Candle-lit Dinner for Crazy & Curious PV Erin R.

You don't always pick who you love. You don't always love people that love you back. Sometimes you latch onto what little affection you get because that is the most you have ever gotten. In Erin's case, all three were true. There was a duality to how she felt. She was absolutely furious with 'Parce', it was the first time someone had ever made her cry. But when you feel that much anger and that much loss, there was a part of her that also wished to reconcile. 

She was also mad at Thomas already. After all these months of worrying about him, the first thing he does when he comes back is make the common room smell like week old tuna and mess up her relationship. He was not going to listen to her. Hell, he was probably with that wbitch Prefect right now. Whatever, get eaten by the Prefects or dumped into the damn lack you dang fool. 

She shook her head. What was she thinking? She needed to get Thomas out of her head, maybe Paracelsus was to some extent right about her feelings for Thomas. She certainly would die before she let a mudblood touch her lips, she had some standards. No, she needed to reconcile her relationship with Parce, she wanted to at the very least try. As angry as she was, his angry outburst was the first indication he had ever given her that he was an interested member of this relationship.

So she would spend that hour getting ready, but an hour was not nearly enough. There was this process -- it involved showering and shampooing, lotioning and blow drying. And that was if she was showing up to the date naked. No, there was so much more to this process and she had time for none of it, her hair was not nearly as big as it should have been. It looked deflated in comparison to how she normally wore it. She was dissatisfied with herself in the mirror, usually these tense 'dates' were best had when she looked as hot as humanly possible. But she was naked without her 6 pounds of makeup and a half bottle of hairspray. At least she felt that way, her looks as far as she knew them were one of the few advantages she had. Not that Parce had demonstrated any physical interest in her, but she was well-aware that she was the best looking bully this school ever had the honor of hosting.

She was rushed as she looked as the time and hastily pulled a grey chunky knit sweater over her head and hid the necklace she had been wearing a few months. She almost never wore pants, she hated them but she was going to be outside in the cold. So she dressed like a muggle in horrid pants and uggs, the name alone sounded like she felt about them. A heavy long wool coat that was black in color with gold fasteners would keep her sufficiently warm, probably. She pulled a pair of leather gloves from the pockets and donned one on each hand. A passing glance, it was time. Well almost time, if she rushed he would make it. 

Weighed down by winter attire she rushed through the halls and up the shifting stairs. She was not entirely sure where she was supposed to meet him, just that it was near the great hall. She assumed the courtyard but she was not even certain. There was a pause as she pondered which way, deciding ultimately the courtyard.

She picked the exit that was the furthest away, because of course she did. She scanned the courtyard as she moved briskly through the frigid outdoor space. 

Ultimately she was there about 10 minutes after the hour mark.

She was breathing heavy, she had rushed. Not that it was likely that Parcelsus would recognize the fact that she had arrived of all things bare-faced. Still she was trying to 'play it cool', not that she was very good at that with these hormonal surges of emotion. "Made it," well 'close' enough for a horseshoe or a hand grenade. "An hour wasn't enough," she admitted as she invited herself to sit down.

She was nervous and she took a few deep breaths as she tried to find the words. Before things went any further, she had to ask one question. "Are you Jack?" She had to remember the surname, it took her a second. His only relevance was his look-alike (pre-avatar change) appearance to Paracelsus "...Jack Warren?" She wanted him to say 'no', she could get past the jealousy bit if he was Parce. Not if he was some random Hufflepuff that got his jollies looking like her boyfriend. It was strange, this odd seed of doubt that was planted in the back of her head by Warren's mistaken (but she thought purposeful) duplicity. "You're you, right?"

Assuming the answer is yes, oddly enough not a lie she would fumble around in her head how to start a conversation. "I don't know..." her voice drifted off. "How to do this when I don't have an agenda," she admitted. They had never done this before. "You're still mad at me?" She cocked her mouth to the side. "I'm... not interested in Thomas. Like at all. He's a half-blood," she shrugged as if she expected him to understand that. It was like he had cancer and three weeks to live,  there was no reason to start something there when it could never be anything more. At least that is how she saw it. It is how a lot of purebloods saw it actually, a culture of not only indoctrination but also genetic preservation. "I'm sorry if you thought there was something. But I am surprised you even cared," she was searching for words. Normally rather verbose and even eloquent when she wanted to be, her thoughts were muddied. "But I am happy I guess," she admitted. She was just a crazy person, something that she would have to live with. 

