Birthday Shopping

Amelia found herself smiling sheepishly at Marcus’s assessment of just what Raoul was doing, tilting her chin toward her chest in an attempt to shield Marcus from seeing her amusement at his comment. She wasn’t entirely sure why she always attempted to hide her smiles and laughter; it was a defense mechanism, she supposed, a way to keep people at bay. Raoul had always encouraged her to laugh freely, and with him, she had. He had had that easy-going attitude that allowed her to just exist; not overthink, not weigh every option, not take mental notes.

Although she knew him only briefly, Amelia could see a lot of Raoul in Marcus. He had the same laid back personality, exemplified by the casual way he was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, grinning and speaking his mind as though everything he was saying was appropriate and amusing. And he was allowed this confidence because he was right: the things he said were just the right things, and Amelia found herself smiling in spite of herself. It was a type of ease of conversation that Amelia had never been able to manage, even with Antoinette’s constant badgering, lessons with speech coaches, and being subjected to countless situations in which social prowess was necessary. It just never seemed to sink in for Amelia: she either said what she really thought – which usually came out in the form of barbed, witty comments that her mother disproved of immensely – or she said nothing at all.

If Marcus description of Raoul’s adventures had been somewhat exaggerated for the purpose of entertainment, Amelia didn’t know what the purpose of his next question was. Amelia’s first reaction was to get defensive, but before she could actually form the words ‘bugger off’, Amelia practiced the art of biting her tongue, a concept her mother had been working on with her for years. Her eyes darted over to Marcus, who seemed to be completely uninvested in the answer to the question, which immediately made Amelia rethink her harsh comment. Marcus wasn’t privy to Amelia’s thoughts, nor did he know just how many times she had thought about following in Raoul’s footsteps. And not because she wanted to - she had always gotten a real sense of satisfaction from pleasing her parents and winning their approval – but rather because Raoul had made it seem like the right thing to do. And yes, there were days when running off and living the way she wanted to, by her own rules, seemed like the ideal situation… that is, until she realized that she didn’t know what her life would be like if she were living it for herself. She had spent so much time living someone else’s dream that she found she hadn’t really defined any of her own.

“I… hadn’t really thought about it,” Amelia answered too quickly, making it obvious that she was skirting the question. She hoped that Marcus would either have missed this blatant avoidance, or at least allow her to do it without putting up much of a fight. Thankfully, he seemed to brush off her answer and continued speaking, defining his own feelings on Raoul and his adventurous nature.

Amelia wasn’t at all surprised to find that Marcus envied Raoul. Marcus even managed to bring a smile to her face once more, though a smaller one this time because she was more conscious that she was doing it, when he commented on Raoul’s ability to win over just about anyone. Raoul had the type of natural draw that made people want to be near him. He was confident without seeming cocky, and was legitimately talented in a way that made it impossible for people to dislike him on the grounds of undeserved praise. Amelia had always been slightly jealous herself, never quite understanding how Raoul had managed to come from the same genetics, and yet be wildly successful in the exact areas that Amelia struggled with. But her brother had always been benevolent with his talents, willing to share his social skills with her and protecting her from ridicule as much as he could while he was around.

“I doubt very much that he is lonely,” Amelia answered Marcus’s question, though she knew that if he had been asking if she was, she would have had a more difficult time answering. Some part of her knew that she was lonely with all the self-inflicted solitude, but another part of her was unwilling to admit what she was doing to herself with all this guardedness.

“Raoul always thrived in social situations, but I don’t think that was ever out of necessity,” Amelia continued, looking down at the boots in her hands. “I think Raoul gave more of a life force to the people around him than they ever gave in return,” she added, by way of explanation, and then quickly amended her statement for fear of insulting Marcus – “No offense intended, of course. He always spoke highly of you, I think I just… well… maybe I just always felt luckier to have Raoul than he was to have me.”

Where did that come from? Amelia’s subconscious demanded, shocked at Amelia having made such a personal revelation. She had somehow managed to get caught enough in her own thoughts and the idea of not offending Marcus that she had admitted something she hadn’t intended to. For what seemed like the tenth time since she had been reintroduced to Marcus, Amelia found herself blushing, and this time when she looked down at the boots in her hands, she kept her eyes there.

A minute of prolonged silence passed between them, though it seemed much longer from where Amelia was standing. Amelia was getting ready to clear her throat and attempt to abruptly change the subject – not really her strongest suit – when Marcus’s shoes suddenly appeared in her line of vision and the boots dangling from her fingers became much lighter. Amelia realized belatedly that Marcus was taking the boots from her, and her fingertips grazed his when he grabbed the tops of the boots and fully relieved her of her burden. His hands felt calloused, like those of people who did manual labor for a living, and there was that smell again, male smell, now mixed with the scent of expensive leather and something else she couldn’t identify…

“Right,” Amelia said, again too quickly, when Marcus said ‘perfect’. It was like dragging herself out of her own body and back to the present, and the redhead found herself shaking her head to clear it from the fog that had somehow settled on it. This is just the after-effects of unnecessary personal disclosure, Amelia reassured herself as she stepped to put some space between herself and Marcus.

