Meraki

Chapter 4: Non Sequitur

The first week of classes passed by in a blur, but Avior hasn’t adjusted to the idea of her father being this close to her throughout the school year yet. She can now decide at whichever moment that she wants to see him — though one might argue that sneaking out after curfew is not having the time for a visit.
Still, at nine past ten in the evening, she moves quietly to carefully avoid any members of staff, Prefects, or the Head Boy and Girl on their rounds to reach her father’s room.
At seventeen past ten, she finally reaches the Defence Against the Dark Arts tower, having had to take a slight pause when she believed to have heard Mrs Norris in the distance.

“Silly cat,” she whispers quietly as she pushes towards her father’s classroom, tiptoeing for as far as that goes in her black and white Converse. She didn’t bother tying them, so her feet keep sliding in and out of them slightly with each step. Her socks are white, one of her go-to choices if she isn’t wearing any patterns on them.
The door to the classroom creaks as she nudges it open, making her flinch visibly. She slips inside through the crack and is quick to shut it behind her.

“Why am I not surprised?”
Avior spins around with a smile to the sound of her father’s voice.

He walks down the steps from his office-and-room in one, clearly trying to look stern yet he can’t help but mirror her smile back to her. “It is past curfew, Ivy, I should be giving you detention for this.”

“But you won’t,” she says sweetly as she starts walking towards him. She is faster than him, younger and her body not torn and exhausted by transformations under each full moon. So she reaches him on the stairs, her smaller arms wrapping around his waist to squeeze him tightly.

“Clearly you are busy with detention under Snape already, anyways, are you not?” His deeper voice sounds above her and she buries her head more into his chest in response. “That boy deserved it, so detention is worth it.”

“You never told me what had caused you to react in such a way,” says Remus, an edge of concern to his words now, “I have never taught you to respond like that, ever.”

“Can we go upstairs?” She replies after a beat, though reluctant. The last thing Avior wants to do is worry her father, or make him feel bad. Because she knows him, and she knows he will feel guilty and responsible for the way she is treated, even if it is all not under his control.
She frees him of her never ending embrace and follows him back up the stairs into his room. Walking in is like a breath of fresh air, yet a familiar one. It is air she breathes in all the time when she isn’t at Hogwarts.
Avior glances around quickly and there are glimpses of her father around the room everywhere, it is his space, it is just like home.
She is quick to drop herself onto his bed. Remus smiles at the sight of her making herself at home in a room she only just stepped foot in, simply because it is his. He seats himself next to her, his smile fading ever so slightly.

“I was eating when he dropped a photo of Sirius Black on my plate with a sentence; ‘like father, like daughter’,” Avior explains upon realising that Remus is waiting for her to do so, and that she has no other choice but to tell him. “I’m over it,” she adds rather quickly, “hitting him was a heat-of-the-moment kind of thing. I swear I don’t care about that anymore. They can say whatever they want. I’m not like him, not in the slightest.”

She has never even known him, not in the way where she could make a claim like that. Truth is, she is like him in many ways. Remus sees it in her writing, in her humour, her hair, her eyes — even if Lorelei always stated that they are just like his brother’s. He sees so much of Sirius in her, of a younger Sirius, one that would have rather died than betray his friends. It pains him sometimes, how nostalgic it makes him feel. She is a star just like he used to be, shining so brightly onto the people around them.

“Has it happened before?” Remus dares to ask, despite knowing the answer already, and knowing how much that answer hurts him. He feels he has no right to be hurt by it, when he isn’t the one to endure it.
He looks down at his daughter, sitting next to him as strong and as bright as ever, even with the way she was brought into this world and with what this universe has already put on her path so far.

“Yes,” she says, because she doesn’t dare lie to him, but she raises her chin a little higher. “And I have never cared, Papa, let me tell ya that—” He can’t help but smile once more at the subtle way of his own accent popping out in her very voice. “—because their words are nothing to me. I am me.”
Those are words Juliette has spoken to her, words that she has always encouraged her to believe. Avior isn’t sure whether she always does and if she isn’t saying it right now just to convince her father instead, just to make sure that he won’t worry.

