Show Me All Your Scars, I'll Be Delighted
Summary: When more of Dumbledore's secrets come out, Ivy concocts a plan to escape. She goes through the Veil and settles in Beacon Hills, searching for the family that was stolen from her.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Teen Wolf, or anything else. None of it is mine. I appreciate all of the encouraging reviews. As for the select few who like to post reviews about how unoriginal my story is, if this isn't your cup of tea, just click out and go somewhere else already. I write for fun, not for reviews.
\Line} Line {Line/
Chapter 7: You Had Me At
…"We'll Make It Look Like An Accident"
\Line} Line {Line/
There was a soft knock on her door and Wren turned, blinking in surprise when she saw Peter hovering in the doorway, clearly unsure of his welcome.
His mouth opened and closed a few times as he struggled with what to say, until his eyes caught on the two tops she was debating on.
One was a deep, wine red and the other a light shade of blue.
"If you want my opinion, that red top is gorgeous on you, highlights your skin tone," he advised.
Wren glanced between them before deliberately folding up the red blouse and tucking it into her suitcase, a spare Erica had given her.
After accepting the offer to come with them to Mexico, Derek had dropped her off at her apartment to pack. Erica had given her a spare suitcase and helped, though it was less packing and more poking through her closet, trying on her clothes.
The blonde had gotten hungry and given up after the first hour, leaving to go out to eat with Boyd. Apparently the two had finalized their relationship.
Wren was more than fine with it. She liked the quiet as she worked, packing what she wanted to take with her and leaving what she didn't.
The wards were set to preserve and protect everything in her absence. It was blocked from all break-ins or interference, magical or otherwise.
Moving further into the room, Peter perched on the edge of her bed, muscles tense, prepared to bolt at the slightest hint of conflict.
Wren considered him thoughtfully and reached for the whiteboard she kept close, scribbling what she wanted to say with a marker.
I don't bite, you know. You can relax.
It startled a chuckle out of him as some of the tension drained from his shoulders.
"I do believe you'd be well within your rights for a bit of payback. I wasn't kind to you when you tried to tell me," Peter shook his head tiredly, eyes going to his hands as he leaned forward, bracing his weight against his thighs.
Abandoning her packing for the moment, Wren moved over and sat down beside him, hooking her arm through his and leaning against him.
With her free hand, she wrote down what she wanted to say before holding it in front of him so he couldn't avoid it.
Sure it wasn't the warmest welcome. That's okay. I get it.
He barked out a rough laugh. "What is it exactly that you 'get'? I was in a coma for six years, trapped in my mind, and when I finally got out, I was literally insane. I've been better since I came back but I'm not good by any stretch."
Leaning against him, Wren hummed quietly for a moment. She debated briefly before deciding to go for it. If she wanted an actual relationship with her biological father, then she needed to try.
She drew back, leaving her arm loosely tangled with his, as she started writing, the squeaks of the marker filling the quiet.
I 'get' how it is to lose everything. I know how it feels to look in the mirror and not recognize the person staring back. For the record, I'm not 'good' by any stretch either.
"Did you actually rip someone's throat out? You mentioned that when we met," he questioned, curious.
The unexpected question made her smile, mirth filling her eyes.
No, there was no throat ripping. But I did burn someone to death with just my hands one time.
Peter stared, eyes wide with a trickle of fear and astonishment. "You did what now?"
He tried to kill me first. I was just returning the favor.
"How old were you? And who was this?" His eyes were starting to glow that icy blue and she offered a small smile.
Eleven. He was one of my teachers.
Peter growled furiously, voice promising pain. "He should have never been around children then. Good riddance."
Wren cocked her head, studying him in interest.
"What?"
I've never had anyone genuinely worried for me before. It's just a weird experience.
Her biological father seemed torn then, his face doing a complicated series of expressions. She only caught a few of them, sorrow, guilt, and anger.
"Well, you'll get used to it," he promised, grin showing just a bit of fang. "Ever been to Mexico before?"
Glad for the subject change, she shook her head.
I've only ever been to England and Scotland.
He lit up, grin widening as he turned to face her. "Oh it's wonderful. There's all these beautiful beaches and some honestly breathtaking views of nature-"
Sitting the board in her lap, Wren listened attentively as he described the wonders of Mexico.
She was eager to see some of them herself with him.
It wasn't instant, the bond between father and daughter, but it was a small step in the right direction.
It was a start.