The question about where Marcus had been had been another attempt to clear her mind and give herself something else to concentrate on other than the random features of the boy she was sharing a room with – she was too observant for her own good – but Amelia could tell that her abrupt chance of topic, or perhaps her choice of topic, had struck Marcus the wrong way. Even though she wasn’t looking at him, she could sense the discomfort; she was acutely aware of these things because she herself responded in much the same way to these types of questions. She was also well versed in vague answers and avoidance tactics, so she knew immediately what Marcus was doing when he supplied his ambiguous answer.

She wasn’t going to push him though, not after he had let her slide on her earlier silp-up. This conversation had been confusing her mind (and body) enough without her barging in on territory that wasn’t hers to explore, and Marcus’s personal life was certainly private property. Instead, Amelia shook her long hair over her shoulders and forced herself to look up at the dark-haired boy who had just made a proposal that would relieve both of them of this awkward situation.

“Yes, those will do just fine,” Amelia said, nodding to emphasize her response. Without hesitating, she turned to the side of the room they had come in on and walked toward the heavy metal door that Marcus had struggled to open. Something in Amelia’s mind seemed out of place as she made her way across the room, and it wasn’t until she was within a meter of the door that she realized what it was.

Didn’t we leave the door open behind us? Amelia thought as she stopped in front of the door, checking her photographic memory against what she was now seeing. I could have sworn we did.

Trying to convince herself that she was misremembering – although she knew she wasn’t – Amelia reached out for the handle of the door and tried to turn it, but it wouldn’t go. She tried the other direction and again was met with resistance. There was no slot for a key to go in from this side. Amelia tried pulling and pushing the door, trying to be subtle with her movements in case there was just some trick she hadn’t realized, trying not to look foolish. After trying everything she could think of, however, Amelia turned slowly over her right shoulder to face Marcus.

“Um…” Amelia began, not quite sure how to phrase this, “I think there might be something wrong with the door? I can’t get it open,” Amelia added self-consciously, convinced that she was just being her usual clutzy self and didn’t know how the belligerent door worked. She had watched Marcus struggle to get it open, and he worked here. The fact that she couldn’t get it open wasn’t all that surprising, right? Right?

Marcus wasn’t the guy that could seal a deal within the shop. He was the brute force and ignorance. He was the nice, slightly gawky bloke, who did all the lifting and always smiled at the people that came in through the doors even if those who were meant to deal in customer service didn’t. He wasn’t put out in the front of the shop to sell purely because he was a werewolf. Of course it wasn’t outwardly obvious but the owner was skittish about the idea of hiring a werewolf, let alone sending one out to make people purchase the products. Marcus liked them man well enough and he figured the man liked him too. The only problem was his status within evolution. If it wasn’t for that tiny blip as it were, he would have been out there constantly. It was only these rare days when no one was around that Marcus was allowed out of the storage rooms and sent into the shop to help out people like Amelia. He would prove his worth even if it was the last thing he did. He wasn’t someone who was going to sit back and let wizards oppress him. They hadn’t done it before so why now? What had really changed?

Apparently, it was something vital.

As Marcus began to contemplate exactly what was wrong with him, he started to absent-mindedly alter the display. Well, it wasn’t really a display as this was just storage but he was neatening it up somewhat. He heard Amelia’s retreating footsteps and he sped up with the task, tossing the gloves onto the pile with the rest before standing a pair of boots up properly. He heard the door move within the frame and looked over his shoulder to find Amelia jostling the door handle. Marcus’ eyebrows furrowed. He could have sworn he’d left the nightmare open so he didn’t have to deal with beating the living daylights out of it in an attempt to get out. As it was, he hadn’t and he knew that Amelia’s weak shoves against it weren’t going to move it. The door was beast, a true demon in the disguise of a usually innocent hinged object. It was possessed by a poltergeist, clearly.

Pursing his lips, Marcus strayed from the shelves just as Amelia spoke. He nodded and put his hands on her arms. He gently moved her out of the way and smiled before curling his fingers around the door. He tightened his grip before pulling his arm sharply back. He heard the door move within the frame but again, there was nothing. He tried again, this time applying more brute force. But again, there was no change.

Marcus sighed and stepped back. He ran his right hand through the front of his hair and licked his lips, wondering how he was going to get them out. He’d lost his wand at some point so there was no getting out the magic way. Plus, there would be no breaking the wards around this stock. It was worth thousands of galleons. That was why the door only opened from the outside. That was why there was usually a brick propped up against it to keep it open. Today, the offending maroon object was leaning up against the wall almost mocking Marcus with its serene appearance.

Shaking his head, Marcus managed a grin despite the fact that he was stuck in a cupboard with Amelia. Well, it wasn’t bad company but he didn’t think she’d be as thrilled. Not that he was gleeful but...it wasn’t an entirely saddening experience. He cleared his throat and attempted to regain some sort of straight face but he failed spectacularly and instead only managed to stifle his laughter.

“I’m sorry,” He apologized but somehow it didn’t feel like a sincere on; in fact, he found the whole thing funnier than it actually was. After that, Marcus took a seat under the window, wondering idly how long they’d be in there before they were found or before he decided to break the window. He patted the ground next to him and smiled at Amelia. “All we can do is wait it out. It’s happened before. The door is faulty.”

Amelia was still trying to jiggle the handle of the door when she heard Marcus’ footsteps approach from behind her. From this, she knew he was coming, but what she hadn’t known was that he was planning a sneak-attack invasion of her personal space. Amelia tensed immediately when she felt Marcus’s hands curving around her upper arms, which should have made her difficult to move, but Marcus seemed barely to notice how stiff she was as he all but picked her up and moved her out of the way.

