Ticking of the Clock

Hunting was good. The deer were almost gone, but the rabbits were everywhere and the foolish young ones were easy prey for the two wolves. The night held more delights than those of a warm bed and a willing mate. The call of the mountain was loud in Loup's ears.

Gregorov heard the siren's song, too, but never as loudly as she did. On the first night after the storm passed, a breeze brought the instincts into play. They had started towards the castle for yet another dinner of what Loup dutifully reported to be boiled potatoes, cabbage, wursts, soup and bread - standard fare for the Durmstrang table. It was easy to ingest and ignore. Fuel, not fine dining. The wind shifted midway across the grounds and reason fled.

She reached out and grabbed his hand, holding him still. Eyes closed, she inhaled deeply, sifting through the cold air, finding rabbits, hares, the annoying cat that stalked the songbirds and the mountain. Her question was issued as a yip and a jerk of her chin towards the gates.

"They will be there tomorrow," Gregorov grumbled, knowing he would miss dinner. "There is a test that must be ready tomorrow. Tomorrow, then."

The response was no longer spoken. Her head dipped and she glanced up slantwise at him. Eyes closed and she breathed deep again. The twitch of her cheek, the wrinkle of her nose, another language speaking of running across the mountain, searching through brush and racing with the stars until they almost dropped.

"Tonight, then. Yes." Secretly pleased, he made a show of sighing and shaking his head. "There will be much work to complete in the morning. I must have everything ready." The gravity of the situation must be made understood to those who passed.

"You are late this year," Kessler observed and then sucked down a lungful of the crisp air. "I am almost tempted to join you, but you hunt as a pack and I am not as you." He slapped Gregorov on the back and continued towards the dark stone castle.

The dark and the light raced through the gates that somehow were already open. Down the rugged trail to bound over the rocks that led to one of the small ponds. Alive! The very rocks of the peak were alive! Finely-tuned ears caught the scramblings of small meals running for cover. Noses were full of the warm/hot scent of creatures meant to be chased.

And chase they did. Awkward from too little hunting and too much sitting, their intended prey easily eluded the two at first. The too-eager black wolf followed hot on the trail of yet another rabbit and missed it as it turned at a rock to end sprawling in a prickly shrub. The gray, slower but more cautious, found himself sliding across a patch of ice and slammed into a rock with a yelp. The pain seemed to clear both minds and attune them to working as a team. Instinct focused, they padded across a small clearing and lay down under a scraggly, wind-beaten tree. Loup was almost ready to call it a night. Tired and bruised, the persistent growl of her stomach kept reminding her of a missed dinner. Gregorov would continue until she halted. She flattened an ear in annoyance at the thought. The hierarchy, largely ignored these days as humans, was strongly in place when in their wolf forms. She couldn't help but feel superior as he lay panting next to her. Frustrated, she stood and began casting for one, last chase for the night.

The rabbit was small, the product of the last litter of the summer. Nose twitching, it looked stupidly around from where it sat. Had it remained still, she might have missed it, but it was young and was fated to be one of the many that would not see the spring. Silently, she looked towards Gregorov and flicked an ear in the prey's direction. The gray wolf slunk forward towards the most likely avenue the rabbit would run. The darker Loup crept along where the snow had blown away from the rocks as she tried to blend in with the shadows. The rabbit hopped forward to reach a pathetic clump of grass. As its wiggling nose checked over the meal, Loup sprang. She didn't have a chance of catching it as it exploded away from her. Its ears flat to its head, it raced away only to find another predator there. The momentary pause in its flight was fatal as nature, red in tooth and claw, grabbed it by the neck and shook.

Rational thoughts had no part of the kill. It was a complex mix of need, pleasure, and a drive that had no human words. The rabbit was a bloody rag upon the snow. Not large enough to fill their bellies, it wasn't enough to provide more than a salty taste of the wild. Human sensibilities lost to wolfish drives as Loup growled over the tidbit. Wisely, Gregorov stayed back, whining a little, but cautious. The alpha always ate first and, as a wolf, he knew his place. He settled into the snow and watched as she devoured their hard-fought rabbit. Nothing but bits of fur would remain before she gave way. Knowing that, he shifted back to sit in the snow, stoically watching his mate's other side savage the little thing.

For Loup, shifting back to human form after a successful hunt was a disappointment. She loved the wolf. Its senses were keener than her usual ones and submerging herself to its instincts was her chief vice. A good night's hunt could keep her senses heightened for days and fill her dreams with the sensations the wolf felt. Blood-tang in her mouth, she savored it all and lay there in the snow.

"Loup," Gregorov called. The black wolf's ear flicked, betraying that she had heard him. "It is very late. We should return." The black within black eyes reflected the stars as she looked at him, panting. "It is time." The wolf sighed and laid her head upon her legs, stubbornly holding onto the sensations. Wearily, he rose and took his time dusting off his clothes. From the light of the ice-bright stars, he could see his hands dark from the dirt they had dug in as they pursued rabbits. Tomorrow would be very long. He yawned and stretched, readying himself for the long trot back.

