Around 9:50 am, Hogwarts castle, in the corridor opposite the Great Hall.

Fauna stood in front of the mural, looking over the art club’s progress from yesterday. The amount of work they’d accomplished was amazing and the first layer was complete. Each section of the wall reflected a different artist’s handiwork, and yet it all flowed together to create one piece. She could see the detail work Atticus had done for the ruins, Megan’s careful lines, and Mairead’s energetic finger smudges. Then there was the stormy sky, which Fauna had focused on the most. She was actually quite satisfied and proud of it.

Today, the group would be working on the second layer of the mural, and she could only hope the painting would progress as smoothly and quickly as it did the day before. Fauna stared at the small copy of the image in her hands without really seeing it, the distant voices and clatter of breakfast from the Great Hall drifting in one ear and out the other. Visitors milled about the castle this morning, but not too many, and the mood was heavy and somber. The horrible events that had unfolded in the wee hours this morning had taken their toll on everyone. A part of Fauna regretted attending the memorial ceremony. She wished she had not seen it, that she’d been one of the students asleep in bed, oblivious to the horrors happening on the Quidditch pitch outside. It had been downright terrifying. She knew she’d never forget it.

Yet here she was, ten minutes till 10:00, setting up the mural as if nothing had happened. As Fauna reopened up the paint pails and straightened the drop cloth on the floor, her mind strayed, thinking about the letters she needed to write back home, the final exams looming over her, and what she was going to do about a job over the summer. All these thoughts were so normal, such an everyday part of her life that she couldn’t help but be distracted by them. Her hands were busy too, setting up the space so they could get right to painting the second layer. She wondered vaguely if Mairead would come back. Fauna liked the young girl.

When she was finished setting up, she stood back and scanned the area. Fauna didn’t want to start painting until another group member arrived; it didn’t feel right. She went around straightening the pails, which would just be moved soon anyway, and rechecked the sticking charm on the coat of armor for the fifth time. Fauna finally realized there was nothing left for her to do. She sat on the steps of a ladder and stared down at her hands, watching her fingers fiddle with a paintbrush.

The idea of being alone with her thoughts was frightening to her. When Fauna and the other students had finally made it back to the dorms earlier, she’d fallen asleep almost instantly, exhausted from being in shock. She felt like she was walking around in a dream still, as if nothing was substantial, and like she could touch the wall behind her and her hand would move through it.

Fauna reached out and touched the wall just to be sure. It was solid, of course. She shook her head at her irrational thoughts and then glanced up when she heard the doors to the Great Hall open. Perhaps some of the visitors would stop and ask questions, Fauna thought, too numb to worry about how she would answer them.

It wasn’t that Fil was really the type to be at one of these ceremony things, not at all – he was here for several reasons, none of which were to mourn.  He had never really been personally connected to the events, most of his time had been spent worrying about himself, really, and he was too young at the time to have really known anyone who died.  He appreciated their efforts and after what had happened the previous evening, he kicked himself for not going to show some support – and have his camera.

He had stayed in, rather exhausted for no particular reason except perhaps drained from too much self pity and crashed on the couch.  The next thing he knew the Prophet was plastered with news and if he had been there – well, he would have gotten quite a few money shots.  He didn’t really think about it as exploiting a situation, but everyone needed to eat and a werewolf only had so many job opportunities.  Photographing the events of the previous night he had imagined would be boring – stuffy speeches and all that jazz, definitely not the case.  But, hindsight was always 20/20 and he had other business to attend to.

He had recently received a letter from his little sister of sorts, Olivia Foley, stating that she had a kissed a girl – and liked it.  This girl he remembered from his days at Hogwarts, though not exceptionally well as he had been considerably older.  He just remembered that he knew her and if Olivia liked her – regardless of what that meant for her – he wanted to make sure she was suitable.  He was only glad that she was a Hufflepuff, obviously the best house, and that had to indicate that she was loyal and hard working, two very important qualities. 

Tapping his fingers on the top of his camera – he was going to be taking some photos; he remembered that her name had been spotlighted in connection with a mural in the Great Hall.  So, that was where he headed.  He had the camera to hide behind at first and looked around – a lot of people were getting breakfast, and strangely, for the first time – Fil was not hungry.  In fact, he felt his stomach churn in a most sickening way – he wasn’t sure how to go about this whole thing, but assumed it would just come to him when he talked with her.

