Chapter Eleven – Sweet Music

We thought we were running away from the grownups,
And now we are the grownups.

- Margaret Atwood

December 23rd, 1969 - Night of the Full Moon
Zabini Winter Residence, Pozzalo, Sicily

Rionach

The sliver of pale, yellow light thinned and disappeared as Fiorenza slowly closed the door on her. She was alone, in Fiorenza's cellar. Her parents were at a Christmas party, and the house elves were ordered to keep away. Heavy chains, fastened to the ground, encircled her wrists and ankles. In the pitch dark, she felt panic, then resentment towards Fee and Eldred for leaving her alone. Fiorenza had yet to see her transform, and Eldred had never returned after the first time. She knew that they were scared. Their fear rolled off the sweat on their skin, filling her nose and causing her wolf to snort in disgust.

She closed her eyes and tried to bring to mind memories, whether they be of happiness or pain; anything to keep the panic at bay. She thought of the train ride, watching the castle recede into the early morning haze, Lucius sitting next to her, his thigh pressed against hers as he leaned back and slept, still tired from his ordeal during the Quidditch game. Even when her leg cramped uncomfortably, she kept it still, relishing his warmth.

While he slept, Lucius resembled an Adonis, pale hair falling across his face, the prominent nose and cheekbones drinking in the morning light. His neck, long and sinewy and elegant, tilted back, his tie loosened over a broadening chest, hands folded over his lap; hands that at once suit him yet seem out of place, long and broad fingers, rough with callouses formed from Quidditch training, contrasting starkly with the smoothness of his face and neck. A small muscle twitched in his jaw as he slept, his eyebrows knitting together. She resisted the urge to reach over and smooth the crease with her fingers, as if she could simply ease away his pain with a stroke of her hand.

Her chains clinked as she brought her hands to her face, rubbing at her eyes. Watching Fee and Lucius bid farewell to each other on the platform had hurt, tendrils of despair seeping into her bones as she watched them face each other, both so striking, so magnificent, seeming lost in a moment all to themselves, paying no heed to the hundreds of students and parents weaving around and through them. They looked like gods, imperious and confident and so right together, she dark and dangerous with her long curls falling across violet eyes, thick lashes sweeping across milky cheekbones as she leaned in to brush his cheek with her lips before whispering something in his ear. Him, so light and fair, golden and tall, his movements majestic as he leaned in to accept her kiss, a hand resting on her waist. Rionach felt such jealousy at their easy intimacy, and inadequate at their incredible beauty.

She and Eldred had hung back, him chatting easily about his excitement over the upcoming holiday, she nodding along distractedly as she peered out from beneath the heavy hood of the cloak Fee had given her. Lucius had swept off without a backwards glance, gracefully avoiding the hoards of people like a long-legged antelope picking its way among a sea of rats. Fiorenza had ushered Eldred and Rionach towards the station's floo fireplace, and in a swirl of green flames they arrived in Pozzalo, Italy.

Mr. and Mrs. Zabini were distant and cold to the teenagers staying in their home. Fee's mother was tall, hard and striking, as beautiful as her daughter but in a more arresting, tense way. The angles of her face, collarbone and wrists were sharp and thin, not an inch of extra flesh on her body, giving her a lean, cat-like grace. She wore rich colours that draped artfully around her slim frame, heavy gold jewelry hanging from her ears, throat and fingers. Mr. Zabini was a large man who said little, standing a little behind his wife at all times. Eldred and Rionach were dismissed as soon as they were introduced. She had never been so aware of her place as when she was among the Zabinis.

Now, in the cellar, the familiar prickle was running along her skin; the full moon was about to rise. She closed her eyes, waiting for the pain to envelop her, cloud her senses, but this time, strangely, instead of her wolf speaking to her softly, flickers of warm emotion ran through her instead, bringing slivers of memories to the surface.

