the sirens are screaming and the fires are howling way down in the valley tonight

The hall echoed by the sound of her feet hammering towards the cold, stone floor. Her ragged breath was stuck in her throat and her heart was pounding loudly behind her rib cage. Behind her she could hear her pursuers curse under their breath, their footsteps only a few meters away from her. Jessica panted loudly, having run for a little while, and turned a corner just barely missing a hex flying her way. It missed her by an inch and Jessica felt panic shoot through her already adrenaline-filled body. Turning to magic curses, are we now? She thought sarcastically, shooting mental arrows at the group behind her. She sped up, turning a sharp corner again, dashing up the stairs to the seventh floor. She flew up the stairs, two at the time. Remind me, how did I get into this mess to begin with? She mentally thought to herself.

Trouble seemed to always find her, or maybe she sought trouble, or a mix of both? Regardless, as always her cheeky mouth had gotten her in trouble once more. Well, really, it was they who were out to get her to begin with, always waving their hands at her, spitting foul words at her, calling her names. Out to get her. She only had the decency to defend herself, or in this case, the stupidity to reply back when they were calling her names. And so, one thing had led to the other, and now here she was, running for her life. Why wouldn’t they just leave her alone? She wasn’t doing anything at all! All they wanted her for was her blood status, her supposed lie about the fact that her father was a muggle. Apparently they didn’t believe that she had magical blood in her, or, they didn’t think it counted. She was dirty, and abomination in their eyes. Well fuck that! She wouldn’t stand for it. She was so tired of being chased around, and the wolf in her agreed. Had the wolf in her had her way, she would’ve ripped their throats out. Fortunately for her pursuers, she did not have the power to will the wolf form out whenever she found it convenient, but she did possess the wolf’s fierce lust for vengeance.

Jessica could hear the group of Slytherins coming up the stairs behind her and Jessica panickly reached for the first door. Locked! She ran up the hall and turned to the left, just as the group behind her emerged from the stairs. “Where is she?!” she could hear one of them ask. “I’m gonna fucking kill her for this!” another one said, and Jessica couldn’t help but to smirk remembering the hex she hit him with. Jessica had no time to gloat about her excellent spellsmanship, and she tried a new door. Fuck! They were all locked. She had to be smart. She needed a decoy. Panting, running, Jessica waved her wand, creating something that looked like a shadow of herself. She wasn’t entirely sure what it was she had crated, all she knew was that she could send it flying in the opposite direction, hoping the group would be stupid enough to follow. She sent it flying across the hall. She waited. They went for it, chasing it. Jessica flattened herself against the wall in the shadows, watching as the group flew right past her without noticing her and following her decoy. Her heart fluttered with relief, but it would not take long before they found out and came after her again. She pushed herself from the wall and tried another door.

It was open.

Jessica jerked the door open and slammed it shut behind her, uttering a sealing spell on it as she did so. It happened so fast, and as the spell settled Jessica had twirled around with her back against the door. Her eyes were shut. Her breath was loud and panting. She was safe. Relief flooded her, but the wand was still clutched hard in her hand. Jessica could feel something prickle down her left temple. Sweat? She reached with her left hand to touch the liquid and opened her eyes. Blood? She couldn’t remember being hit, but her head was thumping loudly so she must’ve been. It was probably nothing, and she dared not go out in the hall just yet. She would have to wait it out here. But, where exactly was here? Jessica lifted her gaze and finally let her eyes wander about the room. However she did not have the time to take in the interior of the room as her eyes landed on a figure. She froze on the spot. There, sprawled across a settee, laid a handsome man, his eyes piercing hers. The only sound she could hear was the sound of her loud heart and the rapid intake of air from her lips. She didn’t take her eyes off him, and she clutched her wand tighter. "Fuck," she muttered under her breath. 

the sirens are screaming and the fires are howling way down in the valley tonight

Her enthralling brown eyes took in the sight of Verrell Chevalier, the slightly older Slytherin boy she had met so very many times before. He was seldom the main tormenter of her troubles, but he was seldom very far behind, hissing this or that insult her way. She loathed him! She did! She despised everything he stood for, everything he did to her, all that he made her feel. She did not understand him, or his motives, or why he did what he did, and she certainly did not understand how he could affect her so!

