He'd needed to be alone.  And, for once, there was no amount of studying that would keep his mind focused on menial academic tasks.  He'd been staring at his notes in the Ravenclaw Tower for near half an hour, his knee twitching anxiously under the table, before he'd been suddenly struck with an antsy, uneasy and quickly escalating feeling of entrapment.  Despite the cold, he just couldn't stay inside, cooped up. 

It was still several hours until curfew and they still have their midnight Astronomy class but, given the day, Sasha knew better than to simply disappear from the confines of the castle.  He'd scribbled down a quick (though small) note, outlining where on the school grounds he was going and when he planned on returning to the Astronomy classroom and sent Jack, his pint-sized elf owl, winging up to Professor Trishna's classroom.  Then, after pulling his thick, fleece-lined barn coat over his school uniform, he found his way out onto the grounds and following the now-familiar path towards the thestral paddock. 

The feeling had first struck halfway through Care of Magical Creatures and he'd managed to ignore it through the remainder of the day's classes.  But, the sense of entrapment and fear continued to build until he was out in the open air.  Sasha climbed up on the top paddock rail just as one of the larger female thestrals moved through the herd towards him. 

He didn't understand the welling of emotions and that confusion was only proving to compound them.  Though, if he gave himself a moment to think, he supposed he did understand.  It was a year ago that everything had completely and irrevocably changed and it wasn't until just after lunch, at the start of a page of notes, that he'd become fully aware of the day's date.  It had been this day, a year ago, when without warning everything that had been normal vanished and everything seemed to fall apart.  A year ago yesterday, Sasha had been worrying about classes and exams and getting kissed by a boy.  About some foolish little bean that had bounced off Bellatrix Dark's head in Transfiguration. 

A year ago, today, he'd been dismissed from school for the remainder of the term.  And fearing the inevitable letter home that would out him as a wizard to his muggle parents.  The attack in Hogsmeade and ... In the end it had been for the best, right?  Wasn't he better off for having gone to Scotland?  Wasn't that what he'd decided?  And, if that was the case, why was his mind fixing on the terror of being immobilized and apparating rather than ...

"Nothing really makes sense anymore," Sasha said, quietly, to the thestral as he rubbed the bony flat of the animal's face.  "It used to be so much simpler.  Now-"  Now, he'd give anything to have kissing boys be the biggest of his worries.

As soon as she finished her classes, Amara changed into warmer, more comfortable clothes and made her way to the kitchens to pick up a few slices of meat for Layla, the thestral she had chosen for her Care of Magical Creatures project. She had been in a frenzy all day wanting to get back to training the foal. She decided she'd train her as her own and hopefully Professor Hagrid would agree to entrust it to her care after she was done with the project. Layla was very responsive to Amara and she had been very diligent in the groundwork training, and Amara of course, fell in love with her at first sight.

The small train of her heavy coat rustled through the leaves on the ground as she made her way to the thestral paddocks. As soon as she opened the gate Layla neighed and came to meet her and Amara promptly rewarded her with a small chunk of meet before she led her in the open space behind the buildings to start the training.

The session went well enough, Layla had problems grasping the concept of heeding and still stumbled through trotting, but they were only just beginning and Amara was satisfied with the foal's progress. As she led the foal through the back into the stables to groom her, she noticed someone sitting on the rail of the paddocks outside. She contemplated stealthily leaving to avoid any sort of socialization but spending more time with Layla won over that thought. She was brushing Layla with a big smile on her face as she heard the voice of a boy from outside. She slowly dropped the brush and took a few steps to the door. She leaned forward to look at the boy and she could almost see the emotion seeping out of him. She was suddenly intrigued and took another step forward through the frame of the door. He was familiar, she'd seen him around the castle before, if her memory served right he was an older Ravenclaw.

"Do you often talk to yourself?" she blurted out in her usual oblivious ways. She saw him raise his head to her, startled, and she took a few more steps and passed through the door frame. "What are you feeling?" she added in a very curious tone, disregarding any sort of social rule about prying. She lifted her hood and let it drop at the back, she then put her hands in the pockets of the coat and slowly tilted her head to the right, squinting her eyes as she analyzed the blond. "You can almost feel it in the air, something heavy and rather grim..." she said more to herself. "What is it? What are you feeling?" she finally asked in a slightly frustrated voice, this time actually awaiting a response.

