Pride

Chapter 5

The September days' light seemed dimmer than usual. Routines shifted with the school year. Lives were measured by the tolling of the school bell doling out the hours. The first bells sounded at six o'clock, rousing the professors and students. Loup was already awake hours before those rang. Those measures woke others. The staff of the castle were already awake and had eaten their morning meal by then.

As much as she hated her new status, it was a boon. It gave her an excuse to slide silently from Lester's bed in the darkness and creep away, all the while holding her breath for fear of waking him. The situation she'd gotten herself into worried her. It was bad enough that she had managed to estrange herself from the only other wolf animagus she knew of in miles. That miscalculation had begun to play itself out in ways that she recognized almost immediately: the restlessness, the anxiety, a gnawing empty feeling - all signs of her other side's need for a pack. Gregorov made a point of looking around her whenever their paths crossed. He wouldn't talk to her or acknowledge her existence in any way. She couldn't even get him to fight with her. Not that she needed someone to fight with. That was another problem.

Lester proved to be more than a casual affair. Having made her bed, it seemed reasonable to lie in it. She misinterpreted his attentions at first. It was flattering that he wanted her around all the time although it confused her that it was more important that she be there and not to necessarily talk to him or be apart of his evenings. In a way, that seemed almost normal, too. For the twenty years she'd been Armand's mate, their relationship had been on his terms. Being seen with the handsome, if rather distant, Lester helped soothe her ego whenever she caught sight of any of the Dark Arts professors. Things seemed to warp in slow motion. Lester wanted her in his quarters every night, a bit too much companionship for Loup after the first two weeks. He expected that she appear promptly after his last class ended, that she leave only if Bette required her and then return immediately. Nights were to be spent with him. Too much, too soon, too claustrophobic. It seemed to her that he must find this enforced togetherness as stifling as she did. She chose to give her wolfish side a good run one night and slipped out under a new moon to try and hunt away some of the edginess.

It felt wonderful to transform into the wolf. The crisp night air was rich with the promise of a good hunt. The chase was great fun at first. The entire mountainside exploded with game, none of which she could catch alone. Pounce-hopping after mice left her exhausted and hungrier than when she started. The growling stomach was worth it. The tightly coiled feeling began to loosen. The nervousness calmed. It was good to be a wolf.

She clung to that feeling in the gray dawn. The guards yawned and waved her though the gate. One lifted a cup of coffee in a toast. The aroma drove her half mad. For the first time in weeks, she felt things were improving.

The blue-flamed sconces flickered soundlessly, barely illuminating the long entry way. Dreaming of a long, hot shower, Loup enjoyed a long scalp scratch on her walk towards the large staircase leading upwards. If she rushed, she could have the shower, change and get down to the kitchens without being too late. If she lingered, there would be a lecture. The lecture might be worth the extra luxury. A deep yawn later, she began her climb. At the first landing, the temperature dipped and she made the effort to focus long enough to see if there was a reason. The castle had its share of ghosts and poltergeists, either of which caused the temperature to fall. The ghosts tended to ignore the living, but the poltergeists preyed on everyone, the staff and students especially. At the top of the stairs, a shape as pale as a ghost stood - only ghosts' hands didn't squeak on bannisters. Loup fell back a step and squinted to try to make out features although she knew who it was. She inhaled deeply to verify the scent, a mistake all unto itself.

"My lady dark, where have you been all night long?" Lester stood, a hand on each side of the staircase, his voice an icy menace.

"I needed a night to hunt."

"Hunt? Hunt what? Another lover? Who is the lucky chap? Should we have him in for brandy?"

Loup paused and, for a foolish moment, thought he was making a joke. Her uncertain laugh trailed off at the change in expression. There was no hint of humor there. "Who else would I be seeing?"

"Who indeed? Who would want a creature like you? Sniffing about all the time. Do you realize how," Lester sneered, "attractive you are when you do that thing?" He sniffed loudly in imitation. "It's extremely vulgar. Much like the rest of you. Must you act like that?"

"I'm an Animagus. My scent of smell is very acute. Very useful."

