Birds of Our Feather [Eva]

[SEVRUM SNOW]

"What are you doing here, Sevrum?

The snatcher had developed a bad habit of talking to himself over-- how long had it been? A year already? Time seemed to melt into itself as he was on the run, and the only steady keeper of time he had was the full moons that did an extraordinary job of sneaking up on him each month. It was tiring to run for so long, especially from a force as powerful and persistent at the Ministry of Magic, but even the most trained and feared forces let their guard down at some point. Sevrum just hoped that both him and the Ministry were doing it at the same time.

After all, Diagon Alley wasn't the the safest place for someone to go when they were trying to stay out of sight. Had this been a few months ago, Sevrum would have never dreamed of coming here, but the time had passed where his face was plastered everywhere, and he was confident that he was starting to leave people's minds; he didn't much feel like killing anyone who pointed him out, though he would do it if need be. The werewolf craved a drink-- a proper drink, not a glass of cheap scotch from some out-of-the-way pub.

He hadn't been to the Leaky Cauldron since his days as an unspeakable, and he remembered it fondly. Perhaps absence had distorted his view of the inn, but he remembered drinks as fine as one could imagine, and, if you had too much, a bed upstairs was never much coin. He frequented it after his basic training, and he just hoped that no one would recognize him now; maybe the new beard would help.

Sevrum placed hurried footfalls on the aged cobblestone street of Diagon Alley, and it didn't take much time at all before he came to the very familiar door. Hesitating with a breath, he pushed the door open slowly, entered, and found a seat at the bar.

"Walker. Blue Label. Two fingers. Straight, if you could," he said to the barkeep in low tones. He kept his head relatively down, but not so much so that he would seem suspicious. The bartender was someone he didn't recognize, and that offered him a bit of security. Perhaps he would have a peaceful drink after all.

Sevrum reached into the pocket of his blazer and retrieved a few coins, dropping them onto the bar as the barkeep poured his scotch. "Thank you," he muttered politely before taking a very quick, deep gulp. It burned his throat, of course, and the warmth sunk slowly down to settle in his stomach, but it was good-- almost as good as he liked to remember it. A quick glance around the room revealed that no one was staring. No one was asking is that the man from the poster? or should we contact the aurors  just in case?

It was nice, to put it simply. Nice. With a fortnight until the next full moon, Sevrum couldn't think of a better way to spend his downtime. Now if only there wasn't a cell in Azkaban with his name on it.

[Deleted]

The Christmas holidays allowed the young professor to gain a reprieve from the being confined to the grounds of Hogwarts. Many of the students had returned home and the castle was quiet. Eva had looked in her supply cabinets the day before only to find that she was running ridiculously low on essential ingredients. Flesh eating slug repellent, dragon hide gloves and various consumables she needed for her classes. Her dragon hide gloves had finally worn through after dealing with a particularly nasty little creature. Eva had left the care of her niffler to one of the other professors before heading out to Diagon Alley to get these chores done. A trip to Gringotts was also on the list. She sighed, the process being much more tedious than it should have been. Eva disliked having to leave the security of her hut and venter into the crowds that would now be in Diagon Alley. With the Christmas season almost upon them, people were everywhere. Still, Eva braved the crowds to retrieve her essentials. Plus, it would do to get a few gifts for a number of members of staff while she could. Her family, being all but dead, did not feature in holiday seasons and Eva had forgotten why people celebrate it. She had soon acquired all her necessities but a pounding headache left her wanting a drink. She disliked crowds of people immensely. She made her way swiftly down the crowded alley towards the Leaky Cauldron. She pushed open the door, enjoying the sudden rush of warmth. Outside the snow was just beginning to fall. However, it melted just as it hit the ground, creating grey slush. Eva’s cheeks were flushed from the cold by the time she had decided to seek warmth. She found a seat at the bar. “Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey, please,” she requested, placing some coins on the counter. The alcoholic beverage would be enough to warm her up and give her an ounce of courage to retrieve a final item or two before she returned home. A word of thanks formed on her lips as the drink was placed in front of her. She took a large swig, grimacing slightly as the sudden warmth that spread through her body. The sharpness of the drink numbed her mouth a little. The full moon was far from Eva’s mind. She relished the moments in between. Eva glanced to her left to the man beside her. He looked rather dower. Her eyes moved back to the drink that was in front of her. She was certainly not one to communicate with strangers on a whim. Yet, in explicably, Eva felt drawn to the man. Nonsense, she scolded herself. It made little to no sense. However, the niggling feeling persisted, “Can I buy you a drink?” Her words were more of an offer for an exchange of words to take place than just a drink. Her throat went dry. Talking to strangers caused her to feel very anxious. Lines formed around her eyes, indicating anxiety. She immediately wished to retract the offer and return to solitude with her drink for solace. She did not recognise him as Sevrum Snow, the man who had been hunted by the ministry the year previously. Truth be told, Eva lived so deeply in her own solitude that the news of the world often only filtered down to her through the voices of the students. She did, however, remember mutters of a man on the run, accused of treason. Curiosity had perked her mind at that time. What had this man done? However, the thought that this was that man had not crossed her mind.

