Watering Hole

Santi was walking to the counter to order a butterbeer when he saw a girl who seemed his age sitting alone. It appeared that she was waiting for someone. Unfortunately, Santiago was alone too, so he decided to get two butterbeers, and walk over to the girl. He smiled and poked her shoulder. "Hi! I'm Santiago, and I have gotten you one free butterbeer because I am also alone at the moment, and you looked like you might be a first year too. May I join you?"

Santiago was very much an interesting kid with an interesting amount of hair. When he ran a hand through it, it rose and then fell in unison with several balanced. With trepidation, Santiago sat down opposite of Aleta. He smiled softly. "So, who are you waiting on?"

Aleta found herself once again in the crowded pub. This time she had not seen the girl that annoyed her to know end. Honestly, how could someone know perfect Spanish after only taking a class in elementary school? How stupid. The only way to speak perfect Spanish was if it was your first language, just like English or French. Speaking of French, she had a lot to go over. She hadn't understood a lick of French even though she had been studying since she learned that Beauxbatons was a real place. So, she pulled a book out of her purse and began to try to pronounce words in French. Everything was so confusing.

She was in the middle of trying to pronounce 'cat' when a boy, about her age, came up to her and began to speak. She didn't understand at all and she assumed he was speaking French. "Lo sentimos, no entiendo," she said softly. He looked the boy up and down, he didn't seem to be any trouble. But she still had no clue what he was saying. Maybe he was saying something bad or maybe he wasn't.

Translate: Sorry, I don't understand.

"Ah." Santiago nodded. "Me llamo Santiago. ¿Quieres un butter beer?"* He sat down across from her and smiled softly. "Soy de Dominican Republic ¿De donde eres?"* Santiago really wasn't a fan of speaking Spanish. He preferred English and French. Spanish was an easy language, but it wasn't something he was amazing at. Being Hispanic American his dad's first language was English, and spoke Spanish partially. His mother spoke French and her Spanish wasn't that great. Santiago's Spanish was good at the conversational level from growing up in a Spanish speaking country, but outside of that he rarely used it when he wasn't out with the neighborhood kids which that in itself was pretty rare. He only ever hung out with kids for baseball.

Finally, someone that could understand her and wasn't some poser that thought they knew everything about Spanish. She had no clue what he was offering because she had never heard of the drink before. Butter beer? Was that some kind of alcohol? If it was, wasn't he a little too young to be drinking it? "¿Qué es eso?" No way was she going to drink something that would get her in trouble.

"Soy de Mexico," she said softly. She was feeling like an outcast in this French speaking community. Usually she was so cheerful and bright but how was she supposed to be like that if she couldn't understand anything? "Sólo sé español. Puedo escribir en francés, aunque. Un poco."

Translation: What is that? I'm from Mexico. I only know Spanish. I can write in French, though. A little.