"Ah, yes. An Animagus. How quaint. I should put a collar on you with a tag. That way, should you become lost, someone could return you to me. You should have returned on time, you do know that? It is quite rude to have kept me waiting."

"You don't own me!" Loup snapped. "I would think you'd be glad of a night alone now and again. Besides, I need to hunt. Keeps all of my senses happy."

"I own you. You belong to me. Everyone knows it. You are mine until I say you are not." Lester bit the words out. "I don't give a damn about your hunting. You will be where you are expected to be. Do I make myself clear?"

"Don't threaten me!"

"I don't need to threaten you. You already know your place."

There was a hoarse cough, alerting them to a new presence. Professor Heiniger, arrayed in a brightly colored robe, leaned in his doorway. "Professor Lester, really, if you are going to fight with your," Heiniger scowled, "woman, you should do so in your quarters."

"Of course. So sorry to have bothered you. Staff meeting at four this afternoon." Lester extended a hand as if offering to help Loup ascend the last floor. "Madam, shall we adjourn?"

The door to Lester's quarters shut tight as the gates of hell behind her. There, the conflict resumed in earnest. She took a deep breath and readied herself for what she assumed would be the sort of arguments she had had with Armand over the decades. She was wrong. Where Armand screamed invectives, Lester descended like a hawk, tearing at her self-confidence. Where Armand could have been flattered or distracted, Lester refused to be diverted. It was confusing and terrible. Somewhere early in the fray, the topic morphed into all the things that were wrong with her. She missed the shift. By the time she realized the strategy, he changed again and again. It was a miserable spiral downwards. By the time the bells tolled for the beginning of morning classes, Loup was seated on the floor, valiantly clinging to the one thing that seemed to work: silence. The cycle repeated frequently. Daily, at first, then weekly. The battles grew shorter as she grew quieter.

* * *

When the Headmaster called for Loup one evening, she leapt to attend him with a speed that disgusted her ungentle lover. She raced down the staircases, his voice fading behind, calling, "Do return promptly."

The Headmaster sat in the Great Hall. The enormous room was empty save for him and an aide. The great man himself ignored her in favor of a report and a snifter of brandy. Loup didn't care. The aide had a contract for her. An escape! As contracts went, it was a small one, hardly worth getting excited about. It did require travel and travel; even if it only meant going to one of the neighboring villages, it meant leaving Lester for a time. She babbled her acceptance, surprising the aide and drawing a smirk from the Headmaster. She was ready to leave immediately. The endless staircase was taken in bounds of three steps at a time. Under Lester's disapproving eye, she packed up a kit and some clothing. She wanted to scream as she passed through the gates and freedom.

The work was a wonderful respite. Never had she enjoyed working with her little vials of blood more. The client was hesitant at first. It was clear to her that he had other work than what she'd been contracted to do. They always did. Loup almost wanted to shake him until he talked, but he eventually did. Dark spells, curses, a lingering wasting disease. The work would take time. She made certain of it.

The client didn't care what she did while she waited for the bloody handkerchief, the used water glasses, discarded hair from a brush or a handkerchief full of fingernail clippings. Each morning after breakfast she reported to see what had arrived. Things moved slowly. Nights of chasing and digging and glorious days were spent outside. Balance returned. Her personal confidence improved. The wolf was mostly appeased. The need was still there. That didn't improve, but coping with the emptiness was better than the bullying at Durmstrang. Away from the constant pressure and fighting, she had time to analyze her situation. How could she be so powerful and so weak at the same time? It was a question she pondered a lot while she mixed the herbs and cast her spells for the client.

She cast the last spell regretfully. The client was pleased with her work; the payment reflected it. She didn't want to go back yet. She wasn't ready. Trying to look wan, asked if she could stay a few days, to rest after all the energy expenditure for the spells. It was a lie, but the client agreed. She traded several small spell for extra time and stretched the vacation to a full two weeks. She would have tried to stay longer, but the client planned on wintering in warmer climes. She'd managed to drag it out until mid October.