Walking up, he adjusted the lens of his camera and smiled awkwardly, “Miss Blake?” he questioned – so used to asking his subjects to do things in proper terms, “Would it be possible to get a picture of the artist with her work?” he asked – hoping for one he had the right person and for two she wouldn’t be photo shy and send him packing straight away.  He also wanted to see her face and how she smiled – he wanted to make sure she was cute enough.  Seemed so from the angle he was at,  but he had to shake his head – this was not about him.

Fauna looked up in surprise when she heard her name, thinking for a moment that a professor was speaking to her because other students didn’t call her ‘Miss Blake’. She blinked at the young man with a camera and smiled slightly.

When he asked to take a picture of her with the mural, her eyes widened and she fought back an embarrassed grin. The first thing she thought of what that he must be a photographer, maybe even from the Prophet. The camera he held was fancy enough and he acted like he’d asked people to pose for pictures before. He also happened to be very attractive. A light blush rose to her cheeks and she ducked her head before stepping down from the ladder.

“Um, sure…” she said, feeling self-conscious. “Oh, but, um… other students have worked on it too. I’m sure they’ll be here in a few minutes,” she glanced at the doors, and then at her wristwatch. “Would you be okay with taking a group photo, too? If you have the time, I mean…”

If the photo ended up in a newspaper of some sort, she wanted the art club to be in it, and she felt less nervous with them around. Fauna turned to study the mural and so she could pick a good place to stand, while finger-combing her hair and trying to smooth it out as best she could. She hoped her paint-splattered jeans and oversized sweater wouldn’t make her look completely frumpy, but then again, she had an excuse as an artist. Fauna thanked her lucky stars that she’d remembered to shower, wash her face, and do all the necessary waking up things this morning while most of her roommates had opted to sleep in.

She glanced at the photographer, realized she was fussing with her hair, and let her hands drop with a sheepish smile.

“Oh, should I be painting?” she asked him, which sounded funny because she was the mural painter after all, but she meant for the purpose of the photo.

Alright, so, when she turned toward him, she was at least cute.  He wasn’t sure she was drop dead gorgeous, but she didn’t need to be – he would be too skeptical if she was.  An overly gorgeous girl would be too prone to hurt a werewolf – and even if he was still a little weirded out about the entire situation, he was going to play it cool.  He wanted to see how she responded to the spotlight too – that would be good… for something.  He would figure it out later, and then use it to justify why he had come.

A lopsided grin formed over his face and Fil’s fingers itched to press the trigger as she awkwardly tried to suggest that he want for a group picture or something.  Well, that meant she was considerate, he liked that idea.  A werewolf needed a considerate person around – someone who would at least pretend to understand how much it sucked.  “Sure, a group picture would be great when they all come in,” he nodded, picking the camera up to his face to snap a photo of the unfinished wall without her in it – he wanted a picture of the raw medium first.

It was an interesting mural, he thought, something he had never supposed would be created, but the ingenuity of young people (himself included) was fairly intense and he figured this was an excellent show of it.  He hoped the reporter who took up the story would pay it the proper respect, even if they would all be itching to do the front page story, someone was going to get assigned the small stuff – and he would have the photos for it. 

“It’s quite a work,” he commented before turning back to the main artist – she had to be, she looked like it.  He could see her appeal in some ways, though did not understand Ollie’s attraction.  He had never thought she was like that… odd.  Whatever the case, he shrugged his shoulders – he just wanted her to be happy – and with a good person, regardless of whom that person was.  Smiling at her, he actually liked her suggestion.

Nodding eagerly, he lifted the camera.  “Yes, just look natural,” he informed her, “Grab a brush and decide what you’re going to do – just let me know.  I’ll probably take a few shots so that I have some extra – in case some don’t develop properly.”  He wanted to make sure things went well both professionally and personally, “You know, part of the job, I guess,” he grinned awkwardly - this was going to be an interesting conversation.

Just look natural, he said. Fauna stifled a laugh. If she felt nervous painting when visitors stopped by to glance at the work, she was going to feel very nervous while being photographed. Regardless, Fauna was flattered, and she’d try her best to push away her nerves and think about the mural in front of her.