Her mind was a vortex of questions and all propriety had left her completely. She had seen -this, whatever it was before, she might've even felt it before. It took her back to ten years ago when her life changed completely, but she had forgotten so much, had blocked out so much, that she wasn't even able to identify the feeling, the sensation. She knew at the back of her head, or perhaps her heart, that she had the ability to feel, she knew all these things and yet her mind was not able to grasp the concepts anymore, it chose to completely forget the essence that made her human: her emotions.

It was the thestral that noticed the girl's presence first.  The long, thin ears turned flickered forward and she raised her head as the Slytherin's shadow broke the light coming through the doorway.  Sasha glanced quickly over his shoulder, verified that he didn't know the girl and turned forward, again.  Curiosity had gotten the better of the thestral and she stepped away from Sasha and along the fence line to better catch the scent of the girl through the fence rails.  By watching the animal out of the corner of his eye, it was easy to tell that the Slytherin hadn't moved away, as much as Sasha wished she would. 

"Do you often talk to yourself?"

Sasha's shoulders rose and fell in a sigh as he shook his head.  Finally, he brushed his fingers over his coat to smooth out any wrinkles and straightened his tie before pivoting on the fence until he was half facing the girl. 

"I wasn't talking to myself," he insisted, shaking his head.  "I was talking to her."  Sasha gestured towards the thestral.  In hindsight, admitting he talks to animals might not be considered an improvement over talking to himself but he wasn't going to worry about that.  He talked to Baldur all the time - most of his housemates knew that.  And, at home, he was known to hold complete conversations with Wobias, one of his horses.  If she wanted to judge him for it, there was little he could do to stop her.  "It's easier sometimes, you know.  To talk when things aren't so complicated and you don't have to worry about the other person." 

Maybe she wouldn't get it.  Maybe she had pets and she would.  Usually, someone got it or they didn't.  There wasn't much middle ground.

Sasha flinched, slightly, when she asked what he was feeling and looked away.  What was this?  Some morbid curiosity on her part?  Was this some repeat of last year when Eirene had believed those awful posters[1] posters and Eirene watched him from a distance, trying to see if he'd 'snap.' 

"What do you mean?" he asked, suspiciously.  "Why do you want to know?  What's it to you?"

1.	In January of the previous school year, Callum Knight littered the school with Azkaban posters after an article was published about Sasha killing the man who invaded his home

"Layla likes her" she said with a small smile as she rubbed at the older thestral's shoulder. "But then again, Layla likes all other creatures, except Freija... I can't get these two to cooperate at all" she smiled fully thinking at the cat's jealousy. She turned to look at him again, realizing she had to answer the questions and couldn't postpone it anymore. She did it to herself after all. "Layla's the baby thestral I was assigned to for the Care of Magical Creatures project. She's mine now, I suppose" she said in a small voice.

She took a few steps forward and pulled her coat and dress up, in a very unladylike manner to climb the rail and sit. She kept a safe distance, about one meter from him and looked at him puzzled before sighing and turning her face to look in the distance. "I meant no disrespect and I am sorry if I have offended you" she said apologetically. "Ah, Amara Báthory , by the way, fourth year Slytherin" she added quickly, realizing, starting a conversation without introducing herself, would be considered even ruder, than her already rude behavior. She turned to look in the distance again. "I can't identify emotions, or oftentimes I can't feel them at all. Some muggle medical books I read seem to agree that it may be caused by a severe case of Post traumatic Stress disorder. Basically, I developed an emotional dysregulation, following an early psychological trauma; top that with a lovely family curse that causes severe bouts of psychopathy... Well, I hope you get the-" she froze mid-sentence, realizing she had been talking about her most intimate secret, to a stranger nonetheless. "I am sorry, I don't know what came over me, I don't usually talk, much less about myself. But, recently my- emotional impairment has been giving me a lot of trouble. Like popping up outrageously insensitive questions to strangers, and, apparently, talking about about secrets I have never shared, as well."