Images of their last encounter were left printed on her mind. Recalling it was only too easy. It was not so long ago that their encounter had been much intimate than it was in this exact moment. She could almost feel her pulse quickening just by thinking of it. How could she have been so blind? Intoxicated by alcohol and freedom she had not recognized his scent, and so, the two had met under strange circumstances that had led them out of the room, away from the pulsating dance floor and the large crowd of people dancing as blood in veins. Wrapped in each other’s arms Jessica had lost herself to the moment, given in to her passions and her desires, forgotten about caution and care. She had lived! Oh, how she had lived, and what a life, what a feeling that had been. And then, the bubble had burst. The disguises had been torn off, and pushing her against the wall had been Verrell, the man she so despised.

Jessica stood frozen, her blood boiling. She was trapped! The wolf inside her sneered and coiled. It did not like to be cornered like this. If she went back out there she might be tackled by her pervious tormentors, but if she stayed in her she might have to face whatever demon Verrell might choose to unleash on her, although her looked rather idle at the moment. No, she could not relax or let her guard down. If it came down to a fight she had to stand her ground! The wound to her head would have to wait, even though the blood was dripping down her temple and onto her cheek.

The brunette eyed him icily and took a whiff of the air, having been holding her breath for quite some time. She could smell him from this distance and Jessica was shocked to discovered that the wolf inside her growled with both desire and hostility. She listened to his words, her body not at all less tense by listening to him telling her how they had to accept each other’s existence. “I’d rather wrestle a hippogriff,” she muttered under her breath, unable to keep the words silent. She did not care whether or not he had heard her. She stood silent, her back towards the door, the wand still clutched tight in her hand with her eyes never leaving his stretched out figure.

The iron smell of the blood filled her nostrils, making her slightly queasy. She was not squeamish, not in the least, she could distinctively remember having eaten a squirrel once when she had transformed into a werewolf, but the smell of her own metallic blood did not exactly sit well with her. The blood flow was slow and prickled down her temple in a singular line. It crossed her cheekbone and ran a red river down her cheek. She wiped it with the back of her hand, leaving a smeared, red mark where the blood had been. Slowly, a new red river emerged at her temple. The bleeding persisted.

Jessica was at loss at what to do. She felt trapped, cornered, and she had absolutely no idea how things would proceed from here on out. She barely registered his jest in return, and although it had been a revelation from his side, that he was in a weakened state of mind, that hardly phased her. It was of little concern to her, because his very existence was a threat to her. But the last part caught her attention. Her eyes blared with some uncertain emotion that he could not possibly detect the origin of. She stood for a moment, frozen, although her face remained the same, contorted with some sort of distain. He could not possibly know about her… condition. No, it had to be a coincidence, although his last remark had made her slightly unsure. Did he know, at all, of what she could do? No, he was only trying to get to her. As far as everyone else was concerned, she was a filthy mudblood of a witch, despite the fact that she insisted that her father was a wizard. She had no conclusive proof of that though, as he had disappeared from her life year ago. No, so he did not know about her wolfish side, she reassured herself.

Her pondering had left her slightly vulnerable and her mind had drifted. She registered too late that his wand shot out from his pocket and that he had advanced towards her. Her eyes widened. “What are you-“ but her answer came before her question and she felt a prickling sensation where the wound healed. She stared at him, blankly. Where there should’ve been shock at his actions she instead stood wordless. Her deep brown eyes, which were such a contrast to the boy’s intense blue ones, bored into his ones. Where most people felt intimidated by looking into the piercing blue of Verrell’s eyes, Jessica was perhaps one of the few people who did not feel afraid at all, and she did not avert her gaze, in fact, she found the colour oddly soothing. Staring, she realised how intensely icy blue his eyes. Then, he fell. She blinked, and the next thing she knew he was on the floor. For a moment she stood frozen, wondering what had just happened, but then her compassion kicked in and she too fell to the floor, kneeling.