Sitting in front of the Black Lake, the sun on my face, red and gold leaves falling around me. Hazy golden sun caressing my neck, my arms, as I stretch out next to Fiorenza. The smell of autumn filling my nose; decaying leaves, damp earth, spices, the last few wild roses. A strange sound escapes my lips; I realize with a jolt that I'm sighing blissfully.

Pain was creeping along her jaw, her eyes, her ears, and yet...it seems to be coming from so far away. She felt like she was floating above her body as another memory drifted into place…

Waking up in the Room, feeling a heavy, comforting weight across my waist. Rich, lemony light bathing me in balmy warmth. I turn my head a little, careful not to move my hair too much. Lucius's face, turned down into the red tresses, the tension eased from his brow. The smell of cigarettes hanging in the air. A hard knot of thorned vines is twisting in my stomach, but the flower blooming in my chest feels so exquisitely wonderful that the pain hardly matters.

She watched her nails grow, the small, pale nail beds deepening and turning steel gray. The process was usually so agonizing, she was used to her wolf whispering soothingly in her ear, but she's not there, and so she slipped into another memory…

His hands. Aristocratic, strong, at once rough and tender. The callouses on the pads of his fingers gently scraping down my face as he traces the path of my tears. The colour in his face, the brightness of his eyes, everything else seeming dull and lifeless in comparison. Those eyes, so full of anguish and loathing, but also longing and regret.

Tears blurred her vision, not from the transformation, but from the need building up inside her, the need to revisit that same memory over and over until she could almost taste the salt on her lip, feel the wind bite her cheek, see the unfamiliar softness in his face. But finally, the wolf was slipping into place, the moon high in the sky, and she began to recede unto herself, hiding away like a little lost girl gripping the bars of her ribcage, tightly closing her eyes against the world, feeling the heavy beat of her heart, yet seeing everything.

Fiorenza and Eldred were bickering at the top of the cellar stairs as dawn rose and the full moon dipped beyond the horizon. Eldred was bright red, glasses askew, and pointing violently at the door while stuttering out his words.

"She's naked Fiorenza! This should be obvious. Why are we even having this discussion?"

"Because you're supposed to be the big protector making sure the wild animal doesn't bite me! And why do you insist on calling me Fiorenza, Eldred? I've told you a thousand times to say Fee," the witch replied crossly.

"Fee is what Lucius calls you. Not me," Eldred insisted.

"Rionach says it too," Fiorenza retorted.

"She doesn't know better. And this is beside the point," the wizard pointed out, adjusting his glasses.

"You're the one with all the werewolf knowledge. What if she tries to bite me or something when I go down there?" Fiorenza asked angrily.

Eldred let out an exasperated sigh. "She won't. Gods...I wish Lucius was here."

"Well, he's not," Fiorenza said, her face softening a little. "Fine. I'll go. But you stay at the top of the stairs, and if I scream, you come down after me. Got it?"

Eldred nodded, pushing his glasses into his hair. Fiorenza gave him a small half smile. "With your hair all messed up, and your glasses off, you look pretty sexy, Worple."

The boy blushed furiously, shaking his head and staring at the ground. "Whatever you say, Fiorenza," he murmured, grinning a little as she rolled her eyes. "Besides, if she bit you in human form, you wouldn't turn into a werewolf anyway."

"Well that's comforting," Fiorenza muttered, and opened the door to the cellar, throwing a threatening glance back at Eldred as she descended the stairs, a robe on one arm and a candle in hand.

Once at the bottom, the yellow glow of the candle illuminated the small girl, who was curled up against the far wall, chains in place and hair falling over her face. "Rionach?" Fiorenza called out hesitantly, setting the candle down on the ground. The girl lifted her head a little, giving her a weak smile. The expression was so guileless, so heart-breakingly honest, that suddenly, all other anxieties faded away, and Fiorenza rushed to her side, draping the robe around the werewolf's shoulders.

"Can you walk?" she whispered, taking note of how the girl trembled beneath her touch.

Rionach started to move, grit her teeth, and stilled again. "In a moment."

Fiorenza nodded, and sat down next to her on the floor. The stones were cool and damp, and she felt a jolt of guilt run through her at the thought of the girl being left down in many other cellars, many other times, just like this one.