The castle grounds were cloaked in autumn colors. The days had gotten much shorter and colder. The guards had barely cleared her before she saw Lester striding across the grounds to claim her. How he knew she had returned was unclear, but there he was. Defeat settled heavily over her as she hefted her bags to follow him. It was going to be a long winter. Halfway up the path, something moved next to the wall. Glad for the distraction, Loup looked up, spotting Magda Lowenstein. Magda smiled and waved. The sight surprised her. At least someone seemed glad to see her. With a quick glance at Lester's back, Loup stopped and waved back. The happy moment faded and she resumed her walk to the castle.

It was a Saturday and the students were everywhere. She stopped to watch boys chase after each other. Familiar girls' voices caught her ear and she listened while the voice of the giggler asked someone how the night had gone. There was no reply, so Loup continued on slowly, trying to appear as though she was interested in the grounds until she could spot the group of girls. They were all facing the small brunette, Gregorov's girl from last year, who looked very unhappy. The girls stood close to the path; Loup slowed to hear the conversation better. The others pressed the small girl for information. As Loup passed her she heard the girl mumble something about "wrong name", which provoked gales of laughter from the rest.

Lester waited at the door, talking to someone she couldn't see in the entrance way. As she began to climb the stairs, a familiar scent caught her attention. Gregorov stood off to one side, ostensibly reading one of the mysterious Cyrillic works. She glanced up to see if Lester would notice, but he was engrossed in his conversation. The wolf whined. Keeping an eye on Lester, she walked over to Gregorov. With a bored air, he looked down at her. "Can we at least hunt?"

Gregorov put his book down. He looked her over, noting the tension and defeated air. "Your master will not let you."

It was true. "Gregorov, I need to hunt. You must, too. It won't take long. A few hours..." She scanned him, looking for any hint of the same need she had. Gregorov looked about the same as she had seen him last. The hair was longer and she noticed that the sweater wasn't clean. She was dismayed to see that he lacked the wild, nervous energy that she did.

"No. I do not. I hunt with the rest." He looked over at Lester still at the top of the stairs. "Did you get what you wanted?"

She dropped her eyes. "What do you think?" If she had thought to say anything else, it was cut short by Lester's arrival. The patter of footsteps as he trotted down the stairs alerted her just barely. Glowering at Gregorov, Lester rabbed her arm and pulled her up the stairs. With narrowed eyes, Gregorov watched.

Lester's orderly office felt like a cage. He let her drop her bag off in her room before he marched her back to his quarters. He seemed agitated and kept scratching at his forearm. When Jessup arrived for a meeting, Lester's carefully sarcastic comments were enough to make Loup wince even though they weren't directed at her. She watched the two leave, then sat down and tried to relax.

When Lester didn't return in an hour, Loup poked around his desk, looking for a magazine or a newspaper to read. He received a lot of English periodicals and sometimes there was a mention of someone she knew. She found a copy of The Daily Prophet in the trash and settled down at the desk to read it. None of the names in the paper meant anything to her though she enjoyed reading the useless trivia parts. A particularly bad column by Rita Skeeter prompted a laugh. The woman had no pride at all in her yellow journalism. The society page was especially enjoyable, as the photos of elegant men and women would look disdainfully in the direction of the reader before they would sniff and leave the page. She was starting to recognize some of the names in that section. The Malfoys, Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge and the Goyles. It wasn't a particularly large paper and she read it in very little time. Bored, but happy to be alone, she poked around for something else, careful to make certain everything went back exactly where it had been. She didn't want to see what he would do if he caught her going through his desk. Moving aside a folder, she found a copy of Defending the Defenseless, a journal devoted to the Defense Against the Dark Arts. She skimmed its table of contents, amused by the topics. She started to lean back in the chair when she caught the edge of the folder and spilled out its contents.

What was in the folder? Since she had to put everything back into it, she might as well see what was there. Curriculum Vitas fell into her hand. She found a note by Lester listing a range of dates. Another note said, "Have Jessup talk to him". Jessup. Old Jessup was looking pretty tired these days as he counted down until his retirement. She wondered how old he was. It was always hard to tell with wizards. Curious, she thumbed through the CVs. Two retired Aurors with names that could have placed them in Poland or maybe Bulgaria. Rangenhilde Anderssen whose paperwork went on for pages. One had a note that said "werewolf - problem?" and the last one was from another American. She wondered if the US exported all of its problematic witches and wizards to Durmstrang. If there was a position open, she wondered if Rabe knew about it.

