Ayla watched the school Owl take flight with her letter to Fauna and wrapped her robes around herself against the chilly January air. She descended the Owlery stairs and continued down to the fourth floor. She had intended to keep going until she made it down to the Hufflepuff dorms near the kitchens when she found herself pausing outside the library.

She had left to write her letter almost immediately after the doomed SAWS meeting had concluded. It wouldn't be curfew for a least another hour and Rigel did say he'd be in the Library if anyone needed him . . .

Ayla found herself changing direction and stepping inside. She had no idea what she wanted to say to him, she simply felt that she had to say something. She had mentioned in her letter that she felt he was the reason the meeting had been such a disaster but she also felt that his heart had been in the right place. He just didn't know how to express it properly.

She also happened to mention that she felt there was something fundamentally wrong with her for thinking the older Slytherin was cute. What was with her and Slytherin boys anyway?!

She navigated passed the large floor to ceiling bookshelves , peeking in on the students huddled around books at the various tables. Holy Helga it was the first week of school, what on earth could they be studying?

She finally found the table Acrux had been seated at. She made a small sound like clearing her throat and nervously fiddled with her nails, "Um hi."

Perfect opener.

He was reading into his favorite subject, psychology muggle and wizard related when he saw someone enter into his peripheral vision. Too focused to care, completely enveloped in psychology.

He heard a girl’s throat clear.

”Um, hi.” He looked to find the face matched the voice, he smiled and watched her fiddle with her nails. He wondered why she was so timid right now. She normally spoke her mind. Was not introverted in the least, from what Rigel could tell. Ayla was dangerously attractive, and even more dangerous was her knowledge of that fact.

“Hey love.” He closed his book and put it on the desk, scooted out his to rotate it and face her and the chair in front of her which he assumed she would sit down in. He got up and gestured to the chair, pulled it out slightly. All while he did that, a beautiful and well mannered smile was fixed on his face.

“You okay?” He waited to sit until she did the same.

Ayla wasn't entirely sure why but she had expected him to be a lot more sour. She had imagined him brooding in a dark library corner cursing all the people in the meeting who hadn't agreed with him and chased him out. Perhaps she had been thinking about him all wrong, perhaps she had just become too accustomed to how some guys reacted.

Either way, his friendly smile and the way he pulled out a chair for her had taken her completely by surprise. She took the seat offered to her, tucking a turquoise lock behind her ear before folding her hands in her lap. If she had been unsure of what she wanted to say to him before it was nothing compared how she felt now. Though she couldn't very well say nothing.

"you okay?"

"I don't hate you." She blurted out with seemingly no context. She instantly felt her cheeks turn pink, "I mean, earlier, in the meeting, you said that people wanted to hate you, that they needed to. I just - I wanted to say I don't hate you."

She fiddled with her nails again in her lap, picking at the non existent dirt underneath them, "I also wasn't trying to kick you out. I thought it was best if you had left because of how upset everyone was but I didn't want you to think that I was trying to force you out." She met his gaze and offered a small smile, "I would've gone with you." If he had let her guide him out when she first tried.

”I don’t hate you”

He exhaled sharply out of his nose, suppressed his laugh a bit but still showed the humor in the situation. He wondered why she was blushed in the face, her pink cheeks with the blue tucked behind the ear compiled an amazing picture. He smiled after his laugh.

“...don’t hate you.”

He showed his teeth, his left canine was touched by his tongue a mannerism that was seemingly charming and usually worked in the social situations it was used in. Now by this point in Rigel’s life it was a force of habit to show it when he was confident.

”...gone with…”

He matched her body language.

“Thank you, I felt that you were on my side anyways. People often think that the perception that my house holds transfers to everyone that resides there. I think if you got to know me you’d see that I might be the black sheep in Slytherin.”

Ayla relaxed and leaned back a bit in her chair. She crossed her legs at the ankle and smoothed her hands down her skirt. She suddenly became aware that she had been fidgeting but his soft laugh and easy smile had helped her feel far less nervous. Especially after hearing that he knew that she had meant well, that she had been on his side as well. Really, she just didn't want any more conflict in the meeting and it didn't look like anyone else was going to appeal to the softer side of the Slytherin.

