let's see how far we've come | OPEN |

"That's seventeen other prefects, Blanchard," Julian pointed out, taking a swig of his drink before cradling it in his hands, "Though depending on who else becomes prefect, I might just be able to persuade them." Grinning to himself, he sighed happily.

"Really?" He mockingly gasped, raising an eyebrow, "I never would've guessed."

"Are you doubting my abilities, Rousseau?" he asked. "And while we're at it, who do you two think will be the other Prefects?"

He nodded, "I know, it's hard to believe. I just hide very well."

Tilting his head, Julian observed Blanchard for a moment before beginning slowly, the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice, "Doubt you? I'd never dream of that."

"Well," he thought aloud, "Nine has it in the bag. After all, she has connections, with her mother being the Deputy and the Head of Valée and everything. It'd be nice if Lissy and the de Venins became prefects too." Grinning, he added, "Having all my friends as prefects will make the next three years much more fun."

Shaking his head, he took a sip of his butterbeer, "If you were like me, Blanchard, and was perfect, you wouldn't have to hide anything."

"Good to know," Alec said simply, "I'd be heartbroken if you did."

He nodded in agreement to Julian's predictions for prefects, "It's likely. But does Madam Delanoir really think you lot would do anything other than mess around?"

"I'll have you now, Rousseau," he started, "I am perfect."

"And I'd hate to break your heart, Blanchard." Julian said, smirking at him.

"Maybe she sees the good and potential we all have in ourselves," Julian rolled his eyes, "But I can't complain, not with that prefect badge so close, I can almost see it now."

"Really?" Julian smirked, raising an eyebrow, "Pray tell, what is so perfect about Alec Blanchard?"

"Oh, you are so caring," Alec rolled his eyes.

"Could be. But if I become prefect next year, then there is something seriously wrong with her," he frowned, "You can almost see it? Oh boy, I think you've had enough to drink, then."

"Everything, Rousseau, everything."

"I know," Julian grinned, "One of my many virtues."

Shrugging, he smirked, "But then again, you could say that there's something wrong with her for not expelling you by now." Sighing, he rolled his eyes, "It's a figure of speech, Blanchard."

"That maybe, Blanchard, but I'm still much more perfect."

"Well, maybe she's just in love with me," Alec pointed out, "She just loves inviting me over to her office."

He rolled his eyes as well, "And I was joking, Rousseau."

He took another sip from his drink, and shrugged, "Whatever you say."

"That would make so much sense," Julian said slowly, his eyes widening, "And make all those rumours true."

"Sure you were," Julian raised both eyebrows, smirking, "Sure."

"You doubt my claims?" Gasping, he put his drink down, clasping a hand over his heart.

Luce slightly choked drinking her coffee as she listened intently throughout the conversation. She smirked, thinking in the back of her mind on how these two guys seemed stupid and replied, "How can anybody be perfect? I see, I'm sort of already putting being a prefect as my goal for next year."

"And do make sure that the house cup will be ours, Julian. Not a bad idea."

"And you think I'd sleep with her?" Alec's eyes widened, "I have morals, Rousseau. I thought we had established that."

"A little bit, yes," he replied, "More perfect than I am? Impossible. But if you don't believe me . . . " he turned to Luce, "let's get someone else's opinion."

He cleared his throat and spoke as if this was a very serious matter, "Luce, we need your honest opinion. Who is more perfect? That weird prefect over there called Julian Rousseau or the fantastically amazing Alec Blanchard?"

"I can't reveal my secrets, Luce," Julian grinned, taking another sip of his drink.

"Oh, I know you have morals, Blanchard," Julian said, "All I'm saying is if the moment presented itself, you'd take it."

"You sound like Ninette when you say that," he shook his head, rolling his eyes before looking at Luce, "Don't listen to anything he says. You should know for a fact that only of us has managed to not get detention since setting foot in Beauxbatons."

Alec wouldn't sleep with her. Merlin, no. She was hot an all but old enough to be his mother . . . maybe. Besides, he was only fourteen. He'd have time for older women later. But instead of arguing, Alec raised an eyebrow, "Would you take it?"

"Thank you for telling me I sound like a girl," he rolled his eyes and snorted at Julian, "So innocent now are you?"

Tilting his head as he thought, Julian shook his head, "I wouldn't. That'd just be weird." Taking a sip of his drink, he added, "And you never answered my question."

"You're very welcome," he said innocently, grinning, "And of course I am. You should know this by now."

Alec sighed and shook his head, putting his cup back on the bar. "I wouldn't," he said, "She could be as old as my mother, and that thought is just . . . weird."

Raising an eyebrow, Julian frowned, picturing Madam Delanoir in his head, "She doesn't look that old. But then again, my mother's probably older than yours."

"My mother had me at twenty," Alec said, "Pretty young age, I think, though not too young." He pictured Madam Delanoir once again, "Alright, maybe she's not that old. She must be about. . . twenty eight, I'd guess. That's like, double my age."

"See I have a sister who's like ten years older than me," Julian shrugged, "So my parents are just old."

"That's not old, Blanchard," he shook his head slightly, "You're just young. Even though," he sighed, "We are the same age for the next little while."

"Now, now, Rousseau," Alec fake-scolded, "It isn't very nice to call your parents old. Imagine if they heard you saying that. You should never say a woman is old."

Alec rolled his eyes, "I didn't say she was old. I said she could be as old as my mother, which she could. She's just. . . six years younger. Six years is nothing." He continued, "And you're about the same age as me. If I'm young, well then so are you."

Smirking at Blanchard, he shook his head softly, "Please. What are the chances that my parents are going to walk in?" Glancing unnecessarily towards the door, he flicked his gaze back, shrugging, "I can't help it. It is the truth after all."

"She's three years older than my sister." Julian frowned absentmindedly, wondering if that was a good thing or not. Blinking, he rolled his eyes at Blanchard, "In two weeks, I'll be fifteen. This one year age difference is huge. I get to do everything a year earlier."

Alec shrugged, "Who knows? They're your parents. Maybe they're weird like you."

"Your sister huh. . . is she hot?" He smirked. "Hm, you'll get to do things earlier," Alec said, "Why does that not bother me?"

“Me? Weird?” Julian narrowed his eyes at Blanchard, “I think you’re mixing me up for someone else. We’ve been over this, I’m perfect.”

Staring at him for a moment, he shrugged, “I don’t know. What sort of question is that? Who thinks of their siblings as hot? That’s just creepy. Maybe,” he suggested, “You just don’t realize how great it is to be me.”

Alec shrugged, "Who knows? You're a creep." He sighed and rolled his eyes, "Whatever, dude."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he shut his eyes. Merlin, what a headache. He opened them and blinked a bit, calling the bartender over and paying for his drinks.

"I think I'm gonna head home," he told them. "Pleasure seeing you again, Luce. Not as nice seeing you, Rousseau."

With a wink and a kiss on Luce's hand and a nod at Julian's direction, he left.

Rolling his eyes at Blanchard, he sighed softly, "You have so much to learn."

Glancing around, he flicked his gaze back to the Prideux boy, raising an eyebrow. "That hurts Blanchard, that really does." Waving to him as he left, Julian grinned, turning towards Luce.

"Well, I don't know about you, Luce, but I'm not going anywhere. I'm not going to give up the chance to be with a pretty girl."