Summer was only a few months. But when you were fifteen, sixteen, it didn't take long to change.   There were the physical changes: the growth spurt that had started taking its sweet time during fifth year had apparently found its stride in Deus Deres.  He was an easy two inches taller than he'd been the last time he'd walked on Hogwarts grounds. His skin was sun-darkened, highlighting the new sharp, dagger-like slash scars crossing over his collarbone: pale, puffed and pink and clearly still healing.  The long sleeves of his outfit hid the rope-like curse scars around his arm, also newly acquired over those last few weeks of summer, though the blackened edges wrapped visibly around his right hand like a tattoo.  His hands were larger, attached to still-thin wrists that showed he still wasn't growing.

But more than the physical changes, there was something slightly…harder about the soon-to-be-seventeen year old, like his mellow edges had been ironed out a bit, sharper, and his easy smile had shifted from moderately mischievous to vaguely anarchistic. But then, having your foster family try (however indirectly) to have you killed—something he knew he shouldn't take personally, given their family history—had that sort of effect on a kid, no matter how old they may be in other ways.  Of course, Deus wasn't ignoring the fact that, though the Crew at the Lazy Kelpie probably didn't know it, they'd been right to do what they did, given their code, because Deus  already double-crossed them in his own way.

Which meant it was time to think about getting out.

The Scot's Slytherin ambition was something of a joke amongst his peers—Deus was the laziest, slacking lay-about in the building. But what wasn't often factored in was his cunning. Deus had spent years biding his time, and he was wondering if it wasn't about time to move on.

Even though the rock he was sitting on was only physically just outside the edge of the festivities,  a smoking roll of gillyweed between his fingers, Deus himself was miles away, his expression an unfamiliar one to those who would know him—downright contemplative, and just a little mean. He'd shown up to Hogsmeade as an excuse to get out from under Pa Quigley and his well-meaning (and for lack of a better word,) social-worker, Berkeley. But there was no way he was gonna sit around and listen to a bunch of old men and women drone on about unity when everyone knew this whole shebang was really about bragging rights.

Cradling his injured hand, he used his good hand to bring the smoking gillyweed to his lips, he let the vaguely hallucinatory effects start to settle in. Funny thing about gillyweed—did weird things to your oxygen intake when you ingested in this particular manner.  He'd just…finish it off, he thought. And then go find some food from those vendors.

Olivia had decided to go to the festivities in Hogsmeade, after all she wanted to feel apart of the school that she might have a chance to return too. With the fact Snark was missing there could be a chance she could return to school this year. Her mother was working towards getting her back in school, after a successful year of home schooling. Olivia wanted to go back to school, and she was working towards it. Of course the Ministry and the school officials had final say, and she hoped it was going to be in her favour. Olivia sensed there would be meetings in her future, and many owls to come on the matter. Olivia was going to attempt to soak in as many school-sanctioned activities as possible, which was why she was enjoying the festivities in Hogsmeade. Her mother had even come, but was off somewhere else, she wasn’t so sure.

Dressed for the summer in a tank top and shorts she wandered around Hogsmeade, but her feet caused her to head a little farther out. Her legs showed off a few scars from silver she had encountered, and there was a hint of her scar on her back showing. The most devastating scar that was apparent was the bite mark on her shoulder that turned her into what she was. Olivia disliked summer because she showed off the scars she had but she wasn’t going to hide her body away either and swelter in the heat.

“What are you doing?” She asked curiously with a smile as she stumbled upon Deus smoking. She recalled him from Hogwarts, but then she was a werewolf Hufflepuff and he was a Slytherin so she wasn’t so sure what response she would receive. Still he had to admit, she was rather curious as to what he was smoking and what had happened to his hand. Curiosity killed the cat or in this situation perhaps the werewolf.

He recognized her as she approached, though he waited until she was close to turn and look at her. For one, he made it a point to remember faces as an expedient habit of criminal life. For two, she was a female and a pretty one, and while it was possible Deus might forget a face every now and then, the likelihood of it being a pretty female he’d seen here and there for a handful of years was unlikely, even if it had been awhile. What was her name? Ollie? If it was an ‘O’ name, it had to be Olivia. What other ‘O’ names were there? Odette, he supposed, but that wasn’t right.

He made attempt to hide his curious perusal of her, acknowledging the scars without any particular show of judgment or sympathy. He had no grounds to judge anyone, and in any case, he was too lazy for that kind of effort, and he had enough scars of his own, and enough time around people with worse, to be particularly phased by them. The current short-order cook at the Lazy Kelpie was missing an arm and a good chunk of his ear. He was curious, as evidenced by the questioning raise of his brows to his hairline as his gaze slid quite directly over his new companion. Perhaps the more gentlemanly thing to do would have been to politely ignore scars, but Deus was hardly a gentleman, never claimed to be or pretended  to be, and as such, he was going to enjoy the pretty picture those jean shorts presented. 

