The potions professor stared out into the night; he could barely see the winged skeletal horses spreading their wings and drifting off into the night. Only one stayed behind, and he slowly pulled out a raw piece of meat, gently tossing it over on the ground to it. It stared at him and then slowly lowered it's head, nibbling on the meat.
He knew that one could only see a Thestral if you had seen someone die in your past. He had seen many people die, but the ones that effected him most were his mother and Albus. Albus had been like a father-figure to him, and he killed him..slaughtered him, watched him fall off of the tower and down, down, down, until he wasn't seen anymore.. the green light had struck Albus directly in the chest, and he had just..fell back. Like he didn't care if he died or not.
He pulled his lips over his teeth in a snarl, tossing another piece of meat at the ground angrily. The thestral made a noise, looking at him without a glare on it's face.
Everybody glared at him..even things that could not talk, that didn't know him..everybody hated him. So why didn't this creature hate him, too?
He held back an apology that was about to escape from his lips – it would do no good, but once he had picked up the meat and hesitantly held his hand out, he did apologize, and it looked at him with all of the understanding that Albus had.
Albus.
He snarled again, a growl rising from his throat to echo throughout the land. Nobody was here, nobody would see him crying and screaming at the air..if they did, they would surely drag him off to St. Mungo's.
He fell to his knees, grasping his head in his hands, yanking hard on the silky black strands that laid there, screaming out all of his frustration – he knew it was completely foolish to do this, because someone would come over at any time, and he knew the danger of doing this, but he just didn't care at all at this moment, his shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs.
"Oh, hello, Professor." A dreamy voice came from behind him. He tensed and shot up in a flash, not looking over his shoulder. She would surely notice his moist eyes and ask questions.
"Hello, Lovegood." He responded stiffly, folding his arms and watching the Thestral go back to nibbling on the red meat.
"You can see them, too, then?" She asked dreamily, stepping forward – he had the sudden urge to pull her back, but didn't, watching as she reached out a hand to gently pet the creature.
"Yes." He answered in the same manner, glaring at her. "What are you doing out so late, Miss Lovegood?"
"Oh, I couldn't sleep, I suppose. I kept having dreams that Thestrals and Nargles were teaming up on me to tickle me." She responded dreamily, arms dangling at her sides as she walked back. He turned his head, but knew she saw- to his surprise, she asked no questions.
But he was distracted, then, by what she said.
"..Nargles?" He asked, an eyebrow shooting up into his hairline. ".. Tickle? Thestral? What kind of babbling are you on about now, Lovegood?" He snapped, glaring at her. He absolutely would refuse to admit that he was close to sputtering at the beginning, he was so confused.
She didn't answer. "Who'd you see die?" She asked, looking at him and tilting her head.
"I do not believe that is any of your business, Miss Lovegood." He hissed. "You really should be off to bed, this is no place for a young girl." He said after a moment.
She ignored him again – which never failed to infuriate him to no end – and her voice lowered into a dreamy whisper. "My mum died. When I was nine, you know. She liked to experiment on things, like potions, and one day everything went wrong and she got caught in the explosion." He felt a spark of sympathy in his heart..just a spark.
"I am sorry to hear." He muttered coldly, as the Thestral looked up to them for more food.
"Oh, that is fine. She's gone, now, but I'll see her somewhere beyond the veil one day." She nodded for emphasis on her statement, brushing her light white-blonde hair behind an ear and stepping forward, kneeling to hand-feed the Thestral.
"Such enthusiasm." He murmured, not meaning for the girl to hear. But she apparently did, as she looked up and smiled at him before standing, and he noticed she was barefoot. He rolled his eyes. "Being barefoot in a forest like this is not a good idea, Miss Lovegood."
She giggled airily. "Oh, that's fine. I'm not afraid."
"You should be." He snapped, glaring at her.
She did not respond.
After a few moments of silence – awkward to him, but probably not to Lovegood, she wiggled her toes in the dirt and then began walking away, calling over her shoulder, "Sweet dreams, Professor!"
"I doubt it." He murmured to himself, but nonetheless said, loud enough for her to hear, "Goodnight, Lovegood."