She turned to look at him, worry and panic etched all across her face. "I hope you can understand the sensitivity of what I have just, inadvertently, shared and despite the fact that I do know you have no obligation at all to keep this private, I will ask if you would please do so. But back, to my rather rude questions, it was simple curiosity, I seemed to relate somehow to your outer -symptoms, but, alas, I cannot identify it, so my subconscious thought to just ask away..." she looked at him piercingly, for a fleeting moment contemplating a quick, easy Memory Charm, but dispelling the thought immediately.

Still wary of the somewhat odd Slytherin, Sasha turned his head, slightly, and watched the girl quietly for a few moments.  The girl's explanation about the young thestral offered quite a bit of information - namely that she possessed the capabilities of seeing the skeletal creatures.  Something in that realization, alone, was enough to settle Sasha's mind and he turned forward once more.  She was only a fourth year and she knew Death.  Sasha's introduction to Death had come later - just this past year.  But, it had come with repeated visits.  Of course, had known about the creatures for quite some time but had only been able to see them over the last ten months. 

"What's your assignment with her?" Sasha asked, curiously, watching as the mass of black coats, wings and bones shifted as the herd moved. 

The Slytherin introduced herself and launched into a detailed, though peculiarly clinical explanation for her curious behavior.  It was an odd and excessive sort of apology and, halfway through, Sasha turned his head to watch her, again.  Post-traumatic Stress Disorder from early psychological drama?  Sasha's gaze tracked, briefly, between Báthory and the young thestral and back.  With no more information, he could only hazard to guess but those two facts seemed far too potentially related to be simply coincidence.  Family curse that lent itself to severe psychopathy and a last name of Báthory.  He'd spent the last six years continuing a muggle education to appease his own family and Gerhard, his step-father, had always emphasized European History.  "Any relation to the Hungarian Báthorys?" Sasha asked before he could think better of the question. 

Obviously, she wasn't the only one with a propensity to suddenly come up with potentially insensitive questions. 

"Ja," Sasha nodded and looked back forward.  "I understand needing to keep things quiet. We've all got those things we wouldn't want to get out.  My own list is pretty substantial so repeating anything would just be tempting fate."  And, as history had shown over the last year, fate obviously didn't feel any obligation to be kind or cut him any slack.

He hoped she wasn't looking for as deep or soul-searching an explanation for his current state as she'd provided.  He'd only just accepted he actually wasn't doing Fine and Well a couple weeks before.  And, it had required coming within moments of wrenching a soul from her rest to even get that far.  Any lack of detail had so much more to do with his not having them than trying to withhold information. 

"I'm not sure how much help I can be," he admitted at first, as much as a disclaimer as anything.  "Lost.  Confused.  Nostalgic, I guess.  Kind of like - you know on New Year's how you tend to sit there and think about where you were on the last New Year's?  Kind of like that.  Just, with more regret.  And, a little more trepidation about what to expect from the next year?"  He shrugged and looked at the Slytherin, again.  "If that makes any sense."

"We have to raise them. I suppose it is a way to put into application everything we've been studying in Creatures so far. Speak of the devil" she said with a hint of a smile as Layla came through the door of the stables and excitedly walked towards Amara. The girl extended her arm and Layla nuzzled it lovingly.

She turned her head quickly to the boy as he uttered the next question. "Yes..." she said in a half-voice "I am directly descended from Erzsébet Báthori, known by the rest of you as Elizabeth Báthory or the Bloody Countess. And, yes, in case you're thinking it, she was the one that graced" she grimaced "us all Báthory heiresses with a dormant -or not so dormant, in some cases- genetic psyhcopathy. In the Báthory family, history has proved that whatever you do in life can and will be transmitted to your descendants. Like my hair color, for example, another lovely family curse."

She fell silent for a moment, looking at him with calculating eyes. "I'm surprised, many are ignorant towards the rich history of the European magical families..." And she liked it that way, who knew what else the blond might know? And who knew where in the long and tragic history of her family might one find something to exploit and use against her?

She was grateful when he provided her with an explanation as to why he would not reveal her... illness. She didn't feel the need to pry and ask for his reasons, she was satisfied with knowing that should she ever find herself in need of holding something against him, she only had to investigate the wizard -whose name, she just realized,  she did not know.

