Cillian woke up in a cold sweat panting. He blinked several times trying to wash the images away. He glanced around the darkened room and fumbled at the end table until his numb fingers grasped his wand. He lit the lanterns around the room and had to blink again at the sudden wash of golden light. He looked around at the smooth golden walls, so different from his chambers at the castle that he instantly knew he was in his own apartment. Which meant one of two things, either he had gotten so sloshed at the Three Broomsticks that he wasn't able to make it all the way back to the castle or he hadn't come home alone.

Glancing at the bare back and wave of red locks laying beside him he assumed it was the latter, possibly aided by the former.

He ran his fingers down his face letting out a long breath. He tried to recall the images that had woken him. He had gotten images like those often enough to know that they were Seer visions. It took him a while to recall enough of them for them to make any sense. He could only assume that it meant a werewolf attack but there had been so much werewolf activity lately that it almost seemed mundane for him to have visions about it. Unless the attack was on a much greater scale, something that endangered many more lives much like his visions of the mummy attack the month before.

If it were a werewolf attack of that kind of magnitude though something was very seriously wrong and it was something Cillian couldn't possibly ignore. It wasn't that long until the next full moon. He couldn't be sure if it was going to happen then, after all many of the images from the second war had haunted him for almost a whole year before they actually occurred. Even if these attacks were a year away he had to warn someone.

Cillian pulled the covers away noticing only after the chill of the his flat at night hit that he wasn't wearing anything. He sucked in a large intake of breath, threw his legs over the edge of the bed and braced himself to get up when a hand touched his shoulder. He hadn't even noticed that she had moved but it wasn't long before that hand was sliding down his chest and her equally unclothed body was pressed against his back.

"Lian? Where you going?"

He let himself crack a self satisfied smile. He knew that voice, he knew it rather well. Penelope Fenshodder worked at Madame Puddlefoots. He had gone to Hogwarts with her but she had been one of those gorgeous unobtainable types back then. While she had only gotten more gorgeous with age she had also gotten wiser and had been around long enough to know that more often than not the nice guys were better than the bad boys adolescent girls lusted after. He wished he hadn't been so drunk that he had forgotten how he had gotten her into bed.

"I just need to take care of something."

Her hands snaked around his chest again, "Can't it wait till morning?"

Cillian closed his eyes, flashes of his vision danced behind his eyes, spraying blood, dead bodies and werewolves running rampant while the sun still shone. He knew he needed to do something about this and sooner rather than later but he couldn't deny her either. He turned to face the freckled girl of his teenaged dreams, "Yeah it can wait." He cracked another smile catching her lips with his and returning to what he could only imagine their earlier nightly activity had been.