"You know, Riddle's pretty pissed off at you." Cicero said as Five continued to rapidly scribble down complicated equations, answering half-heartedly with a somewhat interested hum.

"Hmm."

"He hasn't ever been defeated, and did you see that look he gave you afterwards? I've never seen him look like that before." Five nodded, the blond still ranting profusely - which was interesting to see.
He did, in fact, see that look on Tom's face - a mixture between a natural sneer filled with anger and a look of confusion hidden beneath it, all framed perfectly with his slightly curly jet black hair and sharp jawline.

"Anyways, that was really awesome - you really excel at hand to hand combat you know!" The old timer simply smirked, pausing to look up at Cicero.
"Of course I do, spent my whole lifetime doing tasks and training that require such things."

The boy shook his head up and down eagerly, suddenly becoming excited.
"Hey, do you think I could train as well?" Five raised a dark eyebrow, seemingly thinking about his choices for a second.
"To get you up to my level would be next to impossible, although I could attempt to help you with some of your combat skills. Assassination probably won't be your cup of tea, so you'll stay off that path." Cicero's hazel eyes widened, sparking brightly in the warm lamp's light with both interest and concern.

"Assassination? I'm not going to question you there, I'm happy with developing just any combat skills at all." Five's attention returned to his black diary again, giving a final answer to the platinum blond before him.

"We'll start in a couple of days, weeks if I can't find time."

---

"Flying? Is this really necessary?" Five asked Cicero as they walked down to their first class of the day - which just so happened to be flying.

"Yeah, we do it every second year as a subject. It's fun when you get the hang of it though, have a nimbus two thousand that I used for our quidditch matches - seeker I was. Then I got forbidden from playing another proper match again - they're on the lookout for a new player, not very successful yet."

The old teen simply nodded, stepping out onto the lush shamrock grass - a chilly breeze caressing his exposed pale skin.
The sun shone dimly through masses of smoky grey clouds, which blocked out what was supposed to be a brilliant blue sky.

A woman with short grey-blond hair, which splayed out to the sides, trotted into view, her black and silver robes swaying to and fro along with the gentle wind - her hands covered by two long black leather gloves that where fingerless.
She looked at the two, giving a warm close mouthed smile.

"Good morning boys, first to flying class I see - you must be raring to go. This is certainly new from you Mr Andre, your new friend having a good impact on your academic life? Well, early bird gets the worm. Cicero, you may Summon your broom, Five, my name is Madam Hooch - you may get first pick."

A selection of brooms cut through the air and hovered just above the freshly cut grass - all similar in shape and size.
The old timer chose out a random broom, the long stick smooth to touch yet uneven in a balanced kind of way - several twigs sticking out at odd angles.

"Now, Mr Hargreeves. I know you are new to this, we shall be doing a practice game today - if you wish to participate then do so, although it most certainly be difficult for you."
Five gave Madam Hooch a tired smile, placing his black leather satchel against the large stone wall - placing a guarding spell he read about in books upon it before replying in a sickly sweet tone that Hooch couldn't identify.

"Like I've mentioned before to several others, I'm sure that I'll manage."

Other students started to file in as the professor explained the rules of quidditch and broom flying briskly to Five - Gryffindors clad in faded shades of worn out reds and oranges joining the Slytherins, who's uniforms were neat and well cared for, the fabulous shades of green standing out brightly like a magnificent forest against a few dying and harmless embers.

The Slytherins smirked smugly, the large group of Gryffindors scowling in an annoyed manner - a rivalry that started many many years ago still going on strong.
Brooms flew both gracefully and ungracefully over to those who summoned them - either landing heavily on the grass depressingly a few meter feet away from them, or harshly against their outstretched hands.
A boy came into the two's views, Marcus's pixie green hair puffed out like a pom pom, unruly and strange - neither attractive nor attractive.
He have them a short wave and a smile before turning clumsily on his heel and mixing in with the small crowd, blending in completely and disappearing out of view.

As Hooch explained what the lesson would contain, Five and Tom's eyes met - azure and emerald staring deeply at each other.
The brunet's unoccupied hand was placed in his black robe pockets, the other's folded neatly behind his back as his chosen wooden broom floated idly beside him.
The black haired boy's eye twitched every so slightly in annoyance, a scowl that was barely noticeable gracing his handsome features.

For some reason. Neither wanted to be the first to blink or look away.

The two where shocked out of their silent stare down by a high pitched whistle, which rung in everyone's ears for a few short seconds.
"Okay everyone! Form your starting lineup, you will sub on and off if you wish - others, you must do some catching and throwing drills nearby the bleachers."

Cicero laughed excitedly, turning around to face the old teen to speak with him.
Instead he was met with the sight of unoccupied space, the boy swivelling around rapidly before the boy he was seeking reappeared beside him.
Five sighed as he clenched his jaw, explaining how he had to do something.

The platinum blond simply nodded before calling several names out loudly, a group of boys with sly smiles gathering around - postures slightly tense, but seemingly relaxed to others who could pick up their stiffness in their movements.

"Boys, say hello to Five."

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