She listened attentively to his description of his feelings, and by the time he was finished she looked at him puzzled and utterly confused. "I understand lost, in the sense of encountering obstacles when trying to decide on something, but not really. Being lost or confused, is only a momentary feeling, usually caused by a temporary mental imbalance as a consequence of lacking information or of some sort of emotional response that clouds your judgement. For example, at the moment, I can honestly say, I have no idea what you mean through the New Year situation you provided, but with an explanation I can relate to I could understand it. I suppose you're seeing New Year through the prism of one that celebrates the day in question as a holiday, whereas we Báthorys hold nothing sacred, in the way others do. For me, New Year is simply the coming of a new day where life goes on just like every other day. It doesn't mean ending a year and passing into a new one, so I see no reason to contemplate where I was on the last New Year, as a matter of fact I tend not to think of my past at all. If you only strive for the future, you'll have a better chance of bettering yourself."

Layla huffed and put her head in Amara's lap, nudging her hand and demanding affection. Amara complied, and rubbed her head mindlessly while still trying to grasp the meaning of what the blond had said. "I understand regret, or some form of it. Like I said I usually don't think over my actions, but there is one situation I regret... one caused by me" she ended in a smaller voice as fragmented images of that damned day when she almost killed her own sister flashed before her eyes. "In some deeper context I even understand nostalgia, but I was so young I can hardly remember the cause of it, or if what I remember is true or if it is just something I created as a means to accept what happened..." She talked nonsense, she'd realize moments later, but she forgot for a moment that she was actually speaking to someone, a human being, someone that had no idea of what she was she was referring to, someone who wouldn't even need to know what she was speaking of. But there she went, again, speaking of things that she felt best to remain unspoken.

She quickly turned to him and the words she was about to utter never came. Should she apologize again? Should she admit her own incompetence at holding her tongue once more? And it suddenly hit her... just what would happen if everyone knew? Why was she holding on knowledge about herself so tightly? Just what could a boy of no older than -what? 16? 17? do with that information? Her battles were with the clan and other Romanian families that wanted the power the Báthorys held, not with some teenage boy. What if everyone knew of the curse? Anyone with an interest and patience to drag through countless history books could find out most of what she was trying not to share. And she held no interest in what others thought of her as long as it did not affect the image the clan wanted of her. She didn't care... right?

And then she smiled at him. A big smile with small hints of confusion and insanity. The smile turned into a snigger, and no sooner, it was a full hysterical laughter. She kicked her head back, holding the rail tightly with both hands and laughed, simply laughed, like a maniac, like a life convict breathing fresh air after 50 years in a small cell with no windows. After what felt like an eternity, her final laughter finally dyed out. Her face was flushed and she was breathing rapidly trying to make up for the many skipped breaths. Still smiling she looked at Layla and ruffled her mane.

"I don't even know your name, but here I am telling you what I didn't dare say out loud to Freija and she knows more about me than any human being might. Here I am laughing, like a madwoman and making breakthrough inner findings after minutes with a stranger" she chuckled again. "Lost? Confused? I feel them both, plus some added unexplainable things... I think I might owe you a thank you, Mister....?" she said half-jokingly with a smile tugging at the left corner of her lips and an arched eyebrow, beseeching an answer.

Not surprisingly, asking about the Countess had struck a bit of an uncomfortable nerve.  Most families, somewhere along the lines, had ancestors they'd rather not be so readily connected to - Sasha had a number of his own long dead skeletons.  He, however, had the benefit of not having to wear the evidence in his name.  And, if the fourth year was correct, he also had the benefit of not being gifted with any magical family curse.  His family were all muggles; any curse he carried he managed to find for himself.

The Ravenclaw couldn't resist sneaking a quick, subtle glance in the Slytherin's direction.  He wouldn't have given the relation much of a thought, really, if the girl hadn't outwardly admitted having inherited the Countess' psychopathy.  Hair color was the least of his concerns; the fourth year slept in a room full of other young girls. 

"I actually didn't know she was a witch," Sasha admitted, his line of sight now carefully fixed on the young thestral in an effort to avoid any repeated glances in the girl's direction  "I didn't study her through here or the magical world at all.  I ... I study a lot of muggle history as well and my parents were always insistent on studying European History.  And, well, my mother's family were countesses so it just kind of ... I don't know."  He couldn't remember how he'd come across it, just that he had.  And, not in the context of magic. 

