Pride

Chapter 1

Warm, flower-scented, lazy, the afternoon was summer personified. Brazenly blue, the sky sharpened the angles of the castle. The contrast dazzled eyes already sleepy from the sultry air and the drone of the bees working the small white flowers dotting the grass. It was a fine day to pretend to work or sleep.

The grounds of the Durmstrang Institute were a green desert, empty of humanity except for two women lounging around a table set next to a long, stone building close to where the old moat fell away from the lawns. Ensconced behind a bulwark of rotting tomes, Loup de l'ombre paged through an unwieldy volume. A warm breeze caught at the pages, tugging gently at the already curled corners, shuffling the worn parchment of the old book. One finger held to a faded passage, she dropped another book onto the other side and continued her studies.

"How can you bear to read on a day like this?" Magda Lowenstein asked as she sorted through a basket of herbs. She pulled out a short stalk of crackley green leaves and began to pluck each leaf off, discarding the less than perfect ones.

Loup's completely black eyes appeared over her wall of grimoires. "I need to continue my studies. There are so many different ways to achieve the same results. The more I know, the more I'm worth. I can increase my fees accordingly." She blinked sleepily as the warm air settled around her, slowly chipping at her resolve to study. The white noise of the bees was relaxing. A yawn worked its way out and her resolve started to crumble. "I really missed my library. I owe Gregorov for bringing most of it back."

Magda smiled as she continued to sort through her herbs. "It is nice to see Yuri so happy. He was alone far too long."

The lazy contentment vanished. Loup grunted in response and returned to her reading.

Not getting a verbal reply didn't bother Magda, who hummed as she distributed the leaves into small piles, pausing now and again to admire the sunshine. "I love the summers here. So quiet. They are far too short so they must be enjoyed to the fullest. Tomorrow, I will go pick the last of this summer's berries. Would you like to come?"

Loup grimaced slightly at the proposal, recognizing an offer of friendship when she saw it, but not eager to join in such an adventure. She grabbed at a wayward slip of paper while she tried to fabricate an excuse. The paper fluttered to the ground and she ducked under the table to capture it. From that vantagepoint, she watched a pair of legs walk by, clad in what looked to be expensive woolen slacks. Clutching her scrap, she looked over the table to see a tall, blond man walk by. "Who's that?"

Magda tried following the direction of Loup's gaze. The completely black eyes made it difficult to tell where Loup was looking at times. At the end of August, there were few people at Durmstrang. The students had not yet begun to arrive and many of the professors were wherever they called home. Three of the school's staff were busy repairing some of the stone work and were easily discarded. That left the retreating back of Richard Lester, head of the Defense Against the Dark Arts department. Magda's eyes narrowed briefly, disapproval flickering briefly over her round face as she noted Loup's interest. "I thought you did not like Aurors."

"Oh. He's not wearing the black uniform. Too bad. He's quite handsome. I always did like blondes." Loup's disappointment was plain.

Magda returned to her work, the small bit of misinformation nagging at her. The lie had come easily. Things had been very calm the last two months since Loup had returned from her journey to Paris where she had spent months trying to pass the magical barriers. Things had changed for the better. Although it was difficult at times to tell whether Yuri Gregorov and Loup could tolerate each other, they appeared to have formed some sort of a liaison. Their arguments tore through the summer-quiet Dark Arts building regularly. Although they sniped, argued, fought and sulked a great deal, whatever relationship they had together was an improvement over what they were like separately. It could be said that they needed each other, but not out loud where either could hear.

Magda began sorting through the next basket, preferring to let the breeze do the speaking for her. They sat in companionable quiet. Magda resumed humming, occasionally singing a few lines of a chorus. Loup shut the large book and picked up another. The bees continued buzzing. To the north, where the cottages for the castle's staff were situated, children's voices shouted and an occasional dog barked. Loup looked up, listening as if she could understand when the dogs barked.

"Have you gone hunting?" Magda asked.

"Not this week. He claims to be preparing for his classes. I think he's lazy." Loup scratched her head and stretched. "We did go for a run the other day. There are rabbits everywhere! I saw a crippled doe that I think we could take, assuming I can get his mind right." Rubbing her nose against the back of her black glove, she made a whuffing snort. "I need to get out and hunt." She stopped and a grimace twitched across her face. "We need to get out and hunt. Once the winter sets in, it's hard to flush anything." Her voice dipped into a growl, punctuated by an almost-yip at the end, a sure sign of spending too much time in her wolf form.

Recognizing a possible end to her companion's good humor, Magda searched for another topic. "Ah! Look! Ludwig and Yuri are back."