She chuckled a little herself when he mentioned the preconceptions of Slytherins. She was probably the worst culprit for this sort of prejudice. While a lot of her attitudes towards the snakes was built on years of torment and bullying she certainly wasn't the first to think maybe they weren't all bad.

"That's actually nice to hear." She gave him another smile, her eyes trailing to his own mouth to watch the way his tongue touched his teeth, "I'd say something similar but I'm about as Hufflepuff as they come." She laughed again, a little easier this time.

"Umm, next meeting, if anyone even wants to come back for one, I think you should come. Just maybe let Zeta at least try to lead." Her almost pleading tone suggested her own doubt in her friend's leadership skills. Zeta was one of her best friends, strong, passionate but maybe not the best choice to try and lead a room full of kids not even sure how they felt about the subject.

Rigel watched as her hands caressed the wrinkles out of her skirt. She eased herself consciously, resumed a better fitting posture. More suitable to her figure and complimented her well.

He matched her laughs with his own.

Rigel felt and heard the hesitation in her voice when she spoke of Zeta as a leader.

“I was wrong to do what I did, I still don’t think Zeta should lead. I know your her friend. I’m sure, like you said, as a Hufflepuff you’d appreciate my honesty.”

He leaned forward, gazed into her eyes and followed the lock of hair, nothing in his ocular movement suggested aggression. Admiration for a beautiful consistency of style and mannerisms. He smiled.

He leaned forward, his eyes travelling her face with admiration and she felt her breath hitch. Air raid sirens were blaring in her head, announcing danger and screaming for her to run. She didn't move though. She should have, she had said her piece, she could leave now. She just couldn't bring herself to do it.

Instead she matched his look with one of her own. She laughed playfully and casually placed a hand on his knee, "An honest Slytherin? Now that's something I never thought I'd see."

Oh Godric, was she flirting with him?!

"So Mr. honesty, who should be leading us?" She thought back to Fauna and Sophie and all the older students who had started the group the first time around but had since graduated. She almost wished they could come back, if only to point them in the right direction.

He put his elbows on his knees, leaned forward and observed her hand. Her barely tanned skin lightened around her palm, she almost had the same complexion of Rigel, he had just spent more time around their sun. He trailed his index finger on each of her appendages, worked his way from the roughed skin compared to the smoothed cuticle and fingernail. He heard her words but was more astute towards her features.

“Honestly, clearly not me. I don’t have the tact yet, but you? You can see the good of my side when I only presented the bad. You understand it. You also see why I was wrong. So clearly you’re probably conflicted, right. You’re empathetic, you came here to see if I was okay and to make sure that I knew you didn’t hate me. That’s kinda cute. I think you’d be a good leader, I’d follow you; you have my respect.” He looked up into her green eyes, he said all this without looking at her reaction. What he was interested in was still her hands. Upon him being finished he took his hand and leaned back, rested his left hand on the desk and roughed his curled hair with his right and affixed his glasses having grabbed them by the rims with his thumb and index.
 

Oh

My

Merlin

She was in trouble.

Ayla watched almost transfixed as he moved his finger softly over her hand, trailing over each finger in turn. She felt her stomach keep squirming, her skin felt hot while there was also a chill that ran down her back. The sensation reminded her a little too much of her night with Alistair. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling in the least but certainly not one she wanted to be feeling in the middle of the Library. She also wasn't sure she wanted to be feeling it because of him.

His words were almost as jarring as his touch. She let herself laugh, withdrawing her hand from his knee. Ayla rolled her eyes in a self deprecating way, "yeah, no. I am not a leader." She ignored the blush that had come to her cheeks at his words. She didn't think any guy had ever said anything that nice to her before, "Quidditch Players I can deal with, being Captain is easy."

"Leading a group of werewolf activists?" She shrugged, "I'm better at making sure everyone's fed." She leaned back against the back of the chair, defeated, "it was so much easier when it first started. I was only a third year, no one expected anything of me."