Sasha wasn't entirely sure if the fourth year was offering advice or an oddly framed insult.  Somewhere after the temporary mental imbalance, he'd found himself having to focus closely to follow the train of thought.  When she finally became quiet, she turned to him with apparent surprise.  It was, perhaps, very well timed but Sasha couldn't help laughing slightly as he shook his head.  And, he thought he over-analyzed in order to avoid actually facing his emotions.  He had probably just met the only person who had he squarely beaten on that front.  Watching it from the other side, he had to admit it was a bit annoying.  What more, somewhere in the midst of all of it, she'd found something to amuse herself with, as well.  For reasons unbeknownst to Sasha, the Slytherin started laughing.  Loudly and fully. 

The Ravenclaw still wasn't entirely sure what he'd said or what had transpired but, apparently, it had offered notable clarity.  Enough so that she seemed to think she owed him a thanks.  "I ... um ... Schlagenweit," he offered.  "Sasha Schlagenweit.  Though, almost no one calls me that.  Most people just chop it in half and stick some adjective or noun on one side of it.  Like Schlawkward or ... I ... nevermind."

"That's silly; Schaw-Schlaw-I can't even pronounce that, Schlagenweit, on the other hand makes perfect sense" she said with hints of a smile."You can call me Amara" she added in a small voice, before falling silent. This was definitely an entirely new situation for Amara and she had no idea how she should act or proceed... Normally, she'd just run off by now, but something told her Mr. Schlagenweit had his own skeletons in the closet, and her secrets were safe enough. Besides, she owed him some civility, after her behavior.

She looked at Layla, that had now took a few steps away from the silver-haired witch, confused with her laughing fit and fiddled with her coat in her lap. The silence was growing heavy and Amara found she had nothing to say at the moment. She wanted to ask him several questions, but after her speech just now, it would've sounded like she demanded information out of him in exchange for her own blabbering ramblings.

She suddenly jumped off the rail and wiped her palms on her coat, before moving closer to Layla's mother, a relatively young mare with a docile and sweet behavior. She patted the mare's chest and whispered something in her ear, before leading her back to the rail. Once close to it, Amara climbed on the first step of the fence and mounted the thestral sidesaddle, her long coat not permitting her to ride normally. She grabbed the mare's neck gently and reigned her towards the older wizard.

"Well, Mr. Schlagenweit, would you care for a ride around the premises? Or perhaps a friendly race?" she asked him with reluctance in her voice. "The stallion over there" she looked at one large thestral near the stables "is quite docile, and adequately trained for riding."

A slight blush rose in the Ravenclaw's cheeks and he shrugged.  Ease of pronunciation had never seemed to be a motivation behind any of the various nicknames that floated around.  Schlawkward was, by far, the most congenial of the ones he'd heard, given it was both accurate and used by those he was fond of.  Schlagendong.  Schlagendull.  There were a few others that weren't nearly as friendly.  Storm would be an infinitely easier name.  There were only so many ways one could distort a single-syllable name.  Except for the questions it would raise.

"I suppose Sasha works then, too.  It's easier."  In so many ways.   

A deep silence settled.  Given what the girl had said, walking away obviously seemed to lack tact.  But, as the silence dragged on, Sasha couldn't resist reaching in his pocket and tugging out a small stack of biology terminology flashcards. 

He was halfway through defining different types of alleles in his head when he saw the fourth year hop down from the fence out of the corner of his eye.  He lowered the cards and watched the girl approach one of the full grown thestrals.  During their visit at the last Hogsmeade weekend, Kronos had mentioned that thestrals could be ridden, piquing Sasha's curiosity.  But, he'd always assumed the school thestrals were off limits.  Especially given Professor Hagrid seemed to think him a nutter, Sasha hadn't even considered trying that here.  "Are you sure-" Sasha started to warn but before he could finish, the girl had already mounted the thestral. 

"Are you sure we're allowed to?"  Sasha hopped off the rail inside the pen and moved through the herd towards the thestral she'd pointed at.  Sasha reached in his pocket, pulled out one of Baldur's liver treats and offered it to the thestral.  Given everything that had happened, as of late, Sasha couldn't risk getting in any more trouble.  Looking back towards Amara, Sasha shrugged.  "Are you sure we don't need permission?  Or, something?"

