i can't keep my hips from swaying to his sweet melody.

Paloma walked into The Hissing Snake and made her way to the bar right away.

She was tired of studying, she needed to have some fun. She was starting to understand her older sister and why she had started to spend more time doing what she wanted instead of studying and pleasing her parents.

Sighing, she sat down at a stool. "A butter-" she stopped herself. She didn't want to get drunk, her past experiences with drinking hadn't gone so well, but she was going to need something stronger if she wanted to let loose. "Firewhiskey, please," she said.

She sipped her drink and felt that burning sensation in her throat. She smiled at the people dancing and took another sip. After a few more, she decided she was uninhibited enough to hit the dancefloor. She got up, but as she did, she nearly knocked someone to the ground.

Her eyes widened, "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!"

Andre was in the Hissing Snake to find some girls, to flirt with and hopefully get a kiss or two. He hoped his french accent might help a little, for some reason some girls found that sexy.

Then he was knocked down on the floor, and he nearly exploded before he saw a hot girl in front of him. He wasn't gonna let this one walk away. "A little bit eager don't you think?" He asked, smirking that smirk of his.

Paloma looked up and saw the person she had knocked down. A boy, about her age, and to make things even more embarrassing . . . he was cute.

"Again, sorry," she apologized, "I think that firewhiskey may be starting to do its job."

He grinned, then ordered a FireWhiskey. "Well, since you did it, it can't be too bad if I do it too, eh?" He asked. "You know, I don't mind being knocked down, cuz then I got to talk to a pretty girl." He winked.

Paloma raised an eyebrow and had to control the urge to roll her eyes. This guy had 'player' written all over him. But strangely, she found that she didn't mind it as much as she would have a few months ago. Instead, Paloma smiled.

"Well," she said, "Pretty girls aren't hard to find. Just look around you." And indeed, there were a few girls who were very good-looking. Sure, most of them were dressed and acting like sluts, but that didn't mean they were not pretty.

He did look around, and had to admit she was right. A few girls had some natural beauty to it, but they had makeup covering it up. "Well, the Pretty one is right, don't you think?" He asked, laughing.

Paloma laughed and took another sip of her drink. She sighed, she really had to control herself. If she went home drunk again . . . oh dear.

"I've never seen you around here," she told him, "You're not from Durmstrang, are you?"

He shook his head. "No, Beauxbatons. And I am there because I am kinda forced too." He winced. "But at least the girls there are hot." He laughed.

Paloma raised her eyebrow, "Beauxbatons, huh. . . must be interesting, school in France. And I know what you mean, I'm here because I was. . . forced, too, I guess. More like my parents had to move, but I could've easily stayed. But noooooooo."

She laughed, "Is that all you think about? Girls?"

He shrugged. "Well, I personally think parents enjoy the feeling of having control. At least, I know my dad does." He laughed.

He gave her a knowing smirk. "No, but it takes up most of my thoughts. What do you expect, I am a teenager boy that needs some physical attention."

Paloma tipped the cup back and gulped down the bit that was left of the Firewhiskey. She groaned, "Oh, tell me about it. After losing control over my older sister, they've been putting all their strength into making sure it doesn't happen again."

She rolled her eyes and laughed, "Those damned hormones."

He raised an eyebrow. "If those were my parents, and I was in your position, I would have purpously loose control right now." He grinned.

He shrugged. "Can't get rid of em', so mine as well embrace them." He told her.

Paloma rolled her eyes again, seemed like she was doing a lot of that around him. Boys. They'll use any excuse to look at girls.

"They're still my parents," she said, "Though I guess I kind of am doing that, since I'm sure they'd kill me if they found out I was here."

There was a bit of a silence and she spoke up again, "So, do you have a name?"

He nodded, agreeing with her. "True, my dad is not the best, for he isn't very wise in certain matters, but he's still my dad." He replied.

He grinned. "Andre, Andre Thomas. What about yours sweetheart?"

Asking for another bottle of Firewhiskey, she sighed and muttered, "Parents will forever be parents. Whether we like it or not."

"Andre," she repeated, the name sounding a bit funny on her tongue, "Sounds much better when you say it. French accent and all." She introduced herself, "Paloma Poots."