Non-existent answers

Sebastien silently came in the library and nodded to witch. He came here often even before his unplanned trip so that he met most of the librarians. Not that he wanted to, they just started to jump out behind the shelves, asking did he need a help with something, and they did that so often that Bastien started to carefully open the books, waiting for them to jump out of its pages. He always said no, but they keep doing it and he couldn't do anything to stop them, at least anything which would not result in exclusion from the library, and this slytherin couldn't allow it. Sebastien needed the library, now more than the before. If there is a cure he will find it here, on this shelves. And there must be a cure, he couldn't let himself think otherwise.

He wore a long coat, not because he was cold, actually it was too hot underneath, but he wore it to hide his limping. He was still hurt but he needed to came back to London, and wizard library was his first destination. Sebastien thought he first need to fix himself and than find his brother, he's somewhere in London, he said it to him into Christian's last letter. The one he didn't have time to respond. They caught him a few hours later after he received his owl and send him back without answer, he didn't have time to write it, he was too close reaching his brother's goal. And when they caught him he wasn't in position for sending a letters, he barely lived.

Bastien went through the library searching for letter "W", he wasn't the one who was obsessed with werewolves, it was his brother, with werewolves and ways to kill them precisely. This one knew only primary things he learned on DADA classes. He couldn't just ask his brother for answers, it would be more easier but also more dangerous way. Christian would maybe started hating him, and he couldn't let that happen, there must be some cure.

His brother hated all werewolves because they killed their mom, and wanted to kill the whole group which killed her. Maybe even all the werewolves, he still couldn't count himself as one, although he was, Bastien knew it for sure, after his first full moon has passed. On the other hand, Sebastien didn't hate them nothing more than he hated the other people. They are fine as long as they leave him alone, same works for people, too. He didn't want to kill his mother's killer. That wouldn't bring her back, he would only risk his life for nothing, and he was certain she didn't want it. But, after what they did to him he wasn't so sure anymore. Sebastien can get over a lot of things, but torturing is not one of them. Or turning him into a werewolf.

He stopped in front of few books about werewolves, pulled them from the shelf and started walking till the nearby tables. Bastien sat for the last empty table and put the books on a chair beside him. He took the first one, 'Werewolves through the British history', written by some Irish author, and started reading.

The last of the summer’s contribution to sunshine was beginning to spread its way across the sky, disappearing amidst rolling autumnal clouds and all of the chills that they brought along with them. The watery golden rays began to slowly stretch down towards the settlement of Hogsmeade, however, illuminating Hogwarts in its glow up on the hill above the village. It was into his village that Elizabeth Murdoch apparated, on assignment by the Ministry to sort out a dispute in the Hogs Head. When she got inside it became clear that the drunks she’d been given had only just woken up from their Firewhisky-induced slumber and after separating them out and sending them their separate ways she took statements and then took her leave.

Normally, Beth would have made her way back to the office almost immediately but with a little bit of time afforded to her she began to wander up through the high street, taking in the sights, smells and sounds of Hogsmeade that she missed desperately from her Hogwarts years. Many things had changed – too many, in Beth’s opinion – and in particular it was the new library. Well, that was its name but she didn’t think it was really a library – more like a front for the students to goof off. So really, when she turned off the Ravenclaw, it was her kind of place. Curiosity and time to boot took her up onto the porch and she found herself opening up the front door and entering in, breathing in the deep, aromatic scent of books which wrapped delicately around her.

After extending a pleasant word with the librarian at the desk she slid off, wandering between the shelves. It was only when she bumped her hips into a table, sending a chair stumbling into the one beside it that Beth emerged from her thoughts and she shot out a hand, bringing the chair back into place. Then she noticed that she’d disturbed someone, a fairly attractive someone, and she panicked a little bit. The point of being on the job was a certain amount of professionalism. She’d forfeited that when she’d gone inside. She’d completely done away with it when she’ walked into the table and she winced a little as she found herself apologising.

“Sorry,” she uttered uselessly, “I wasn’t paying attention. Sorry for disturbing.”

Then Beth scuttled away, shame clouding her cheeks a bright scarlet and resolved that she should leave. There was no sense in hanging around a bookshop. Especially when she was technically working.

Bastien knew that this book was old, but he had no idea it'll be this old. He head a feeling that pages would torn up if he turn them, so he did it slowly and gently. When he started reading he realised he could use a dictionary. Although the book was on English and he was native English speaker he didn't understand most of the text. Bastien glanced around him trying to find some worker who would tell him where the dictionaries are. Sebastien never needed one, most of books were on English, so he read them, if the book he want to read hasn't translated to english he would read it on german, the other language he knows, but he's no good in it as he is in english. But if the book is on english and he doesn't know to read it - here comes a problem. Sebastien actually never wanted to learn Gernan but his mother's sister, his aunt Jenna lived in Vienna, and after his mother died, his father kicked him and his brother out of home, Jenna was so kind to took them, and he was very grateful for that, but he never trusted someone again. Not after his own father abdoned him. That killed every single particle of trust in him.