“I am always proud of you, Ivy,” he sighs as he pulls her into a hug again. “Even if I do not approve of the way you handled it— You never hit first... I am still so proud of the person you are.”
He can feel her settle against him, it makes his chest swell with warmth and overwhelming love for his little girl, it gives him confidence that he will be able to be what she needs him to be, the protection that he ought to be for her. Remus presses a kiss onto the top of her head and he doesn’t want to let go. She is all he has, he will never lose his grasp on her.

Avior chuckles, muffled by his chest. “I am proud of you,” she echoes. “You are the best father ever.”

At that comment, his throat tightens up and he can’t get any words out for a long minute. All the times that he worried about his being a father, about his ability in raising his daughter, it all diminishes in this moment as her words play on a loop in his head, accompanied by a small squeeze from her side.
She doesn’t need a response to that as she listens to his heart beat steadily against her ear, ready to fall asleep right then where she feels safest.
It has always been hard believing in his abilities to raise a child on his own since losing his partner to betrayal and grief. Sirius had been his rock throughout the almost-three-years of raising their daughter, and beforehand, but then he was left to figure it all out on his own, even if Lorelei was always next-door.

Although Avior has always been a handful, it was and never is a negative thing to him; she brings him joy like never before, despite the hardships he has already encountered in life. She has given humour, light, and happiness a whole new definition.

“Bonne nuit,” she ends the night whispering to him once he has walked her back to her dorm after almost an hour longer of her staying and him listening to her talk about her classes thus far.
She goes to sleep with a calmness stitched into her heart that only her father’s embrace can bring her, and a sense of safety and belonging while surrounded by roommates who have never made her feel like she fits in amongst them.

———

“Bonjour.”
Avior smiles at the way Theodore butchers the pronunciation once they reach one another in the common room. It always ends up with Theodore having to wait until she is ready to come out.

“Good morning,” she responds, doing her very best to copy his posh accent to the T.

“No way,” he says, “that was the best one yet.”

“I know,” she replies proudly, gingerly nudging his side with her elbow as they start to walk towards the entrance and exit of the common room. “I’ve been working on it, ya know? My Theodore accent? Every single night, I stay up and practice.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.” He laughs when she gives him a faux scowl in return, as if she did not just come up with the image herself. Suddenly, a spot of blackness rushes towards them and shoots out from between their feet.

“Nyx, viens!” Avior chases after her with a laugh, catching the small cat only three metres ahead. Her bag drops off of her shoulder in the process and Theodore takes it from her as she lifts Nyx to her chest.

“She is coming to class with us today,” she smiles as she pets the little cat that looks so much like her. They continue their way to the Great Hall, with Theodore listening, Avior talking and Nyx putting in her own two cents by meowing occasionally. She is settled in her owner’s robe’s pocket once they are seated at the Table of the Snakes.

“Good morning.” Tristan plops down on Avior’s other side.

“Want some?” Theodore offers to pour them both orange juice.

“Non.” “Yes.”

“Make room!” Juliette joins in with a beaming smile, followed by Graham, and they push in between Tristan and Avior.

“Tris,” Graham smirks at the younger boy, while Juliette leans in to whisper in her sister’s ear.

“If you want to be alone with Theo—”

“No!” She answers a little too loudly, making all three boys look at the girls with suspicion.

“What are you two being so secretive about?” Tristan is leaning forward to look at them across Graham. “Can we not join in on the fun? I love secrets.”

Avior ignores his questions. “Montague, first Quidditch practice in two days, are you ready?”

She doesn’t need an answer when he sits a little straighter and puffs out his chest. “Who do you think I am, L-B?” He retorts. “I was born ready.”

“That’s the spirit!” She leans across Juliette to punch his bicep and he glares at her in return, but when Juliette turns to look at him with a laugh, his eyes flit towards her and his face softens ever so slightly.

A heavy book is dropped onto the table, pulling everyone’s attention towards it.