\Line} Line {Line/
"Is this a bad time to tell you I think we should go on a break?"
Laughter bubbled up in her throat but she couldn't vocalize it, amusement filling her eyes as she shook her head fondly.
Scribbling down what she wanted to say to this ridiculous boy, Wren held it up for him to see.
That's probably a good idea. I'm not in the right headspace for a relationship and you deserve the chance to explore what you want.
Stiles sighed loudly in relief, slumping back against his desk chair. "Oh thank God. I thought this was gonna end our friendship and you'd stop talking to me or something."
Wren raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the bandage around her throat.
"You know what I mean, smarty pants," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I thought you'd be more hurt and angry I guess."
I'm not upset, Stiles. It's okay. Just a heads up, I'm not going to stop flirting with you because I do fancy you. I think you're stunning, inside and out, and any girl would be lucky to date you.
"That-that's…" he faltered, blushing hotly. "Do you mean that?"
Standing from her perch at the foot of his bed and ripping off a small piece of the notepad, Wren moved over to him and leaned down to kiss his cheek softly, pressing it into his hand.
He looked down and saw what she had written.
If you're ever ready for something serious between us, I'd be happy to take that chance.
He looked back up at her, still blushing, and she grinned brightly, smacking a kiss to his other cheek before bouncing out of the room with a wave over her shoulder.
\Line} Line {Line/
"Excited?"
Twisting in her seat, Wren nodded at her father, who'd chosen the seat next to her, while Erica sat across the aisle, Cora next to her, Boyd and Derek in front of them.
I love flying. I've never flown in an airplane before so this is new.
He frowned, confused. "Then how did you fly? Were you in a private jet or something?"
Or something.
She grinned as he chuckled, not pushing for an answer.
"Fine, keep your secrets," he told her, shaking his head as he pulled out a book.
She peeked over to see the title, eyes widening in surprise.
The Intricacies of Banshees
"It's a journal detailing the account of someone who studied the cultures of banshees," he explained, seeing her interest. "I procured it a few years before the fire but I never got around to reading it. Would you like to borrow one?"
She nodded eagerly, eyes wide, and took the leather bound time he fished out of his satchel for her.
The History of Werewolves
Flipping it open, Wren flashed him a thankful smile before diving into the book, eyes drinking in the information enthusiastically.
That was how they spent the next four and a half hours, both deep into research. Two hours in, Wren lifted her head and glanced over.
Feeling her eyes, Peter looked over and raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"
Scribbling on her notepad, Wren passed it to him.
causes the change in eye color from blue to gold? Is it because of guilt or because the person that was killed was truly innocent?
do hunters have a code if they don't stick to it? 'We hunt those who hunt us' seems like it could have a lot of loopholes to exploit.
have a hierarchy. I knew about Alphas and Betas but what does the Left and Right Hand mean? And what's an Emissary?
Peter read through the list, eyebrows furrowing in concern when he read through the first one. "Darling, if this is about your blue eyes, you have nothing to worry about. Whether the soul is innocent or not, if you feel even an ounce guilty for it, your eyes change. It is possible for someone to kill someone and have gold eyes. Those are the ones you need to watch out for because they don't feel guilt at killing, none at all."
Wren nodded slowly, considering the information, before tapping the next question.
"It was originally put into place by the Tribunal. It's a council of people who govern the hunters. The code was put into place so that creatures who did harm to the innocent, werewolves included, would be taken care of. It's been twisted over the years as hunters use it when they want to. It's an endless cycle," he explained, growing resentful and sorrowful as he kept his voice low. "They fear us so they hunt us, we fear them and hide until we can't do anything but fight back, then the cycle repeats again."
It was quiet for a moment between them before he cleared his throat, moving on to the last question.
"The Alpha is the one who takes care of the Pack, yes, but the Pack takes care of them in return," he started, voice knowing and confident. "The Right Hand of the Alpha is usually their chosen mate. Their role is to provide them with guidance and search for the most peaceful route to take, serving as a conscience of sorts. The Left Hand, however, is the opposite. They're the one who takes care of threats in the shadows and the one that puts the Pack before everything, even peace. I was the Left Hand once."
There was grief and pain in his voice, blue eyes hazy as he stared straight ahead, lost in memories.
Leaning over, Wren rested her head on his shoulder as she wrote a quick message, holding it up for him to see.
I wasn't part of a Pack, not like the way you were. But I suppose you could say I was the Left Hand once. It's not a position to be ashamed of, though it takes a toll.