“Verrell?” she tried weakly, although she did not expect a reply. She hesitated for a moment, her brown eyes taking in his face; he looked almost kind, passed out like this. She gently touched his shoulder, shaking it slightly. He was out cold. Gently she touched his forehead; he was cool to the touch, which meant that his temperature was hotter than normal, as she had a rather higher than usual skin temperature. With strength normal girls did not possess she hoisted Verrell up, throwing one of his arms around her shoulders before carrying him over the couch. She laid him down there and looked at his lifeless form. Should she worry? She was sure he would come out of it soon. She scoffed before swinging her wand, materialising a washbasin and a cloth. She filled the basin with cool water and soaked the cloth before laying it on his hot forehead. Apparently he had not been kidding by his weakened state. Jessica looked at his serene face and felt utterly at loss for what to do. Here was an enemy weak from exhaustion, and yet there was not a single part of her that wished him harm. Not like this. She sighed, audibly and began dabbing the cloth softly on his face to cool him.

Jessica had no idea what she was doing. Here laid a man, a man she usually loathed with all her might, and she had no intention of bringing harm to him. It was all suddenly turned backwards. She had lost track of how many reasons she loathed him for, how many reasons she had to not show the least bit of hospitality or kindness of any kind towards him. He, he infuriated her so! And yet, she was dabbing this cloth on his face, actually concerned about what was going on. It seemed he was having some sort of dream, or being set in some sort of state. His eyelids flickered uneasily and she frowned a little as she soaked the cloth and wringed it. She laid the cool fabric on his forehead again, wondering what on earths he was doing and why on earth she was even there. She should leave. Surely, anything those bastards outside had for her could not be worse than the hell that Verrell would unleash upon her once he awoke from his catatonic state of dream. Once he realised that she had touched him, he would probably hit her, or worse, hate her. She realised with a pang of sadness, how revolted he would be if he ever found out about their true affliction. Back at the masquerade party, once she had realised who he was, once his disguised had worn off, she had ran, bolted for the door, before he could realise who she was. She had left him, but not before having been physically ravished by him and his firm kisses. She loathed and adored the memory. She loathed it because it had been him, and she adored it because she had been so blissfully happy in her desire. Now, now there was also sadness. She was being denied something again, something fundamentally human. Love. Would she ever experience it? Something told her that if the world was filled with people like Verrell she would never experience anything else but pain. She was sure she had seen a bloodlust in his eyes sometimes when he looked at her, and it saddened her, and angered her at the same time. She was a human being, with feelings! Although she would be damned if she ever let anyone see them.

A sudden jolt in the man before her sent her brown eyes darting to his face. Whilst he was lying on the couch she was kneeling on the floor next to him, hovering over his chest and face. Jessica realised she was frightened. She had no idea what was happening, and the way Verrell twitched and writhed she was sure something was wrong. She leaned over his face, the concern now plain on her face. He reached out so fast that she had no time to refuse, and his steady hand was at the back of her neck, pulling her face towards his. She was so shocked, so utterly shocked, that she could not prevent it from happening. She possessed the strength to refuse him, physically, yet perhaps there was a part of her, a small part of her, or a big part of her, that allowed the following actions to happen.

His lips burned against hers and although her mind was shocked, her body reacted instinctively. As he pressed his lips against hers, her hands rested on his chest, although she was not pushing herself away from him, she kept them there so that she would not saddle him with the sudden desire. The mouth was so familiar, as if she had kissed it a thousand times before. Her eyes fluttered before closing, loosing herself in the moment, a moment she had no control of. It was as if the masks had come off, and she was there again, on the dance floor, behind the masks, kissing. And then, she was somewhere else, kissing a man, the smell of cigarettes in the cold autumn air. He had been there too, kissing her, lust, lust and desire.

As his eyes fluttered open, so did hers. His arms had embraced her, and her hands were still left on his chest. She stared into the abyss of his blue before jolting out of his grasp. She stared at him, as shocked as he. As his words escaped him she understood, she knew. Now he knew too. She had been the girl in the back of the alley that one time, that one time long ago. She had been the girl on the dance floor during the masquerade, the girl with the pretty curls and the mask who had run away from him when she had realised his identity. His voice held accusation, and she knew he was right. She felt the urge to flee, but her breath was caught in her throat and she was unable to find words or actions for anything. She simply sat there, kneeling, her deep, brown eyes, never leaving his icy ones.