“Sorry,” Avior mumbles, pushing her empty plate out of the way. “Breakfast.”
She flips it open, the others only just catching a glimpse of the title; The Sacred Twenty-Eight.
They each pause and give one another a short glance, a short moment of eye contact that speaks of many words they don’t dare say aloud.

“I’m in this book,” she breaks through the silence amongst them, the rest of the Hall echoing with chatter and clatter. “I wanted to show you guys. I’m famous.”
A wicked shine glitters in her eyes as she looks up at Theodore first, before she finds the right page where her small passage is written. She points it out for Juliette and Theodore to read first, with Graham leaning in closely to read along although he does not want to get too close.

“Hi, Tris!” Irene’s voice booms behind them and Avior’s head snaps up to glare at the girl whom Tristan calls his best friend past Juliette and Graham’s heads.

“Do you think this makes you famous, Ava?” Theodore snorts beside her, grasping her attention once more.

“Shut up,” she mutters. “Look at this, though.” She flips over the left page, finding the pieces on her father and uncle once more.

“Here, it says Sirius Black was a blood-traitor and he ran away from home. Yet he was a Death Eater and committed a mass murder? It makes no sense.”
Her pointer finger moves down on the page to the third name mentioned, ignoring her own name written in relation to Sirius’s.
“His brother was a Death Eater, too, but he died mysteriously. I’ve been trying to find out more… but nothing.”

“Ava,” Theodore starts, unsure whether he should dissuade her in looking into her family’s background or if he should let her be until she gives up. Though knowing her, he knows she won’t stop.

“Regulus Black,” Juliette interrupts, “I know that name— Well, it sounds familiar.”

Curiosity in the shades of green and grey looks up at her intensely. “You should ask my mother,” she continues and Avior tilts her head slightly, confused.

“She might know more about him. I mean… they all went to school together, did they not? You should ask.”

It only takes three seconds for Avior to slam the book shut, jumble a few words of ‘going to write a letter’, pick up her bag along with the book and run off, out of the Hall.

“Do you think it was a good idea to tell her that?” Theodore asks with uncertainty trailing around his tongue, lifting his gaze from where Avior was sitting a moment ago to Juliette.
The contrast between the two girls is great; one a Lion and one a Snake, one with such radiant and soft features and the other with a sharpness to her face and a look that promises darkness and gloom.

“She might get too obsessed. You know how she is, better than any of us.”

“I think it’ll be fine. She always listens to Jules,” Graham puts in.

“Usually,” she adds, “because above all, she listens to herself.”

———

Dear Auntie,

Ça va? If there is a way for you to visit Hogsmeade during one of the weekends, Julie and I could come see you.
I wanted to ask about Regulus Black. Julie said to ask you about him since you all went to school together. Could you tell me about him? The type of person he was and, if you know, what went wrong. His death was a mystery, and I’m curious.
And if you happen to know more about Sirius Black, how he was in school, please do tell. I could ask my father, but it might upset him and I don’t want him to worry that I am thinking about this all too much. It is all just curiosity and wanting to know more. If you would rather not talk about any of it, I understand and that is okay.
I hope to see you soon.
Also have you heard from your dragon tamer friend? Does he have anything new to tell? Any updates? Anything at all? Maybe I should become a dragon tamer as well. Wouldn’t that be so cool? I wish I could have a dragon pet.
Also Nyx says hi!

Moi

P.S.
Could you find any dragon stickers for me, please?

Her handwriting is rushed and messier than usual in her hurry to write and send it, hoping for a quick answer back.

Avior only just makes it back from the Owlery in time to Transfiguration, panting as she reaches the door right before Professor McGonagall goes to shut it.

“Miss Lupin-Black,” says McGonagall, sounding stern though it sounds like there is a hidden greeting behind it.

“Professor,” she grins, “missed me? I sure do love your classes. I always learn so much.”