Sebastien now missed the Hogwarts' library. While he was in Hogwarts he spend most of his days in there, studing, books was his only and truest friend. While he went there this building hasn't been built yet. He never spend a lot of time in Hogsmeade, Bastien went there two or three times during his schooling, but he hadn't found anything that interest him there, so he reather choose staying in mostly empty castle then crumpling with all other older students.

When Bastien realised there is no one who works here nearby he sighed but continued to browse the book and watch the pictures. They showed drawings of werewolfs in every step of transision. He felt aches only watching them. The idea that he went through some, through all of them made him sick, also if he remind himself that he need to go through all this phases every month until his death.
No, there must be some kind of cure. He will find it, someway.

He stopped reading when someone bumped into the chair, but he hadn't raised a look. That happened all the time, the tabels were too close to the shelves and they were too compact some would bumped sooner or later.
Some female voice apologized.
"I don't mind." He hadn't recognized her voice so he didn't bother to look than just continued reading. If he ignores them they'll leave. That turned out to be his the best tactic and it worked always.
At least almost always, he glanced at the woman when she stayed exacly where she was. Looking for something on the shelf with cheeks blushing. With her dark hair and dark eyes he thought he saw her somewhere, before, but he couldn place it. Maybe they went to school together, but not the same year, he would surley noticed her if they were. Also she wasn't Slytherin, he was sure, Bastien never seen her in their common room, so she must be in another house.
He raised his eyebrows and closed the book, hoping that she hasn't seen any of the pictures.

So many were reduced to fury if separated even for the barest of moments from their books. It took only a second to assure there was no harm done though many refused to, opting instead to mark on the offensive, to speak against those who had not meant to harm them. In this light, in the warmth of the library that protected against the howling northern winds blistering through Hogsmeade village, there was no need to act so rashly. Though she expected it, she was met with the gentle assurance that, indeed, no harm had been done. In fact, he hadn’t minded. He didn’t mind. In fact, he seemed to welcome the intrusion if the fair expression was anything to go by. It didn’t temper Beth’s shame, however. Well, a little bit, maybe.

“I didn’t mean to,” Beth said softly, curling her fingers around the back of the chair opposite the man’s. “I know how sometimes it’s dreadful when interrupted. Is your book good?”

It was an easy question enough. The witch had a soul built for people. She could easily balance the wants of others in light of her own and often preferred it that way. Talking to someone else, listening to what they had to say was in her nature. It helped keep much of the scrutiny off of herself. She’d had it once and relentless it had most certainly been. She didn’t want to have to experience it again. She wanted to avoid all inspection of her person. Not that she was inspecting this man, of course, it was merely a normal question to pose being as one was in a bookshop. She completely intended to extract a yes or a no and move on. She didn’t dare inquire further. It wasn’t her place.

“I’m Beth,” she introduced herself as an afterthought, extending her hand across the table. “Sorry, again, for disturbing.”

Although he didn't want to admit he was glad for interruption. It was exhausting reading this, although he has just started a few minutes ago and he was ready to leave all of this and run till his lungs start to hurt so much he can't breathe. It was strange because Bastien usually hated running, he even flunked half of his PE classes when he attended some muggle school in Manchester, before going to Hogwarts. Interesting how running became more attractive after it turned out for him to be some monster from his school books, he thought. He glanced at lights until it didn't completely blinded him, and then watched back, blinking until the last black dot was gone.

He shurged watching her. "I have no idea, I can't read it." It was true, the book was so old he couldn't link the words into sentences.

When she stood beside a chair opposit of him he realised he was right earlier. He knew her, at least he seen her in passing at school. Although Sebastien hardly remember almost everything he had good memory when it comes to remembering people names or informations he wants to remember. And once he bet with his brother that he can learn names everyone in the school. It took him almost half of his fifth years to learn to recognize thembut it was worth seeing Christian sang every time he entered some room, even his classroms. If he was right this was Beth Murdoch, at least this woman looked like her older version, so if she hasn't an older sister that must be her.

"I know who you are." Good job, idiot, he thought, now she's gonna think you're creepy stalker and she'll call the Ministry. But he couldn't suppress a bit of pride because he guessed well. Sebastien didn't bother to introduce himself, why would he?

All of the air that had been leisurely running in and out of Beth’s chest was sucked out with venom at the man’s words. The blood slipped from her cheeks and a sickly blanch took over her. He knew her. Of course he did, something in the back of her mind wanted to spitefully hiss at her. Anyone who read the Daily Prophet in the last year would recognise her, albeit they probably wouldn’t twig who she was at first. Beth had been courted into infamy. What she hadn’t realised was what someone might notice and, worse, remember.

“Oh do you?” She asked airily, trying to keep herself calm and level. “I’m afraid I don’t really remember you,” she admitted after a moment, hoping to keep the conversation going somewhat – at least long enough for him to tell her how he knew her.

