The weather mirrored the touch of hell in her mind and soul. The sky was breaking apart, sending cursed heavy rains into the black surface of the lake and the wind wailed much like she was on the inside. She did not remember why she had left the castle in a fury, nor did she remember why she was standing there, like a wraith atop the dark, sinister formation of rocks, but it was peaceful. Her mind was numbed by the violent shrieking of the wind, by the the violent rapping of the rain against the rocks, the forest and the soft, rapid plops the drop made in contact with the water beneath her.

She would've traded her soul for this decrepit, lazy numbness to remain a constant. The past two weeks had been a dark, twisted pandemonium. Her mind was changing, her heart was changing and she was lost in her transformation. She would've expected for it - her soul - to turn to stone, to just stop. But it didn't. It doesn't. She wished—by Gods, how she wished to hang the entire blame on her curse. To just play the poor, helpless girl that was too exhausted to fight against a terrible, centuries old curse, that she had not deserved. But she knew it wasn't as simple. No. The moment that red on white was burned into her mind, she had wished for the entire world to go out in flames and dance through the blazing graves-to-be and wash in their screams of pain. And it had nothing to do with her family affliction.

Her coat was sagging with the weight of the water, her hood pressing against her scalp. She was sure she ought to be cold, but she wasn't. Her long silver curls shined against the darkness of the stormy evening—some stuck to her face while others danced against the violent wind. Her face was tilted upwards, eyes closed against the never-ending drops of rain and lashes of the wind. She was frozen in place, legs curled underneath her, wand in hand and her ears open to the sinister, pathetic symphony of the forces of nature.

But her mind was not used to being empty, her mind needed to analyze everything from all possible angles, and soon, the blissful apathy of her brain was woken with violent, ghastly images of the terrible day after Yule and she rose to her feet as if burned. She tightened her hand against her wand and she could almost see her—a terrible aberration, a phantasm, pointing one accusing finger at her, blaming her, screaming her name while crying rivers of pure, glistening  tears through the caked blood on her face. "Where were you?" it asked her. "Why did you leave me die alone? Was I not a good girl?" Amara clutched her head between her hands, shaking it furiously and closed her eyes, willing the hallucination to go away. "Was it not enough that you disfigured me?" it said, and Amara opened her eyes in horror, just in time to see it remove its ghostly eye-patch to reveal the blackened, charred socket underneath. Amara screamed and shook her body violently, hoping to wake her mind from its insanity. "Did you want me dead, as well? You should've been there" the apparition said ominously. Amara stilled and raised her wand at it, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "It was your fault! If you were there, it wouldn't have happened! What sort of sister are you?! HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME ALONE" it thundered in her brain. And Amara started shooting every hex she had learned at the illusion. "You're not real" Amara said pathetically while watching her hexes pass through the figure. "Goaway-goaway-away—" she chanted hysterically. "GO AWAY!"

And then it smirked and swiftly disappeared, but not before looking behind at the path to the stables. Amara was frozen for a second, but she quickly turned around at the sound of a soft step, wand still in hand pointing at the darkness before her. "Who's there?" she asked panicked.

"Gott sei dank!  Höre auf!  Bleib stehen![1]"

The stiff wind was blowing the steady rain in sideways and the needlepoint-small droplets of near-freezing water flew into his face, forcing him to squint against the cold water.  Sasha was trying to shift his stance so that the wind and rain blew at his back and he could see what he was doing, but the Healer's stubborn mare seemed to be of the same mind.  As soon as Sasha got them turned so his back was facing the wind, the little mustang mare would shuffle them back around until her tail was facing the wind.  In the dark, it was hard enough to get the pony's rug rigged up and the animal was doing little to help the process. 