Rionach moved her arms to rub warmth into her sides, the chains clanking with the movement. Fiorenza swore softly, quickly leaning over to unlock the manacles. "Sorry, I forgot," she mumbled, shame flushing her cheeks.

Rionach looked at her curiously. "I don't think I've ever seen you blush before, Fee," she commented. Fiorenza glanced sharply up at her, but seeing only a small smile lacking any malice, she relaxed again against the wall.

"Zabini women are meant to be the epitome of poise, beauty and elegance," she said, a far-off look in her eye. "There is no room for blushing schoolgirls."

"That's a lot to live up to," Rionach commented quietly.

Fiorenza shrugged, looking into the other girl's eyes. "We all have our burdens to bear."

Rionach nodded, holding her gaze. The dark-haired girl was the first to break eye contact, standing and brushing off her robes in one fluid motion. "Take my hand," she gently commanded, holding out slim, pale fingers, a silver butterfly ring catching the candlelight.

The werewolf clasped her hand, and held the grasp for a moment, marvelling at the strength in such delicate, pretty fingers. Then she was hauled up, and secured the robe around her body before leaning on Fiorenza for support.

As the two shuffled towards the stairs, Fiorenza muttered, "I'm beginning to see why Lucius likes you so much. You never say anything unnecessary, and you listen like it's all you've ever wanted to do."

She could almost feel Rionach grinning beside her. "And I'm starting to see why Lucius likes you. You have a good heart, Fee. And you're the most loyal person I've ever encountered."

Fiorenza gritted her teeth. "Don't say that in front of too many people. You'll start rumours that the Sorting Hat put me in the wrong house. Nothing worse than being associated with Hufflepuffs." She shuddered, and Rionach laughed out loud.

"Your secret's safe with me," she promised. They shared a little smile, and though small, it was brimming with budding trust and potential friendship.

December 24th, 1969 - Christmas Eve

Lucius

He straightened his shoulders, adjusted the folds of his travelling cloak, and smoothed his hair before stepping through the door of the Zabinis' cottage. The air, though much warmer than in Wiltshire, was still chilly, and the warmth of the house instantly wrapped around his cool hands and cheeks. Strangely, no one was at the door to meet him, and he frowned a little in annoyance.

It was a cozy yet tastefully decorated space. The reddened stucco walls were covered with paintings of flowers and trees, and the furniture was muted tones of brown, red and yellow. A house elf popped into view as Lucius came through the entryway, so he handed over his coat and luggage without a word.

"Mistress and her friends are in the drawing room, Sir. Would Master Malfoy like Janey to take him?" the elf asked, eyes downcast.

"That won't be necessary. This place is so small, I hardly think I will have any trouble finding them," Lucius replied shortly before stepping further into the room. Soft piano music drifted towards him as he moved down the hall, the notes sweet and somehow...sorrowful. As he rounded a corner into the drawing room, he stopped dead, transfixed by the scene before him.

Fiorenza was lying languidly on a daybed, draped in purple silk, an arm covered in silver bangles resting on her forehead. Her eyes were closed, her hair fanned out around her. She was the height of refinement, resembling an artist's tableau, unmoving save for the slight rise of her chest. In the opposite corner, Eldred was lounging against a bookcase, wearing loose, comfortable clothes, his hair surprisingly combed and his glasses perched on his head. His eyes were also closed, and his hands moved of their own accord, following the notes of the music.

Mrs. Zabini sat in a chair near Eldred, and was the only one to notice Lucius enter. She put a long, thin finger to her lips as her eyes met his. She, too, was draped in silk, but it was a rich green, and a wide gold sash was wrapped around her waist. Lucius gave her a small nod, and finally let his eyes travel to the center of the room.