[SEVRUM SNOW]

A year on the run had made Sevrum numb to loneliness. No longer did he spend his days wondering when he would next see his godson or any friend, but instead he found himself making games of the most mundane activities to keep himself sane. However, the door to the Leaky Cauldron opened again, and Sevrum realized just how long it had been since he'd seen a proper woman. She found a seat at the bar beside him, her dark hair falling softly past her shoulder as she ordered her drink.

Sevrum drank from his almost obsessively as if he needed something to occupy himself with. Beauty was weakness. There was nothing more dangerous to an operative alone in the field than the enchantment of a gorgeous woman. While Sevrum deserted his old job, he was now more of an operative than ever, meaning he was even more prone to this agonizing weakness.

He ignored her looks. He told himself that she wasn't truly beautiful, but that he had just been alone for too long. He reset his mind to its default setting: caution, and, to be safe, assumed that the woman sat down beside him because she was there to kill him. It was a rash assumption, sure, but it had saved Sevrum's life a few times before. It may do it again some day.

He could see her looking at him in quick glances, questions swimming through her eyes as fast as they were through his. He pretended not to notice, and took very, very small sips of his drink, now being careful not to get drunk just in case he needed to duel. There was something that drew him to her though, a sort of bond he couldn't explain. It wasn't anything as cliche as deja vu or anything like that, but more like a sensation of community, like they both belonged to something they couldn't explain out loud, and then she turned to him.

"Can I buy you a drink?" She offered, and Sevrum went right back to feeling distrustful. A pretty woman offering a stranger a drink. Was there more of a cliche was to poison someone? Sevrum couldn't think of any.

But he couldn't let her know he was suspicious; that would only make the game that much harder. Instead, he put on the most charming smile he could, and looked her in the eye. "Actually, I probably shouldn't have any more after this, but I appreciate the offer, Ms. ..." He trailed off, leaving room for her to reveal her name. Of course, Sevrum was timing her. If she was an inexperienced killer, she may not have thought to come up with a fake name. So, if she took too long to respond, Sevrum could know whether or not he was being confronted by an amateur. Although, if she replied quickly, that could mean two things: either she's perfectly harmless, or she was a killer who knew what she was doing.

[Deleted]

The sound of the crowd disappeared as the alcohol seeped into her consciousness. A warmth spread throughout her limbs and a lightness of mind took hold. Eva could not hold her drink. She rarely had the opportunity drink. She shook her head a little, in a weak attempt to stop the fogginess from settling in. She gained some footing as the wave of fogginess rolled back. Her eyes danced over the man’s features as she attempted to notice something intangible about him. Eva felt a twinge of disappointment at the man’s rejection of her offer for a drink. However, she could not say that she had not expected it. Her lips pulled into a polite smile, while her eyes swam with unfinished thoughts. Here, however, she was not Eva Pauw, the reclusive Care of Magical Creatures professor that sought no company from others. The creature that hid in the edge of the forest was not who she wished to be this day. So she hesitated when he asked her name. “This day is not a day for names,” she mused. For a fleeting moment, sadness touched the edges of her smile. “If you are certain that that has to be your last drink, then that is indeed a pity. I, however, think I will have another drink or two.” She tilted her head to look at the man, her gaze holding emptiness. He had ruggedness about him that Eva could not place her finger on. Perhaps there was also a certain air of danger to him. An exhilarating notion. What did it matter talking to this stranger? She turned away for a moment, and finished off the remainder of her drink in a large swig. She gestured to the barman for another. She had never been much of a drinker, but this night she would. She reached inside her pockets and placed a few sickles on the counter that would pay for this drink and a few others. The bartender gave her an incredulous look before retreating off to deal with other customers. “Is your company pressed for elsewhere?” she probed, a little too far for her liking. Let the man go! The niggling feeling persisted, elevated by the alcohol. Eva wrapped her slender fingers around her drink, her footing over her words a little less steady. A frown creased her brow for a moment. Her low alcohol tolerance was frustrating.