The weather was miserable and even Baldur had been smart enough to only follow Sasha to the castle doors.  The dog had taken one look outside the door and, then, with a slight wag of his tail, the dog had turned round and trotted back up the stairs.  Whether to the Astronomy Tower or the Ravenclaw Tower, in hopes of some sympathetic Ravenclaw letting him in, it was impossible to tell.  The sooner Sasha could follow Baldur's lead and get back inside and next to a fire to dry off and warm up, the happier he'd be. 

Finally, after the cold water had long since made the Ravenclaw's fingers grow numb, blankets had finally been secured over all the horses and Gelar.  After a final pat on the mare's withers, Sasha turned and hurried back towards the warm, welcoming lights spilling out of the castle's windows.

Halfway back up the path, Sasha heard the first crack of a hex and froze in his tracks.  The sound had been faint, muffled and overshadowed by the falling rain and the wind in the nearby trees.  Sasha strained his ears, hoping for something that might suggest he was being paranoid and the sound had simply been a limp snapping in the forest.  But, there was another crackle and a far more distinctive zip and whistle, all seemingly coming from the direction of the lake. 

One didn't have to watch a lot of television to learn one of the most basic and universal truth: bad things happened to those that investigated things alone.  How often did one find themselves yelling "really?  Scary noise and you're going to go towards it?" at the poor bloke on the screen?  Only to shake your head in dismayed pity when the bloke's disembodied head went rolling across the floor.  Even as Sasha turned towards the sound, a voice in the back of his head was chanting stupid!  Stupid!  Stupid!.  But, despite all logic and reason, the Ravenclaw drew his wand and started moving slowly and quietly in the sound's direction. 

By stature alone, it was easy to tell the lone figure at the lakeside was a student - and a younger one, at that.  Wand still in hand, Sasha approached though, despite his efforts to be quiet, the student had heard his footsteps.

"Báthory?" Sasha asked, squinting against the blowing rain coming off the lake.  Given the low visibility, it was near impossible to see the extent of the girl's distress but, even from his distance, it was clear she was not happy.  Happy girls didn't stand in rain like this.  Not without twirling and dancing in some drugged-like state of glee.  What was it with him and distraught fourth years by the lake this year?  The girl was drenched and, like the last one, looked frigid.  Unfortunately, given the circumstances, even magic couldn't get her warm and dry.  The rain would re-soak any article of clothing he tried to dry before any additional weatherproofing charms could be added.  As he'd already discovered when he'd tried to enhance his own rain gear. 

"What are you doing out here?  It's miserable.  Let's go inside."  Please. 

1.	For God's sake!  Stop!  Stand still!

She was frozen in place, batting her eyelashes against the heavy drops of rain falling over her face. She was holding her breath waiting to see what other creature, phantasm was there. Waiting to see what else would torture her. And she was ready, ready to pathetically scream at it to go away, but it wasn't a creature, nor a figment of her imagination. No, it was Mister Schlagenweit. Of course it was him. And her hand tightened around her wand, and she could feel her magic vibrating through the wand and into her arm, and all the way up to her chest and she felt anger course through her—pure, unadulterated anger.

"Stay away!" she suddenly screamed upon his beckoning to go back inside. And before she had time to register her actions, she had sent a hex towards him, hitting the ground before him. A safe distance, but a dreadfully close one for comfort. "Were—were you following me? What did you see? What did you see" she asked distraught. Had he seen her? Had he seen her talking to herself and hexing thin air? Could he see the tears on her face? Did he know? Her mind was a vortex of panic and anger and she could not get her wand-arm to stop trembling, and it itched to send something ghastly and possibly lethal spell at the boy.

And then her stance changed, immediately, and she could feel the curse running through her body, starting from her heart and slowly insinuating its blackness through the veins and capillaries of her body, until her arm stilled and there was a smile—a horrible, broken smile forming on her face. And she was too tired, too god damned tired to fight it. She straightened her back and raised her head, watching him through wet, blurred eyelashes. "Here to mock the poor little Miss Báthory, Mister Schlagenweit?" she asked with a chuckle. "Laugh at the misfortune of the the awkward little girl? Ask just how her baby sister died?" she said now with a bite to her tone. "Want the gory details, do you?" she added with her teeth clenched.