A muzzle buried into his hand. Trying hard to not smile, he traced the shape of her forehead and then ran a finger between the black eyes and down her muzzle. The wolf forms had no guile. All emotions were there to read. The struggle to hide his smile ended as he bent to scratch behind her ears and then down her back. He enjoyed the sheer pleasure the wolf showed, eyes partially closed, a lupine smile showing sharp teeth. There would be no woman until they returned to his quarters. Still smiling, he shifted back and rubbed against her.

Finally content, she buried her teeth through his thick neck fur until she could nip gently. With a wagging tail, she turned to lope back up the mountain towards Durmstrang.

Had it not been for their scent trail, they might have never found the gates. The Unplottable Spells had layers upon layers of magic cast over the centuries. In a light snow, the wards shimmered; in most others, the illusion was of a blasted crag. They tracked their path back to the gates and then had to howl to gain the guards' attention.

The two on duty grunted and one spat in annoyance when they spotted the wolves. The two were often out until long past the curfew. Technically, the guards could refuse them entrance, but neither wanted to cross either of the wolves. Gregorov's temper was an over-blown legend of Russian fury and Dark Spells to damn a man. Loup's reputation was darker and, unlike Gregorov, she carefully nurtured it. The tales associated with the Russian were muddled and confused with the memories of the other two wolf Animagi professors now long dead. The guards complained loudly as they opened the gates and the boldest of the two threw a snowball when the wolves were out of sight.

At the door to the Dark Arts building, Gregorov resumed his human form to shove the door open. She trotted in and sat waiting at their door. The effect always amused him and he took his time closing the door to enjoy the expectant canine awaiting entrance. It was one of the few times he felt fully in control. He'd seen her open the door in this form, but doing so required leaping and clawing, not the image she cared to show. He dawdled long enough to enjoy the luxury of her fur before finally opening the door.

She took her time, trotting back into the bedroom and then into the small bathroom before shifting. Gregorov shrugged off his coat and tossed it over the desk chair. The rush of water informed him that she was trying to remove the layers of grime that a hunt spread over skin and clothing. He peered again at his hands and clothing. By his old standards, he was clean. Loup was fussy and hated being dirty at all. The shower started. Shaking his head at the late hour, he perched on the edge of the desk chair, pulled off his boots and then stopped before throwing his socks on top of the boots. The commentary about the mess wasn't worth the ease of leaving them there. On his way to the bedroom, he stripped off his sweater, shirt and undershirt. By the time he reached the bedroom, all that was left was the grubby pair of corduroy pants and underwear.

The bed looked inviting. Lazily, he cast a Tempus spell to check the time and cursed loudly when the hour was revealed. At best, he could hope for three hours of solid sleep. Almost not enough to be worthwhile. His curse was echoed from the shower as the bar of soap clattered to the floor. If there wasn't enough time for real sleep, there was enough time for other distractions.

* * *

The coffee wasn't strong enough. Loup held it up to the faint, gray light coming in by the small window in the staff room and squinted at the liquid still in the coffee press. It was almost opaque, black as her eyes. Next to her, Gregorov slurped his tea as he leaned heavily on the table. They exchanged bleary glances. The corner of his mouth quirked in a smile. Under the table, his hand searched for hers.

Still cradling her second press' worth of coffee, Loup watched Gregorov shamble towards the door to spend his day lecturing to the bored, the distracted and the confused. Before her sat the stack of the day's work. The coffee never made it further than a few inches from her lips as she read through the first folder's worth of assignments. It was hard to concentrate on the depth of the students' answers and she found herself giving higher than usual grades. Must be a lack of sleep, she thought as she finished the last of the coffee. The next folder required thought. The seventh-year students in this year's class were clever and lazy. If they spent half the time answering the questions instead of creating fanciful "what if" scenarios, they would all get high marks. She pushed it aside and took the next, hoping that the fifth-years weren't as clever.

Magda called out a chipper greeting as she walked towards the table. Loup tried to fix a smile in response. She'd managed to avoid the little Romanian woman the last few days. When she saw Magda, it was as if there was a giant clock ticking down the days hovering over the small woman, reminding Loup that she had yet to cast and end the spell perfectly.

Smiling contentedly, Magda took the chair opposite Loup. Still smiling, Magda began to hum and produced two folders that looked a lot like homework to Loup. A batch of papers, held together by a folded corner torn to lock the sheets together, was taken and set down. Loup watched the procedure, waiting for an explanation. Magda read the first page and frowned slightly. "His handwriting is so," she searched for the correct word, "individualistic. The downward strokes are strong, but when he has letters that have ascenders that could be beautiful with a loop, he starves them. And so many abbreviations. How am I to understand them all?"