Rionach was sitting at a piano, her back to him, her tiny frame enveloped in a sharp, black blouse, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hair was unbraided, falling down her back. The blouse was tucked into a pair of loose, wide-legged black and white pinstriped trousers, and her feet were bare as they moved between the pedals beneath the instrument. Her hands, so pale and smooth, small doves fluttering across the keys, were playing such sweet music as they moved impossibly fast, her body swaying as she moved from one end of the keys to the other. Her hair, her clothes, her posture, was so out of place and yet so perfect, the contrast between her and the Zabini women astounding.

As she continued to play, Lucius breathed deeply, his chest constricting strangely with the swell of the music, his vision blurring around the edges until it seemed he was peering through a narrow tunnel, and at the end only a delicate girl with glowing red hair was visible. His breath caught at the radiance of the moment, at the vibrance of her, the rest of the world melting away.

When her fingers finally stilled, the room was quiet, each listener wrapped in their own thoughts and dreams. After a few moments, Mrs. Zabini stood and clapped slowly, walking towards Lucius as her hands moved.

"Welcome to our winter home, Lucius. I trust you had no problems finding us?" As she spoke, Rionach's head whipped around, her eyes resting on the blond boy beneath the archway. He was struck by the lightness of her expression, as if the music had wiped away the last of the lines of hurt and anguish from her face, transforming her into someone new, and happy, and beautiful.

Lucius cleared his throat awkwardly as he realised everyone in the room was staring at him, waiting for him to respond. "No problems at all, thank you," he managed to get out, shifting from one foot to the other uncomfortably.

"I apologize for not receiving you formally; you must excuse my terrible manners. I simply could not interrupt your lovely friend here while she entertained us," she said, gesturing towards the piano and the girl still sitting at its bench. Rionach flushed at the compliment, but held his gaze.

"No forgiveness necessary. I understand that you were preoccupied," Lucius replied stiffly, dropping his gaze from Rionach's. Her eyes were so blue, so like the old woman's...images of blood pooling around black rose petals and gray hair were haunting his mind, and he ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I trust you and Mr. Zabini are well?"

His hostess inclined her head, her expression neutral. "Of course. And your parents are in good health, I hope?"

"They are, thank you," he answered politely. He felt a twinge of impatience at the niceties being exchanged; he wanted to step away, to stop being the focus of attention.

As if sensing his annoyance, Mrs. Zabini looked over at her daughter and flickered her finger towards Lucius, the emeralds on her hands glinting as she moved. "Fiorenza, will you show Lucius to his room? I have several appointments in town that I simply cannot be late for. Susi, was it? That was lovely. I had no idea Fiorenza had such an accomplished friend keeping her company." Her daughter stiffened a little at the veiled insult, but flashed her teeth as she smiled and swept out of the drawing room in a swirl of purple silk, Lucius, Eldred and Rionach trailing behind her.

They were silent as they walked, none wanting to speak until safely within the relative privacy of the bedroom. Once inside a large room painted a warm brown with brightly coloured furnishings, one side of the room evidently taken over by Eldred's things, Fiorenza closed the door firmly, turning to Lucius with a smile. "Well? What do you think? An astounding hidden talent, non?"

Lucius nodded, keeping his eyes away from Rionach's. He couldn't look into their icy blue depths without remembering Ophelia, dying under the blade his father gave him. He kept himself busy by rummaging through the luggage that had been set at the end of his bed. "Yes. You've been painting as well, haven't you? Perhaps you were the daughter of artists."

Rionach fell onto the bed, her hair spilling over the edge. Fiorenza joined her, the purple silk of her dress draping a little onto the smaller girl, her dark curls mixing with the red tresses. Lucius took note of their newfound camaraderie; it seemed that certain differences and anxieties had been absolved during his absence.

"It was the most incredible feeling," Rionach murmured, staring up at the chandelier above the bed. "Fee was playing for her mother, and then my fingers started to imitate hers, in the air, as if they were separate from the rest of me. Then when I sat at the piano, this feeling of such rightness washed over me...it felt as if all my life, I've been waiting to sit in front of that piano."