"Are you well? All shall pass. Time heals everything. She would not want you to mourn her so" she said awfully fast in a mocking voice flailing her arms around. "It won't. Time does nothing. NOTHING will ever bring her back" she shouted as she raised her head to look at the sky, whimpering. And then her gaze was back upon him, her head tilted to the left, a sinister grin on her face. "Do you have a death wish, Sasha, love" she said drawling his name with her eyes half closed, in a mock of a pet name. "I have warned you,  have I not?" she arched an eyebrow, and smirked. "Are you dense?" she said now laughing, a hand holding her own stomach. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, I'm afraid I don't know what to make of you. If it's trouble you're looking for, you found it" she raised her arms, taking a small spin around, then settling an arm on her hip while pointing the wand arm back at him.

"There's nothing like a crazy, angered, three-quarters Veela, Sasha" she said taking a step towards the edge of the rock formation and crouching to look at him with a frown on her face. "Would you like to see me in all my glory, Sasha? I am a beautiful sight, I've been told. And you will feel love like none other, if only for a few seconds" she said laughing, her head thrown back while hugging herself with eyes closed. And then she caught her head between her hands and wailed so pitifully, so broken, she thought the sound so unnatural, so beastly, that she quickly closed her mouth to still it. And she let herself fall to her knees and shot him a horrified stare. "For your own good, Mister Schlagenweit, go away!" she said in a cold, threatening voice.

Sasha stopped in his tracks, squinting against the cold rain and wind that blew over the lake.  Between the darkness and weather, visibility was almost non-existent but there was no missing the apparent danger in the girl's state of mind.  He'd spent his childhood watching for - and doing his best to avoid - such states in his stepfather; he didn't need the possible outcomes of this moment to be spelled out for him. 

The Ravenclaw flinched, and reflexively stepped back when the girl yelled and flung a hex in his direction.  "I ... no."  Sasha said, quietly, shaking his head.  "I didn't  follow- I..."

The look on the Slytherin's face was painfully recognizable.  The pain.  The anger.  The empty loneliness.  He knew them all too well.  Through will, self-denial and a generous dose of busy work, Sasha was able to tuck them securely away in the back of his mind, but they were still there.  A constant companion.  But, he hardly knew what to do with them himself, other than try to ignore their existence.  He didn't know how to deal with them, himself - what good was he going to be to the girl in front of him?

She clearly wanted him to go away.  What good would it do either of them to not comply? 

The Ravenclaw nodded and, taking care to make sure the girl saw, slipped his own wand back in his pocket.  "I'll leave you, now.  If that's what you want."  In other words, no need to curse me.  Sasha turned and started walking away.  As he walked away, he could hear another voice in the back of his head.  "What do you want?  I've told you to stay out of this. It's none of your business!  Please  don't get involved. You'll get hurt, and I- Just don't. You'll understand someday."[1]  Less then half an hour later, Ava Grosvenor had bled out in his arms. 

"It won't. Time does nothing. NOTHING will ever bring her back.

Knowing full well he would regret changing his mind, Sasha rubbed his face with both hands and turned back.  "I know," Sasha said, quietly, looking out over the lake.  "I've been there - I am there.  I know.  I lost two sisters."  Technically, he'd only lost one.  But, Ava had died believing they were siblings; such technical details didn't seem to matter much anymore.  "I don't want gory details.  I certainly wouldn't laugh." 

"Do you have a death wish, Sasha, love - I have warned you,  have I not?  Are you dense?  Tsk, tsk, tsk, I'm afraid I don't know what to make of you. If it's trouble you're looking for, you found it."

