Monet watched him as he sipped on the tea, quiet as she watched. A brow raised over those pale blue eyes when he echoed her brother's name back to her. She should have known, probably did, that her brother knew him. Quidditch was a similar passion between the two. Her brow furrowed slightly at his fake accent when he said her name. As if that wasn't a joke she'd heard before.

"It does," she responded but her tone was still calm at least despite the slight glare she was giving him, "Apparently it was the only artist name fitting for a girl. Mother collects art so we're all named for one artist or another. Claude and I simply share the same muse. I suppose it makes sense we should both be Slytherin." It had always seemed an odd twist of fate, that the two siblings who were named for the same artist were quite similar.

"I'm also not little," she added, that brow raised again as if almost daring him to deny it. She was actually just as tall as most of the boys of her year, even taller than some.

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