McGonagall tuts under her breath at the comments that aren’t meant to be an insult though still clearly a joke, as the girl walks past her towards the only free spot left. She watches her for a split moment longer, shortly reminded of the former friend group she used to teach, now two decades ago. Even the young girl’s walk is a sign of them in her person, the way her every step speaks of her confidence which often borders arrogance.
Avior hesitates for the shortest second upon realising that the only empty seat left is next to Everett Rosier, in the middle of the middle row.
She glances towards Theodore, who is sitting next to none other than Mia, her own roommate. Uneasiness bubbles up inside her. Why would he sit next to her? Avior can’t help but grimace at the both of them and Theodore leans towards her when she walks to sit down next to Everett, in the row next to them.

“Why are you sitting with her?” She snaps before he can get a single word out, whispering. McGonagall stands before the class and quiets them down with a single look, so the two best friends are forced to sit straight and discontinue the conversation that had barely even started.
Everett shifts next to her, but he remains silent, listening attentively as McGonagall announces that they will continue working on turning a hedgehog into a pincushion.

Her frustration distracts her throughout each of her attempts at the spell. Avior continuously glances sideways at Theodore and her roommate, growing more and more agitated even if they don’t speak a word to each other — Though it is Mia trying to talk to him, and him ignoring her every single time.

“What’s wrong?” Everett suddenly pipes up beside her when she grows still for several minutes and stops trying.

“That is none of your business,” she spits out, it comes out in an annoyed mumble. Having to know and see that Theodore is next to that girl is already angering her enough without someone trying to stick his nose into it too.

“I’m just trying to… Whatever. Do you need help?”

“I don’t need anyone’s help, merci,” she replies harshly, finally turning her head to look at him with a fire in her eyes he believes only she can conjure.
Instead of dwelling on her best friend any longer, or at least trying not to, she goes back to attempting to successfully turn the hedgehog in front of her into a pincushion.
Everett stays quiet for the rest of the class, but he occasionally looks up from his pincushion-turned-hedgehog to study the left side of her profile. Even the side of her alone looks frustrated enough to curse someone, he would not want the whole of it directed at him. Despite the difference of colour in her eyes, they both have the same size of a flame in them. Everett is studying her grey eye, the left side of her face lacking even more colour than her right.

In front of them, Marcus Belby, who is sitting next to Roman Alastair, turns around and whispers a faint, “Hey.”

Avior looks up with an irritated sigh. She was finally gaining her focus. “What?” She hisses, in no mood to be friendly especially as she sees the too happy smile on his face.

“Have you not heard? Sirius Black has been sighted not too far from here.”
Roman glances over his shoulder at Avior, then at his friend next to him, and lastly at McGonagall in the very front of the classroom, correcting a student’s mistake.

“What does that have to do with me?” Her grip on her wand tightens, turning her already pale knuckles an even lighter shade.

“Mark, leave her be,” Roman whispers, but he goes ignored.

“D’you reckon he’s coming to pay his daughter a little visit?” Marcus continues nonetheless and scoots his chair back a little more to get closer, almost getting in contact with her table.
There is an explosive mix of anger and resentment, along with a rare tinge of embarrassment starting to boil in her chest. 

“Fils de pute.” The tip of her wand sparks shortly, but enough to scare him back. “If ya don’t turn around right now, I will shove my wand so far down your throat until you shoot fire out of your—”

“Avior,” Everett warns her when McGonagall starts to catch on, staring at them over the heads of other students, clearly trying to decide whether she should go over or not. Fortunately for Avior, Marcus has already righted himself in his seat and she is safe from getting even more detention than she already has.

———

If anyone were to ask her what detention with Professor Snape is like, she would describe it as torture. No, he doesn’t make her clean the trophy room, he doesn’t make her scrub an entire floor of the castle, he doesn’t make her do extra assignments (she would gladly do that), he doesn’t even make her organise any potion ingredients — like separate granules of African Sea Salt, or measure peacock feathers and stow them away from shortest to longest.
Snape makes her sit in absolute silence instead. It has a purpose, of course. He knows how much she talks, how she struggles to remain quiet, he knows how bored and restless she can get by simply sitting there. He knows she hates wasting the time she could have spent on learning more in the skill of Potion-making in utter silence. Every time she says a word or makes a single sound, he adds another five minutes to her time spent in his classroom alone with him while he grades essays. Once the last second ends, she is up and gone, disappearing from his sight and out of the room, nearly running down the corridor towards her common room to finally let her thoughts out and complain to Theodore about the devastating silence she endured. And he is always there to listen.