When he let go of her and turned his attention on the stubborn door, Amelia stood staring at him with her mouth agape. Surely Marcus had realized at some point in the years he had been aware of her existence that Amelia had a strong aversion to anyone invading her personal space. Especially someone whom she had just run into for the first time in over a year, or who had been one of her brother’s closer friends, or who smelled… nevermind how he smelled. He should not have been touching her.

Amelia was getting ready to announce her displeasure to Marcus, but when she had finally sorted through the appropriate words in her mind, she was distracted by Marcus stepping away from the door and running a hand through his dark hair, a look of resignation on his face. Amelia looked between Marcus and the door three times, waiting for him to pull out a key or his wand or some kind of contraption that could force the door open, but instead, he shook his head as a grin slid onto his sharply defined facial features. Amelia stared at him with a look of utter confusion, not understand in the least what he could be smiling about, especially since she was starting to conclude just what the situation was even before Marcus said it aloud.

He had started with an apology, but Marcus hadn’t sounded the least bit apologetic. Beneath his words, he seemed to be laughing as he retreated to the window seat, explaining that there was no other alternative than for the pair of them to wait. Amelia felt her lips pressing into that same thin line that was so reminiscent of her mother, which is why she shook it from her face as soon as she realized that she must look like the spitting image of Antoinette. In fact, her mother had so many times in the past given that exact look to Raoul when he was laughing about something she didn’t think was funny, or not taking seriously something Antoinette had deemed important.

We are doomed to grow up to be just like our parents… Amelia’s subconscious intoned, not at all in a joking manner, which made Amelia even more keen to relax her features into an expression that would not resemble her mother. Amelia had great respect for her parents and would do anything to please them, but she did not want to look back in 30 years and realize she had become Antoinette, pressuring her own children to achieve the unattainable level of perfection that was currently expected of her.

Well I’m not, Amelia stubbornly responded, sighing as she ran a hand through her long hair and debated whether to do as Marcus had suggested and sit next to him. There wasn’t much to debate – there really weren’t many other options in the small space, and the impractical heels Antoinette had bought for Amelia weren’t exactly suitable for long periods of standing around.

“Great,” Amelia said in a non-committal sort of way as she sat down on the window seat next to Marcus, leaving as much space between them as possible, which, admittedly, wasn’t much considering the overall size of the bench. Beneath her black and white striped dress, Amelia crossed one leg over the other and leaned back against the windowsill, her hands resting on the bench on either side of her.

“So what do you propose we do while we ‘wait it out’?” Amelia asked, turning to Marcus and using his phrasing, “I’ve little conception of how much time we have to fill, and even less idea of what one does in a room full of dragon hide quidditch-related materials,” Amelia said honestly, gesturing to the shelves around them that were stacked neatly with items that likely would have had every boy at Hogwarts drooling.

There was really no need for Amelia to be so uptight about being stuck in a cupboard. There were worst places to be and her company was only a werewolf. Alright, sure it was a dangerous werewolf she had for company (well, all werewolves were dangerous but Marcus seemed to really take the ticket with the blood trail he’d left behind on his way up to Scotland) but she could have had something much worse in the same room with her. A vampire would have eaten her by now. Marcus was in perfect control of himself and the pup that was lingering interestedly in the back of his mind. All it wanted to do was sniff Amelia and for once, Marcus couldn’t help but agree with the animal. They both wanted to be swathed in her scent but neither one wanted to be placed in a situation of awkwardness if she declined – not that Marcus knew what he was going to ask her.

‘Hey, can you come and sit on my lap so I can sniff you?’ – Yeah, he didn’t think that would go down to well. The wolf didn’t think so either and Marcus was thankful for that because he really didn’t need that thing prompting him to do things that would land him in ridiculous positions like that one would. He couldn’t really sound much more perverted could he? Oh, well, he probably could; especially if that sodding canine was making up the dialogue for him. Thankfully it was just an ever-present feature; today it was not running the show. He had his time and he would in a few weeks time. Until then, Marcus had the floor.

Then, she took her seat. He’d made a face at her comment but shrugged it off. Sure it wasn’t an ideal situation but as he’d decided before, she could have had worse company.

As far as Amelia knew he’d never been anything but human. Up until a couple of months ago, Marcus would have agreed with her. After being in the right place at the wrong time, he found himself in a completely new body at the beck and call of a killer. The trials and tribulations they’d both suffered had forged a bond between the two of them and now they got along better than ever. Marcus still needed to get a grip on the dog’s desire to kill during the Full Moon. He couldn’t blame it really, it was its nature. Still, if he was put before the Wizengamot then he would be the one that would have to suffer the consequences for not taking the Wolfsbane. Marcus didn’t really want to get himself into that situation. His idiocy had got him off about scot free so far. He just hoped it would continue if the dog was hell bent on killing half a dozen people ever Full Moon.

Marcus was thrust from his thoughts as the scent both he and his lodger wanted to inhale wafted towards him. He blinked rapidly and stopped himself from whipping out a dogged smile. Then of course she spoke and all Marcus did was stare at her with a glassy-eyed look on his face. It was the dog that relayed the words to him though and he blinked again, taking away stupor that had appeared. He nibbled on his bottom lip as he thought about what she’d said. There wasn’t much they could do apart from dust and draw crude pictures on the glass of the window. He would have suggested climbing out but the latch was so rusted it was impossible to open and he didn’t particularly want to find out exactly what was in those bushes that were growing by the window.

