Hogwarts School - Elsewhere

Although in any other circumstance, Lorelei might have been happy to have Healer Bellestorm join her and Professor Dragomir out on their monthly treks to the Shrieking Shack, this evening, she felt anything but happy. She felt her feet drag against the soil, something her mother would think unbecoming.

(Something, she couldn't help but worry, Healer Bellestorm would also find unbecoming.)

Yet she couldn't help it. The absence of Rocío Valdés weighed heavier on her shoulders than it had on any of the nights before. And on those nights, the weight of it was already crushing her. There was more than Wolfsbane to blame for the circles under her eyes; every night she lay light in her sleep, waiting for the telltale click of heels against the dormitory floor. Alert to any sign that her roommate had finally returned. That she was no longer bent on avoiding Lorelei at all costs.

Heavier still was the weight of a jar in her bag. A new salve that had appeared on her bedside table. Proof that Rocío still thought of her—still must care for her in some measure, even if she did not care to stand in her presence.

Or, perhaps, it had been meant as a goodbye. One last gesture, for the road.

Whatever the meaning, she had it ready for the morning.

Sure as ever, Lorelei went through her usual full moon ritual. She found a sturdy pillar, surely reinforced with enough magic to withstand the pull of a giant, and wound chains too bind herself to it. Her wrists slipped into their manacles—loose, now, though soon enough they would dig welts into the skin of a monster, where they would remain come sunrise.

The Shrieking shack was dark, but to a werewolf, even in human form, that mattered little. Feeling the moment draw near, she looked to Billie, then to Tala, feeling the mounting apprehension that always came in these moments. As sure as she was of the blessing this curse had given her, doubt always crept in when sunset loomed close. With her guard so worn this time, it hit her all the harder.

As the moment approach, she felt goosebumps creep up her skin. Even without seeing the sun or the moon, her body knew their cycles well. The beast would always be ready to pounce, to seize its moment.

It started with the crack of bones, then the ripping of flesh as a thicker hide, coarse with black fur, sprang free, and a hitch at the back of a larger throat as teeth sprang free, sharp and laced with their eternal poison.

It ended with a whimper, as the beast sprang forth but Lorelei remained. Present, always, with the wolfsbane. Present to take control, present to feel the pain, present to remember it all in the morning. Present to smell blood on the wind, close—so very close— as well as gardenias and cinnamon and cigarettes and—

Rocío.

Another whimper came from the black werewolf as the person within realised with a pang that she was here. Unseen, maybe, but here, if she could only find out where. Lorelei, only an animal at the end of the day, began to sniff the ground. With what area her bounds allowed her, she paced the edges of the pillar, drawing close to the edge of the outer wall closest to her usual pillar.

So close.

The beast groaned, and then it began to dig, claws scratching loudly against the old floorboards, pulling out deep splinters and tearing gashes where the wood had grown softer with age.

So terribly close.

There was amusement in Anderson's eyes, sparked by Lorelei's question, but it didn't bother her. Though she was a pureblood, much of the world beyond the walls of Kensington Manor was new to her. Rare or common, so many of it was the same to her—all of it equally as precious so long as it was new.

This proximity between herself and Anders—that was not new, and yet, she coveted it just as much as this moment they both shared. It was not new; but it had been absent, lacking. For more than half her life, Lorelei Kensington had been deprived of something so simple as touch. Of all the currency at their disposal, love and affection, her adoptive parents had hoarded for themselves.

That summer, Lorelei had had her first taste. Rocío had laid her hands upon her skin at its most raw and it had been a deliverance. When it had all ended, when Lorelei once again became starved in the absence of those soft and disarmingly gentle hands, she discovered just how addicted she had become, how impossible it was to live without something so simple as the contact of someone else's skin against hers.

Though the crowd pressed in upon them, it was Anders she felt most acutely, pressing closest against her. No one else mattered; those other bystanders were nothing but an excuse for Lorelei to lean in harder, to greedily feel the warmth of the other girl pressed into her own. Though the room was sweltering already, Lorelei took it all in, craving ever more.

Anders was right—Lorelei really did need a reason to let loose. Far more so than she knew. It was freeing to unshackle herself from the sixth year dormitory, to be free of waiting, at least for one night.