“…You know, part of the job, I guess.”

She smiled back when he grinned at her. “Do you… work at the Daily Prophet, then?” Fauna wondered out loud, glancing at him curiously as she dragged a pail over to the section of the wall she was going to work on. He looked familiar and she couldn’t place where she recognized him from.

Fauna checked to make sure she had the right pails of paint around her- lots of greens and browns- and then she pinned the small copy of the image above her section of the mural with a sticking charm. Dipping a small paintbrush into the pail full of vibrant green, she started painting over the spots of the earth where the grass and life had been cursed away, with short, tiny strokes that were meant to look like grass. Her hand was a little shaky, but it worked for what she was trying to do. Fauna dipped the brush into the paint again and glanced at the photographer.

“We’re working on the second layer today,” she explained. “So all the, well, destruction and bleakness you see now… will gradually grow into something, uh, hopeful.”

She wondered if she was supposed to be talking and turned back to her work. Fauna continued painting, at first somewhat distracted by the clicks and clacks of the camera flashing, but she got used to it, and it started to blend in with the other noise she heard echoing from the corridors and the Great Hall nearby. Occasionally she’d step back and check her progress, but most of the time her face was so close to the wall that her nose almost touched the stone. At some point she nearly forgot Fil was there. The combination of painting, focusing on the image, and letting her mind drift caused her to forget her surroundings. Her hand was steadier now, though, and the bits of grass and flowers she painted into the wall brought her a sense of hopefulness and calm, too.

Last night’s choir performance kept running through her head, the melodies and sounds repeating over and over. She started humming a little when the song got to her favorite part, and then she stopped, freezing like a deer in headlights when the doors to the corridor flew open and a few visitors trickled in.

Fauna looked at Fillin, her cheeks quickly turning red. “How am I doing so far?” she whispered, holding the brush in the air. Drops of green paint fell onto the knee of her jeans, but she didn’t notice, more concerned about how the photos were turning out (and hoping he didn’t photograph her humming).

“Sort of,” Fillin answered, turning his camera toward him, adjusting the focus and holding it up ever few twists to look through the focus.  It was just about there, and he wanted to make sure he was going to get a good shot.  Satisfied, the young man lifted it to his eye again and snapped a picture: a candid shot that he would probably not use, but he was just testing.  “I work freelance,” he continued to explain, “And sell my pictures to whatever newspaper is looking for them.  The Prophet is my main buyer though,” he informed her.

He didn’t want her to think he was just some random guy who snapped photos, of course, but he couldn’t straight out lie.  The Prophet wouldn’t hire a werewolf full time, at least not when they could have someone else, so he just relied on his talent and the fact that he could get in places under the radar without a press distinction.  He had a lot of friends who did some interesting things and he had the pictures to prove it – sometimes, when they weren’t such good friends, he could turn those photos in for some serious money under a serious pseudonym. 

The photography continued as she dragged her brush along the wall in quick, jaunted strokes.  He could see her hand shaking, nerves were obviously her enemy.  He wondered why, after all, she was doing something she obviously liked, and he wasn’t snapping that many pictures – he liked to conserve film, so he wanted to wait for the perfect view through the little glass and then he would hit the button, capturing the moment with a puff of purple smoke.  It was a little distracting, but he had gotten used to it.

Her explanation wasn’t necessary, but at least she was trying to engage with him.  That meant she was someone who was accessible.  It probably also meant she was easy to talk to – despite her nervousness, which he took for severe camera shy behavior.  “You’re doing a good job,” he informed her – on both levels.  The mural was rather beautiful and she was rather photogenic when she wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing.  He always liked natural shots; they were so much more real than the painted smiles and ridiculousness of that sort of behavior.

The amount of pictures he took slowed down as he thought he had some very good frames and wanted to get the rest of the club in a few without running out of film.  It was a worry every photographer had and he hadn’t refilled the camera that morning – stupidly enough.  He was thinking about other things.  When she turned toward him, Fil tried to smile – though it came to be a sort of lopsided, awkward grin.