As soon as Jack caught sight of flowing purple hair, he smiled as if his greatest hope had become reality. He walked toward her, extending a hand when she got close in order to help her seat herself if she so chose.

"‌You did,"‌ he acknowledged with a fond tone. "‌I was afraid you might not have wanted to come at all. I'm sorry for how I treated you earlier. I was just really having a hard time with everyone else there and not being able to talk to you alone."‌

When she asked if he was Jack, he blinked at her, doing a double-take. "You're...not sure?"‌ the Slytherin asked, looking slightly troubled. "‌Erin...if you're having trouble distinguishing me from others, how is it you can say you love me for me?"‌ He spoke gently rather than accusingly or as if he was offended, like he had before. "‌No, I'm not Jack Warren. Of course I'm me. Who else would I be?"‌ His smile became slightly pained. "But you know what? I don't think either of us really knows each other all that well. So I was hoping we might be able to change that."‌

The girl's comment about not knowing how to 'do this' when she didn't 'have an agenda' confused him for a moment before he realized she was probably referring to having the talk that he had said they needed to have. He reached out, as if to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but then got shy as his cheeks warmed up and withdrew it, glancing away. "‌I'm not mad at you," he assured her. "I never was. Just...frustrated, I suppose."

Jack took a plate and put a small piece of mince meat pie on it before cutting off a bit with a fork and offering it to Erin. All the while, he considered her comment about Thomas being a half-blood and what it might have meant to her. "Are you only interested in me because of my blood, then?" he asked. Again, there was no accusation nor judgement in his tone; only genuine curiosity and perhaps a touch of sorrow. "‌Oh...and my looks?"

Waiting for her to take a bite (or not), he then forked a piece into his own mouth, chewing thoughtfully and swallowing before continuing. "‌I appreciate your apology," he told her, "‌But if he's really your friend, then he must make you happier than I do." Turning to face the half-veela girl directly, he inquired, "‌If he makes you happier, what does his blood matter?"

With a soft sigh, he set down his fork and turned to face Erin with his full attention. "‌The fact that you're surprised I even cared worries me, Erin. Why should you have to doubt whether your boyfriend cares about you or not? Is that how you think relationships work?"

She took his hand and a seat. 

"‌You did. I was afraid you might not have wanted to come at all. I'm sorry for how I treated you earlier. I was just really having a hard time with everyone else there and not being able to talk to you alone."

"I was..." her voice drifted off as if she was trying to define something utterly abstract. "Mad...?" Maybe. "Sad?" Some, but she tried to put her finger on it. "A bit..." her brow furrowed "...happy?" Sick to admit, being happy about her boyfriend being needlessly possessive. "Too many things," she concluded "but that is what makes it worth coming."

Still there was a gnawing concern at the back of her head. He was acting nothing like Paracelsus, he just looked like a mirror image. 

"You're...not sure?"‌

She nodded in shameful admittance. "At the Masquerade, I found your doppelganger," she explained. "It was uncanny, had to be magical even if he claimed otherwise." A stubborn belief she held. "But perhaps I am mad," she conceded. "His features, while similar... are less," no "not the same any longer." She believed it to be a cruel prank, someone who was messing with her head. She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs and place order to her jumbled thoughts. It was almost impossible to concentrate, everything was so loud. So hot and cold. 

 "‌Erin...if you're having trouble distinguishing me from others, how is it you can say you love me for me?"

"Others?" She repeated. "No, just the one," she acknowledged. "Because," she had to think about the why. To put to words feelings she scarcely understood. "His intentions were never to tolerate," yes she chose the word tolerate rather than love or like "...me." She let out a small self depreciative laugh. "Your willingness to tolerate me has set you apart from everyone else here. I know I am not right," admission was the first step they say but she was not looking for a cure for her crazy. "While lip service and perhaps inertia, it is more than anyone else has given me and" a half laugh with a neutral expression and sad eyes "that is the most I have ever gotten."

"‌No, I'm not Jack Warren. Of course I'm me. Who else would I be?"‌ 

He assured her. She was simply being paranoid. It was true, Jack did not talk like him either. His sentence were shorter, his words were faster. Also, come to think of it, Jack might have had an inch or two on Paracelsus. 

"But you know what? I don't think either of us really knows each other all that well. So I was hoping we might be able to change that."