[SEVRUM SNOW]

"This is not a day for names," she said to Sevrum's delight. Usually he had to be the one to dance around a conversation when someone asked for his name, but this woman had done the kindness of excusing him from that. However, his happiness was short-lived. From his experience, there was only one reason someone insisted on not knowing your name: they already knew it.

Sevrum's paranoia was certainly extreme, and this woman was probably no spy-- she didn't hold her liquor nearly well enough for that to be a possibility, but he only managed to stay out of Azkaban by being careful. Still, even the most careful of people had to take risks;what was the point of being alive if one refused to live? 

“If you are certain that that has to be your last drink, then that is indeed a pity. I, however, think I will have another drink or two.”


Sevrum couldn't help but flash a smile, perhaps one of the first non-mocking smiles he'd worn since he was branded as a traitor. Far too often, Sevrum thought out situations with the capacity of his intelligence, but there was another part of him that was equally as important: his instinct. His inner beast was hardly ever wrong, and the wolf within him was howling for this woman, so he would oblige. His more ferocious half had never let him down before.

The woman finished off her drink, somehow maintaining a certain aura of-- pardon Sevrum's thoughts-- sexy mystery. "Is your company pressed for elsewhere?" she inquired, and finally, with a grin, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a few coins, and let them jingle as he dropped them onto the counter. The bartender looked to him. "You win," Sevrum said to the woman beside her, his eyes gazing into hers like doorways into an abyss. "Another round."

The barkeep scooped up his coins and refilled his glass. He took it in his fingers, turned to her, and raised his glass in the air. "To a night without names," he cheered calmly before raising his glass to his lips and drinking deeply.

[Deleted]

As the man flashed a genuine smile, Eva saw a little crack in his defences. Everyone had their own secrets. Eva didn’t care much for his. You see, if you looked closely enough at anyone, they were dangerous, selfish beasts, intent on destroying everything around them for their own desires. Perhaps, we desires collude for the same purpose; something else would come from that. So Eva did not look closely at this man that had presented himself before her – or perhaps she had presented herself to him. She would take the glimmer he had offered her through a smile that she could only class as genuine. She needed not this man’s name to grasp a tendril of his identity. After all, a name was only a fraction of a person. She would give him her own name – this solitary man that needed to be coaxed into having a drink. A name that she found fitting. She broke into a triumphant smile as he relented to her. She gazed into the void that rested behind his eyes without faltering. Oh, he certainly seemed like a dangerous man. Yet, Eva could hold her own – mostly because here, Eva did not have to be herself. For the briefest of moments, softness entered her features. The wave of fogginess rolled in again, and her lips were hardly hers to command. She raised her glass and tilted her head at the man’s toast. Oh, she really could not keep calling him ’the man’. “To a night without names,” she echoed, “Little Wolf.” It was her strange affinity towards him that had provoked her to give him that name. It was almost as though he could understand that darker aspect of hers. She drank deeply to that toast, a little more of her grip on her self-control slipping away leaving a state of brash honesty. The name she had given him was what she needed – she needed a little wolf, stuck in the same predicament as her own. And this man would become that, if only for these transient moments orchestrated by alcohol. Then, perhaps on the morrow, they would both forget and return to their worlds.

[SEVRUM SNOW]

She returned his toast, but it was the thing she added to the end of it that particularly caught his attention.

Little wolf.