In the sea that was the world, Jessica was but a small, insignificant little puzzle piece of a much bigger picture. This was not figuratively speaking; she did not believe herself a part of a grander, bigger event in life that would accumulate in some sort of self-revelation, or even God. No, Jessica really did see herself and everyone else as insignificant in the bigger picture that was literally the world, the universe. In the end it did not matter what she did, who she was or why she was put on this earth with the curses that she had. This was her greatest belief, and perhaps her only way of dealing with life. Sure, it would’ve been easy to turn to religion, to say that all that happened to her happened for a reason, and that God had some sort of greater, divine plan for her, but the truth of it was, life was messy, and dark, and for the most part, it sucked, for some more than others. Jessica was a random, insignificant, puzzle piece, and her life sucked. She just happened to get the less fortunate side to things. And she was not to blame for that. All she could do was deal with it. Deal with life the way it had been given to her.

All this she thought as she looked upon Verrell’s shocked and accusing face, however, no equally shocked expression phased her own face, instead she just sat there, leaning back on knees, taking all the punches, the verbal accusations. Her face was frozen, without emotion, without reaction. It was just blank as Verrell realised one thing after another, his entire body and body gestures were apart of his realisation and following questions. His first question made her eye twitch though and her brows furrowed slightly. Something had reached through her barrier. Something had touched her heart with his question. Why? Why hadn’t she told him? She felt like slapping him, telling him he was a fool for even asking that. Yes, why hadn’t she told, the proud, the great Verrell Chevalier that they had snogged, twice in fact, during the wee hours of the night? Would he honestly have believed her if she had earnestly told him so, and even so, how on earth should she have told him? Should she have strolled over to him, asked him for a moment of his time and told him straight? He would’ve thought her mad. And regardless, what good would it come from him knowing? She had envisioned enraged, enveloped with fury at this revelation, not confused or even questioning her about it. No, she could handle an angry Verrell, but this questioning, soft version of him, he was not equipped to deal with it, because frankly she wasn’t sure if it was just the shock talking, and she would rather not be there when the shock wore off and his true anger showed.

He edged closer in his seat and her big, brown eyes were caught in his icy blue ones. They were so beautiful that it momentarily threw her off. Who are you? The questioning caught her by surprise. She probably would’ve flinched and withdrawn her hand had she not been so surprised by his question as he pulled it to his larger hand. She sat there, big eyed, transfixed in his swirling blue. There was a colour there that she could not name. A sudden anger flared up in her own brown eyes, a cease formed between her brows and she snatched her hand out of his hands. She jolted back and swiftly got to her feet. She couldn’t stand being there, being accused for something that she had had no control over. “I’m nobody, so just forget about it, ok?” she answered him as she turned on her heels. The words were marred with such, emotion. She had not intended them to be stained like that. Anger, regret, shock, surprise, confusion and, sadness; it had all sullied her voice as she spoke and she wanted to flee. She could not deal with Verrell, or whatever he might throw at her. This was just how life had dealt her hand. So she had to remain strong, for her own. She had to protect her own back, and her own heart. She had to remain, a stranger, a nobody.

Her back was against him and she tried to will her feet to move and to run away from there. She tried to convince herself that she could take whatever menace the other kids would throw at her, because anything, ANYTHING was better than this emotional turmoil that was Verrell. She had no idea if his reaction was simply a response to some sort of shock of revelation, and what would happen once the shock wore off; would he tear at her, unleash a fury she could not withstand. If it boiled down to a fight between the two, she imagined that his magical skills were way beyond hers. She had seen how he had looked at her before, how sure she was that if given the chance, the opportunity to get away with it, he would slay her without a second thought. No, she had to get away.