She nodded. Fair. She could hardly pronounce his name. A large change of heart. "Yeah, sure. I could do that," she consented. She mentioned having an agenda. She was not used to conversing, she was used to playing out the scenario she had already predetermined in her head back when it was clear of cobwebs. Actually taking was a lot harder. It was awkward and painful. There was a vulnerability to conversation that unsettled her. There was a fearful part of her that wanted to rip it off.

"‌I'm not mad at you. I never was. Just...frustrated, I suppose."

"I guess," a nervous chuckle "I am always a little mad." It would seem that way at least. There was always an emotion, but it seemed that anger came the easiest. She wondered if the anger was real or something she created, all those years spent stoking the rage of others so she could feel something through them vicariously had seeded itself into her psyche.

"Are you only interested in me because of my blood, then?"

She accepted the bit of pie. Desert first, nothing wrong with that. Mince pie was a frustrasting desert to make, she rarely made it. "There are rules," she commented "you know that." She set the pie in her lap. "I mean, I always have my brother" she motioned with her hand as if weighing he intangible concept. "Having a future generation was never a concern for us," she explained as if she was discussing taxes. She shrugged and turned her other hand over to weigh her words as she continued. "But finding a partner rather than a source," there was a cold logic in this "is always preferable." She motioned with her hands how the scales tipped by far in his favor. She did not even elaborate on Thomas or on half-bloods, being a muggle was not even a consideration. It was like wedding or bedding a bull.

"‌Oh...and my looks?"

"Those help," even if he had a common face it would seem. "But, I like you too," she added but she felt she needed to explain. "Thomas..." they had only met once before the common room, Paracelsus and Thomas that is, as far as she was aware. "Claims..." odd she chose that word but a part of her knew his words of friendship were not true. "That we are friends. I don't have other friends," only victims. "He tried to help me when" she paused to give space for a name but never gave one "nearly eviscerated me in a fight along with Perscivious," oddly enough a Prefect. The only Prefect she actually trusted. "Thomas disappeared like dozens of other students sometime last June. No word. No search. Everyone seemed to forget he existed. For a friend I fist fought, and lost... against a number of the Prefects." Perhaps she was more Hufflepuff than she looked. She was willing to fight her way through hell for someone that claimed to be her friend. "Your choice to take the role you have. The fact that to a small extent at least you accept me," she acknowledged "is why I am here. Everything else is a bonus."

She apologized.

"‌I appreciate your apology. But if he's really your friend, then he must make you happier than I do. If he makes you happier, what does his blood matter?"

"Him?" Oh Thomas. "He is not interested in a relationship with me. Even if he was," she let out soundless scoff. "Blood matters," she reiterated. It was an immutable law of nature. Centuries of tradition forsaken. A broken line of succession. Tainting a magical legacy. Potentially foregoing everything in the pursuit of what? "It's not their fault they were born broken," she conceded with a shrug. 

"‌The fact that you're surprised I even cared worries me, Erin. Why should you have to doubt whether your boyfriend cares about you or not? Is that how you think relationships work?"

"This is the longest conversation we have ever had," she replied incredulously. "You..." she did not want to start another fight. "You normally wordlessly stand somewhere nearby half asleep while I talk, if I can find you at all. I mean, I try to make your time with me worthwhile." She was referring to her overly affectionate behavior earlier. "Encourage you.. to like... stay?" There was the inflection of a question in her voice. "But it has always been me initiating. Me shooing the harpies," other girls "away... and you... being there and okay with it I guess." It was hard to explain, when simply put he never indicated an emotional attachment or even a physical desire for her. "I always assumed this was two decent houses uniting in our union, but wanted more." She admitted but regretted putting it so bluntly. She scooped up some of the mince pie. Chew, talk less. Another bite. Yeah, pie?

New subject.

"Who's Fangs Why does he call you Fox?"

"I was...mad? Sad? A bit...happy? Too many things. But that is what makes it worth coming."

The way she seemed to have trouble naming exactly what emotions she had been feeling was somehow cute enough in itself, but the fact that the emotions she did try to name were some of the most simple, base ones just told Jack how truly inexperienced she was at feeling them, let alone identifying them. Plenty of people had difficulty sorting out their feelings when they were overwhelmed by a mixture, but most would generally attempt to use more complex terms such as 'exasperation,' 'joy', or 'disbelief' rather than 'mad', 'sad', and 'happy'. It spoke volumes to the Slytherin boy as to just how alien the concept of emotions must still have been to her.