Did she know? How could she? Was that what his instincts were trying to tell him? She was a werewolf too, or at least he suspected that now. That sense of community he was feeling, that would explain it, but werewolves weren't exactly common. What were the chances of running into one like this? Sevrum wasn't much a believer in destiny-- he was adamant in his thoughts that events happen as they do, and they are not predetermined by any mysterious force, but this was nearly enough to have him question those beliefs. Out of all the people in the world, a werewolf sitting next to him? What were the chances?

She looked to him without a word leaving her mouth, but her eyes said more than any sentence could. It felt almost as if she was communicating to him through gaze, and he tried to communicate back, but he was at a loss.

"Little wolf..." he repeated to himself before taking a sip of his drink. His head faced the woman after he set his drink down. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Loud Eyes?" he said on a whim, thinking about her gaze that mimed a hundred thoughts. 

For a moment, the pub seemed completely empty aside from the two wolves who sat at the bar. Conversations around them strayed from Sevrum's ears, and his vision tunneled around Loud Eyes. Fate-- fate couldn't exist, but it was times like this that Sevrum questioned his lack of belief in the force of destiny. "I mean, is this just a coincidence, or are you going about picking up strays for your pack or something?"

[Deleted]

My little wolf... The thought fleeted through her mind for the shortest of foolish moments. A foolish girl she was to think, in her clouded state, that she had found something more in a man at a bar. She watched him gaze back, as if to give her words in return for her gaze. God, Eva, what has possessed you to speak with this man? That was the final thoughts of the reclusive , sound of mind Eva before she was shunted to the back of her mind. Eva was lost and replaced by Loud Eyes.  She smiled uncertainly at the name he had chosen to give to her. Perhaps she was as transparent as the name suggested. He could probably pick out each of her thoughts from her gaze. That thought was unnerving. Yet, in a way, she appreciated the name. The name suggested that he saw her. He could see her through the mire of defenses of stubborn silence and carefully selected words. She could have almost laughed at herself. The idea seemed rather romantic. Unless he was proficient in legilimency, which she had no way of knowing, he could not see inside her mind. Yet, the foolish little girl inside her clung onto the silly notion that he could grasp her thoughts in her gaze. Still, she puzzled at his question. Initially, she just assumed that he was asking why she struck up a conversation with him. She was about to give him an answer, but his next words baffled her. "Strays for my pack?" her eyes widened, a mixture of confusion and panic rushing in. How did he know? She searched his face frantically for a memory of this man. She had met one or two wolves in search of the one who had bit her, but she could not recall him in the  those memories. His features gave her the smallest hint of recognition, but she could not place it. Perhaps she was just scrambling for an explanation.  "Ho..how did you know?" an urgency replaced the sultriness, coupled with brief moments of panic. She quickly composed her. "I mean, this is certainly a coincidence." She lent further back from the strange man at the bar, her eyes betraying mistrust.

[SEVRUM SNOW]

Sevrum's last words echoed in his mind after they danced off his lips. They bounced throughout his mind harshly, provoking regret that made him nearly reach out with a hand and snatch them out of the air before she heard them. More than likely, he was making a fool of himself. It was unlike Sevrum to speak so abruptly based on a quick hunch, and he was now haunted with the probability that this woman wasn't a werewolf at all, and he may just be creeping out some nice stranger. Maybe he would have gotten a name from her eventually. Maybe they would have hit it off, go an a few dates-- who knows? But he had to ruin it. He saw a pretty woman for the first time in a year, and he had to call her a werewolf. Sevrum Snow had truly been detached from reality for far too long.

Or so he thought before her eyes spoke to him again. The widened, but not with confusion or disgust, but with a shock so real and heart-stopping that it nearly screamed, "Yes, I'm a werewolf." Sevrum smiled before she even said a word. He had earlier claimed to himself that his instincts had never failed him, and it appeared that they still hadn't. The sense of community-- the howling inside of him-- that was his inner wolf crying to hers. Two tortured souls, two cursed people, two savage beasts being contained until the moon freed them upon the world. Little Wolf and Loud Eyes.