These names, from Chuck Berry to Mimi Palmer, and even all the way to Zeppelin, were all alien to her. But Lorelei listened to the man on the stage, enraptured like a  pilgrim to a prophet. She breathed this place in like a revelation.

(And Merlin knew it smelled like one.)

Then the musicians launched into a melody eclectic and electric that pulled the crowd to madness until it pulled them just as easily into a calm sway. Lorelei watched, entranced, leaning on Anders, who seemed just as eager to fill whatever space remained between them.

"This is Zeppelin,"

The words were screamed in her ears and yet, Lorelei had to replay them in her mind, unsure they'd heard Anders properly. Perhaps she had heard her. Perhaps she simply did not know the meaning of the phrase. She twisted back to put her lips near the Gryffindor's own ear.

"What's that?"

Lorelei wasn't often invited to attend these things alongside her parents, not unless they were hosted in the very halls of Kensington Manor. Her parents preferred to keep her where they could control her. Where they could parade her in front of guests then send her off to her room before the servants brought out the amuse-bouches.

And yet, to her greatest surprise, when the invitation had come, Abernathy Kensington had turned to her and said, "You might as well come along." He'd also added that while she was at Hogwarts, they might as well ensure she made the right sort of friends, and insisted she not make a spectacle of herself.

(Really, when had she ever?)

"Thank you for hosting us," she said to the elder Dankworths as the Kensingtons made their entrance. They looked just as regal as their home, each one, much like her adoptive parents, the perfect image of upper crust pureblood society. For her part, Lorelei wore a shimmery cream gown, with a sweetheart neckline and a tight fit that perfectly accentuated her curves. Always one to revel in an occasion to show off, Lorelei felt both confident and beautiful as she stepped into Blackthorn Hall. Perhaps she'd dressed closer to gold than silver, but the glitter enmeshed with the fabric came close enough to satisfy the Kensingtons. This color had always suited her better anyway.

Claiming a glass of lemonade, she turned to observe the partygoers milling about the grand estate.

She saw her immediately. There, impossible to miss, impossible to ignore, vibrant and more breathtakingly beautiful than anyone else in the crowd. Without even checking that her parents were busy with their own acquaintances (though, by now, they surely were) Lorelei crossed the space between them in an instant.

"I didn't expect to see you here." She said to Rocío as she wrapped her arm around Rocío's waist. To outsiders, a makeshift hug between two friends. To Lorelei, nowhere near close enough.

Enthralled as she was, it took her a moment to notice the people around them. Caius, at Rocío's other side, and Katherine and another boy she believed to be another Ellewood-Luxe. Lorelei couldn't imagine anything that had been said before her arrival had been pleasant, which could only mean her arrival was timely.

"Good evening, Caius," She said to her friend before turning to Katherine with a pleasant smile—one meant to diffuse whatever tensions were surely building. "Katherine, thank you for hosting us. Your home is lovely." And, finally, to the other boy. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Lorelei."

Lorelei should have known her excuse was far too weak to deter the likes of Anderson Payne. Perhaps she should have told the truth about her waterborne abilities, but somehow, that seemed even worse than following along.

(Or it would, until the Slytherin was confronted with a pool that would swallow her whole.)

"Fish and bears are animals," She protested, though she followed nevertheless, pulled along by Anders' indomitable determination. "They have scales and fur. I, however, will not be stripping down in a school when Prefects and Professors are sure to start patrolling any minute now."

And the mere thought that Anders might have her do otherwise scared her a little. And yet she also knew that she would look far more ridiculous stepping into a pool (and likely drowning) in her full school uniform. There was no positive outcome to be found here, and yet, Lorelei followed all the same.

There was a promise of adventure in the air—the very type of adventure she had longed for when she finally found out she'd be coming to Hogwarts. And yet, good sense prevailed; she did not want to drown. If Anders said jump, Lorelei still had the gumption to ask why.

"I don't think it'll be quite as fun as you expect," Said Lorelei. "I've never been a fan of swimming." An understatement, or perhaps an outright lie, since she'd never had the occasion to find out.

With a quick twist, Lorelei slipped her arm free of Anders' grip. She stopped where she stood, at the landing of the staircase leading down to the dungeons, and looked at the other girl intently. Trying to figure out her intentions—now, as well as back in the Apothecary, the other day.

"Are you trying to take me on a date?"