"You were wonderful," Fiorenza said warmly, squeezing the other girl's hand gently. Rionach smiled back at her happily. Lucius felt an odd twinge of jealousy at the exchange, and quickly fought it down, though not before a strange thought passed through his head. I'm supposed to be the only one to make her smile like that.

"How was your birthday?" Eldred asked casually, sitting on his own bed and looking at Lucius expectantly.

"Uneventful," Lucius said shortly, hoping his voice sounded even.

"No special guests?" the other boy asked, watching him critically.

"None. One in particular was invited but he was...detained, elsewhere," Lucius said firmly.

Eldred raised his eyebrows. "Oh."

Fiorenza rolled onto her stomach, propping her chin up on her hands. "What are you boys talking about? What guest?" she asked, brow furrowed.

"It's not important," Lucius said dismissively. "The party was very grand, I received plenty of nice gifts from my parents."

"Oh! That reminds me…" Fiorenza leapt off the bed and exited the room quickly. Lucius barely had enough time to ask where she went when she was back, holding a book-shaped present wrapped in silver paper. "Happy birthday, Lucius!"

"I'll grab mine as well," Eldred said brightly, looking through his bag. He brought out a similarly shaped gift, wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. Lucius took both presents with a small smile, and sat on the bed next to Rionach to open them. She sat up and leaned a little against his shoulder as he tore the wrappings, the warmth of her arm distracting him from the task at hand. He moved away a little so they no longer touched, and tried to ignore the small intake of breath that escaped the girl as he did so.

Fiorenza had given him a first edition copy of Magick Moste Evile by Godelot, and it was a true thing of beauty, the edges of the pages trimmed with gold, and the cover made of well preserved blood-red leather. Lucius gave his friend a peck on the cheek and a whispered "Thank you" in her ear, his fingers lovingly running over the binding of the book.

Eldred's present was, unsurprisingly, a book as well, titled Moste Potente Potions, written by Phineas Bourne. Lucius immediately started thumbing through the pages, his eyes widening at some of the recipes listed. "By the gods, Eldred, this is an excellent gift," he whispered, running his hand over the ingredients for polyjuice potion. "Wherever did you find it?"

"Oh, I have connections," Eldred replied proudly. Fiorenza gave him a strange look, which he ignored. "What time is it? Shouldn't we be getting ready to go out?"

"We're going out?" Lucius asked, an eyebrow raised.

Fiorenza grinned at him, nodding enthusiastically. "It's the night of the Luminari. We'll go out for piles of delicious Italian food, then join in the celebrations. The Muggles here all light bonfires to keep the baby Jesus warm."

Lucius wrinkled his nose. "That's a rather barbaric tradition, is it not?"

Fiorenza rolled her eyes. "Because your precious Dark Lord has always been so civilized, hm?"

Lucius instantly paled, and had to take a deep breath, as if the air had been knocked out of him. His hand trembled slightly, and he closed it into a fist in order to keep it still. His memories of the Solstice celebration were too fresh, and Fiorenza's words had hit a nerve. "His methods, while a bit...medieval...are a means to an end," he muttered, looking down. A tiny, delicate hand wrapped around his fist, and he looked up in surprise at Rionach, who was peering at him with eyes that were wide with concern. He quickly looked away and jerked his hand from beneath hers, trying to ignore the hurt that flitted across her features.

Eldred was frowning, his arms tight across his chest. "I suppose we all do what we must for the greater good," he said cryptically.

Fiorenza shook her head and strode towards the door purposefully. "This conversation is much too dark for a night as merry as this. Come, Rionach. Let's go get ready, and leave the boys to their black thoughts."

The werewolf silently stood and stepped past Lucius, the fabric of her trousers brushing against the fist that was still resting on his knee. She paused, looking back at him before leaving the room, but he kept his eyes focused on the floor, and she followed Fiorenza out without a word.

Rionach

Fiorenza rummaged noisily through her jewelry boxes, alternately holding up various sparkling pendants and chains to the light and shaking her head with a frown before placing it back in the box. Finally, she produced a pair of sapphire earrings that were formed into perfect tear-drops, simple, yet impressively sized stones.