“Like I said, great,” he nodded – he didn’t want to chat her up too much, but he had to be nice about it.  “I’m going to save the rest of my film for when the rest of your club gets here,” he added, motioning to the camera.  “Olivia Foley is in the club right?” he asked, “I was hoping I might be able to catch her here this morning,” he smiled, “and I figured she’d be around the friend she writes to me so much about.”  His smile became a little forced – the most recent record of their interactions had shaken him – how odd it was to even imagine that they had... he felt his stomach jump. So not what the big brother figure wanted to think about.

Fauna blushed a little when he reassured her that she was doing fine with the painting and the photographs. He could just be acting polite, but she preferred to think he actually meant it. The guy hadn’t run off to photograph another exhibit while she was distracted by her work- not yet, anyway!

She quickly put down the paintbrush when she felt the paint dripping on the knee, the new splotches adding to the old, faded paint stains from past projects. Fauna might be self-conscious about some things (okay, most things), but getting paint on her clothes was not one of them. The rare times she finished a project unscathed by paint, charcoal or other materials, probably meant she wasn’t working hard enough.

Fauna nodded at him and smiled when he said he’d be saving the rest of the film for the group. Now that she’d calmed down and was less nervous about being photographed, she thought that it was actually kind of nice to be getting such attention from someone. Especially if that someone was a cute guy. She shook her head and tried not to laugh. Ollie was the one completely crazy over boys, not Fauna, and yet here she was blushing over a person who was just doing his job. Her best friend would be proud.

Speaking of Ollie, Fauna was extremely surprised when the photographer mentioned her by name. Her eyebrows spiked up and her mouth opened in a little ‘o’, making her facial expression almost comical. At first she thought Ollie was pretty lucky and wondered where she’d met him, but then she remembered, and it was so obvious she couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen it before. This was Fil, the werewolf who took photos for a living and acted as a big brother to Ollie. He was the one Olivia talked about writing letters to all the time, asking him for advice and updating him on her many adventures and latest food fights.

Fauna grinned at him and ignored the mural painting for now. “Fil, right? You were in Hufflepuff, weren’t you?” It was only the best house ever. She remembered him vaguely, but she’d been younger than him and wholly preoccupied with surviving her first few years at Hogwarts.

She perched on the ladder steps next to him and beamed up at him, not quite processing the strained look on his face. “Well, Ollie’s not actually… in the club. But she did promise to stop by today.”

Fauna paused, watching the a group of people pass through the corridor with nary a glance at the mural. She tried not to be offended though. Everyone was still reeling from the memorial ceremony last night. Her smile faltered as she was reminded of it, but she glanced at Fil again and brightened.

“She talks about you all the time,” she informed him. It was definitely nice to finally meet Ollie’s ‘big brother’. “And I guess she writes about me a lot, though I didn’t realize it.” Fauna gave an embarrassed shrug and looked away, thoughts straying to all the stories Ollie could have told him about her.

“I hope it’s nothing bad,” she joked innocently, laughing a little.

Fillin laughed softly when she seemed to finally get who he was.  Well, that was fun, he thought.  She obviously hadn’t expected him to show up, and frankly, he wasn’t sure how he managed to do it either, but here he was and she finally got it.  Her surprise was worth not announcing who he was off the top and he smiled, tapping his fingers on the camera.  “Good memory,” he laughed softly, nodding at her Hufflepuff comment.

It was probably the most underrated house in the entire school and though his father was not a fan of the fact his son was in it, Fil had made good friends out of there and everywhere else.  It was kind of strange to think he had gone from a withdrawn little kid to the guy he was now, still withdrawn, but far larger and with a plethora of issues that superseded even what he had when he was eleven.  “I’m guessing you were a Huff too?” he asked, preferring that to the whole nonsense of puffs and things – it felt so girly.  He was, most assuredly, not girly.

Anyone who looked at him might have thought he was some kind of lumberjack, though he was a little on the thin side these days.  Not much of an appetite recently, which probably meant he should have gotten checked out.  For a werewolf not to have a ravenous appetite was rather strange.  He felt rather strange about it too, actually.  But he didn’t want to go back to the clinic.  That was another set of issues he really didn’t feel like dealing with. 