Beth’s grip on the back of the chair increased and she clung on for what felt almost like dear life. She took a hesitant, heavy breath and then licked her lips, putting her gaze down anywhere, everywhere, but upon him as her mind recorded the fact that he hadn’t enjoyed the book. She couldn’t blame him either, upon taking the aforementioned tome into her eye line. It looked ancient or, at the very least, well thumbed. Nevertheless, that wasn’t what she had endeavoured after in this instance. She had no clue whether or not she’d have to go onto arrest him now – for freaking her out, at the very least.

Sebastien watched Beth's sudden change. Her cheeks paled and she squeezed harder back of the chair. He stood up and pulled out the closest chair. "Here, sit."

She looked like she's going to be sick and he didn't want to send anyone in st. Mungo. Yes, he liked playing with people, but when someone is obviously sick, he act like normal human being.
Bastien studied her face. Why did she react that way in the first place? Because he told her he know who she is? He wasn't the most accessible person but he doubted he can terrified someone. He thought he would notice that before, and use it well.

"Yes." Sebastien cocked his head biting his lip. "That's expected." He didn't bother to explain his earlier comment, nor to tell her how he knows who she is. Or even tell her whi he is, for start. This Slytherin have never done that before, and he wouldn't start doing that no metter how pretty someone is.

He noticed her glaces toward his book so he closed it fast. Only thinking about what is he currently doing made him sick, Bastien didn't want anyone else know about it. Huge picture on the front side didn't help. He covered the picture with his hand hoping he did it fast enough for her to see. She now seem nervous. Sebastien has never seen a person who changed her mood that fast.

White hot fear took hold of the dark haired witch, seizing her tightly by the heart. She assured herself that in being in a public place she was more than safe yet his Byronic aversions to announcing who he was did nothing to ease her heady temper. She bit her inner cheek and narrowed her eyes, the skin creasing testily, and she softened her grasp upon the chair, it giving a rather grotesque crackle in dismay at her pressing hold. She released her cheek, also, from between her teeth and addressed the man with her burning gaze, fear bolstered by tempting poor humour.

“I will do no such thing,” she expelled tartly. Her eyebrows rose incredulously at his suggestion and she stole her hands away altogether, sliding them roughly into the pockets of her coat.

Elizabeth inclined her head stubbornly and took a step back, lifting her gaze towards the front desk. From her vantage point she could not quite perceive the exiting doors but she stood yet to reach them if she deigned to depart. However, she was not one to be so flagrantly rude to another person. Yet neither did she often encounter those who appeared to delight in being so brutally vague.

“Customarily,” Elizabeth griped. “When one person volunteers their name, the other does the same.”

Sebastien sat back holding his hands in the air. "Then don't." He said smirking. Beth acted like he offend her with something. This day is going better and better, but it's fun so he won't complain.
"But if you faint here I can't took you to St. Mungo. Their receptionist hates me, and told me they'll kill me the next time I step in here."

Okay, maybe he exaggerated that a bit. A lot, actually. Just one receptionist hated him, old ginger witch who usually worked there at night. He didn't remembered how that all started but it ended with her swearing she'll close him in Azkaban if he came in St. Mungo when she works. The only exception is if he dying or had lost conscious.

He followed her glance to the door. Was she thinking about running away? Did he do anything to made her think he's going to hurt her? Bastien thought about that but didn't find ay. He wasn't well nice, but he wasn't sociopath either. Well at least they haven't told him he's acting like one before.

Bastien followed her statement with nodding. "Customarily." He accentuated, he couldn't help himself he enyojed. Sebastien waited a few seconds before adding, "My name is Sebastien." They didn't need to cause a problem in the middle of the library. That would result with kicking them out, and he didn't find what's he looking for. Yet.

The scarlet purse of Beth’s lips twitched irritably at the man’s smirk and the slithers of pert skin spread into a grimace as he spoke of St. Mungo’s. She sobered herself at that threat. Obstinately she wanted to retort that she wouldn’t have wanted him to take her even if she had. Moreover she wanted to assert that she wasn’t a fainter, either. However, really, all that was for naught largely because either way she would not be going to St. Mungo’s even if she had fainted. That would have truly undermined everything she’d been so desperate to cover up. Nothing was wrong. She was fine. Still human. Not at all ailing with anything – especially not lycanthropy.

“I’m sorry,” Beth said gently in reply. “I’m being rude.”

By way of somehow extending an olive branch, the brunette pulled out the chair and delicately sat herself down, crossing her ankles together under the table. She smoothed a hand across the front of her coat, pausing to unbutton it briefly to let a glimpse of her cream blouse peek through the navy flaps of the coat. She then took her hands into her lap and idly twisted them around each other. Apologetically she lowered her gaze briefly to the table top and then lifted it back again as he expelled the customary return far more belatedly than she ever would have done.

“Sebastien,” she tested the name, though still no one came to mind. “I don’t know how you know me – you’re dreadfully austere, you know. It’s quite intimidating.”