As a matter of principle, Deus almost never answered questions directly. He was evasive by nature, and if he remained consistent about it, then people were less likely to notice that the habit meant he never answered personal questions directly, either. So he smiled, lazy and just ever so slightly predatory.  “Trainin’ dragons, love.”  He drawled, amused that she jumped right into questioning him without any formalities or general exchange of niceties. Not that he minded—he found it preferable, in fact, but it amused him nonetheless. Deftly, he twirled the rolled gillyweed in his fingers so the lit end faced him, offering the drug to the girl with a clear challenge in his eyes. He knew she’d been expelled, but he was curious for what precisely—no one skirted the expulsion line quite as neatly as the resident Slytherin delinquent, and so it must have been major.

And so she had his curiousity. And the company of a pretty girl was bound to be better than the cold company of his own thoughts.  “Ahn what brings ye tae the edges o’ society tonight, quine?”

Ollie wasn’t one to notice such things as wandering eyes of boys, or such obvious stares like the ones she was getting now. Most of the time she didn’t acknowledge them because she had been stared at most of her life due to the varying marks upon her skin, or for the fact people knew what she was. The looks she did notice and hated were ones of pity, and as Deus wasn’t giving her that look she didn’t really mind him looking elsewhere. Ollie also wasn’t one to assume people would find her on any level attractive.

A chuckle left her lips as he spoke, “I wish.” Training dragons was a much better tale than the real one. But his comment was either supposed to amusing, or it meant he was one that did not know about her. Now that was a refreshing thought. Ollie wasn’t one to go introduce herself as a werewolf, nor was she the type to just go announcing what she was. Ollie never avoid a direct question regarding it, but she wasn’t about to advertise what she was. After all in her mind she was more than a beast and the affliction did not define her.

As he offered her what he was smoking she leaned forward and took it, eyeing it as she held it in her hand. Bringing it to her lips she took a drag of breath inhaling the smoke before blowing it out as she removed it from her lips. A cough followed the smoke and she waved her hand in front of her face before handing it back. Small little coughs continued, “What is that?” She inquired probably a little later than she should have.

“Boredom.” She answered and she moved her feet against the ground as she eyes dropped to her shoes. “Though you still haven’t answered my question. Which is of a similar vein. What brings you to be out here?” Ollie rephrased her previous question of what he was doing, as she supposed it was obvious he was out here smoking. Ollie was more curious as to why he was over here.

In his own way, Deus was honest. Sure, you couldn't trust a word that came off the tip of his tongue, but in some ways, he was more honest than most. About who he was and how he felt about people, for instance. He wasn't going to try and look at people askance when they weren't looking, or poke around after they'd gone for gossip. He figured it was more polite to openly gaze than to be sneaky about it. Saved time, too. Much better to get the whole picture at once than to dillydally around the issue.  Deus didn't know, not for sure, that Ollie had a fuzzy little problem once or twice a month, but the scar on her shoulder, her almost rueful response coupled with her expulsion and the fact, based on her reaction to the gillyweed, that that expulsion had not likely been related to generally delinquent behavior, made him assume something of the kind. But he wasn't the type to ask personally direct questions, he vastly preferred wiggling the truth out bit by bit. It was more fun, and he liked to see if he was right.

In any case, he didn't really mind. He knew no small number of werewolves—thanks to the segregation laws, a large chunk of them fell into the criminal life for lack of any respectable alternative. As far as he was concerned, they weren't half as vicious as the selkies who frequented the Northern Scotland pub—Deus was quite aware of the distinction between being and beast. Selkies were dangerous regardless of what skin they wore, werewolves—particularly when they came packaged as petite (or not so as he readjusted his evaluation of her height, just slender) fellow classmates—just didn't fit the criteria in his book.

Deus's grin turned downright Cheshire as Olivia inhaled the smoke of the hallucinogenic gillyweed. He snickered, not unkindly, as she coughed, and reached over to give a light, companionable pound on the back to help. Nope, definitely not a delinquent. Once again, he avoided answering her directly as she asked what she had just smoked. "That, darlin', is th' result  o' inhalin' tae quickly. Try again?" The amused wickedness dancing in his hazel eyes was instantly wiped clean, replaced with the picture of friendly innocence, though the friendly challenge was still present in the slight, rumbled edge of his deepened voice. He was already feeling the effects himself, despite a long-built tolerance built up over the years. It settled in his bones like sunshine to the bones of a languid cat, and the world was taking on a slightly rosy-purple hue. He wasn't sure if it would have the same effect—it would depend, he supposed, on werewolf metabolism, but he was a curious creature and something about her point-blank questioning gave him the sense she was, if not innocent, then certainly not used to hanging around the kind of company he usually kept, and that amused him. He was easily entertained.