Grinning at her as she perched on the ladder, he shoved his own issues to the side and nodded. “Good, I’ve been waiting to see the scamp,” he laughed.  “I’m sure she’s been up to something,” he said vaguely, though he wanted to see how she took it.  For some reason, he was having trouble bringing things up – and she continued talking.  Thank God for the grace of women and their big mouths.

The thought that Ollie talked about him all the time made the young man grin and he was just happy to hear it.  He was her surrogate big brother in this whole thing – even if she had been a werewolf longer, he knew what it was going to be like later, and he could help her out.  And he couldn’t help but continue to laugh, especially at her embarrassment.  It was cute – Keep it to the purpose, he reminded himself. 

“She does mention you a lot,” he smiled, “I’m glad you’re here for her – I know it’s tough sometimes.  So, thanks – I can’t always write back to her in a speedy manner, or be of immediate assistance, though, you know, she’s written to me about some… interesting… stuff,” his cheeks turned a bright pink, uncommon for him, and he coughed into his left hand, “I just... uh... wanted to talk to you about it... actually."  Awkward.

Fil asked her if she was a Hufflepuff too and she nodded. “Yep. Most of my best friends are in that house. Though… I have been trying to branch out a little.” Fauna shrugged and smiled, thinking about the very strange and unlikely friendships she’d developed with Atticus and Ava- two Slytherins, of all people! She’d even talked to Devlin and Kyle on occasion. One name, Kyle, brought on a vague feeling of unease, until she remembered why and slipped back into shock again. It was all too easy at the moment to push away the events of last night. Fil’s appreciative laughter and easygoing attitude definitely helped Fauna feel like she was on solid ground, and like she could pretend everything was normal, at least for a little while.

“I’m glad you’re here for her…”

Fauna felt a rush of gratitude, as she often did when complimented, and the blush that spread across her cheeks wasn’t all that unpleasant. There was a lot of prejudice and stigma against werewolves. Fauna could understand people’s fear to an extent and she could see the real danger that werewolves brought if left free to roam during a full moon. Yet, for Fauna, Ollie was a friend, she was the only werewolf she knew personally, and so her opinions were definitely biased because of that. She’d even seen her transform, which had strengthened their friendship rather than hurt it. It wasn’t difficult to stand by her when she felt so strongly about her, but of course, Fauna had never had to defend her to anyone else. Life might be very different for Fil as a registered werewolf trying to make it in the wizarding world. She wondered if he had good friends to be there for him.

When Fil suddenly became awkward, blushing and stammering almost as much as Fauna on a good day, she gave him a worried look and tried to figure out what she’d done to make him uncomfortable. Interesting stuff, he said. Fauna’s facial expression became more and more confused.

“What?” She asked, feeling like a dunce. She watched his eyes get shifty and she frowned. “Oh.” Her eyes widened when she realized. “That.”

Fauna couldn’t even say it. She laughed nervously, turned her face away, and rubbed at her forehead, subconsciously hiding behind her hand. Her eyes darted from the floor, her shoes, the door, and finally to Fil’s furrowed  brow. It was the closest she could get to looking him in the eye.

“Well… I… I didn’t, uh, plan it,” she mumbled into her hand, face burning. Fauna was less worried about the kiss itself -or kisses, if Ollie told him about the second time, which she really hoped she hadn’t- than she was about what Fil might think of her. Fauna was two years older than Ollie, so she was afraid that Fil thought she might be taking advantage of her, which was obviously something she wouldn’t do, but it was a relevant worry from an outsider’s perspective. At least Ollie was talking to someone about it. Fauna wished she knew who to talk to. She’d never dated anyone before or kissed anyone else, and the fact that it was happening with a girl, her best friend, and someone who was younger than her made it all very awkward.

 “I know what you mean,” Fil nodded, thinking of the friends he kept.  What an eclectic bunch.  No one would have suspected the kinds of people he was around, but then, he supposed his situation made it rather impossible to be picky about those that were willing to look past his furry little problem.  Thankfully, he had some good friends who didn’t mind, and some even better ones who were willing to help him out for what he was good at – what he was didn’t matter in the face of his skills.  “The whole house thing stops mattering when you graduate,” he shrugged, giving her that to look forward to.