"These, I think," she said confidently, walking over to where Rionach was fiddling in front of a mirror. "What do you think?" she asked, holding one earring up to the side of the other girl's face, admiring how the colour reflected the blue of her eyes.

"Fee, they're beautiful, but I couldn't," Rionach said firmly, carefully pushing away the other girl's hand.

"Well I'm not giving them to you, I just think you should wear them tonight," Fiorenza stubbornly replied, moving her hand back to the other girl's ear and quickly looping the thin wire through her earlobe before she could protest.

"I'm sure I'll just lose them," Rionach insisted, raising a hand to dislodge the pendant.

Fiorenza caught Rionach's hand in her own, meeting the red-head's eyes in the mirror. "You will be dining, in public, with a Zabini and a Malfoy. I'm sure Eldred will be wearing something of Lucius's. Now, these are mine, and I want you to wear them," she countered, leaving no room in her tone for argument. Rionach sighed, and Fiorenza smiled as she looped the other earring through the opposite ear. She moved behind the werewolf, placing her fingertips at the girl's temples and gently moving her head side to side, so the earrings caught the light.

Rionach admired the blue jewels dangling from her ears, allowing herself a small smile of appreciation, and closed her eyes at the warm feeling slithering across her skin. Fiorenza's gentle touches were yet another reminder that her old life was gone, a thing of the past, and these small gestures of intimacy meant more to her than any precious stones ever could.

"Let me do something for you," she said suddenly, her eyes snapping open. Fiorenza raised an eyebrow at her in the mirror. "I'm wearing your jewels, your dress, your shoes. I could fix your hair?" she asked hopefully.

For a moment, she thought she'd said the wrong thing, Fiorenza's expression was so surprised and almost weary. Instead, though, the other girl smiled wide, nodding her head once. "I rarely put my hair up - there's so much of it, and I don't have the time. Could you braid it, like you did yours that day for the Quidditch match?"

Rionach nodded, and pulled up a stool from the corner of the room, gesturing for Fiorenza to sit down. The taller girl obliged, gracefully curling her legs under her, tucking in the short fabric of her little black dress and adjusting her thigh-high stockings. Rionach started by brushing out the dark, silky strands, marvelling at how the hair felt in her hands. "Fee, I have a question."

"Ask away," Fiorenza murmured, leaning back with her eyes closed.

"The three of you always talk about how much you dislike Muggles, but half your closet looks like Muggle clothing," Rionach remarked, gathering one section of hair and starting to braid.

Fiorenza gave a little shrug. "Well, on nights like tonight, we have to blend in. It wouldn't make sense for us to go traipsing around a Muggle city in full-on witches robes."

"True. But all the clothes you gave me look Muggle-made, and even you often wear similar things at school when you don't have to wear robes," Rionach pointed out, securing one of the braids against her head with a pin.

"Well, I'm afraid you've discovered my weakness," Fiorenza said gravely, and gestured towards the drawer of one of the nightstands. "Look in there."

Rionach obliged, and pulled out several magazines with glamorous-looking women on the cover. She immediately realized the pictures weren't moving, and raised an eyebrow at Fiorenza.

"I love Muggle fashion," Fiorenza confessed, sighing. "I know it seems hypocritical, but...Muggle clothes are just so much more inventive, and fun! Women in the wizarding world only ever wear long, buttoned up dresses made of thick, suffocating fabric." She peered up at Rionach, who was now back to standing behind her, a section of hair in hand. "Better not tell Lucius. His family is infinitely more strict than mine, and he complains wholeheartedly whenever he's forced to wear Muggle clothes."

"Duly noted," Rionach replied, pinning up the last of the braids. "All done. What do you think?"

Fiorenza stepped over to the mirror, and smiled wide, reaching up to gently touch the braids with her fingertips. "Gorgeous. Thank you."

Rionach beamed, and went to stand behind her. Fiorenza in black, tall, simple, elegant, Rionach in gray, petite, and sparkling. The taller girl gave a wry grin to their reflections. "I suppose we should rejoin the boys, hm? Hopefully they've lightened up a bit since we left them."

