She looked at herself in the mirror.
Her hair was long. Since when did that happen? That hadn't been a conscious decision on her part. It usually scarcely went below her shoulders, now it was easily scraping at her mid-back. It wasn't necessarily a bad look - she'd often flirted with the idea of letting it grow out, in fact, but it had snuck up on her how long it had in fact gotten.
She'd looked worse. Weight had been escaping her at an alarming weight even before the attack, but now she looked to have reclaimed some of that. Through laziness over anything else, definitely.
Shame she was about to completely change all of that, though.
She'd kept herself locked away for so long that as soon as she'd broken the seal, it all came through. Being in that room for any waking moment sickened her. Now there was a choice involved, the illusion had shattered. From the second she woke up and was again met with that unfamiliar ceiling, she knew the plan.
Lifting the top off the wooden crate, she picked out another vial.
"Sup, Abbott."
It was true, the more time she spent in the open, the more she was welcoming exposure. She was acting irresponsibly but she rationalised it with the simple fact that she did not trust herself alone in that room anymore. She was damned if she did, damned if she didn't. So with that logic in mind… she might as well settle for the most fun of two evils. And "fun" was a luxury she'd not considered on the table for a while.
The barmaid lit up at the sight of her. She thought that was odd. Either this stranger was genuinely that happy to see her, or she was just very good at being a barmaid. The again, she supposed she was thankful no lingered awkwardness from their last encounter remained. It was more likely the latter of the two options, she knew, but it still served her heart a little good to see.
"Carly! No - Cara!" she smacked herself on the forehead. "Right! Of course! Merlin's Beard, it'll set in soon enough!"
Her face broke into a rare smile. Those were muscles she hadn't used in a while.
"How'd you sleep?"
She slowed on her way into the barstool, having to think suddenly.
"Awfully. If you're this close to the train station, you should have sound proofing charms on the rooms."
She tutted.
"Well, I do! But they only last so long, see, and it's such a guess when they're goin' to wear off! Half the time, I don't even know they've worn off because the guests just end up castin' them themselves without alertin' me!"
The thought had occurred to her and had only succeeded in making her more upset.
If she was capable of performing magic anymore, she probably would have.
"- outside from that, how're you doin', deary? Notice you're comin' down a lot more now, work going good, is it?"
"Time consuming, but it's getting done. A slow process… But you have to trust the process."
She was trying to convince herself of that answer as much as she were Mrs Abbott.
The barlady smiled.
"Aww, well that's good to hear! The usual, will it be?"
That was a good question. She wasn't having another pint. They tasted like piss and she couldn't afford it. But removing that, she didn't didn't know what else to order. Wine was her usual go-to, but she still had half a bottle of that upstairs - and even if she didn't, if she thought the beer was expensive here, she'd have a heart attack if she looked at the wine menu…
"... you serve food?"
Mrs Abbott smiled, again, like the question had somehow made her day.
"We do indeed! I'll get you the menu, shall I?"
She gestured vaguely in agreement and returned a moment later with an unfortunately small menu. She scanned the card and wasn't impressed with what she saw. Deciding to play it safe, she chose a default that would be difficult to mess up.
"... Eggs, sausage, chips and beans."
A floating quill scratched onto a notepad beside the barlady.
"Gooood choice. Always a favourite. And what drink will that be?"
Internally, she gave a sigh of annoyance.
If it came with a drink, she'd be wasting her money paying for it, but not having one. Not to mention she usually liked being able to wash her food down as she ate… But then she was right back where she started. Although, who said she had to have alcohol?
"Tea."
"Uh-huh. Sugar?"
She shook her head.
"Thaaaat makes sense."
She arched an eyebrow. She expected a follow up to that statement but received none.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Mrs Abbott waved her away with a fake smile.
"Nothing at all, honey!"
She pursed her lips, considering the woman before her.
She was getting brave. She watched her over her nose and saw careful concentration in her eyes. She was being watched back. The situation was clear to her - Mrs Abbott had made a joke and was now waiting to see how it was taken.
Narrowing her eyes, she shifted to a more defensive position. She had a few options how she could react to that. She could laugh with her, thereby letting Mrs Abbott know she was open to banter and further conversation… Or she could shut it down, tell her it wasn't funny and she wasn't here to make friends. That was probably the smartest option. Or she could leave her guessing and blank the comment completely, leaving her unsure if she was heard and ignored or not.