"I'm sure I've faced worse," Sasha offered, without hesitation.  As to whether he was dense...he suspected there were a few that probably would claim he was.  "I -"  The Ravenclaw flinched, again, as the girl cried but he shook his head, stubbornly.  "I'm not going away.  Listen.  I know how much it hurts but I also know how much worse it can get.  Doing it on your own ..."  He shook his head.  "Just ... put your wand away."

1.	Quote: Ava Grosvenor in Time Is Running Out

She raised her head then, tears streaming down her face. "Why?" she asked in a raspy voice, not being able to grasp the concept, to comprehend what in the world could ever make him want to stay after he had been threatened like that. "Why won't you go away?" she whined through desperate sobs, futilely wiping at her tears with her wet sleeve. She suddenly felt small and young and... helpless. But then she remembered why she was there in the first place and she turned to look at him, anger spiking again.

"What do you know of how it hurts? What do you know of my life?" she yelled, her voice raspy and raw. "I've had every little thing I loved, torn away from me, ripped to pieces! Dead! Everything!" she said, with her entire body trembling and she wrapped her arms around her, pitifully hugging herself against the rain, the col that seemed to have become a second skin. And then she stilled. She let out a shaky breath that soon turned into a desperate little sob. She shook her head and grunted something intelligible, then raised back on her feet.

In a few short steps she was off the rocks and unto the ground, slowly walking towards the Ravenclaw. She stopped right next to him, her shoulder a few inches from him, looking at the turmoil of the lake with a lost gaze in her eyes. She grabbed a handful of wet, heavy hair and twisted it until the water seeped out of it. She twisted again, but this time at the top of her head, and put her wand through it. Still looking into the distance she shook her head once, a pained expression on her face. "I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to be without her. Emi was my anchor and now that she's de—" she couldn't say it, her throat closed in on itself and she whimpered again "Now that she's gone... Everything is gone. She went and left me alone, and left this enormous gaping hole in the world and there's nothing that will ever fill it again" and then she turned to look at him, desperation and a cry for help in her eyes.

"Nothing but anger, pain and suffering. The curse—it's eating away at me" she took her hands to her chest and clawed at her coat. "And I can't stop it anymore. You saw... It gets worse and worse and I have nothing, nothing to anchor me back into reality anymore. Nothing to stop it." She tilted her head and furrowed her brows , opening her mouth a few times, but nothing coming out of it. "I could've killed you. I wanted to cause you pain, true physical pain. And there was no one to see me, no one to know it had happened. The forest is vast and dark, who knows what could happen in these woods at night?" she said, a touch of hysteria in her voice and that awful, sadistic smile was back on her face.

She chuckled and took another step, her shoulder brushing his arm, and she leaned into him, wrapping her hands around his arm as if hanging for dear life. She let her head drop to the side, leaning on him and let out a long, loud breath. "I'm losing my mind. Finally, it seems everything my family had predicted for me is coming true. Amara Báthory, following in the footsteps of her ancestors, mad as a hatter" she chuckled then. "I wonder... Bathing in the blood of virgin young girls is already such a leitmotif with my family, I'll have to get more creative" she said, almost hysterical in her seriousness and then she was crying again.

It was a good, valid question.  Why hadn't he gone away?  Watching the girl fluctuate between sobbing cries of pain and hostile advances, Sasha had to admit it was a perfectly reasonable course of action.  It was getting progressively harder to tell where insanity ended and grief began.  He knew turning and walking away wasn't an option, though.  Any unease he felt towards the girl's mood swings paled in comparison to the fear of finding out, after the fact, that something horrible had happened after he'd walked away.  Either to the girl or someone else. 

"What would happen if I went away?"  It was a rhetorical question.  Rhetorical or completely pointless.  Even if the girl offered an answer, Sasha wasn't entirely sure he'd trust it. 

Even as the girl spoke, flinging accusations in the hopes of forcing solitude by emotional alienation, Sasha was able to understand the pain behind the girl's words.  He wasn't sure why some people, himself included, found it easier to assert no one understood when, in reality, they wanted nothing more than someone who could understand.  And, who was he to offer this girl any insight on this matter?  He barely had it figured out for himself. 