"Well...I'm glad you decided it was worth coming for at all,"‌ he answered honestly. Jack then listened with patience and attentiveness as Erin described his 'doppleganger' at the Masquerade which he hadn't even been present for. Fortunately, it hadn't seemed that the Parce he was impersonating hadn't attended either - or, at least, not to Erin's knowledge. He couldn't help the slight broadening of his grin and the soft chuckle that escaped him when the purple-haired Slytherin responded that said doppleganger's features were no longer the same. Jack wasn't sure what that meant had happened with his 'doppleganger', exactly, but it was good to know there was one less Parce look-alike running around to confuse his 'girlfriend'.

'Just the one', she had said. What a shame and yet also how fortunate she didn't realize there were more. Not yet, anyway; Jack was under no delusions that Erin would be fooled forever. Still, he thought they could maybe both make the most of it while it lasted.

Though he wasn't actually her boyfriend, the redhead was nevertheless gouged with guilt and sympathy at Erin's choice of the word 'tolerate'. His brows furrowed unconciously at her mirthless laugh, pondering the concepts that spilled from her lips as she continued. His own mouth hardened into a stern line when the half-veela claimed that it was the 'most she had ever gotten' and Jack found himself sincerely hoping that statement wasn't true.

"Regardless of what you've gotten, that's so much less than you deserve,"‌ Jack answered earnestly and with some annoyance at whomever had failed to show this girl some common human decency previously. He was against friendship and bond-making more than most, he thought, but to make someone feel unwanted? At best, tolerated? Had Erin simply thought that because she couldn't recognize others' true emotions toward her before due to a lack of her own? Or had she become emotionless as a result of having been treated in such a manner - as a way of coping, similar to Selim? Whatever the case, Jack intended to make sure Erin knew she was valued as a person. If no one else, Thomas cared about her; he was sure enough of that and he thought Erin could tell, too. Just...maybe not as much as Jack thought she deserved to be cared about.

Pleased at the ease with which the purple-haired young woman agreed that they could get to know each other better, Jack beamed brighter than ever. There was little more he enjoyed than getting to know someone new through personal, fact-to-face conversation. Not only was there so much to learn from what they told him, but from what they didn't tell him, their word choice, tone of voice, mico-expressions, body language, and so much more. Erin in particular was already proving herself to be quite an intriguing individual even before consenting to opening up about herself. What more would she reveal now that she had?

"I guess," she began with an anxious chuckle, "I am always a little mad."

"No kidding?" he asked sarcastically with a big grin on his face. "I couldn't tell." With a few peals of laughter, he added, "I think it's interesting about you, though. It goes to show how lively and enthusiastic you are. Not many have the energy to keep up the same passion of strength of emotion that you do, especially with anger." As someone who made a habit of trying to get people angry at him, he knew that much. "I think it's better than hurting and wallowing in sorrow and self-pity. Anger is a good motivator. It can incite people into action fairly easily."

When Erin began to talk about 'rules' regarding his blood that he was evidently supposed to know, he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly and nodded, paying particular attention to what else she elaborated after. It took him a moment to process what she meant by 'always having her brother', glad he hadn't yet put a glass of pumpkin juice to his lips when he understood why 'having a future generation was never a concern' for 'them'. If he had, he surely would have choked. God, were all purebloods' futures so bleakly warped? He knew he used to poke fun of them out of retaliation against descrimination for being muggle-born, but from the perspective of someone who had few other options, the concept seemed nothing less than abhorrent. How did purebloods live being told to meet such expectations?

"Uh...y-yes, of course," Jack was quick to concur on the point of preferring to find a partner rather than a 'source'. He didn't trust himself to understand pureblood culture and logic well enough to adequately reason against an argument regarding the purity of wizard blood - not against Erin; not yet, anyway. That didn't mean he didn't want to find out more, though. Just...how was he supposed to do that when he, as Parce, was already supposed to know these things? Maybe he could ask Selim or some other pureblood later.

The comment about his looks helping caused Jack to smirk and he had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. He himself had never been one to be attracted to looks (or even gender) more than a good show of wit, cleverness, or brains, but he knew the majority of society didn't share his preferences. Besides, as gorgeous a girl as Erin was herself, naturally she would have been raised to hold physical appearances in high regard, right? If purebloods were shallow enough to value the purity of blood against the tabboo of incest, why wouldn't they value physical appearances as well? It was like the purity and appearances of dog breeds at a pet show, and as disgusted as it made Jack, he could still tell where their train of thought came from.