Ambling across the expanse of lawns Ludwig Lowenstein looked small next to Yuri Gregorov. The men took their time, weighed down by the idleness of the warmth. Loup's face went carefully blank as if evaluating the two. Lowenstein sat down next to his wife, taking her hand in his. Sleepy yellow eyes took in the piles of sweet-smelling piles of herbs. He picked up a discarded leaf, crushed it, rolling in his fingertips, and then inhaled the scent. "Smells of summer. How many were ordered?"

Magda retrieved her hand and began to pour the herbs into small leather pouches. "Fifty. This is the last of them. Tomorrow, I shall package the bags and send them off. The afternoon, I will pick berries. Will you not come, Ludwig? The day will be lovely."

The Lowensteins smiled at each other, their companions forgotten. Gregorov tried to get Loup's attention as she hid behind her book, ostensibly buried in her research. "Will you never leave your books? The day is pleasant. We could go for a run on the mountain. We could swim in the stream." He smiled down at her and tried to reach for her. Loup moved slightly, keeping just out of his reach. Sensing defeat in any attempt to continue her studies, she closed the manuscript and began to pile her texts on top of each when Richard Lester returned.

"Is Professor Rabe back yet? I need to talk to him." Richard Lester was tall and thin. Blond hair carefully combed back from his face showed his dark brown eyes and high cheekbones. He had an aristocratic air about himself, a studied air of superiority. He looked from the annoyed Gregorov to the sleepy face of Lowenstein, his eyes sweeping past Magda. When he reached Loup, he started at the sight of her black within black eyes. "Who are you?"

Loup made a point of examining him carefully before she answered. "I would have thought you had read the report on me by now."

"Report? What report?" What are you talking about?" Lester raised an eyebrow and folded his hands behind his back.

"Didn't Werner supply his men with a report on me? I know he knows I'm still alive. I saw Mueller last week, so I know he knows." Loup leaned on her books, glowering at the perplexed Lester.

"Why would Werner tell me anything?" Lester looked at Lowenstein, asking for more information.

Lowenstein yawned and returned his attention to his wife. With her head down and her voice quiet, Magda said, "Loup believes that you are an Auror."

Lester laughed, throwing his head back as if he found the statement incredibly ludicrous. "Oh, my. No, not an Auror. I am in charge of the Defense Against the Dark Arts department, though."

Loup slid a look over at Magda, and then took another look at the lean form in front of her. Leaning forward slightly, she inhaled deeply. "My mistake. You can call me le loup de l'ombre or Loup or whatever else you wish." She couldn't resist and smiling added, "I'm the person you train your students to track."

Lester eyed her, taking in the black eyes, the pile of sickly sweet-smelling books, and the gloved hands. He spent a bit too long looking and Gregorov stepped between the two. With a shake of her head, Loup finished putting her books away into a box that sat next to her on the bench.

"Professor Rabe is not back yet. He does not usually arrive until the week before classes start. I will inform him that you wish to see him," Lowenstein drawled.

'Thank you, Professor Lowenstein. And what do you teach... Loup?" Lester ignored Gregorov and returned the frank inspection.

"I don't teach. I don't have a place here yet. If you know anyone in the market for a Mage, let me know, won't you? I'm one of the best. At many things." Loup's already low voice dipped lower. Gregorov put a hand on her shoulder, suggesting possession to which he had no claim.

The Lowensteins exchanged a glance at each other and then at the angry Gregorov. Things were not quite as they had thought.

With a smile, Lester strolled back to the castle. Loup tracked his path, a feral grin on her face. "What did you say his name was?" She turned back to Magda whose face clearly showed disappointment. Loup's shoulders sagged. She was not ready to assume the role that Gregorov offered and that everyone else seemed to assume she already occupied. Standing up, she picked up the box containing her books and began to walk back to the Dark Arts offices, Gregorov trailing closely behind.

The converted stables that were the offices and living quarters for Durmstrang's Dark Arts department were dark and cool. In uncomfortable silence, the two walked to Gregorov's rooms. He held the door open for her and she carried her box of books through the office into the living area. Gregorov's small living room, which had already been cramped by the few pieces of furniture there, was now stuffed with boxes of books and several suitcases - Loup's belongings. Unable to cross Paris' magical protections, she had turned to Gregorov to make the journey for her. He had made three trips to get as much as he had and then refused to return. He had hinted that there might be ways to sway his decision, but she was unwilling to travel that path yet.