“We will sit and contemplate,” Marcus said after a moment. “Unless you want to do up the display a bit? It’s shoddy but no one’s really meant to see it. You’re a lucky thing aren’t you?” Marcus grinned despite himself and stifled a yawn afterwards. “I suppose we could always play Scrabble or something. Not that there’s a scrabble board in here but it’s always fun to pretend. Sooooo....how’s school?”

When Amelia turned and spoke to Marcus, she may as well have been speaking to an inanimate object. Her question seemed to be completely unintelligible to Marcus, who alternately stared and blinked rapidly at her as though she were not speaking a language he understood. Amelia mentally rewound the conversation about a minute or so and replayed in her head to clarify to herself that she had, indeed, said something coherent, and confirmed that she had. It would not have been out of the question for her to say something inappropriate in conversation, or to accidentally slip into another language in a stressful situation – which she sort of supposed this could be, if she chose to look at it that way – but what she said had been full-sentenced English. It was actually a conversational accomplishment for her, but Marcus didn’t seem to be seeing it that way.

After a few more seconds of stupor on his part, Marcus finally blinked himself out of his trance and his teeth surrounded his bottom lip, much in the way Amelia’s did when she was thinking very hard. At least now he seemed to have comprehended what Amelia had said, but it was a few more seconds before he came up with an answer he chose to verbalize.

Amelia would have thought the delay in Marcus’s answering process would have served to sort through the potential answers and choose the best one, as Amelia was usually doing during that delay, but Marcus did not have a similar process. When he spoke, it seemed that he had chosen instead to merely think of every potential answer to her question and give them in sequence.

“I uh…” Amelia stammered after Marcus had finally stopped bombarding her with questions, this time sounding significantly less coherent. She didn’t know how to answer such a long bill of inquiries, some of which were perhaps rhetorical, and others… just odd.

“I guess I’ll handle those one at a time…” Amelia answered herself aloud, blushing a bit when she realized she had done this, and then pushing ahead with her plan to avoid having to linger on her embarrassment too long.

“I think the display is much better off without me, as I so thoroughly demonstrated when I first came in, so I think we should probably cross that one off the list.” Amelia mentally ticked the first thing off Marcus’s question list. “I’m assuming the luck question was rhetorical, as the answer to that seems altogether too plain, considering the spots I’ve gotten myself into in the last hour of time I’ve actually been in your presence…”

“…I’ll skip Scrabble on the grounds of impracticality, which just leaves… school,” Amelia said, trying not to sound too disappointed in the conversation topic. She probably couldn’t have picked a better one, with her social skills being what they were, but it seemed Amelia found herself answering this question at length at least once a day.

“Hogwarts is in somewhat of a mess, currently,” the redhead began, looking alternately between Marcus and her hands, but more frequently at the latter, “Classes continue as usual, of course, and many students go about the same routines we did when we were only first years, but things have changed. Several Death Eaters have been appointed to faculty positions and aren’t exactly shy about demonstrating their political alliances, students are disappearing without notice, and even the professors that are usually the most reliable have been acting strangely. Things vary between somewhat perplexing and completely overwhelming on a day to day basis, but most of the school likes to pretend nothing is happening. I think it’s easier that way.”

Well that was probably more than he was asking for… Amelia’s subconscious chimed in when she finally stopped speaking and realized she had just given a newspaper column’s worth of Hogwarts news to a boy who had probably just been asking out of courtesy.

“But yeah… Anyway…” Amelia said, trying to steer away from her lapse in social graces (surprise), “How did you come to be working here? Family business or something?” To tell the truth, Amelia knew very little about Marcus's personal life, and this was one of those prying questions she always despised in others, and was being a bit hypocritical in asking. But she was also curious.

(I am going to apologize in advance. Sorry! Apparently someone has robbed Eli of his brain and put it in Marcus' head. You'll see what I mean when you read it.)

The waiting game would get harder and harder once claustrophobia and darkness set in. Marcus wasn’t entirely sure whether he was keen on spending the night on the floor of the storage room but he knew it was a possibility because the shop owner locked up at two and he was supposed to leave at twelve. It was twenty to. They had twenty minutes to find their way out or rely on someone finding them. Marcus didn’t want to wrestle with the door or the window again particularly.

At least he knew there was no chance of him ‘transforming’ with Amelia as his audience. No, the Full Moon had been and gone; it would be a while until the next spell of bad fortune. Though, this could hardly be called good fortune unless he was going to get really, really lucky. That, though, was about as likely as them getting out of there any time soon; Amelia was hardly the type to put herself out to some random Werewolf in the middle of Hogsmeade just because she was trapped in a storage closet with said Werewolf. Not that she was likely to put herself out to some random Human in the middle of Hogsmeade, either. Vampires, also, were probably not going to get any if it was her knickers they wanted into.