Erin explained more about Thomas and her relationship with him as her 'friend'. Jack didn't need to mistake her for a Hufflepuff to understand the value she placed in such a delicate, yet strong bond. He himself knew what true friendship could really mean to someone, but to him, that was the main problem with it. Too often, it was so important to people that they tended to value their friends more than their own life. Hopefully Erin and Thomas weren't at that stage of friendship and with luck, they never would be. Both Slytherins seemed like reasonable enough people to value their own self-preservation above others. Sometimes, though, it was hard to tell.

In any case, he didn't want to impose upon whatever relationship or friendship they had any more than was necessary. Jack nodded in acknowledgement of Erin's statments, still wondering just what on earth the merfolk had wanted with Thomas and done to him during the months he'd been gone as well as what Erin had done in her desperate search to find her housemate. And if dozens of other students were missing...were they all being held captive by the Merfolk in the Black Lake as well?

No, no, that wasn't his concern at the moment. He could leave that to Erin and Thomas if that was something they chose to pursure. It wasn't any of his business who else had gone missing and why. He had enough on his plate without worrying about some random strangers.

Jack's mouth twisted, as if he wasn't quite sure what to make of the statement that Erin was there because 'to a small extent, at least he accepted her'. Again, there was a sort of tugging in his chest that made him feel sorry that she was so grateful for what she had regardless of how little it actually was. What did this Parce of hers do for the loyalty she gave him? Merely 'tolerate' her? Was that all he felt she earned?

Not even Thomas seemed to really value Erin the same way she seemed to value him back. No matter how Jack looked at it, it appeared that Erin was definitely getting the short end of the stick. And she was fine with that. Why? Because she had never known anything better. Even selfish Jack, who had never really considered himself any sort of defender of justice, could see how unfair the situation was. So if Thomas wasn't interested in a relationship with Erin, good. She was way out of his league anyway, as far as Jack was concerned, and not because of his blood, either.

The comment about it not being non-purebloods' fault that they were born broken struck the redhead as absurd, though. Is that what Erin - no, the other purebloods - saw them as? 'Broken'? It was almost laughable. Couldn't they see that their way of life was what was broken? Not that Jack generally thought he had any right to judge, but if their way was dying and brought so much unhappiness to those fighting to keep it alive, how could it have possibly been considered 'better' in any way?

Maybe there was some truth to the half-veela's words. Maybe Jack was broken and that was why he was playing the part of a pureblood right now. But how broken did Erin have to be to have mistaken him for one in the first place? How broken to simply appreciate being tolerated by a fellow pureblood over being cared about and cherished by someone who could actually love her? There was so much wrong there that Jack didn't even know where to start. He knew better than to just outright start calling Erin and her pureblood culture wrong, especially while he was also pretending it was his own. So, instead, he attempted to test the waters by quesitoning it.


"I...was wondering," he said cautiously, absently stroking a single blade of grass between his fingers. "If...a witch and a wizard who were both muggle-born were able to marry and have magical children..." There he hesitated, unsure of how strongly Erin would react to his given hypothetical situation. "What...would prevent one from calling said children purebloods? Their parents would both be magical, wouldn't they?"

'Longest conversation'? he thought at Erin's divulged information. Sheesh, Parce...not giving me very big shoes to fill, are you? Jack did suppose he talked a lot, but nearly as much as he figured a boyfriend should have with a girlfriend. Just how much had Parce actually even 'tolerated' of Erin? It seemed as though he had attempted the bare minimum if even anything at all. No wonder Erin had no idea what a proper relationship was supposed to be like. The redhead exhaled a deep sigh, attempting to pass his disappointment with Parce off as disappointment toward himself.

As a side note, though, he thought it was kind of adorable how strong-minded, hot-headed Erin seemed to be carefully picking her way over her words. But it was as if she were afraid the earth would give way under her - as if afraid Parce would suddenly explode again for faults she could probably barely recognize as faults, let alone have control over. After how Jack had acted back in the room with Thomas, could he really blame her? It was cute to see and hear her behaving so cautiously, but at the same time, sad. He didn't want her to feel like she had to walk on eggshells when talking to him; like any little thing she might say had the potential to set him off. He much preferred her to be herself, however violent and aggressive that true nature may have been. At least he would have been able to tell she was more comfortable around him and that he wasn't the cause of her unease.