Maybe it didn’t matter for him, at least.  And she seemed to be an artist too.  That made it easier for him to testify as to what life would be like after.  Though, he didn’t want to tell her about the string of dingy flats and jobs that didn’t pan out – that would just depress her.  Fil was used to that feeling, but he didn’t suspect a normal child would be.  And he had other uncomfortable things to discuss with her – at least they were uncomfortable for him.

He had met Ollie in the most unlikely of circumstances and she was the most awkward, annoying child ever.  He had been a grumpy teenager and she was a gawky preteen who couldn’t keep her mouth shut.  It seemed like fate that they would be a duo now.  So he had to watch out for her – he didn’t want anyone to hurt her, and it seemed like she had twice the basis for him to worry.  If it was just boys… he could handle that – but all of this?  Fil did not even know where to start.  He cleared his throat and tried to smile – but found that his cheeks were burning too much to even try.

This was going to be awkward.

He mulled his mouth around and glanced at the ground, kicking the dust around for a moment.  He didn’t know really what to say or what he even wanted to know about it.  He didn’t know what Ollie would want him to find out – if anything, and he really just wanted to crawl into a hole.  This was not the most intelligent thing he had ever done.  He was glad he would be getting a drink after this. 

“I didn’t figure you did,” Fil said, honestly believing her.  She didn’t seem like the type that would lie.  “But, I mean, you didn’t regret it – did you?  Ollie’s like my little sister…” he started to explain, “and she seemed concerned when she wrote to me, and I wanted to make sure you weren’t going to hurt her, y’know?” He cleared his throat and wasn’t really sure of where to go with it.  He tapped on the top of the camera again, like a nervous tick or something. 

He looked at her again, pursing his lips.  “What did you… or do you… I mean, what do you think is going on there?”  He coughed again, “I can’t admit I know much about this whole thing… but, I just wanna make sure Ollie's all taken care of and nothing's going to hurt her. I don't have to worry about that, right?"

This was starting to become more awkward than the ‘sex talks’ her mother attempted to initiate every summer when she was feeling particularly concerned about teenage habits. Unfortunately, Fauna couldn’t run off and hide somewhere, or give Fil one-word answers, because she didn’t want to be completely rude and she had a feeling he really cared about Ollie. Still, this didn’t make the situation any easier! As he fiddled nervously with his camera, Fauna tapped her foot, glanced in all directions, and kept dropping her paintbrush onto the floor. It was like watching some kind of mating dance gone wrong.

“Um… well, uh…” She stammered, trying to find a way to say she didn’t regret it at all. She nodded when he explained that Ollie was like a little sister to him. That made sense. Fil was just acting as a protective older brother.

He continued, ending with, “I just wanna make sure Ollie's all taken care of and nothing's going to hurt her. I don't have to worry about that, right?"

“Oh. Well, no, I’d… never mean to hurt her,” she told him, completely sincere but not quite sure that she was coming off that way. Many people who didn’t know her all that well assumed she was hiding something, or a bad liar, when in actuality she just got nervous very easily. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and sighed.

“Okay, um… it’s hard to explain. I don’t think we’re dating… I mean, we’ve kissed a few times, but we haven’t been on a date yet... and we’re not, what’s the word, exclusive,” she let out an odd chuckle and her face turned redder.

Fauna hesitated. She wasn’t sure how much Ollie had told him about her feelings, and she didn’t want to share anything private, but she didn’t know how else to make her point. “It’s pretty clear that, you know, Ollie’s kinda boy crazy. She has been since I’ve known her. And lately, well, she seems to like girls too, at least ones she’s close to.” Fauna was Ollie’s best friend, so in a way it made sense.

Now came the part that was the hardest for her to tell him, because it was personal, and she hadn’t talked to anyone about Ollie besides Ollie. Still, if it would convince him, she had to try.

“I’m not really quite sure how I feel. About her. You know? I mean, she knows that. I’m trying to be honest. Maybe she was upset earlier because we didn’t talk for a few days. But then we did talk, and we seem to, well, we seem to understand each other better now. Like where we stand,” she shrugged and finally looked him in the eye. “But… I’d never try to hurt her. She’s the last person… she’s my best friend.”

Fauna stopped babbling and gave him a half-hopeful, half-apologetic look. He was a genius if he could make sense of all that!