Oh sweet merciful Merlin, Marcus thought pitifully, his own inner voice sounding like a whine. As if thinking about shagging his friend’s sister wasn’t bad enough; thinking about her knickers was probably much worse. Of course with the subject of knickers...Marcus’ mind really started to wander and he found himself glancing over at Amelia curiously as he tried to picture slim, creamy legs with no doubt some sort of frill that is supposed to be seen but never is. Marcus idly wondered whether he’d actually met her mother or not. Probably not. She probably did all of the shopping. This prospect wasn’t helping Marcus’ rapidly evolving think-tank regarding Amelia’s knickers. The pale-pink things with frills and such he’d first been imagining were quickly being replaced by something black and rather provocative.

When Amelia’s voice rattled through his haze of perverted fantasies, Marcus came crashing back to earth with a laugh. He looked at her, a cheeky, almost guilty grin, beginning to form on his face. He ran his fingers through his hair and licked his bottom lip before replying, “You’re blaming me for the most excitement you’ve probably had since the train ride to Hogwarts after the Christmas holidays?” Marcus asked incredulously, the words coming out of his mouth a little too fast. “C’mon, you can’t claim you’re not enjoying yourself! Merlin knows I’m having fun.” There was a little tint of sarcasm in his voice but he was being serious. There was certainly a lot of fun going on in his traitorous mind. It was a party he had to remove himself from before his body caught on. He needed to keep in the present, with Amelia and her knickers.

Marcus smiled at her again, his eyes glistening with mirth, and chuckled before tipping his head back against the wall.

He liked the way she skipped to the school after that. She was frank about the state Hogwarts was in and Marcus was feeling quite glad that he wasn’t actually there. He folded his arms over his chest and wondered whether it was an idea to ask whether or not all of his belongings were still in his dorm room. Then again, Amelia wasn’t likely to know that was she? It was unlikely that they’d still be there. He’d been missing long enough; it’d probably been sent home to his mother. Marcus was out on his own in the wilderness that was Hogsmeade – or not as the case was. The irony was that Amelia was probably safer in a tiny space with him, a werewolf, than she was up in a massive castle crawling with Death Eaters.

Then, just like that, the conversation was turned onto him. Marcus bit his lip and ran his fingers through his hair again. The family situation had always been a complicated one. He could imagine his mother’s worry and his father’s lack of concern for his son’s safety. He was missing still and yet they didn’t even seem to care. They hadn’t owled – but then again neither had he. Had they just completely forgotten him? That prospect scared Marcus as he thought of his brother, swathed in permanent darkness, his only friend having abandoned him and subjected him unwittingly to the ‘love’ and ‘care’ of their parents.

“My dad’s a banker.” Marcus replied. “He works in Gringotts. I don’t know what he does but, to be honest, I really don’t care. My mum stays at home with my brother; he’s...he’s blind. This job is the only one I can ever hope to get after recent events. The pay is enough to keep my room at the Three Broomsticks and it gives me enough to buy something when I get sick of the landlady’s pies and stew. I am surprised she lets me stay really but she knows enough to not question why I’m not in Hogwarts and why I’m not at home. I wish the bloody Apothecary was as nice. Potions are expensive you know? Especially Wolfsbane.” The last part was mostly for his own ears but frankly, he didn’t care if she knew. There was a blood trail the length of the whole country behind him.

What would Amelia do for goodness sake? Report him? That was unlikely. He had the proverbial leverage. He was a werewolf who was fantasising about her knickers...still. So really, she had the upper hand although she probably didn’t realise it. Marcus hoped it wouldn’t come to that madness.

“I’d give you a rundown of what happened but even the short version is a long story. Basically, it was a cock up right up until this point. Since, like, September...everything has been pretty shit. I’m quite content now, though. It’s fairly warm in here...the company’s nice...the scenery is, admittedly, a bit naff but we’ve got a good conversation going and the lunar calendar tells of good days ahead.” Then, Marcus yawned. He definitely hadn’t been getting a good night’s sleep since he’d gotten that ‘scratch’. He slept on his stomach as a rule which shouldn’t have bothered him but the covers were itchy and he didn’t like sleeping without them on...it was all very awkward. In short, he was absolutely shattered and he was trapped in a closet with a Ravenclaw whose knickers had prompted great pondering on his part.

What could possibly go wrong now?

((Haha, you were right about Elijah’s brain going on a Marcus-vacation. I like it though – how very teenage boy of him ))

Marcus was looking at Amelia strangely. She couldn’t put her finger on just what that look implied, but he was doing an awful lot of looking. And smirking. The Ravenclaw girl was unsure what to make of the look he was giving her, and her head tilted slightly to the side as she tried to figure out what he was thinking. Amelia was hopelessly sheltered when it came to boys and how their minds work – her brief excursion into Elijah’s thoughts hadn’t really given her a clear picture of the general male population, she didn’t think – so she could never have arrived at what Marcus was really thinking, and instead was left mostly in the dark, even when Marcus laughed out loud and grinned guiltily.

What is that boy doing? Amelia had to wonder, her hand subconsciously rising to the back of her neck in a nervous gesture. She was faking a smile in an attempt to play along, but in truth, she didn’t have a clue what was going on.

Well, you could check your body language decoder ring… Amelia’s subconscious chimed in sarcastically, Or you could just chalk it up to Y-chromosome-related behavior that really isn’t logically driven. Whichever you prefer.

Speaking of behavior that wasn’t logically driven, when Marcus licked his bottom lip, Amelia felt something in her abdomen that felt like one of her vital organs was trying to escape and in her surprise nearly missed the words Marucs said next. It has been a fleeting sensation, just a few seconds, but it had been enough to throw Amelia off her usually calm and controlled demeanor.