Peter stared at the words for a moment, considering her speculatively, before nodding, arm shifting under her to wrap around her shoulders timidly.
He relaxed when she snuggled into him, getting comfortable.
"Yes, yes it does," he whispered, low enough to only be heard by her.
\Line} Line {Line/
Cancun was beautiful.
Wren didn't know where to look first, swiveling her head around with wide eyes as she tried to take in everything.
It was a blur of color and voices as they took a bus to their resort and checked in.
Erica, Cora, and Wren were to share a room while Derek, Boyd, and Peter shared one.
Fortunately, their rooms were directly next to each other so they could react fast if anything bad happened.
"Mine!" Erica screeched, throwing herself out on the large bed in the middle.
Cora rolled her eyes and took the one closest to the door while Wren set her stuff down on the one closest to the balcony, moving to explore that first.
Sliding the door open, she stepped out onto the balcony and gazed around in awe.
A sparkling white beach sprawled out in front of her, small groups of people settled on the sand or playing in the water, enjoying the beautiful day.
"We're about to head out there," Cora nodded to the beach as she joined her, leaning on the railing. "Do you have a bathing suit to use?"
Wren shook her head, eyes still glued to the white sand.
I've never seen a beach like this before. It's beautiful.
"Yeah," the she-wolf smiled, agreeing. "It's okay, you can borrow one of mine if you want."
Nodding, Wren tore her eyes away reluctantly and followed her cousin back into the room.
She changed into the simple lavender two piece Cora gave her, pairing it with a pair of lace denim shorts and a white t-shirt, slipping into brown sandals.
As they met up with the boys and headed down to the beach, Wren stuck to the back, eyes roving around.
She didn't follow the others into the water and plopped down on a beach towel under an umbrella, opening the book she'd borrowed to continue where she'd left off.
"Don't you want to go play in the water? It looks rather refreshing," Peter questioned as he dropped down next to her on his own towel.
Wren shook her head and glanced up from her book to write something on her notepad, offering it for him to see.
I don't like big open water like that. It's beautiful but dangerous.
His eyes narrowed, drawing conclusions based on the things he'd noticed. "You're afraid of the water. Why?"
I drowned once so I'm not really interested in reliving that experience.
He nodded slowly, digesting the information. "Well, if you ever want to try, none of us would ever let you drown. You'd be perfectly safe."
You know, I actually kind of believe that. Thanks.
She smiled gratefully, showing what she wrote.
Peter smiled back, keeping her company as she read, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere.
\Line} Line {Line/
It was night when they finally left the beach, lingering to watch the sunset together before retreating to the hotel to get freshened up.
Dinner was spent at a small local place that served burritos and tacos. Wren hadn't had anything like it before but Erica convinced her to try the fish tacos and she liked those.
A few members of Cora's Pack came to eat with them. Wren didn't interact much with them, content to watch her cousin's smiles as she laughed.
That is, until someone had to pop her bubble.
"Well aren't you gorgeous," a blonde boy with blue eyes settled next to her, lazy smile in place.
Wren raised an eyebrow and pointedly swept her eyes over him, distinctly unimpressed, before she turned away in a clear dismissal.
Instead, she pulled out her phone and snapped a picture of the rest of her fish tacos, sending it to Stiles.
To The Man With A Plan:
Have you tried fish tacos before? They're delicious!
She smiled and set to finishing her food, noting in amusement the threatening glare her father was giving the boy who'd invaded her bubble.
"Any chance you're free tomorrow? I'd love to give you a private tour of the city," he leaned closer, winking.
Looking up from her phone, Wren wrinkled her nose in disgust as the smell of overpriced cologne and sweat invaded her nose.
She snatched up her pen and wrote on a napkin, folding it up and handing it to him with a pretty smile.
His smirk widened, thinking it worked, and he opened it, smirk falling as his eyes took in the words.
No, I'm bloody expensive and uninterested in anything you could possibly offer me.
"Your loss. It would have been the best night of your life," he huffed, insulted.
Writing on another napkin, she held it up for him to see.
I highly doubt that. Now go away.
Affronted, he quickly abandoned his seat and swaggered over to the other end of the bar, where there were a group of girls giggling into their drinks.
"Thank God, I thought he'd never take a hint," Peter rolled his eyes in exasperation, making her smile.
Her phone beeped, catching her attention.
From The Man With A Plan:
They have fish tacos?! What?! I need to try this immediately.