"Ho..how did you know?" she asked, but she didn't even have to, because Sevrum could see the question in her gaze; he only wished that the answer was in his. What was he to tell her? That he only guessed? That would hardly be believable, even if it was the truth. Sevrum's hand rested around his glass and the drops on the outside of it tricked down his thumb. He pit his lip partially as he thought, tapping his foot lightly on the ground, searching for an explanation, but he shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't," he began. "he did," he finished, pointing to his canine teeth to indicate that he meant the beast within him. 

"I mean, this is certainly a coincidence."


She leaned back from him in a manner that seemed distrustful, and he raised an eyebrow? "You don't think I'm up to no good, do you? After all, you came and sat beside me. It's not like I followed you in here or anything. If anything, I should be the suspicious one."

It was true. This beautiful woman came in here, sat right next to him of all places, and then turned out to be one of the rarest beings in the wizarding world. Well, not because there was any shortage of werewolf attacks, but because there was an extreme shortage of survivors. Sevrum should be extremely suspicious, but he wasn't. His instincts had never let him down before, and his instincts were telling him that Loud Eyes could be trusted. Sevrum smiled, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a few galleons. "A bottle of both, please," he said to the bartender, gesturing toward both his glass and Loud Eyes'. The barkeep brought him his bottle of scotch and her bottle of firewhiskey. He slid her bottle over to her before opening his and taking a swig. "Fate obviously has a plan tonight, Loud Eyes. Who are we to defy it?" he asked.

And, tonight, Sevrum became a believer in destiny. 

[Deleted]

Eva waited for the man's reply, as she began to set up a wall in front of her. She wished she had managed to keep this secret to herself. The evening would have been a blissful remembrance of a man at a bar with no name but the one she gave him. There would no strings attached. He would never have to know of her affliction. But he had found it before the night had even begun. The moment was sobering, and despite the vast amounts of alcohol that she had consumed, she was suddenly sober.  At her response, she found a smile. She faltered, more confused  by his reaction. The smile did not seem sinister, although she expected that it should have been.  I didn't... he did.  The words stopped her. Shock silenced her mind and she gazed at him blankly for just a moment. She suddenly understood that smile. She understood the immense pull she had towards him. She did not smile though. Shock rippled through her body. How did she end up finding him? Her lips parted in surprise, and she had to glance away. Her gaze had become too intimate to keep looking. How could she scare him away now that she had only just found him? She frowned at herself, completely torn between holding onto a sharp reality that he was just a person, probably in the least romantic idea, and being completely drawn by him and an idea that she was not alone with him. She continued to dip her gaze. But the beast within her growl, urging her to close the gap between them and letting down those final walls. A hundred desires coursed through her mind.  "That wasn't my distrust," she answered slowly, gazing up back at him.  His reply made her curious. She, however, did not elaborate on her answer. Her distrust came from her fear of exposure. Werewolves were not popular among wizards. Perhaps it was fear that did that. However, Eva did not like her beast exposed. Perhaps it being exposed to the outside world forced her to examine herself. So she remained silent, sadness leaking through her expression. A curious smile touched her lips. "So you are a Little Wolf... perhaps even my Little Wolf, even if it is just for this night." She watched him retrieve more money and buy a bottle for each of them. A smile returned and she was lulled back into a sense of happiness. Her posture opened and she leaned forward a bit, into his direction. His words were curious. Was it fate that had orchestrated this? Eva was not one for such sentimentality because that would mean that it was fate that had required her to be this beast.  However, maybe, just for this night, Eva could entertain the idea of fate. After all, what were the chances of meeting a wolf at the Leaky Cauldron? What Eva did know was that her wolf howled for his blood -- for his presence this night. Perhaps she would defy fate, but she certainly would not defy her wolf. "So, what, do you think, fate has planned for tonight?" she asked, her voice filled with sultry tones. She accepted the bottle that he had presented her with, and filled her mind with the ability to forget what she was and embrace this night of fate.

[SEVRUM SNOW]

The moment she realized what he was, Sevrum could see a drop in her defenses, so they were finally on the same page. A simple drink in Diagon Alley had quickly turned into one of those moments you'd remember with your last breath. "So you are a Little Wolf... perhaps even my Little Wolf, even if it is just for this night,"
she said with more eagerness than Sevrum was accustomed to hearing from her. He smiled, picking up a flirty vibe from her suggestion. "I suppose I am," he replied with a smirk.