I must have eaten something that disagreed with me… Amelia thought, attributing the odd sensation to diet as she shifted nervously, blushing in spite of herself and hoping Marcus would just attribute this to what he was saying, rather than read more into her behavior.

“I suppose there are worse things I could be doing right now,” Amelia conceded, if only to give Marcus some kind of coherent response. She was surprised she even managed that much considering that her mind seemed at the moment to be more interested in playing the mental image of Marcus’s lip-licking on loop.

And now he was laughing again, easy and loud as though this were the most comfortable conversation. Marcus was a complete enigma to Amelia, and this time, she didn’t even pretend to know what he was laughing about. She did, however, attempt to correct for her embarrassment by lowering her hand back down to her lap and turning the conversation toward Marcus, which immediately caused a change in his demeanor. He got quiet all of a sudden, and it was probably best that Amelia wasn’t looking at him when he bit his lip, because she likely would have missed what came next.

Marcus began his family’s story hesitantly, but then it all started to flow quicker and quicker, like he couldn’t stop himself. Amelia hadn’t known anything about Marcus’s family before he began talking, but soon she knew more than she ever would have revealed to a relative stranger. Although Amelia was not a brilliant conversationalist herself, she was perceptive enough to pick up on some of the tonal cues from what Marcus was saying, and they were almost as revealing as the words themselves. He spoke dismissively about his father, tenderly about his brother, and with a completely rational frankness about his situation, which made Amelia admire him a little. She was rational too, yes, but not out of the same necessity as Marcus. Amelia was realizing quickly that his situation was completely different from hers, even though there were some gaps in his story that left Amelia with questions. But the further Marcus got into his story, the more Amelia began to put the pieces together.

Recent events? What does that mean? And why would these events keep him from getting a job? And then there’s… wolfsbane.

Amelia didn’t need to be the potions nerd she was to know what wolfsbane was for, and for a moment, her mind attempted to make up other reasons why Marcus might be buying wolfsbane. It was a subconscious defense mechanism, trying to convince herself that Marcus wasn’t… that he couldn’t be… but he was. If there wasn’t’ already enough evidence, Marcus’s mention of his personal well-being in relation to the lunar calendar sealed the deal. Amelia was sitting in an enclosed space with a former friend of her now disappeared brother who had just admitted he was a werewolf.

Today cannot get any stranger.

That is your first thought upon finding out you are locked in a cupboard with a human being that morphs into a deadly animal on a monthly basis?

He’s not a werewolf right now. The full moon isn’t for two more weeks.

If you’re a werewolf, you’re always a werewolf. Even when in human form. You of all people should know that.

Yes, but he’s not dangerous right now.

How would you know that? Ever been stuck in a small space with an untransformed werewolf before?

… not to my knowledge.

And so raged the mental debate between Amelia’s rationality, which was attempting to work through Marcus’s realization, and her subconscious, which thought she really ought to be more concerned. On the whole, Amelia was mostly still in shock, and the ironic part was that she was equally surprised that Marcus would reveal all of this to her so openly as she was that he was a werewolf in the first place. If she had found this out from someone else, perhaps it would have been easier to decide what the proper reaction was, but under the present circumstances, Amelia was just staring at Marcus with her lips slightly parted, unable to think of how to respond.

Amelia had officially known of only one other werewolf in her time at Hogwarts, a boy named Sebastian who had admitted his condition to her in much the same way Marcus just did. Of course, Amelia heard rumors of others, but without any evidence or personal confirmation, Amelia wasn’t one to put much stock in the rumor mill. She had read a lot about werewolves and knew enough about them to know that she wasn’t in any life-threatening physical danger as long as Marcus wasn’t transformed, though she had read in certain texts that werewolves could tend toward rage even in their human form. But she had her wand and was confident she could use it in defense of herself as long as Marcus was in human form. She wasn’t delusional enough to think she could fend off a transformed werewolf in such a small space.

But physical danger aside, what was Amelia to think about this revelation? She knew what her mother would think. Antoinette would think she ought not be associating with the likes of werewolves, lest they be a bad influence on her, or worse, tarnish the family image. Many of her peers would likely shun Marcus too on the premise of not wanting to put themselves in danger, but really, most people their age just didn’t want to associate with anyone too different.

So where did she stand in all of this? Amelia always took her time making these types of decisions, wanting them to be her own rather than a parroting of her parents. Amelia knew she could, at times, be judgmental in the way her mother was, as though that mentality had somehow sunk in through osmosis, but under the present circumstances, Amelia could find no logical reason to judge Marcus so harshly.

“Okay…” Amelia began, finally closing her lips and dropping her eyes after several minutes of silent staring, “So that was a lot all at once, but um… well, I did ask, so I guess I should thank you for being so thorough…”

Amelia was rambling, speaking aimlessly because she hadn’t prepared anything, and she knew she should stop talking until she could get her thoughts together because she sounded like an idiot. This realization made her blush rise again, starting in her cheeks and spreading down over her neck and out to her ears as she tried to shield it with her curtains of hair.

“I’m sorry about your… condition,” Amelia said, choosing the first word that seemed roughly politically correct. How did one refer to lycanthropy to someone affected with it? “And about the trouble it has caused you. I’m certain that couldn’t have been easy for you.” Empathy was never Amelia’s strongest point because of her detachment from her own feelings, but in this case, the answer was fairly obvious.