His words hit her like a punch in the face and she felt her throat contort with sudden emotion. Hearing him say it so definitely, hearing him tell her she was nobody, it left her with a sudden desolate feeling. She could feel her eyes quiver with tears that she would rather die for than see fall down her cheeks. Her heart was bursting with pain, and she knew she had to get away from there before she broke down. However, his voice had been so sudden, so abrasive that it had left her momentarily paralyzed. She couldn’t cry, not now, not ever, not ever, ever, ever, ever, ever in front of him! She barely registered his following words, and once the meaning of them reached her she felt her heart flutter. Her eyes widened in shock, not believing what it was that she was hearing. His words made absolutely no sense to her. They could not possibly be true! She must’ve heard him wrong, she must’ve-

A pull at her wrist. Strong arms embraced her. Her initial reaction, her deepest self-preservation, was so squirm and resist. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad going to happen to her if she stood still. Chills ran up her spine and electrical vibes coursed through her body as she heard his whisper close to her ear. Her heart was pounding loudly, so loudly that she hardly believed that she had heard him right. But she had heard him. She had heard him perfectly. She couldn’t believe it. She stopped writhing, overcome with defeat. Her arms hung defeated down her sides and she involuntarily leaned her head against his. She did not understand what was happening. She couldn’t comprehend what had happened the past few moments. It was too much!

A single tear fell from her cheek. She already wanted to die from shame when the second one fell from her other eye. She closed them shut, preventing any other tears from escaping. She couldn’t dare do anything. What was happening to her? How could he make her feel so, so, so utterly defenceless?

Being here, like this, with Verrell was completely unfathomable for Jessica. She was simply unable to grasp the notion that things had just taken a turn for the better, a U-turn. But who could blame her? Moments earlier his piercing glare had sent daggers her way. The moment was so fleeting, so fragile that she imagined that letting a single sound escape from her lips would cause it all to shatter. Her breathing was shaky, paper thin like a trembling leaf in the autumn wind. It nearly broke with each breath that she took, and each time she inhaled his scent filled her head, clouded her mind until all she could see was he. Behind her closed lids images fluttered, and she tried to comprehend the magnitude of what the man was saying. His voice sent shivers down her spine, making her head swim with a swirly, thrill of, something. His voice, it rang with such truth that it scared her. But then again, it made no sense that it was the truth. What about their past? Was all that forgotten so easily? Did it not matter? What was happening?

She stood paralyzed as she felt his inspecting glance upon her skin. He tugged at her shirt, commenting on what he assumed was scars from her attackers. She flinched, inwardly. Most of her scars were self-afflicted from moments spent locked alone in a basement. Her mother had never really known how to deal with what Jessica had become after the wolf had attacked her, how it had afflicted her. Jessica had spent almost every full moon locked in a basement, shackled to the floor and ceiling like a prisoner. Sometimes, rarely, Jessica got loose from the chains, but not the room. She had often woken up, naked, full of bruises and cuts, unsure of how she had gotten them until it all came flooding back to her. Now, her body was scared. On close inspection, like the one Verrell was conducting, these scars could be seen with the naked eye. White, glistening, shimmering, fading scars. Once in a while a fresh scar from her peers would tarnish her already spotted skin, but most of them was from a past that close to no one knew about.

Jessica had no idea why she had let him see this on her, why she had allowed the wizard to scrutinizing inspect her shoulder, given a glimpse into the history of her skin. She had perhaps been a little disorientated, a little, confused and dazed.

As Verrell twirled her around, she let that too happen, and she opened her now damp eyelids with her long, dark eyelashes and looked him straight into his eyes as he asked for her forgiveness. Her eyes were wide open, limitless in depth with a rich, brown colour that melted in a solid colour. She blinked at him, a little confused as he told her to say something. She had no been aware of how silent she had remained, but it might be because she had been at a lack of words. She had simply not been in any state of give him a response, because she wasn’t entirely sure herself how to response. She blinked again, as silence once again had followed his words. However, this time she managed a response, delayed as it was. “I don’t know what to say!” she blurted out, exasperated, a look of plea on her face. Her brows furrowed a little in concern, of what she did not entirely know, and she started to recover from her initial shock. "This is-" she searched his face, "it's crazy!" she finished.

His scent was still all over her, invading her mind with every breath she took, intoxicating her. It was getting very hard to think. And she had yet to pull away from his grasp. The thought to do so had not even occurred to her though, and even if it did, she would not have been able to do so.