Her posture loosened up a bit, and she leaned more toward Sevrum. He leaned toward her a little, trying not to be overwhelming. He'd been out of "the game," so to speak, for a while, and flirting was certainly one of his more rusty areas of human interaction. But she wasn't human-- not fully anyway. She was like him, and that made just a tiny bit easier to not make a complete fool out of himself just yet, though he was sure that would happen later.

He took another sip from his bottle and looked toward her. "So, what, do you think, fate has planned for tonight?"
she asked, and Sevrum shrugged his shoulders. with a smile.

He heard the door open, and a winter chill rushed into the pub before it closed again. No doubt there was another soul trying to get their fill of drink before they headed home. Although, there was a bit of an eerie feeling in the air, and Sevrum's inner wolf was growling. Then, without warning, someone shout a spell. 

As the words just began to leave their lips, Sevrum's hand had found his way into his inner jacket pocket and his fingers tightened around his wand. "Incarcerous!" belted a robust, deep voice. By the time Sevrum turned to face the voice, wand in hand, the ropes were already in front of him.
He waved his wand with as much intent behind it as he could, and the ropes soared over his head. Although, the tail end of the rope made contact with the bridge of his nose, leaving a nasty cut that bled after a couple seconds.

Sevrum had winced from the pain, closing his eyes out of instinct, but when he opened them, he only saw the man for a split second before he disappeared with an earsplitting pop that echoed through the pub. He raised an eyebrow in utter confusion. What the hell just happened?

He reached up to the bridge of his nose blood painting his finger as he touched it. It had started a stream that was beginning to run down the right side of his face when he turned to Loud Eyes.

"I'd bet just about anything that he wasn't alone. We should get out of here."

[Deleted]

Her eyes glimmered as he leaned in slightly closer to her. So the wolf had finally understood her little game. A night filled with no attachment and no regret. She hesitated, knowing that perhaps this man was one of the few that could whittle his way into her life. However, she did not want to rely on that idea and be left by another person. She was too cynical to believe that this chance meeting and night of fate would be anything more. He seemed at a loss for words at her question. Perhaps he did not want to venture an answer.  The moment of  promises quickly faded with an entry of a man into a bar. Eva turned her face towards the door as it open. She felt the gush of cold wind on her cheeks. The room seemed to darken for a moment. She tensed, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. The man seemed to be aiming his attention at Little Wolf. The next set of happenings were sobering. The man attacked with ropes. He seemed intent to capture the man that sat next to her alive. Eva's eyes widened. Surely this was no coincidence. The idea of a night without names fell away. Who was this man next to her? The question seemed to beg an answer urgently. She stiffened, suddenly wary.  She did not believe that this man was an innocent player in this event. His next words seemed to confirm it. He seemed well versed in the actions of such men. She watched the trinkle of blood slip down his nose. Her senses told her to stay and let him go.  "You are a dangerous man," she said shakily, aware that the attention of the pub was on them. Her body betrayed her shock. She knew, deep down, that this man was more than he appeared. He was no casual frequenter of the pub. Oh no. He was something much more dangerous. "I think you should go alone. I don't want to be mixed up in this." Wolf comrade or not, she could not risk herself.

[SEVRUM SNOW]

From the moment the strange man had lifted his wand at Sevrum, he knew that his night was over. There was nothing more off-putting than letting a woman know she could very well be killed just for sitting next to you, and that's exactly what she was probably thinking now. Sevurm, at first, thought that he could be clever and turn it around. He could act surprised, say something like I'M a dangerous man? He was aiming at YOU, but that would just be digging himself into a deeper hole than need be. His job had prepared him for loneliness, and Sevrum had to face it tonight. The night without names was gone.

Sevrum nodded humbly at her words, agreeing that she had a very fair point. "Fair enough," he muttered as he stood up slowly, using the back of his hand to wipe the blood off of his face. Standing, he took his bloodied hand and grabbed his bottle of scotch. "We'll, meet again, Loud Eyes," he said in a rather prophetic voice. He uncorked it, raising his bottle in the air. "To the night without names," he cheered one last time before disappearing with a pop that rang throughout the entire pub.