“And ah… I’m um… Glad I could be a pleasant distraction from… all of that…” Amelia added, responding awkwardly to the pseudo-compliment Marcus had given her about being nice company, “And you’re right, um... the company is probably the high point of the situation…” Amelia continued, making a sorry attempt at returning the compliment, but between her lack of social graces and her nervous giggle that followed, she was flailing noticeably.

“Sorry to be ruining the whole good conversation part, though…” Amelia stated, only highlighting how awkward things had gotten since she started speaking, though at least part of that had to be blamed on Marcus and his grand revelation.

Okay – stop talking now. Her subconscious commanded.

(One post as ordered! ;D)


Amelia was an observant little flower so there was no way she didn’t sense his bizarre behaviour. Still, his behaviour was normal if not slightly inappropriate. He didn’t exactly know how often teenage boys fantasised about knickers. Marcus, however, was aware of a few things. The first was that it had been a while. His last partner in sexual exploits – codeword girlfriend – had been Amanda Periwinkle from Hufflepuff. She was a sweet girl. She wasn’t terribly bright and Marcus could remember having to tutor her in Herbology – a subject that he was apparently quite good at though he wouldn’t have been able to tell seeing as the teacher appeared to smoke what was being grown in the greenhouses. But nevertheless their time together began on one of the work tables and then progressed from there. Nice, sweet Amanda Periwinkle would have been good company for him.

Instead, Marcus was with Amelia Lyons. A potato’s sexual history was probably more extensive than hers. Then again, Marcus’ wasn’t anything to brag about. He’d done a Hufflepuff – repeatedly; that wasn’t nearly as impressive as some of the repertoires that went around. But the point was, it had been a while since Amanda Periwinkle and Amelia was much more attractive than Amanda Periwinkle who would probably increase a potato’s sexual history if someone told her to. Amelia was sensible and off-limits – making her knickers a much more interesting thing to ponder about. But once again, Marcus was treading a thin line. He would be in some serious shit with Raoul if he wasn’t careful. He had to treat Amelia with the upmost respect and not think about her frilly knickers with hand-stitched embroidery.

His thoughts were marred, however, by his story. Brief as it was and with an absence of detail...the little made it no better to deal with. The fact was that he was the most hated creature in the wizarding world and by no fault of his own. He’d been happy at the start of the year. He’d been braced for N.E.W.T exams and now he couldn’t even think about taking them. He didn’t know what he was going to do with his life but he knew he couldn’t do this forever – it was ridiculous. Marcus pursed his lips as he thought. Perhaps he’d go home and work in the bank with his father. That wasn’t likely to happen though. He’d be sacked after the first Full Moon. He was pretty sure you had to declare your species anyway so he wouldn’t be hired in the first place.

“You’re scared aren’t you?” Marcus asked, turning a little to look at her. “Your entire opinion of me has changed. You’d deny it but I can see it in your eyes. There’s an underlying level of fear there. Everyone has it – those who know. You can see it. Their eyes become almost glassy and the light shoots into the same area, highlighting the distress there. I am the same person I was before I told you, Amelia. Look at me. Do I look like a werewolf to you right now? I could probably do with a shower and a haircut – so hey, I’m shaggy...but c’mon. I’m not dangerous. Look at me. I am not interested in eating you or mauling you to death. Honestly, I’d rather kiss you than any of that. I’m sure you’re much more fun alive than dead anyway. Just, understand that I’m not going to hurt you. The wolf isn’t a big part of me – honestly. And besides, you’re probably safer in here with me than you would be with any other shop assistant.”

Marcus smiled at Amelia. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve probably made you awkward anyway. I could break the window y’know. It’d get us out quicker. Then again, I rather like it in here. It’s kind of nice if you like the smell of dragon hide and you’re a fan of dust.”

Amelia was ashamed that despite her efforts to conceal her fear, Marcus had seen right through her guise. Or maybe he hadn’t actually seen it, but had assumed it was there because of all the times he had gotten the same reaction from other people. Either way, Marcus had caught her in an act of deception, known what she was thinking without her saying it, and that always made Amelia uncomfortable. She had gotten so successful at being either invisible or uninteresting that most people didn’t bother to question the things she said – they just believed whatever it was because it was easier than pursuing the truth from the Ice Queen.

It made Amelia’s insides squirm to think that she had been that transparent, but more so because she knew she oughtn’t be thinking that way about Marcus just because he was a werewolf. Everything he was saying now was true, and Amelia looked away from him as he mentioned the look in her eyes that told him she was scared. She wanted to deny it, make him think she was above that kind of petty judgment, but she found she couldn’t form the words. He was right; even though she had logically arrived at the decision that Marcus wasn’t harmful to her in the moment, she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was somehow more dangerous to her now than he had been five minutes ago.

Fear is not a rational emotion, Amelia thought to herself as Marcus continued to try to defend himself.

Now that’s a redundant statement if I ever heard one… Amelia’s subconscious replied with a role of its figurative eyes.

Amelia didn’t want to look at Marcus when he told her to, but something in her pulled her chin up to meet his eyes again. Maybe it was her conscience trying to make up for the fact that at least some part of her couldn’t let go of the social stigma that came along with being anything but human. Anything but magical human. Was that mentality so ingrained in the population that she couldn’t decide against it even if she wanted to? That lack of control over her own mind scared Amelia more than Marcus did.