He looked up soon enough to catch her blushed, he smiled in turn. He listened so attentively. Almost captivated by her words and slightly filled with admiration for her modesty. He liked her, and she quickly gained his respect and if it ever came to it; protection.

“Let the ocean worry about being blue, A.” He did that with people he liked, cut their names short. A cute pet name without the explicit implication of a pet name. He relaxed his posture and rested his head on his right arm, which complimented his bicep in the rolled up white dress shirt, he knew this and did it for this reason. He returned the favor of Ayla who flaunted her look often, back on to her.

“I can think of a couple things you can’t handle, but me and a bunch of werewolf activists are not privy to such an exclusive list.” He winked and did his smile accompanied with that mannerism in which his canine is buddied up with his tongue. An odd thing really, it was a compulsion at this stage.

Confusion flashed across her features as he mentioned the ocean and being blue. She subconsciously touched her hair before realizing he must had been using some sort of metaphor. She'd blame the momentary brain fart on his looks and closeness and why did she keep looking at his mouth?

She tried to think of something clever to say. Something that matched the vibe going between them but her head felt fuzzy. She was tired and emotionally exhausted from the evening's events but she also was in no hurry to leave either.

"And what, pray tell, do you think I can't handle?" Her tone was playful yet challenging. She was intrigued by his view of her. Personally, she could have filled the entire library with things she couldn't handle. Somehow that didn't seem to be the Ayla he saw. She almost wished she could see herself through his eyes. Would she even like what she saw?

She watched the way he lounged back, the tilt of his head, the crooked way of his smile and the way his bicep bulged. He had to know he was doing this. Just like when she sat up straighter to accentuate her curves, or batted her lashes or twirled her hair. He was purposely doing this to her. She was almost angry at him for it but only because it was currently working so well.

“Well clearly, you can handle yourself.” He smiled.

He tilted his head and looked at the library ceiling. Rigel thought of all the things Ayla couldn’t handle. Like him, she was not infallible. Strategically placed mannerisms to obscure the obstinately uncontrollable insecurities and compulsions. He thought of her being captain and the many games they’ve played against each other. Times where she bested him and where he bested her. Unsure of who started the competitive banter.

“I can think of a couple of plays where I bested you unreservedly in Quid…” He looked up.

“But let's see, you’re really good flirting. I quite enjoy it. You can at least pretend to handle me. I have yet started studying legilimens so I can’t quite read how well adept you are. The longer you sit here the longer I can see what you can handle. We’d have to get more intimate for me to see what you can’t, what time works best for you?” He smiled and fiddled with his fingernails to feign disinterest. He only looked up on asking the question.

Ayla raised her eyebrows when he said she could clearly handle herself. Though she doubted that very much, being a hot mess was almost her signature move at this point, she didn't contradict him. Perhaps she was doing a better job at bringing out her own confidence when she thought.

She bit her bottom lip, a sparkle in her eye as he turned the talk to Quidditch. She would never say that she was the best player out there but she had been getting better over the years. Her confidence in her own skills as a Chaser had definitely risen and she had to admit that she did enjoy the little rivalries she had developed over the last few years. Especially the newer ones, given how many of her own personal bullies had finally graduated (and thus left the Slytherin Quidditch team)

She felt her cheeks burn all of a sudden. She had always been uncomfortable around the subject of legilimency but she was reacting more to his suggestion needing to be intimate with her to really test her limits.

"Did you just-" well he had certainly run into something she didn't think she could handle. She was at a loss for words. He was challenging her, trying to see how she was going to react and she was choking. Flirting was easy, mindless, almost reflexive at this point but it never went anywhere. Now he was holding the door open for her to take this one step further and she had no idea how she should react.

At this point she figured the best thing to do was abort before she found herself in a situation that was harder to back out of (or one she didn't want to) She fixed a sly smile on her lips and slowly stood up leaning over him. She ran a finger along the line of his jaw, "guess you'll just have to wait a little longer before you get to see just how much of you I can handle." She winked and blew him a kiss before turning heel and heading out. Nearly crumbling the instant he could no longer see her face. That was a game of chicken she didn't think she could have won had they continued any further.