She knew the correct option and the one the saviour that brought her here would push her toward. She also knew that that option would be extremely boring and destine her to more nights alone under the unfamiliar ceiling.
With a single puff of the chest, a dry chuckle escaped her lips. It wasn't entirely an honest one, but the joy it created on Mrs Abbotts face made the smile that followed genuine.
"I'll get Ol' Tom right on that!"
Grinning, she walked toward a door behind the bar, turning back to her as she reached for the handle. Her face lined, turning more professional than she usually held herself.
"That'll be about a twenty minute wait, is that alright love? Anythin' else you'll just have to give us a shout. Help yourself to the paper as you wait."
She gave a vague gesture of acknowledgment. As Mrs Abbott exited through the back, she gave a thin smile of self amusement.
What a miracle it was to have these concerns. How alien her life had become. How much had her life changed recently where deciding what drink to have with breakfast had become the biggest conflict occurring in her life? It was practically unthinkable.
She was a far cry away from Death Eaters and Werewolves now.
Her eyes trailed along the bar to the rolled up parchment, the one Mrs Abbott had suggested. With her company now absent, suppose it was actually a chance to read the paper finally.
/ A NEW BEAST AMONG US? /
First Published December 15th, 1995
Two nights ago, a pureblood family's Christmas holidays were ruined when they suffered the attack of a confirmed group of werewolves. The exact identities of those involved are unknown, but Fenrir Greyback, infamous werewolf serial killer, has been confirmed to have been on the scene. The attacks follow the pattern of Grayback's preferences - four children were present in the house, but were defended from harm by Auror Nymphadora Tonks and, in a shocking twist of events, ex-Hogwarts Professor and known werewolf collaborator, Remus Lupin. It is unknown if Mr Lupin's presence at this attack was coincidence, but reports say he is under Auror investigation.
While our brave Aurors were able to prevent any fatalities, Grayback and his pack escaped into the night, leaving behind a burning crisp of the Weasleys residence and their oldest son, one Weasley, Mr William "Bill" Weasley in critical condition. Reports have confirmed he was indeed bitten by Grayback. The staff at the Daily Prophet extend our deepest regards and pity for the Weasley family's tragedy.
This is all one week following Senior Undersecretary Delores Umbridge's comments about halfbreeds being a danger to society. When questioned about the attack, Mr Amos Diggory, Head of the Beast Division in the Ministry, was quoted as saying: "It simply cannot go on. We've been understanding, we've given them jobs, anonymity and where has it gotten us? We already don't know who we can trust these days." Following this, Vise-Head Chiara Lobosca offered a more placid approach, "Werewolves are people too. There are good people and there are bad people. This was the work of bad people. The good do not deserve to be ostracised for this."
When questioned, Minister Rufus Scrimger refused to comment.
With yet another werewolf on the scene, will the ministry finally take steps to protect the general public against themselves? This reporter doubts it.
- Rita Skeeter
She stared at the picture of the bloodied man, reading the names back to herself. The man was lying in a St. Mungo's hospital bed, staring dead-eyed and a gaping, bloody slash opening his chest in two.
The paper trembled in her hand slightly. She felt a knot of tension that'd been building away for days suddenly intensify. A sickening, icy shiver slithered down her throat and welled in the pit of her stomach. For a moment, it took all her effort just to continue breathing as the headline began to blur.
She'd been unfortunate enough to have once seen the aftermath of one of Grayback's attacks first hand. A muggle couple on a camping trip had wandered too close to their camp. By the time she and the rest had caught up with him, there had been nothing but chewed masses of flesh and the sweaty, pungent smell of human blood in the air. Even the ground had been torn apart beneath them. That image had haunted her dreams for months afterward…
Bill had always been the proud, brave sort. He was older than her and her friends and, despite him being a Gryffindor, he was the sort of man she could look up to. A natural born leader and a loyal friend. Nobody deserved Graybacks treatment, but Bill was among those that seemed untouchable by that kind of thing. But she also knew it was far worse than that. The injustice on the report stood out to her, but not nearly as much as the overwhelming, burdening feeling of guilt that followed up.
Because she knew that that was not just a werewolf attack.
"You quite alright, deary?"
She flinched. She gotten so invested that she hadn't realised she was no longer alone. She fumbled the paper and placed it face down, so she ought not look at the image any longer. She didn't move quick enough for her actions not to be noticed, though.
"Oh, it's a terrible thing, isn't it? Poor Bill Weasley. The Weasleys have always been the sweetest lot…" Mrs Abbott shook her head, grimacing deeply.