———

The end of September approaches fast, many classes flying by, more detentions with Snape, more comments and more weird looks thrown her way. With the last week of September comes Remus drinking Wolfsbane Potion every day following up to the Full Harvest Moon. Avior is there every day to remind him, to make sure. He grows more tired with each passing day, but for the first time in a while, he has his daughter right by his side. And for the first time in a long while, does he have Pomfrey with him to take care of him again where needed. She fusses over him like he is an eleven-year-old boy again, almost like a mother. But it is the proper first time to have his daughter next to Pomfrey, having been taught by her and always so eager to learn more.

“How can I help?” She has probably asked him that question about nine times during lunch, her own hunger forgotten with the Full Moon happening tonight, standing by him where he sits at the teachers’ table.

“Ivy, dear, I don’t need anything at the moment,” he reassures her once more and her gaze drops to his sandwich on his plate.

“Make sure to eat well,” she says softly, “and you have had every dose of the Potion, so everything will be okay.”
He watches her walk away, concern coming from her in such strong waves that he is certain everyone she walks past can feel it, too. Perhaps it is a paternal thing, being able to feel what his child is feeling. Perhaps it exceeds all else, it goes beyond the capacity of humans, and it is her soul reaching out to his. Avior once told him about the concept of soulmates, and ever since then he has believed that she is his, in a different way than another Black had been.

———

“What if I skip detention with Snape tonight? It is the last one anyways.”

“He will give you another month.”

Avior sighs at the truth in that answer, hating that Theodore is right. She slouches down next to him on the dark sofa in their common room, the fire crackling in front of them. “Why don’t you come with me and we sit there in silence together?”

Theodore snorts. “Absolutely not.” She is sitting upright within half a second, staring at him in disbelief.

“You wouldn’t do that for me?” says Avior with such strong though faux indignation, it almost seems real.
Suddenly, like an axe coming down on a small piece of wood and smashing it to pieces, realisation hits him; he wholeheartedly believes he would do anything for her.
Theodore chuckles, dismissing his own thought once it seeps into his core and roots itself into his being, once it starts to scare and surprise him.

“You heard me, Avior,” he responds in his best stern voice he can muster.

“Don’t call me that,” she says with her nose scrunched in disgust, “it sounds weird when you call me by my actual name.”

“Whatever! You better run off now, or you’ll be late for the last—but probably not actually the last—detention with Snape!” He shoves her, though gently, to get off the sofa and she dramatically drags herself up at last.

“Don’t wait for me,” she tells him, with an all-knowing look. He knows about her father’s condition and that she has decided to be with him during the transformation, so he nods with a smile. “Be good so Snape doesn’t give you extra time!”

She was extremely still throughout the entire time. The chair she was perched upon barely even creaked as she moved, and of course Snape knew why. He brews the Wolfsbane Potion after all. She ought to teach herself, despite the level of skill one must have for it. She knows she can do it, and then her father will never need to be alone during a full moon again. He will forever have her.
So at the end of her last detention of the month with Snape, she runs off like she has done every single time so far, but this time she is faster. She almost wishes she had her broom with her, to fly through the corridors and towards Remus’s room. Her heart beats rapidly in her chest from running once she finally reaches the right door, but he is nowhere to be found when she comes bursting in.

“Papa?” She calls out, but no response. So she is off again, this time running as fast as she can to the Hospital Wing, though she doubts he would spend the night there.

“Poppy!” Avior pants, nearly stumbling over her own two feet as she comes to a stop. “Where is my papa? I want to be with him.”