When the girls stepped down to the entryway, heels clipping along the wooden floorboards, the boys were already standing near the door, sharing a flask of what was most likely firewhiskey, and laughing jovially at a shared joke. Eldred lounged easily with a leather jacket thrown over his shoulder, while Lucius stood a little more stiffly, unused to the types of fabrics Muggles wore. They looked up as the girls entered, the laughter dying on their lips.

Lucius already knew Fiorenza was lovely; Merlin, the entire wizarding world knew. But Rionach, ye gods, looked so different. She smiled easily as Fiorenza leaned over to whisper something in her ear, and laughed out loud as the other girl pulled away, giving her a playful jab with her elbow. She stood straighter, and her neck seemed longer, her hair shinier. She met his gaze proudly, only faltering a little when he didn't look away. She raised her chin, almost daringly, challenging him with her eyes.

Eldred broke the silence, letting out a low wolf whistle. "Fiorenza! Look at you!" he said, grinning, and she smiled at him widely, her cheeks turning pink. Rionach took note of the other girl's flushed face with interest, looking from the dark-haired wizard to her new friend and back again.

Fiorenza did a small twirl, showing off her soft, womanly curves. "Rather scandalous, isn't it?"

Lucius recovered, tearing his eyes away from the red-headed girl. "I would expect nothing less from you, Fee," he said, rolling his eyes. Eldred grabbed Fiorenza's coat, an almost obnoxiously large white furry thing, though it looked quite stylish as soon as it slipped around her shoulders.

Lucius automatically grabbed the coat set out for Rionach, but as she approached, he froze, somehow unable to move his arms to offer her the garment. She looked at him questioningly, and he stood, transfixed by her blue eyes, mesmerized by the small amber flecks that swam in the irises. A flash of red caught his eye, and he tore his gaze down to below her chin, where, to his horror, a thin red line started to form along her neck, splitting open her throat in a torrent of crimson fluid.

"NO!" Lucius leapt forward, a strangled noise erupting from his throat, knocking back the small girl as he lunged for her throat to stop the bleeding. She hit the ground hard, surprised, his hands pressing the coat against her neck. "Oh gods, not you, you can't die on me-"

"LUCIUS!" Rionach had quickly recovered from the shock of the fall and held his wrists firmly, stopping his frantic movements. He froze on top of her, looking down at her smooth, creamy white neck. Not a drop of blood to be seen.

"You...I thought I saw…" Lucius crawled back onto his knees, putting his hands on his face.

Rionach sat up, reaching her hands out to his, bringing them away from his eyes. "Lucius. I'm all right. See?" She brought one hand to her chest, and his breathing slowed as he felt the steady, reassuring beat of her heart beneath his palm.

Fiorenza stepped forward, placing a hand on Lucius's shoulder. "Lucius...what happened at your birthday party?"

He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut and withdrawing his hand from Rionach's chest. "Nothing. It was nothing. It's just a lack of sleep…"

Fiorenza frowned down at him. "If you're sleeping so poorly that you're having waking nightmares, that's serious, Lucius. You should see a Healer."

Lucius sighed, standing and undoing his hair, running a hand through the blond strands before re-tightening the ribbon around them. "I'll see Pomfrey once we're back at school."

He reached out to grab Rionach's coat from the floor, but Fiorenza gripped his shoulder again, staring at him fiercely. "Promise?"

Lucius nodded. "I promise."

Rionach quickly slipped into her coat, then stepped back, watching Lucius carefully. "We don't have to go out tonight, if you're not up to it-"

"I'm fine," Lucius snapped. Seeing the werewolf stiffen, he softened his tone, offering his arm. He looked back at her, avoiding her eyes and looking above her head. "Really. I'd like to be...distracted, tonight."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her nod, and the four stepped out of the house. Eldred, closing the door behind them, leaned against it a little before returning to Fiorenza's side; he hadn't said a word during the entire ordeal, and felt a horrible ache in his stomach, the guilt he'd hidden so deep starting to gnaw its way out.

