It wasn't how I had wanted my first day in America to go, but really, it wasn't all my fault. The bastard had snuck up on me with questionable intent that I could smell – if only these stupid, small-town Muggles could realize why that was a problem. But no, because they had no idea what a werewolf was and why they should stay away, I had to spend the next few nights in a prison cell. Of course, I could bend the bars or pull off the door with some focus, but they had taken my "stick" to an unknown location, and if that man in the adjoining cell was lucid, I would mentally scar him for life.
If only the bastard would have told me he was the damned Sherrif before I had him in the choke hold. But oh, his blubbering was glorious. Sheriff Hamm glares at me from his desk, where he ices his swelling, purple eye and dabs at his bleeding lip. I can't hold back the smirk, or the swell of pride I feel from The Wolf. Hamm chucks a paper weight at me, and though it bounces off the bars, the noise vibrates and screams in my sensitive ears, and I cower against the wall.
Hamm laughs and calls me a bitch, but he's the one that cried when I released his neck.
Merlin, the smell of smoke lingers on my clothes and I want to scrub my skin with soap, or roll around in something that smells good or normal or like home. But everything in this American town smells like sweat and tobacco and sex and manure and dust – I'm choking – and I'm about to burn the last shred of my dignity and pull my shirt over my head just so I can smell the fabric against my skin when the door flies open and a blurry-eyed deputy pulls a handcuffed man into the room.
Oh, he smells good, this newcomer. He's dressed in the height of Muggle fashion: a slick, black suit and tie – still managing to look elegant, even in handcuffs. He stands facing away from me, but I recognize him somehow, deep in the memories I try to forget.
"Speeding, this one was," the deputy is saying, and Hamm, already in a foul mood because of little old me, immediately deems speeding a crime guilty of 48 hours in the jail cell. The new man jerks back, as surprised and outraged as he should be, but the Great Sheriff Hamm will have none of it, and the man is shoved into the cell on my other side and that is that, goodnight bastards and ya little bitch.
The lights are turned out and the doors locked, and I am once more thankful for my wolf-tastic eyesight, but not the freaky, greenish color everything turns. I turn to look at the newcomer when suddenly he has light on his palm. He holds it out toward me and peers into the darkness.
"Blaise? Blaise Zabini? Bloody hell?"
He squints and frowns, and I move closer to the light, and concentrate on my limited wandless magic abilities until I have a light orb in my palm as well. He blinks rapidly.
"Lav – Lavender Brown? How – I thought you – you –"
"Died?" and the bubble climbs up my throat again. He nods. "I guess I did."
He doesn't say anything, just stares at me. I clear my throat. "Look at you, Mr. Fancy Pants Muggle. What happened to the Pureblood Death Eater we all knew and hated two years ago?"
The end came out a bit bitter, but he smiles shyly anyway. "I moved to America and became a Muggle lawyer."
And then it's my turn to be speechless. He laughs quietly. "Yes, it is a bit strange, I suppose."
"You suppose?"
"I just wanted to…get away from it all. Start over, you know?"
I laugh and gesture to myself, then to the American soil we are both currently on, and he laughs as well. "I suppose you do."
"I reckon I do. Wait, so, Mr. Lawyer, why didn't you get yourself out of this?"
"Honestly? I don't think it is a worthwhile venture tonight. Besides, that Hamm looked pissed." He narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
I grin. "Who, me?"
"Well, I'm certainly not talking to your foul-smelling friend over there." He winks.
"I might have beaten him up a little before he decided to inform me of his Sheriffdom."
Blaise shakes his head, but I can see him smiling. "You are just loads of trouble, aren't you?"
"Loads," I agree. "But look. Here you are to save me from this crazy place and bring me back to civilization."
He smiles again, and opens his mouth to agree or not, but I jab my free hand out. "Can I have your jacket?"
He gives me a funny look, but doesn't say anything as I wrap it around myself and curl up on my cot.
He smells like Hogwarts.
Written for the Battleship Challenge, with Golden Trio Era. Also for Breaking Bad of the TV Show Competition, Snow White for the Disney Competition, and yuanfen for the Interesting Words Challenge.