Though you still haven’t answered my question.

Deus laughed outright. Persistent, she was. And he always relished an opportunity to exploit curiosity.  "Ahn Ah donnae ken Ah'm gonna." He responded casually, rising to his full height, a good four or five inches over his guest. "But Ah might ken 'ow tae 'elp wit' yer boredom." 

A tint of pink appeared upon her cheeks, whether it came from the cough or embarrassment Olivia couldn’t be too sure. All she knew on some level that pat on her back helped some. “Good to know,” she said as she awkwardly coughed out. Mental note to not inhale too quickly next time was made, and as she brought it too her lips again she inhaled a little slower this time. Ollie blew out the smoke again and this time there wasn’t as much of the horrendous coughing experience. Still, why anyone found smoking pleasurable was beyond her. The only thing she wasn’t so sure of was what these so-called after affects would be. Ollie assumed there would be something, perhaps she should have asked about those before inhaling the junk.

He wasn’t going to answer her question, well that was annoying. She handed back the rolled up, whatever it was, and tilted her head at him. “Fine, be that way.” If he wasn’t going to answer her question she supposed she had to be fine, as she wasn’t going to force him. Perhaps on a full moon she might have the menacing state to threaten someone but definitely not like her normal self. Ollie chuckled to herself at the mental image of her being a menacing interrogating werewolf. It was an impossible image but it was an amusing one. Ollie wasn’t sure why she found the concept so amusing. She lingered on the thought as she shoved her hands in the back pocket of her jeans and eyed Deus.

As he stood up she looked him over, and repaying the favour he had done earlier. Ollie’s eyes took in his appearance and stance; she then made the decision that she liked his hair. She twisted her lip and thought about what he said. “Alright, help me with my boredom then.” She tilted her head to the side and took another once over of the boy standing in front of her. He had a mysterious air about him, and she was curious as to where this day would take them. Ollie had decided questions should be left out of this exchange and she would do better sticking to statements, but she was far too curious not to ask question. “So how do you think you will manage that?”

Deus grinned as the pink hue rose into Ollie's cheeks. It was an appealing shade, and he rather thought it suited her. Plus, he had a certain fondness for making pretty girls blush, it was something of a point of pride for him. And never mind that it may not have directly been because of him, he'd had a part in it, and so it counted.

Of course, part of his smile was because her hair was turning pink, and there were lots of sparkling bubbles of air floating around--but he'd been gillied enough to have a pretty good grasp of what was real and what was a hallucination from the drug they had inhaled.  It would be kicking in for her too, pretty shortly if his estimate was right. There wasn't much to her, it wouldn't take much. And so Deus figured it was probably for the best that she seemed agreeable to remaining in his company for a bit--he felt a tad obligated to keep an eye on her.

He quirked an eyebrow at her irritation and shook his head, responding ever so dryly, "Ah will, thanks fer th' permission, doll." Huffy little thing. Not that Deus was unused to it. People tended to get frustrated quite quickly and quite regularly with his stalwart evasions of direct questions.

 "As ye wish, darlin'." He said, with a flourishing bow. He straightened, his experience with the drug allowing him to maintain his balance even though the ground was swirling and had not only suddenly taken on a distinctly purple hue, but appeared to be staring at him. He chose this time, as usual, to not directly answer her question, preferring to return a question of his own. Eyes glittering, every inch of him a little sly, he leaned his head down so the two of them were a bit more even. He raised the rough, calloused fingers of his good hand to her chin with just a gentle tap. "D'ye 'ave much objection to law-breakin'?"

Her irritation at the boy was slowly fading, particularly because that smile on his face was sort of cute. She tilted her head to observe it more closely. She was sure his smile was sparkling, but that would be silly. A smile started form slowly over Ollie's lips as she was amused at the state of Deus' sparkling ones. At that particular moment she wondered what it would be like to kiss sparkling lips. Though she did not think he would appreciate her to suddenly kissing him to experiment (in more ways than one).

A giggle escaped her lips as he bowed, his hand created sparkles or at least left a trail of them. "You're amusing." Ollie giggled again and placed her hand over her mouth. Her eyes darted towards his sparkling lips again before moving to the ground for fear of staring. That was when she noticed it was not only Deus' lips that look new and exciting, but also the ground. She swore it was moving and swirling, despite feeling firmly grounded and still. The feeling was strange, her mind was not pairing with the feelings of her body.

As he touched her chin her eyes darted up to meet his. Sparking lips were so close. "Depends on the law we'd be breaking." Ollie shrugged her shoulders. "I do like breaking big rules." Ollie preferred not to get into too much trouble. She had spend some of the morning with Fig and two Salem girls, they were a handful or at least one of them were. She wouldn't mind a bit of fun with Deus after the trials of the foreigners.