She set her box down and turned to face the irritated man. He towered over her as he stood, arms folded across his chest, white-blue eyes burning. Unwilling to take up the challenge, she looked away. She knew that she was on shaky ground for this particular spat. She owed him a great deal. He had found her bleeding to death in the snow, cared for her until she was healed, gone to Paris for her, given her a place to stay. For all of this, he had asked nothing. They worked well together when they were not fighting, but he seemed to have hopes of something more than companionship. By all appearances, they were a perfect match. Both were wolf Animagi. Both were skilled in the Dark Arts. Both were lonely. The wolf sides were content; their need for a pack fulfilled. The human psyches were not as happy.

"You wanted to go for a run?" She talked to the floor, not wanting to trigger the fight she felt brewing.

"I did. Now, I wish to know why you tried to seduce Richard Lester," Gregorov growled.

Loup weighed her options. She could try to buy Gregorov off with flattery, or try to distract him, or she could give in to the inevitable and fight. Squaring her shoulders, she opted for the most familiar route. "I did not try to seduce him. Not yet at least."

In Russian, Gregorov unloaded a long tirade, barely stopping for breath. She blinked at him, wondering how insulted she should be. Her eyes turned to dark slits while she contemplated her options. When he was in a rage, she could provoke him into doing any number of things and the temptation was overwhelming. She liked him like this, barely civilized and savage.

Knowing she was being cruel and not caring, she reached up to run her hand along his face. He flushed red and too slowly grabbed for her hand. The game was officially afoot as she shifted to a wolf and tore away to the office, changing back to open the door, then back to race away, leading the smaller gray wolf on a chase. They ran over the castle grounds, past the greenhouses and the servants' quarters. Just missing a guard, she tore through the gate and then down the mountainside, glancing back now and again to see if he had tired yet. Soon, she began to wonder if she would give out first as her shoulder began to throb from her winter injuries and she stumbled now and again. Gregorov fell behind as she jumped from an outcropping to an overhang and soon she was alone.

Gasping, she changed back and massaged her shoulder. She knew that she shouldn't tease him, but it was too much fun; it also allowed her to avoid many of the accumulating problems. Soon, she would have to make a decision and that she wanted to delay as long as possible. For now, she would delight in the chase. She caught her breath and listened carefully, trying to tell if she was still alone or not. Her trail would be easy to pick up, if he wanted to find her. After several minutes of listening, she realized that she was quite alone, that he had not tracked her, and she felt a stab of disappointment. Men were so inconsistent.

Men... She sat down on a rock and looked around at the mountainside, taking in the jagged rocks, few trees and wildflowers. While not Paris, it was gorgeous. A pair of foxes ran by. Watching the two play reminded her of how lonely she felt. She was tired of being alone. Her mate had been dead for over two years. Although she had only been allowed a small part of his life when and if he felt like being with her, she missed what had passed for companionship. At forty-five, the feeling of isolation was beginning to bother her. Scooping up a handful of small stones, she tossed them one by one off the side of the overhang. She had been with Armand for over twenty years and, despite some of her best intentions, had been true to him. Lester had been the first man to strike a chord that had been still for far too long.

In the distance, she heard a howl and knew she was being called. She owed him. Owed him a lot. Angrily, she threw the rest of the pebbles away. Gregorov was not the kind of man that appealed to her that way. She had always found the tall, thin, fair-haired Lesters of the world more attractive. With the exception of tall, Gregorov fit none of those categories. He was big, quiet except when angry - which was often enough, unkempt and very confusing to her. Unlike Armand, he didn't parade his skills in the Dark Arts, he wasn't vain and he didn't care for the good life. Gregorov's idea of the perfect evening consisted of lounging on the couch, reading or playing chess with Siegfried Kessler or, if goaded properly, a short hunt.

She had, of course, tried to change him for the better. At her urging, he had cut his hair short and begun shaving regularly. During one of their few trips to the village, he had reluctantly bought new clothing she felt suited him. In her opinion, he had improved greatly over the last few months. It was just that he didn't give her that feeling. She somehow knew that there would be something wrong with Lester. Probably married with four kids. What was an Englishman doing at Durmstrang anyway?

Almost out of habit, she began ticking through Gregorov's plus column: a wolf, stable job, interesting to talk to when he felt in the mood, loyal, helpful.... Pursing her lips in concentration, she tried to offset the pluses with the minuses: not particularly attractive, bad temper, too tall, no fashion sense... The pluses were winning and she wasn't ready for that tally yet. Didn't she deserve one monumentally stupid affair? She knew, that once she gave in, it would be that. Been there. Done that. A second howl caught her attention. He had gone to Paris three times for her. Did that offset the fact that he had lied about her wands and had burned the letters she had tried to send to the City of Paris? Probably. Nothing she could come up with could overcome the fact that he had brought her back from that frozen field and kept her from bleeding to death. Swearing, she transformed back into a wolf, howled for him, and began the climb back.