“Are you sure? Did he—”

“Yes!” She answers, cutting her off in a way she never would have if it wasn’t regarding her father. Madam Pomfrey is a witch she respects like she does very few. She has taught her so much and still continues to do so, and Avior will be forever grateful for how much she has done for her father when he was a student himself.
Pomfrey finally leads the way out of the Hospital Wing, even further as they go outside, Avior starts to get curious when they seem to be walking towards the Whomping Willow.

“But—”

This time Pomfrey cuts her off as they stop just far enough for the Whomping Willow to not be able to reach them. “Think, Avior.”
She pulls out her wand and levitates a twig to push it into a knot on its base. As a result, the tree becomes eerily still, so still that the wind can’t even move its branches.
Avior is still thinking as she follows Pomfrey towards the base, part of her still on edge and expecting to be flung across the grounds by the tree. She is surprised to see a hole at the base, revealing what is clearly a passageway underground.

“Where does it lead to?” Avior can’t help her curiosity slipping out.

“The Shrieking Shack,” Pomfrey answers, a soft sigh following.

“But…” The girl’s voice trails off. The Shrieking Shack is supposed to be haunted, at least it is believed to be because of screams that used to be heard coming from it. Avior looks up at Pomfrey when a realisation that those screams people heard might have been her father hits her.

“Thank you,” she says after a short-lasting silence, “I’ll go, I’ve got it now… Thank you.”
The Healer smiles sadly, resting a hand on her shoulder for a beat before she takes her leave. She isn’t running anymore, but Avior’s heart is still racing as she steps into the unknown passage. It is dark and she has never set foot in it before, but she knows the outcome, she knows that her destination is her father.
So she starts rushing once again, upping her speed to get to him faster. It feels like an eternal tunnel to go through. A constant of coldness, dampness, and darkness. Her footsteps echo faintly above her heavy breathing and she trips twice, both times only barely catching herself.

“Merde,” she whispers after the third time, until she finally reaches wood flooring and flickering lanterns. Relief hits her and she sucks a deep breath in. “Papa!” She calls out.

“Ivy?!” Avior smiles triumphantly as she follows the sound of her father’s voice, further into the shack and into another room where he stands next to a bed.

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing here?” Remus doesn’t seem angry, but rather nervous. His voice is urgent, trying to have her leave as fast as he can get her to. Before she might witness something he would never forgive himself for if she did. “How do you know to come here? Why?”

“Poppy showed me,” she tells him the truth, “and I want to stay with you tonight. You have taken the Wolfsbane. Nothing will happen! I don’t want you to be alone.”

His shoulders drop from their tenseness, but his stomach drops with it. He wasn’t always alone during transformations. It wasn’t always just him like it has been for over a decade now. “Ivy,” he sighs, slowly giving in.

“Papa,” she echoes and steps closer towards him. He looks awfully tired. Avior wishes she could take the lycanthropy out of his body, drag it out piece by piece, and take it upon herself. If he only didn’t have to suffer through it himself anymore.

“But I don’t want you to see it,” Remus decides matter-of-factly; she can’t change his mind. “You stay in the other room while it happens, then… then you can be with me.”

She is quick to agree and nods feverishly. “Deal.” They look at each other, her eyes indisputable, while his are full of uncertainty. The lack of sight and colour in his left eye has never been able to diminish her ability to read it.

“Promise me you won’t come inside, Ivy.”
Remus has never mistrusted her. He simply wants to be entirely sure that she won’t see what he would never want her to see. Of course he has never even seen the transformation himself before, he has only ever felt it and if the excruciating trauma of that is anything to go by, he is sure that it is not a pretty sight to witness.

“I promise, cross my heart and hope to die,” she smiles. The sight of it warms him enough to make him believe he could go through this painful transformation every single day just for her. Remus returns a tired smile.

He glances at his watch, then reaches out to lift her left hand and kisses the back of it. “Go now.”