Footsteps in the hallway cut her musings short and she quickly stuffed the CVs back into their folder and put them back onto their stack. She started to move away when she spotted Defending the Defenseless on the chair and was putting it back when Lester walked in. The look he gave her made her go cold. "What a funny title. Does it have any good articles?" She tried to sound light; his expression frightened her.

"My lady dark, come with me." He walked through his office door, holding it open for her. She knew where they were going and felt dead inside.

* * *

It had been a particularly violent night. She rubbed her wrists as she rose before the bells. At least Lester had his own bathroom and she could shower there. The hot water helped wake her and she had to admit that he had the best towels. As she dried her hair, she heard him mumble something. Thinking she was the one he was talking to, she cautiously walked into the bedroom. Lester was still asleep, but he kept scratching at his arm. She slowly crept forward to see what was bothering him. A black shape, like a tattoo, was on his forearm, almost scratched bloody. It had an unnatural color, almost the same blacker than black of her robes.

More frightened than curious, she drew her wand and put a Somnus spell on Lester. With a start, she realized that she could have used that same spell before, saving her a lot of pain. With the sleep spell applied, Lester grew calmer. Gently she extended his arm to get a better look at the mark. She didn't have to be told what it was; she wore a different one. Lester was bound and was being called by the person owning that mark. She looked at the small fleur-de-lis on her own arm and compared it to the one he bore. Something else caught her eye. He was not bound by Durmstrang. She had seen the binding spell that the Dark Arts staff wore: the black letter D surrounded by the Ouroboros. Sloppy, she thought. She would never dream of making her superiors wait.

It was only when she reached the kitchens that she remembered that it was a Sunday. The kitchens wouldn't be open for another hour, even for the staff. It annoyed her briefly, but she realized that by the time Lester awoke, he would assume she was busy with her tasks. She had a few hours to herself. Suddenly, a late breakfast seemed unimportant. She was hungry, though. Lester had demanded her attentions from the afternoon onwards. Eating was not high on his list of favorite things. It was on hers and she decided that it was time to kill something.

The morning air was cool and crisp; the frost limned the grass providing an interesting crunch as she walked. She took one deep breath, sucking in the cool and all of the intriguing scents and changed forms. The wolf was even happier. It smelled another. She yipped without meaning to and immediately ran off as quickly as she could, embarrassed to have called.

The mountainside was as she recalled - alive with wonderful smells and things to explore. She raced through a small clearing, chasing a rabbit with no intention of catching it. A sunny rock provided just the right place to take a nap. She forgot the time and spent the entire day allowing her other side a chance to play and be. When it became dark, she slunk back to the gates and, once there, hovered outside, not wanting to return.

"And again, I ask you, is something wrong?" de Rais' soft voice asked from the shadows.

She changed and tried to achieve some of her former arrogance, failing instantly. "Everything... Everything is wrong." Her voice broke, but no tears fell. Her black eyes reflected the lights from the castle, and then only darkness when she looked away.

"Is it not what you wished?" There was no pity in the voice, only curiosity.

"I made a mistake. He...he reminded me of Armand. I'm paying for that mistake." She drew herself up, realizing that she had mistaken vague interest for sympathy. "I should go. He'll be angry as it is." She took a deep breath and headed for the gates. If she expected anything else, she was disappointed.

The walk back to the building was done in silence with her own breathing loud to her ears. There was the usual drone from the Great Hall, the voices all one, as she started up the stairs. Her imp woke and idly wondered if she could beat him up the stairs and get into her room where her wards would protect her. That sparked a thought. There had to be more than one way to get to the second staircase where her room was. She climbed the first two floors and then began to hunt for another staircase. There were several and none of them led to where she thought they should. Where there should have been one, there was not. One led to a blank wall where she could detect no magic and was solid to the touch. Another led her back to where she had started.