"What does anyone know of anyone's life?"  Sasha offered in return.  "No one ever knows the exact nature of, you know, someone else's life.  But, that ... that doesn't mean we're alone in the experiences.  I don't know what it's like for you.  But, I've ... I've had such losses.  I -" 

He grew quiet, straightening himself as the girl walked towards him, even though the posture just gave the driving rain better access to the gaps in his winter robes around the neckline.  He watched her with caution and suspicion but, for the time being, she still seemed disinclined to curse him.  She seemed to have calmed. 

"I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to be without her. Emi was my anchor and now that she's de—  Now that she's gone... Everything is gone. She went and left me alone, and left this enormous gaping hole in the world and there's nothing that will ever fill it again."

"I don't think anyone knows how to do this," Sasha offered quietly, looking down at the girl.  Maybe touchy-feely people like Ms. Biladeau knew how to do this.  It was probably something that entailed sweets and sleep and other foolish things.  "Lord knows I haven't been doing that well with it myself.  I can tell you what not to do."  He offered a weak, lopsided grin that faded quickly into a shrug.  "When I lost my sisters, I ... I tried to find solutions.  It didn't work.  There is nothing that will fill it.  But ... I'm slowly finding - and trusting - support that makes it easier to walk around those holes?  I know, to you, it probably doesn't seem possible now."  He knew now, looking back, that support had always been there.  When that hole is first blasted into place, it's hard to see anything but. 

Sasha shook his head, turning to face the girl.  Even as the girl grew more hysterical, he hoped his own voice would break through.  "But...you didn't kill me.  You didn't ... you didn't do anything.  That ... it's easy to lose yourself.  You can control it, I -"  His reasoning was quickly faltering.  He was feeling very much the hypocrite. 

"Why don't you curse me?"

The Ravenclaw was well aware it was, likely, a very foolish move.  But, how many times had he cheated fate out here in these woods?  And, if the girl made her choice, formalized her reasons for not acting on the curse than that was a first step.  Wasn't it?

"But ... I'm slowly finding - and trusting - support that makes it easier to walk around those holes?  I know, to you, it probably doesn't seem possible now."

She turned her head upwards, looking at the older boy and left out a small whimper. "But, you see... I have no one. My father's all but gone missing since the—it happened and it isn't like he'd been much of a paternal figure before" she turned to look at the lake, a stony expression on her face. "He cares for nothing but power, his women, and parties and drowning his sorrows in alcohol. He's a bitter man, defeated by his own fate, resenting his children for the loss of his wife" she mused with sadness in her eyes. "Especially, resenting me, for having the misfortune of being the firstborn girl in a family where men do no not actually hold any sort of power. And the rest of my family" she took a deep breath and held it in for a couple of seconds until she felt a wave of dizziness. "Well, that way lay horrors and madness" she continued with a shudder thinking of her great-grandmother and the rest of her cruel, deranged family in Romania.

"But...you didn't kill me.  You didn't ... you didn't do anything."

"No, I didn't... didn't I?" she said absentmindedly looking back into the Ravenclaw's eyes. And truth was, she had absolutely no idea why she didn't. It would've been so easy to just let go and let all of her pain and anger seep out of her through her wand. But she didn't. Perhaps she was too stunted with grief, perhaps she was too tired for such a feat or maybe, just maybe, she still retained some glimpse of a conscience... But, that thought only held for a few seconds, before her eyes became empty again and she tightened her hold on the boy's hand.

"It would be rather hard to cover my tracks here. I can't say how many people saw me leave the castle, and I'm pretty sure there's not that many of us traipsing about in this weather" she smiled sweetly at him, as if her reasoning was perfect and her explanation the thing of common daily chats. "With my family's past, and given the recent tragedy, and also the strangeness of my behavior caused by my battle with my curse and grief since I returned... it would all make me a very likely suspect."