"Okay...how about we start over?" Jack offered, pouring Erin her own glass of pumpkin juice before holding it out to her. "Minus the names, families, and other formalities, since we obviously know those well enough. We could...start off like you an Thomas. As friends," he said. Then, not wanting her to get the wrong idea, quickly added, "Friends on top of being boyfriend and girlfriend, since they're not mutually exclusive. I always thought that was the best start to any positive relationship, anyway." Not that he'd really wanted to have a positive relationship since muggle school, but this was fine, right? It was only pretend, after all. If they ever ended up getting too close, he just had to remind himself he wasn't who Erin really liked, nor could she ever like him for who he truly was. Aside from his having tricked her into thinking he was someone he wasn't, his blood wasn't pure enough to run in her circles outside of their little...'act'.

"I understand wanting more. And I think you deserve it. But for that, we have to start and point A and move to point B - not start at point F and pretend we've already run through points A through E. Right?" With another encouraging smile, he said, "You don't need to try to do anything special to encouarage me to stay. I like you as you are; you're intriguing as a person. And in return, I'll do more initiating from now on. Okay?"

Was she...putting food in her mouth to keep herself from talking more? Was that because she was embarrassed with what she'd said? How could that possibly be so adorable? Amazed at what he was involuntarily taking an interest in, Jack was completely caught off-guard by the fast-ball question thrown straight at his dopily-fond face from out of the blue.

"Who - wha?"

Oh...right. Fangs.

"'Fangs' is the nickname I gave to a dorm mate of mine - the one you met," Jack told her as if reciting a memorized script that couldn't have been more dull. "His student name is Selim Faust as I believe he told you when he introduced himself. We made a contract with each other to use each other as we wish for an equal exchange. If he asks for a favor, I do it for him provided I have the means and will to, but then he owes me one equal to it for me to redeem in the future. Just think of it as a business partnership." Cutting a piece of roast beef for Erin, he forked a slice of carrot with it before holding it toward her mouth, his hand cupped under to catch anything that might have dropped.

"As for the nicknames, it's been well-known throughout history that true names are very important and intimate things. For that reason, we choose to keep each other at a distance by using nicknames instead of real ones. That's also why I generally refer to everyone by their last names. Er...everyone but you, that is." With a crooked sort of smirk, he shrugged. "No real need for me to be on an intimate, first-name basis with anyone else, now, is there?"

After forking himself a piece of the meat as well, he chewed, swallowed, and asked another question. "So...forgive me if you mentioned this before and I wasn't paying attention...but...those crones. You said they...fixed you? How, exactly?"

Emotions are difficult to pin down Erin realized. There were just so many of them and she was not feeling just one thing but several things at once. Perhaps there were terms for these emotions, the term she sought was ambivalent. He, Paracelsus-Jack was nothing like the indifferent pure-blood she knew. It hurt a lot less when she was hardly seen, never followed or called after. When she was jealous in as so far as the fact that he was hers like one would possess a watch. Yes, there might be some sentimental value attached to the familiar or treasured device but people were different. Of course when she knew Paracelsus, the actual Paracelsus that is, she could not have loved him even if she wanted to. Even if she had tried. She wanted to try. 

Emotions were something that she coveted, something she yearned for. Something most people took for granted. It was a distraction in so many ways, but it was a greater asset to have than to not. It gave her a reason, the ambition that should have defined her. Without it, all that was left was a chill. Was unfeeling and unyielding logic coupled with a mad curiosity. 

"Well...I'm glad you decided it was worth coming for at all,"‌

"It was... is," she corrected herself. She wanted things to work. She felt something for him, well for the person she thought Jack was. In fact, she did not know Paracelsus at all. In the short time they have spent together, they had interfaced more than she and Paracelsus ever had. Yes, there was a greater amount of time spent previous, however Paracelsus reminded her of a cardboard cutout of a man back then. Yes, she considered him physically appealing but their relationship was anything but intimate. They stood near one another, she sought him out, never the other way around. Since, in these short exchanges Jack serves as Paracelsus' proxy had done the one thing Paracelsus had never done before - suggested the possibility of requiting her affections. It was an opportunity she would not. Could not pass up.