By the time she decided to give up and use the main stairs, dinner had broken up and people had begun their ascent to their quarters. She could smell him before she saw him. He was walking with four of his professors. They all smelled of whiskey. Lester sounded angry and she noticed he was still scratching. This was not the time to run into him. She froze where she was and watched them climb the stairs, listening carefully for the bits and pieces of conversations that indicated where they were going. When she heard nothing else, she still waited. A door closed. He must have gone into his quarters. As silently as possible, she climbed, sniffing for him, listening for him and hoping to get by without being seen. She held still at the top, listening and sniffing, and feeling a little foolish to be so afraid. The silence was reassuring so she crept forward past his door. She managed to get as far as Jessup's office before she heard him. "My lady dark, where have you been? I waited for you. You never came. You know I don't like it when you're late."

With a start, she realized that he had been waiting in front of her door. The aroma of whiskey and old blood placed him there in the shadows. She froze for only a second, but that was all it took. He slammed her into a wall and held her there. She tried to talk to him, but he shoved a hand over her mouth. "I don't like it when you're late..." The aristocratic accent was slurred and his elegant looks were twisted in anger. "You should never keep a pureblood like me waiting, especially when you're beneath my station. I deserve better. I deserve a lady befitting my rank." His other hand dug into her arm, "How pure is your blood? Shall we see?"

With a savage jerk, he threw her against the other wall, the crash echoed down the corridor of closed doors. Stunned, she started to slump to the ground, watching his dark shadow come towards her. The smell of her own fear was sharp as she cringed. A sound very much like growl came from him, rumbling low and feral and base. The wolf responded in her fear and she shifted, growling in challenge, reacting where the human mind was numb. Growling, she leapt, her claws catching in his shirt, tearing at him, throwing him against someone's office door. Unsure and frightened, she turned and ran as fast as she could down the stairs and out the door, through the grounds until she found herself in front of the Dark Arts offices and there she stopped, doubting she could find help even if she asked for it. The wolf whined and turned away.

She slept under some bushes near the greenhouses. The stored warmth from the massive glass structure kept the wolf warm. Every noise woke her. By the time the bells tolled, she had changed back and sat hugging her knees, watching the castle.

It took a force of will to go back into the place. She drew her wand and slunk up the stairs, determined to kill him if he touched her again. She could do it. She knew how. The hallway was deserted, looking as though no drama had ever unfolded. Without noticing, she growled as she passed his door, an odd sound coming from a disheveled woman. When she walked by the place of her nightmare, she saw a smear of blood on the wall and sniffing it, realized it was his. She barked her triumph then raced into her room to emerge with a cloth to wipe it clean.

Excited by the first find, she hunted the place for more of his blood or hair. The hallway was full of human debris. Forcing herself to think like the black mage she was, an Accio spell, worked with a charm added, called the flakes of skin and the few hairs that matched the blood. More than enough. It was time to quit being the prey.

Holding those few hairs, she realized that she had to get back into his rooms and clean every last bit of herself out of it. She understood enough about Lester to know he would be able to hurt her with what he could find in there. Before she left the hall, she called everything of herself to her. Not much, but in the right hands it was more than enough. She watched his door as the conjured flames burned the scraps in her hand.

Her room felt safe. She checked the wards to ensure they were intact. Everything was fine. The bloody rag and hairs were placed on a top of a box. She just had to decide what to do with him. That would take some thinking.

A shower was what she wanted more than anything else. She felt dirty. Violated. Carrying her wand, she stalked to the students' showers and went in.

The place was already crowded with girls, all impatient for shower and mirror time. They looked at her oddly, her age alone marking her as alien.

Grumpily, she took her place in line and waited. The line moved slowly. It seemed to her that each child was unable to start her shower unless her best friend had the shower stall next to her. The room echoed with shrieks of laughter and yawns as the girls readied for the day. Why not, she thought, they aren't supposed to be eating now. They won't have to listen to Bette complain.

The five girls she had been listening to came out of the shower area together. Giggles was talking about a boy she had her eye on. It was the typical girl conversation about boys. Loup listened and wondered if she had ever been that way. Maybe. It was a very long time ago. Probably not. At their age, she had apprenticed to a dark wizard to learn the trade.

Low Voice, a plump blonde, looked uncomfortable. Her friends watched her with a bit of concern. She was fine, she assured her friends. She just hadn't expected it to be like that.