She settled her head on his arm again and focused her sight on the ripples in the water. "There was so much blood—so much blood" she thought out loud. "I'm tired" she said with a loud intake of air, yet didn't move a single muscle.

It was cold and wet.  It was dark.  And, the girl was clearly off in the head.  Sasha could be heading into Ravenclaw tower to take a warm shower and settle in front of the fire in the common room.  Or he could be here, apparently trying to get hexed by a fourth year.  The choice should have been obvious.  But, the girl seemed to be hearing what he was saying.  If she was hearing him, there was a chance he could help.  That, alone, seemed worth the wet cold. 

Slowly, with a subtle, pained expression, Sasha nodded his head.  He understood the feeling very well.  Especially in the months following Ava's death and his dismissal from school, there were plenty of times he'd felt alone and isolated - both emotionally and physically.  It was a horrible, cyclical and self-fulfilling mental void.  The more he felt it, the more he saw proof of it - very often completely overlooking all the people he did have.  They hadn't been obvious or conventional, but in overlooking them he'd ended up turning to what had seemed like a perfect and utopian source to fill that void.  What he wouldn't give to be back at the point Báthory was at now, where that pain was fresh and new and unadulterated.  Where the choice of what direction to go had not been made.

"Sometimes we have people and we are too blinded to see it.  It's not ... it doesn't always come from conventional sources.  And, maybe, if you really don't have anyone you can find someone.  I'm ... right now, I know how it's so easy to look for security and something anywhere.  It's so easy to get mislead and ..." 

Sasha eyed the Slytherin warily as she delved into all the reasons why she could of and hadn't killed him.  Bizarre behavior aside, Sasha suspected this Slytherin would probably not be the first suspect if she did decide to act on her mania.  There were far too many people out there who would or could want him dead.  Quite a few suspects to work through.  But, that wasn't information she needed to know especially if potential culpability was the only reason she'd listed for not cursing him. 

"Look."  Sasha continued to watch the girl as she leaned against him.  "You're probably cold."  And crazy.  "But, if you want to talk about ... it ... maybe it's not a bad idea to find someplace sheltered."  Maybe even warm.  "Maybe even if you could put your wand away." 

"Find someone? Do they grow humans in trees nowadays, Mister Schlagenweit?" she asked cocking an eyebrow, a sardonic smile caught at the corner of her lips. "No, Sasha" she continued taking her eyes away from him and shaking her head left and right slowly "I don't need security. Not at all... If anything, anyone around me should be in need of it" she hummed calmly, thinking of ways she might dispose herself of nuisances, were they to arise.

She turned quickly to look at him, big eyes full of wonder, before she laughed softly once, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "I have Freija, she's my familiar. Does she count?" she asked amused, but slowly the amusement drained from her face and she as impassive as ever. "I have Freyr now too, I suppose. He was my sister's familiar. But he's scared of me and I'm afraid if he turns feral I might have to put him down" she almost whispered, ending with a small sigh.

She turned her face upwards at hearing his call to attention, big blue eyes, slightly confused, but not really there. Cold? She supposed she was, but she couldn't really feel it. It was like a second skin now, her lips were probably turning purple and her skin got that blue tint that it always got when it was cold outside. She wondered if it was the same hue of blue Emi's skin had. She extracted her wand from the twist at the top of her head and put it back in her thigh holster. She slithered her arm from around Sasha's and raised both hands to show him, she was harmless.

She shook her wet hair and gave it another twist to squeeze the water from it. "I'm tired" she dead-panned looking back towards the castle. "I don't want to talk" she turned to him again. "I don't even remember what I'm doing here" she said still twiddling with her hair, an absent look on her face. "I'm going to go clean up" she turned her back to him, but not before turning to face him one last time "Let this be our little secret, Sasha, will you?" She flashed him a sweet, sad little smile and swiftly turned to walk away, whispering harshly to herself.