Now, breathing deeply and with a sickeningly dry mouth, she considered the barlady before her again. She wondered, to what extent could she trust this woman? It was said people would tell their barman what they wouldn't tell their lawyer. And she seemed pleasant enough, she'd given her company and support in her time of need. But that was only her doing her job. She didn't think there was any malicious or secondary intent behind any of it, but she had been wrong before. How far could this hired-friend be trusted?
She glanced around at the empty bar to make sure there was no chance of being overheard.
Then, as she opened her mouth, she realised she had nowhere to begin. There was absolutely nothing she could say to her right now that would make any sense. Everything was happening so fast, there was so much wrong with this situation that she didn't know where to start - if she should at all.
"... I... I knew him," she settled on.
This time it was her studying Mrs Abbot, watching her posture and waiting for a flicker of emotion behind the eyes. When Mrs Abbotts expression did indeed change, it softened, her eyebrows receding into her hairline and her bottom lip becoming more prominent.
"Awww, bloody hell, did you? Mates, were you?"
She felt her defence come down. She gave a single, closely guarded nod.
"... we went to school together."
She nodded knowingly.
"Mmm. His brothers in my daughter's year. Never met Bill myself, but Molly was a few years ahead of me in Hogwarts… Sweetest woman you ever did meet, always took care of the youngin's! I wasn't even in her house! Course… she was only Molly Prewett back then…"
While Mrs Abbott's voice dripped with nostalgia, she could feel her own anger beginning to kindle.
"Oh, I'll have to send her an owl with my love!" she clapped her hands together. "Though, I suppose she'll be absolutely flooded with them today… Want me to mention your name as well? Might stick out a bit more if Bill can get to hear from you too. Should I send him your love, yeah?"
She looked away, sickened by the thought, but willing herself to look as calm as the room around her.
She wanted to get out of here. She was a sitting duck out in the open. If they thought what happened to Bill was bad - that was nothing compared to the fate that awaited her.
"Carly?"
She stood up, feeling almost dizzy. She wasn't hungry anymore.
She mumbled something along the lines of an apology and excused herself. Mrs Abbott said something more, but she'd already mentally checked out at this point. Her body was moving on its own. It wanted safety. And with her head a jumble of mixed contradictions and feelings, she had one, guttural instinct ring over them all. Something inside her snapped and just like that, as though it were a simple flick of a switch, she gave up. All of a sudden, she didn't want to make friends, nor try to escape her situation whatsoever. In fact, the only thing she did want to do was get as far away as possible. Back to peaceful isolation.
She wobbled slightly, her knees weaker than usual, and steered herself toward the staircase. But the second she moved, her body screamed. Screamed at her to run. That she needed to get away. That it was going to happen again. That she shouldn't turn her back on the enemy. She was in danger. She was in danger right now.
She forced a brisk pace to her room door. It took a hard clenching of her lungs not to break into a run. The pub passed by like a blur.
As soon as she closed the door to her room, that strength ran out. She pushed her back against it, trying viciously to control her breaths. The room began to blur under a filter of tears.
Her want for more, her desire to rebuild - all of it was there and present, but it was being drowned out. She accepted and acknowledged all the thoughts she was having, and probably did care about them in some tightly-locked part of her head, but they paled in comparison to the daunting reality now descending upon her.
She couldn't keep pretending that she was some nobody in room fourteen.
It mattered. It mattered to her that her friend was lying with his guts exposed in a hospital bed. Or, someone who was once her friend. Regardless. It mattered. She had screwed up big time and almost cost Bill his life. There was no excuse for what had been done. And she had been involved. She could have stopped it. She could have done more.
She shook that thought from her head almost violently; thinking about it now would be a mistake.
And then there was a knock at the door.
A familiar fear rushed over her. The clouds outside appeared to grow harsher, giving life to the shadows in the room. It was as though water had begun seeping in around her and the bedroom walls suddenly rose ten feet, blocking off any escape. The torrent pushed and tugged, but she refused to let it move her.
She forced out a breath, slouching herself against the door. Slowly, she brought the knife out from her skirt.
"... who is it?"
"It's Alice, honey! Mrs Abbott! You forgot your breakfast!"
But that didn't sound true. It didn't sound true one bit.
Taking her time, she delicately brought herself back. She pushed herself to blink through the rising tears, forcing them silently down her face. The thumping in her chest began to placate.
"... leave it on the floor."
Only after any and all signs of life vanished from the corridor did the door creak open again.