Several hours later, bellies full, plenty of wine and whiskey consumed and the unsettling event in the entryway almost forgotten, Eldred, Lucius, Fiorenza and Rionach stood next to a particularly large roaring fire, relishing in the heat it gave off and admiring the performers dancing in the streets. Someone behind them was playing music, and children were clapping their hands excitedly whilst bouncing around the dancers.

Eldred, feeling particularly confident thanks to the amount of alcohol he'd consumed and the expensive clothes Lucius had leant him, stepped in front of Fiorenza with a flourish, extending a hand out to her while pushing his glasses up to his hair. "Would the lady care for a dance?" he asked roguishly, wriggling his eyebrows in a way that he probably thought was enticing but caused the other three to snort into their hands.

Fiorenza dipped into a low curtsy, placing her hand in his. "The pleasure is all mine," she replied with a wink, then squealed as Eldred roughly pulled her into the street, twirling her sloppily among the children, though Fiorenza was so naturally elegant that it hardly seemed awkward at all.

Rionach giggled, though a hiccough abruptly halted her sounds of merriment. "Wine is a wonderful thing," she said dreamily, leaning against Lucius.

The blond raised an eyebrow, looking down at the pile of red hair that barely reached his shoulder. "Am I correct in assuming this is your first encounter with that delightful beverage?"

Rionach nodded against his side, grinning wide. "That I know of!" She leaned forward a bit too far, and Lucius hastily brought his arm around her shoulders to steady her against him. When she seemed less in danger of pitching forward, he dropped his arm back behind him.

"Why'd you leave?" Rionach asked between hiccoughs, looking up at him pleadingly.

"I didn't leave. I'm right here," Lucius replied, keeping his gaze on Fiorenza and Eldred.

"No I mean...why did your arm leave?" Rionach asked quietly, turning her head back to the fire. "When we're in the Room, you keep your arm around me, but now…" She shrugged against him. "Are you...embarrassed, of me?"

Lucius's body went rigid, and he said nothing, furiously staring ahead.

"Lucius...Lucius, look at me!" she insisted, raising a hand to his chin and jerking his face down to hers. Smoky gray eyes met icy blue, and despite his taught composure, he swallowed nervously at her touch, longing written in her gaze.

"Are you embarrassed by me?" she asked again, hurt clearly reflected in her stare.

Lucius closed his eyes, breathing in the smoke of the fire and her fresh scent, always tinged with sweetness. "No. I'm not embarrassed."

She watched him carefully, the drunken haze lifted as the intensity of the situation was magnified. "You're afraid, then."

"Yes," he whispered, keeping his eyes shut. He couldn't lie to her. He wasn't sure he could ever lie to her again.

"What are you afraid of?" she asked softly. Her hand moved from his chin to his cheek, her touch unbelievably soft, tracing the lines of his face.

"I'm afraid…" he stopped, unsure how to explain, unsure if he should explain. He knew that he should step away now, shatter her hopes, ignore the heavy beat of his heart, but he was too selfish, and he knew it would break him to hurt her again.

"I'm afraid that if I start touching you, I'll never be able to stop," he said, so quietly, his words barely lifted above the crackle of the fire, the beat of the music.

He opened his eyes, and she leaned forward, and for a moment he thought she might kiss him, and he wanted her to, more than anything he'd ever wanted in his life, but instead she moved up on her toes and her lips brushed against his ear. He closed his eyes in relief and regret.

"Dance with me," she whispered, and he nodded against her temple, his hands travelling down to her waist, and then they were dancing, white and red hair blurring in the firelight, the horrors of their lives melting away with each stroke of the violin and clap of their hands. After a few songs, they would switch partners, sometimes with their friends, sometimes with the strangers in the streets, but before they went home, Rionach danced once more in Lucius's arms, a cigarette dangling from his fingers, her face heavy against his chest, the moon hanging low and bright above them.