Marcus’s argument was a logical one, one Amelia would have made herself. He didn’t look like a monster. He looked the same as he did before, but somehow the knowledge of his condition had put a flaw in an otherwise spotless image. Marcus knew it, and it made Amelia want to shake her head hard to try to fling that thought from her mind. Marcus seemed to have come to terms with the fact that he wouldn’t be the same in her eyes now, even as he tried to convince her, and it allowed the easygoing personality to shine through, despite the seriousness of the conversation. Amelia smirked at his promise not to maul her, and blushed profusely at the mention of him kissing her.

The Ravenclaw girl’s eyes dropped immediately to her lap, which was probably for the best because if her blush hadn’t already reached every conceivable corner of her face, neck, and chest, it certainly got there with Marcus’ innuendo that followed the kissing statement. Amelia felt herself getting warm, heat rising from her abdomen and into her face, all the way up to her ears as she flooded with embarrassment. All philosophical thought about the root of prejudice was gone now, but it hadn’t been replaced with calm. Instead, it had been replaced with traitorous thoughts provoked by her body, rather than her mind, and Amelia was fighting a losing battle to quash them.

He would be a great kisser… just look at those lips… strong arms to wrap around my…

NO! No, no, no, no, NO!

I believe the appropriate word here is yes.

Would you get yourself out of the gutter? Have we forgotten the werewolf bit?

Yes.

How can you possibly forget that?

I have a feeling Marcus could make me forget my own name.

The wishes of Amelia’s body seem to have taken root in her subconscious while the voice of reason attempted to mount a successful attack against them, and thus the argument continued while Amelia grew redder and redder, both because Marcus was still talking, and because of her own traitorous thoughts. She knew Raoul would likely whack her upside the head with a broom handle for even thinking anything like this, but as with the werewolf fear, these seemed to be beyond her control. She was trying to quash them, honestly and truly trying, but was much, much less successful than she would have wanted to be.

Breaking the window sounds like an excellent idea. Foolish for us not to have thought of it first, Amelia’s rational mind prompted, jumping on Raoul’s suggestion that they could get out of here through that exit. As far as it was concerned, the sooner Amelia was out from under Raoul’s mind-altering presence, the better.

I don’t think that’s a good idea, Amelia’s subconscious countered, reengaging the argument again.

And why not?

Because… Amelia’s body-propelled mind paused here, because even it knew that the only reason she wanted to stay was… well… it was… it was not anything that was going to convince the rational side of her, anyway.

Because Marcus would catch hell from his boss, that’s why, the body-consciousness offered, and knowing its reasoning was weak, didn’t give Amelia’s more rational brain the time to form a rebuttal.

“No, no,” Amelia said hastily, her mouth forming the words at the command of some power she was not entirely certain of, “I wouldn’t want you to get in any trouble on my account. You know, having to pay for damages, possibly losing your job… it’s probably not worth it. I’m sure someone will be coming around soon.”

It was Amelia’s more rational side that provided that last part, about them being discovered soon. It was wishful thinking, but Amelia’s mind was still holding fast to the idea that any minute now another customer was going to want to buy something covered in dragon hide, and Amelia would be physically free of Marcus, and thus her mind would be free of the hormonal grips of her teenaged body.

Fear was, if properly utilised, a powerful weapon. It was something that was used by most Dark Wizards; Voldemort in particular. Now, Marcus was no Dark Wizard but he was acutely aware of how he could exploit Amelia’s understandable, but from his point of view irrational, fear of him. He knew how he could use it against her but he didn’t want to; and he certainly didn’t plan to. No, despite those thoughts so traitorous and so cruel, Marcus had a duty to Amelia – a self appointed duty. He was going to look after her in Raoul’s place. Until her brother returned, he’d watch over her – and what better choice was there than a werewolf?

No comment, Marcus’ mind quipped sarcastically.

Marcus snorted quietly to himself and shook his head before curling a piece of hair around his index finger. He sighed and looked over at Amelia again. Her unease was palpable and thick in the air, though evidently only apparent to him. It was stifling when coupled with the mid-to-late afternoon humidity and the smell of Dragonhide in the dust-filled atmosphere. Still, it was a reminder, however cruel that reminder was; that he wasn’t human. For a minute there he could fantasise and pretend that he could have daydreams about her underwear. There was nothing stopping him but it was never something that could be mentioned aloud. He was a monster and it would be likened to Frankenstein thinking about breasts.

“What changed?” He asked suddenly, the words leaving his mouth before he had a chance to censor himself. “A few moments ago you were putting up with me...maybe you even liked me a little. Now though...you’re afraid. Amelia, I’m the same person I was five minutes ago. I don’t...I don’t understand what differs now – more information? Surely you are smarter than some of the fools that wander around with prejudice spilling from their lips? I thought you were..”

Marcus shook his head again and this time ran his fingers through the front of his hair. The dusty air was beginning to get to him now. He did want out but as Amelia wisely pointed out, it would cost him. Marcus exhaled shakily and slid down the wall until he was laid on his back. He folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the patterns the peeling paint made in the ceiling.

“What do you want to do after Hogwarts?” He asked her after a moment.