It feels like she is purposefully leaving him to suffer alone as she steps back, out of the room, and closes the door behind her, but she promised him to stay outside, so she will have to do just that.
Avior starts to pace in front of the door, unsure how long it will take and how she will know that it’s done. Barely half a minute later, she has her answer. Her heart jolts and she nearly runs back into the room when she is met with a pained cry. She stops herself just in time and waits, then another scream.
Avior rarely cries, yet her eyes fill with tears the second she hears a third outcry. She wipes them right as they fall, and those that follow, too.
The promise holds her back from going in while she stares through blurred sight at the door between her and her distressed father. It seems to go on forever. Screams that will forever haunt her.
She cannot imagine what it must feel like, to be in such pain that one can’t help but scream their vocal cords to shreds. He must have tried not to at first, knowing that she can hear it, but it is too painful to contain expressing his agony through his voice.
Each second makes her stomach turn more and more, into a knot that only gets worse and has her believing that she might not be able to eat ever again, knowing that this is what he has to go through every month, on his own. Her chest vibrates with each shaky breath in and out, and she fights the urge to cover her ears.
At last, silence falls and her first thought is worry. Avior slowly steps closer to the door, reaching her hand out to the knob, surprisingly still for the way the beating muscle inside her chest is pounding. It is either over, or something is wrong. Her hesitation dissolves at the idea of the latter, so she turns the knob and pushes the door into the room.

She has seen poor quality images of werewolves and they have always been described to be much larger than wolves. But nothing could have prepared her for being face-to-face with her father as a wolf. The images didn’t do their size justice. Avior has to look up to be able to look him in the eye.
He looks terrifying, his scars, size and blinded eye adding to the image of a werewolf. She is frozen on her spot, wanting to reach out to him, but unsure if he recognises her. He should, because he can keep his human mind since he took the Wolfsbane. But he is standing perfectly still, facing her. She swallows visibly and slowly starts to move, setting a small step forward and raising her hand with a racing heart.

“Do you recognise me?” The words come out in a gentle whisper. If the potion hadn’t succeeded, he would have already attacked her by now. Avior deems it safe enough to properly reach out towards him once she is close enough, but she still doesn’t touch, waiting for him to make the first move. Which he does. He moves just close enough for his snout to contact her palm. At that first touch, a blinding smile breaks out on her face.

“T’es si mignon!” She squeals and pushes her hand into his dark grey fur, her doubts and worries wavering until they dissipate wholly. He nudges his snout against her cheek once, allowing her to hug him next, her arms barely wrapping around his neck.

“I didn’t expect you to be this… huge! I love it!”
The selfishness of her comment bypasses her completely while she continues to pet his soft fur. Then, he suddenly pulls away to walk towards a corner and drops himself into the heap of blankets there that she had not noticed before, curling up on top of them. Avior takes this as an invite and sits down next to him, by his belly.

There is a pause that sounds eternally more quiet after the screams a moment before. “You must be ready for this night to be over,” she says quietly, guilt starting to overtake her when she rests her head against him. “I’m sorry,” she whispers with her excitement now dissolved and gone.

He has already closed his eyes by now, listening to her voice soothing him lightly after the pain he endured moments ago. There has never been a voice present after any of his transformations, someone to talk to him. Above all, he wishes he could talk back. She lays down beside him, curled up in a similar fashion for as far as that goes in a human body, and one of his paws comes around her.

“I don’t want you to ever be alone through these nights.” Her finger rubs on the side of his paw, soothing herself along with him by that touch alone. “I’ll be here every time, whether you like it or not. I can tell you stories, or read to you, or we could go outside together. It’s safe, so we could do that. Maybe the fresh air will help you feel a little better after…”

Another beat of silence, she can feel his breathing against her whole body. “Or we just stay here in silence. Anything at all. You just won’t have to be alone for it anymore.”

Avior tells him about the stories that Lorelei used to tell her and Juliette back in France, the stories about the Nice Werewolf. She tells him that she wanted to be just like him and how that never changed when she learned that the stories were about him, how she wants to be like him and how she looks up to him.
She talks about the stars and that she loves that she is named after one, that she loves to search out constellations and draw them with her eyes only in the sky.
Avior talks until her voice turns into a whisper, then trails into mumbling and ends in complete silence. He has heard every word and he is glad to have a daughter to talk enough for the both of them because he still can’t return to his human body at will and talk back.