"To be fairly honest Sa-Sasha" as always, Amara was reluctant to call anybody by their given name; it somehow made the connection real, made her acknowledge that a stranger was becoming an acquaintance "I never bothered to ask. But Professor Hagrid knows that I am currently training Layla for riding, and he hasn't said anything that might indicate I am not allowed to ride them. I am here almost four days a week, and I occasionally ride her" she patted the mare's neck lovingly "with no problems whatsoever."

"They're quite docile -the herd here and almost all the adults can be ridden. But they don't take well to headcollars, ropes and any horse wear, really. They haven't been trained to wear any. I never even bothered to ask if you know how to ride, how silly of me. Given the fact that we can't use any equipment, you'd have to be fairly proficient at riding..." she said half-asking as she gave a small pat on the back of the thestral and moved closer to the gate to open it.

"They're very smart creatures, and once you gain their trust and they get used to you, you only need to tell them where you need to go, and they'll go. So there's really no need to actually lead them. Ah, don't use any sort of forceful moves to lead them, especially heels, since they're quite... bony as you can see, and therefore much more delicate. Use your hands for gentle pats, or your entire lower leg, for a squeeze." She exemplified by giving the mare a small pat on the left side of her rear, and the mare moved to the left. "Make sure your hold on them isn't too tight, and hold on to their neck."

"Flying is an entire deal altogether, and you need to build up a relationship with them. Besides, for that I am pretty sure we do need permission..." she said as she opened the gate to the paddock. "So... coming?"

The Ravenclaw continued to hesitate, glancing between the thestrals and the Slytherin.  It would be his luck that now would be the time Professor Hagrid had a problem with it.  Given how Sasha's conversation with the professor had gone, he could just see it.  But, the girl had said she'd been doing so regularly and she was already up on the creature.  And, Sasha couldn't deny he'd been intrigued about the idea ever since Kronos had put the idea in his head. 

"I'm not worried about that," Sasha admitted, pushing himself off of the paddock fence and landing on the inside.  He wasn't concerned about the docility of the creature and, if what the fourth year said was true - that they could be trained, Sasha was confident he could manage to figure that out.  "I've done enough freestyle equitation.  I'll manage without equipment." 

Once he figured out how to negotiate the spare joint.  And, the rather uncomfortably-boney-looking back. 

"Alright," Sasha confirmed as he carefully, but easily lifted himself onto the thestral's back and got himself situated.  Once he'd gotten himself situated, it was easy enough to find the most secure and comfortable spot.  The wing joint just by his knee felt as odd as he'd expected but his long legs were able to avoid them.  "So, perhaps, just a short hack.  I'm not sure - probably best not to go too far."  Somehow, a competitive race would probably push his luck a little bit too much but he did want to try to get the feel. 

"I...if you want to lead the way."

She smiled back at him and turned to face forward, patting the mare gently and whispering something in her ear. She straightened her back and put both hands on either side of the thestral's neck, before exiting the paddock. She left the thestral lead her, as she knew, by now, her favorite route: a short walk from the edge of the forest, where the paddocks were to the shore of the lake, a rather deserted place hid from the view of the castle.

"They feel awkward at first, don't they? The thestral I mean... the wings get in the way at times, you don't really have any room to move your legs. And your-erhmm-bo-bottom will feel twice as sore as with normal horses, because... because they're so skeletal" she said quickly, glad he was behind her so he wouldn't see her blush.

They reached the shore of the lake and realized night had settled itself already. The mare stopped right by the water. Amara took her hands of the thestral's neck and raised them up towards the sky inhaling the cold air of November. The dark surface of the lake reflected the multitude of stars on the sky. "Beautiful, isn't it?" she asked no one in particular and then turned to look at Sasha. "I really am sorry for my outrageous behavior, it's awful of me to burden you with my secrets without even... well, knowing you". She fell silent again and looked at the lake.

"Today I laughed for the first time in weeks, really laughed, no matter how insane it was, but I laughed..." she said again, as if to herself, then added in a whisper "Thank you". She turned to look at him and genuinely smiled  "Anyway, we should probably head back, curfew's close."