Loup leaned away, trying to avoid being drawn in and buried her face with the first page from one of the fifth-year classes' folders. Pretending to have not heard anything, she put the paper down and made a show of writing a long comment on the first answer.

"He has allowed me to help him as you serve Yuri." Magda produced a quill and a pot of ink. "He claims to have a great deal for me to do should we work well together."

Loup's pen stopped in mid letter. "Serve? I don't serve anyone except my clients. This is how I earn my keep." She tried to resume her train of thought. The fifth-years had only just begun to work on Dark magic and she liked to make certain they understood the theory as well as the practice. With a pause to reread the question, the response and then the start of her commentary, she tried to craft the phrasing to illuminate the principle.

"Did you know he sings? I made him prove it the other afternoon." Magda set the paper down, all pretense of work abandoned in favor of gossip. "He was in a choir when a child."

"Choir? Who?" The carefully constructed explanation shattered.

"Paul. He sings as an angel does. A tenor!" Magda lolled in her chair, draping an arm over the one next to her. "He is far cleverer than I had guessed. He says that all in his line are thus. Soon, he will finish the last of his schooling and become a doctor of philosophy. Imagine how wise that will make him. And his eyes…" Magda giggled and seemed caught in a memory.

"I have to complete these today," Loup said, sounding annoyed. "If you don't mind, I need to focus on getting these graded."

"Ah, yes. You do not wish to disappoint Yura. He is a fine man, no? You cannot deny that. All is well between you. When he is happy, all know. I have seen the two of you."

Loup felt the annoying heat of a blush begin to scald her face. "Yura?" she asked, her voice rising. "Who is 'Yura'?"

"It is Yuri, the same. The Russians and the Ukrainians have such lovely diminutives. I always thought it sad that so little changed in his name. You should whisper it in his ear at night. It would prove that you at least attempted to learn his language. It disappoints him that you have made so little effort." Magda took on a lecturing tone. "Men require so little really to make them happy. You should learn the basics of the Russian language. I have watched and you do not even know how to write the Cyrillic letters yet. Learn how to tell him you love him or offer him his choice of pleasures. It would please him, bind him closer."

Quite amazed and not a little shocked, Loup began to gather the folders of work. "I need to complete these."

"Oh, do not leave! I will be good. I will let you work for him. Perhaps you will hunt again tonight? Perhaps not, eh? I saw how tired you both were this morning. Were you successful?"

One eye still on the door, Loup relaxed slightly. "Yes, we were. I killed a rabbit. Not a big kill, but it was worth the effort."

Magda sniffed knowingly. "And was he allowed to eat or did you keep it to yourself? He is not as strong as you as a wolf. The alpha, you are always the alpha. Does it make for a livelier bed or does it wither him?"

"None of your business!" She scooped the folders up and stalked towards the door only to be stopped by Magda's plea.

"No! I am sorry. Please accept my apologies. It is not my place to ask. Please. Stay. What is between you and Yuri is, of course, your own affair. Please. Do not leave. I will let you work."

Loup stopped just short of the door and counted to ten. As the last number ticked past, she tried to put a neutral expression on her face before she turned. "This has to get done. I'm going to complete it in the office. I'll see you later."

"Will you be ready Friday?"

"Friday?" Loup cast about wildly, trying to recall why Friday was important.

"I will be ready then. Ludwig's precious Mathilde will keep them both busy. First, their 'Firebirds'," Magda spat the team's name, "will play the yellow team. The yellow is the stronger team, but the game itself should take several hours. Ludwig has not returned home after their practices or their games. I will have the entire night. I plan on using it. We should begin no later than 1600. I will be ready. Here, we should meet here an hour earlier. The only person who may interfere would be Professor Jones, but these days she prefers to spend her time in the village with that man."

Cold, Loup felt cold. The spell had to be perfect by then. If anything went wrong, Wronski might be permanently damaged, made an idiot or so broken he was unable to function. All the warnings of what could go wrong, previously only slightly acknowledged, suddenly screamed loudly at her. He could go mad, lose his ability to remember anything new, go catatonic, remember things incorrectly, have old memories suddenly flood over the new… The list marched on through her mind.

"You will be ready by then, no? You have had a great deal of time to learn it fully." Magda cleared her throat when no response came.

"Of course," Loup replied, distracted. "You'll have your glamour ready as well as the memories you need?" She bit her lip and decided to chance it. "You and he seem to be getting along quite well."

"Oh! We are. He is most charming and so handsome. I look forward to seeing his body and feel his…"

"Why don't you just seduce him?" Loup interrupted, not wanting to hear the full list of what Magda was looking forward to.

"No. He is too kind and good to carry such a sin. He sang in the choir. He is a good man. I would not sully his soul with the sin of adultery. He will think he loved and lost that love in time."

It was obvious that no other plan of action would be approved. Loup ground her heel against a seam in the stone floor. "I'll be ready."