Loup cocked her head, interested in a gossipy sort of way. She only knew the five from their voices and already knew more than enough about them.

Low Voice sat gingerly on the edge of a bench and dried her hair. Loup noticed bruises on her shoulders and began to get an idea of what the conversation was about. She wondered who it had been, whose large hands had grabbed the girl's shoulders that roughly.

The small brunette was sympathetic and assured Low Voice that it would get better, hurt less, but she didn't sound too authoritative.

The group chatted amongst themselves, mostly about boys and who had done their homework. Loup slowly advanced up the line until she drew even with them. When she stood next to them, clutching her towel and her bag, they became quiet and stared at her.

"You ask her." Giggles poked High Voice. High Voice, a medium-height brunette, shook her head and stared at Loup. Low Voice looked up from her discomfort, her eyes growing large when she looked at Loup.

Gregorov's Last Year's Girl stepped back. "You're her!"

"What are you talking about?" Loup responded, irritated.

"What's your name?" Giggles tried to look important, but it's hard to look important when you're only wearing a towel.

"Je suis le loup de l'ombre. Et vous?" For some reason, French just seemed to be the right language. Maybe it was because all of the girl's accents sounded very German to her. Not that she could tell.

"See! I told you it was her." Giggles sounded triumphant.

"You are Loup?" Low Voice clutched her towel and sounded small.

"You can call me that." She was tempted to continue in her usual way, but decided that she was more curious as to why they even knew her. "How do you know me?"

The girls conferred among each other in loud whispers. Loup heard "what he said..." and more giggling. They all looked at her with big grins on their faces, except Gregorov's girl from last year. She looked unhappy.

"What?" Definitely annoying. The line moved forward in a chunk as the next group of best friends took their places in the shower. Loup was now number three in line. The steam from the showers felt great. It would be better if the girls would tell her what was going on.

High Voice looked at Low Voice and said, "Well, at least he didn't call you by the wrong name." Last year's girl blushed and looked at the floor.

The line took a small step forward and Loup found her attention split, wanting to be clean and wanting to know what was going on.

"Oh, go on and tell her. You already said you're not going back." The last girl in the group (who Loup decided should get the label "Last Straw") poked at Last Year's shoulder.

Last Year looked away. "He called me 'Loup' when...when I was with him last. Just thought you might want to know." The group fell into a giggling fit leaving Loup to ponder that information.

She pondered it through her shower, and again while she peeled another batch of potatoes. At least she was getting faster at that. She dawdled in the kitchens, getting stuck with many of the worst jobs. She dealt with those, hoping to make Bette happier. Hanging out also let her get some of the better food before it was served to the tables. She was feeling better when lunch was over. She waited longer, until she knew classes were in session before she left.

Lester taught classes from one to four o'clock in the afternoon and then he usually held office hours until dinner, except for Wednesdays when they had their staff meetings during those last two hours. Today was Monday and he would be busy for quite a while.

He had locked his office, but that hardly mattered. It was a simple task to break the lock's charm. She went through each room, making certain that every bit of her was gone. Every hair, every bit of skin - all burned. She also made a sweep through, collecting as much of him as possible. Everyone leaves little bits of themselves. A hair, flakes of skin, finger nail parings, a bit of blood... It all counted. It wasn't like she hadn't done this kind of work before. Soon, she had a little pile of Lester's bits, which she carefully stuck into a pocket.

Since she planned to never return to those rooms, she decided to have one last long look. Staring with the bathroom, she searched for hidden compartments and anything else of interest. She found nothing except some old, rather dull pornography. The bedroom yielded more. She found some interesting items that could be part of certain very dark spells, assuming they were used by someone who knew what he was doing. A false compartment in the closet let loose a familiar scent and, forcing it open, she found a cache of grimoires. He didn't have anything she hadn't seen before, but there were two outlawed books in there. In the back of the closet, she found a robe folded around a mask. She looked at those and wondered why they were hidden back there. Lester's room was almost a blank slate. There was hardly anything in there that pointed to a person. The only things that she could find, that marked him as an individual, were the black arts items and perhaps the mask. That was it. With a sneer, she left the rooms and prayed that the horrors there would stay out of her dreams.