They certainly did feel awkward and, in due course, Sasha found himself doubting that it'd be his bottom that was the most sore the following day.  The thestral's prominent spine and extra joints made for some especially hard pressure points and a few ... less-than-comfortably placed boney jabs.  But, he wasn't about to share those observations.  Not with a fourth year.  And, besides, the discomfort was really secondary to the sheer amazement and fascination of the experience. 

"Ausgezeichnet!"[1] Sasha murmured as he gently rested his hands on the animal's long, slender neck.  Despite the thestral's initial bony and awkwardly half-starved appearance, his gait was surprisingly smooth and graceful. 

"Not at all," Sasha concluded, shaking his head.  Awkward was the last word he'd use to describe the creature's feel.  "With just a little padding -" and, after all, they made padded jodhpurs.  "He's easier than most ponies to sit.  My old halflinger felt like a pogo stick."  Even Wobias was joltier than the thestral - but, then, of course the Friesian was a draft horse.  They hadn't been initially bred with an emphasis on grace.

The lake water splashed, quietly, as the stallion's legs broke the surface and he waded out up to his knees.  "It's peaceful," the Ravenclaw agreed.  In fact, the quiet peace was very much appreciated - for once, his mind felt calm and quiet.  Relaxed. 

Sasha pivoted on the creature's back, looking back over his shoulder towards the Slytherin.  "It's alright," he offered though he wasn't sure how much value that assurance carried.  He hadn't really done much, after all, other than just let her talk.  Other than, of course, attempt to explain his emotions. 

"I'm fairly certain I didn't help much.  But, I suppose it's good you laughed.  It-"  Curfew.  Yes.  And, now that he was no longer a prefect, it was something he had to worry about.  "Alright.  Let's go," he offered before turning back towards the paddocks. 

1.	Outstanding.  Fantastic

She wondered what sort of horses he had at home. She'd never owned one, not really, London didn't really offer space to keep a horse, or even pony and the ones back in Romania, weren't really hers, they tolerated her, but they didn't recognize her as their true rider. But she kept her mouth shut, he had bothered him enough today. Following him in silence she couldn't help but ask... she wasn't normally like this, if people didn't wish to share something she never pressed, but for some reason she wanted to hear what he had to say "It -what? I'm sorry, I don't mean to pry, I'm just curious."

She gave a small pat on the mare's neck and the thestral quickened her pace until she was right next to Sasha. She continued to ride silently next to him, unsure of herself in this state and what else she could say until they reached the paddocks. She let him enter first so she could close the gate behind her, then entered the paddock herself and dismounted. The thestral was a bit taller than what she had thought first, so when she did land on the ground, her ankle wobbled and gave way under her with a crack. It was the 5th time this had happened and she couldn't help but externalize her frustrations in ways she wouldn't normally. "Shite!" she exclaimed with a grunt. "It's the nth time this happens, and it's always this ankle. There's only so much bone mending I can keep doing!" she muttered as she tried to pick herself up from the cold ground.

Sasha looked briefly over at the fourth year before shrugging his shoulders and looking forward, again.  He'd found the thestral's rhythm easily enough so lifted his hands from the animal's neck and slid them into the warmth of his pocket, trusting his seat to keep him upright. 

"It wasn't anything earth shattering," Sasha admitted, hoping the Slytherin wasn't expecting his sentence to reveal anything life changing.  "I was just thinking it'd seem good if it was helpful.  To laugh.  They always say laughter is good medicine.  Or something.  Muggles, at least, say that."  Did they have a similar phrase in the wizarding world?  Laughter was a good potion?  Laughter was the best healing charm? 

The thestral stepped, almost soundlessly, into the paddock and Sasha swung easily down onto the ground.  "Thank you," Sasha offered, glancing over his shoulder in Báthory's direction.  It had felt good - relaxing, even - to be astride something.  Even for a few short while.  He started to turn back towards the his mount to, again, express his appreciation when he heard the exclaim, painfully.  He left the thestral and crossed towards the girl, leaning over to offer her help to her feet. 

"You're ... you broke your ankle?" Sasha asked, sounding both concerned and surprised.  And, apparently, this wasn't the first time?  "How ... what happened?"  He glanced up at the thestral next to the girl and looked back down.  Yes, the animal was tall but had she just landed on it wrong?  "I can help you to the nurse's cabin?  Or ... is there something else I can do?"