow familiar. Had Matthew seen him somewhere before? He could swear that he even recognised the boy's voice, if only he could make him speak again...

"It's quite all right," he said, almost tentatively as he gave a small cough. If he seemed nervous and apologetic, that would make it all the easier. "It was my fault. I shouldn't have been sitting in the middle of the walkway like that... haha."

Matthew hated being so apologetic. But he'd deal with it for now, until he got what he wanted to know.

He gritted his teeth, smiled pleasantly, and took the white-haired boy's hand.

[attr="class","lying1"]✎ Gilbert Beilschmidt

ulla

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Reach out your hands Don't turn your back Don't walk away How in the world Can I wish for this? Never to be torn apart Close to you 'Til the last beat Of my heart // words: 735 // tags: Matthew J. Williams // notes: 4 months later...

The blond on the ground looked a little peeved, though Gilbert supposed anyone would be annoyed if they were tripped over in the middle of their studying. And he did look like a studious kid with the glasses and all (not that Gilbert imagined many troublemakers would choose to be in the library…then again, here Gilbert was). It was hard to say how old the boy was. He looked rather young…Gilbert supposed that he’d have to stand up for Gilbert to really tell. There was a funny little curl in his hair. Gilbert wondered if that was natural or if he specifically styled it that way. Now that he thought about it, Feliciano and Lovino both had something of the sort. Perhaps they were part of a club. Now that, Gilbert thought, would be hilarious. The distinctly disgruntled look on the boy’s face passed though. Gilbert frowned slightly as he saw the boy slip a book into this pocket—a rather odd thing to do, especially when one had just fallen, but perhaps it was something special that he’d wanted to keep safe. Gilbert was distracted from reflecting on this more when the boy spoke though. He sounded almost nervous. Aw, perhaps he was shy. Gilbert was rather fond of the quieter ones. He always found them rather intriguing, though it sometimes did take Gilbert some time to really break through with them. He tended to be a little kinder to those who seemed somewhat more withdrawn…though Gilbert wasn’t above dragging them along into some crazy scheme of his in an attempt to get them out of their shell. The boy finally took his hand and Gilbert pulled him upwards, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t apologize.” Gilbert flashed the boy a wide grin. “It’s not like you really feel sorry anyways. It’s my fault, and we both know it.” He paused, surveying the boy more carefully now. The kid had a rather boyish face, and his whole outfit did make him look rather bookish. Gilbert still wasn’t entirely sure how old he was…sixteen perhaps? It was rather hard to say. And his eyes were a curious shade. They looked blue on first inspection, but as Gilbert peered closer, they definitely seemed to have an almost purplish tint to them. Maybe it was just a side-effect of the glasses though. Gilbert wondered exactly what he’d been doing on the ground. He thought back to the book that he’d seen slipping into the boy’s pocket. Perhaps it had something to do with that? Hard to say. Oh well. Might as well introduce himself, now that they’d met this way. Though now that Gilbert thought about it, this boy did look somewhat familiar. He reminded Gilbert of that one Gryffindor. Alfred Jones? That was his name, right? He was rather loud. Gilbert didn’t usually associate himself with Gryffindors (not that he had anything specifically against them, but there was familial pride to be upheld. Not to mention they really charged into everything without thinking…a rather annoying habit, though it was admittedly hilarious when they fucked up). Still, there was no way this boy could be Alfred Jones. There was a blue tie peeking out from under his robe after all, which automatically ruled it out. …Perhaps it was a lookalike club? “I’m Gilbert Beilschmidt,” Gilbert offered. “Visiting from Durmstrang. My brother goes here actually…maybe you know him?” Ludwig wasn’t the most outgoing of people, but he was a damn good Beater (Gilbert made sure of that) and Gilbert knew he had certainly found his own place in Hogwarts. If he was completely honest (which Gilbert rarely was), the thought made him ache a little. Of course he was proud that his little brother had found his place in their school. But it reminded Gilbert that he hadn’t been able to claim his rightful place in Hogwarts. Although Gilbert took pride in his place at Durmstrang and the way he’d forged his own path, he couldn’t help but think about what might have happened if he had stayed at Hogwarts and made something of himself there. Gilbert could’ve played on the same Quidditch team with Ludwig, could’ve studied in Slytherin’s common room. Could’ve, would’ve, should’ve. Gilbert had brought the Beilschmidt name to Durmstrang, and there he would surely go down as a legend. That was the image that Gilbert had built for himself, and that he certainly didn’t regret.

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