She explained the other Jack, how his face seemed rounder, his eyes wider and his hair browner now than it had before. Perhaps it was her imagination, the resemblance that was so uncanny between them. He was a mirror image, that much she was certain, however that did not seem to be the case any longer. In fact, as she spent time with Jack, the few features that separated the pair seemed to fade away and be replaced by the Gryffindor's impostor. Jack's hair had a more auburn hue, at least in this light. Was it the sunlight? His eyes were brighter, greener. 

She did not know that there was more than one twin. That the school was essentially overrun with Paracelsus look-alikes potentially.

"Regardless of what you've gotten, that's so much less than you deserve."‌

He knew what to say. Of course, perhaps this change in Paracelsus was because of the change in her. The fact that she could give, she actually received. Ultimately, Erin deserved nothing and she knew that. "I got what I could give at the time," which was nothing she conceded. Now she was a ball of fury half of the time, an unstable emotional bomb. I am always a little mad. A funny, but honest self observation to realize.

"No kidding?"

Was that sarcasm in his voice? yes, it was. 

"I couldn't tell." 

A bit red in the cheeks, she nodded. "Yeah.... yeah..."

"I think it's interesting about you, though. It goes to show how lively and enthusiastic you are. Not many have the energy to keep up the same passion of strength of emotion that you do, especially with anger." 

"I guess," she replied as she uncomfortably shifted. "It just seems like the easiest emotion to feel," she admitted. This was not a personal observation but a more general one. When she lacked, when she hunted for what she lacked and tried to feel vicariously through others. When she subsisted off the shadows their hate and sorrow cast, the rare glitter of hope, joy and love far too fleeting to depend upon. "It is odd," she admitted out-loud without elaborating. Odd that she was experiencing that glitter, that it was real and to protect all that shined her wrath and rage was all the deeper and darker. But that was not the strange part. The strange part was that she believed he had some affection for her. A person whom had not demonstrated such before, she yet believed she felt it. Little did she know he was a stranger and that her notion was farcical. It was ludicrous to believe that there was affection, that this boy's diversion or cruel joke was anything more.

"I think it's better than hurting and wallowing in sorrow and self-pity. Anger is a good motivator. It can incite people into action fairly easily."

"I thought so too," she admitted. It was true, people acted and reacted. They were easier to manipulate. Before her head was so full of nonsense, she used the aspects of such compromises to control and contort those around her. She felt ashamed for it now. "But," it was a corny notion. "I value what I care about more than I want revenge, vindication or... that release," like a vent holding back the pressure. 

The conversation moved onto a tangent about bloodline purity. Yes, there was a status associated with the purity of ones line, a symbol of worth and value. However, there was more than that. Bloodlines were something that were meant to be maintained for more than the 'good name' of their predecessors but rather for the sake of their derivatives. What a fearful thought -- a child that was a squib. Incapable of wielding magic, there was no true place for them in their world. A cruel and a terrible fate, one that required consideration and effort to prevent. That would include coupling with Geoffrey if she could find no other. It was not something that she found abhorrent or even considered he might, had she, she would not have said such so casually. 

"Uh...y-yes, of course."

She did not catch the stutter, Paracelsus stuttered often. His words were often uncertain. It was not a change, in fact his smoother, calmer words and phrases were the change. After all, initially her draw to Paracelsus was his physical offerings, not his mind or his heart. Had Erin been aware of Jack-Parce's pansexuality, she would have been more concerned about Selim. About his 'type.' But she was not aware. Still, she considered herself fortunate. She was wealthy beyond measure because she understood how uncommon it was to feel a spark of joy. How little people actually felt when it was not worry, anger, fear or sadness.  How fleeting the good times were. How easy it was to hold onto the bad. How hard it was to hold onto something good. How desperate one becomes to get that feeling again.

"I...was wondering." 

"Hmm?" Sounded serious.

"If...a witch and a wizard who were both muggle-born were able to marry and have magical children..." 

He let his voice trail off. 

"What...would prevent one from calling said children purebloods? Their parents would both be magical, wouldn't they?"

Erin shook her head no. But Paracelsus already knew that. She frowned, it was a strange question to ask. "A pair of muggleborns would make... a wizard-born or a half-blood at best," she replied as she looked at him inquisitively. What poor soul in his family became a blood-traitor for the sake of love? "Not that Magbobs are bad... not that their children are either, but there is a lot of muggle in there." She thought back to her family line. Her family was not among the Sacred 28, the only families in the UK with a 'truly pure' bloodline. Of course there was more to it than that. There was a reason why Muggles and Wizards did not marry in the first place, beyond 'purity'. It was for their own good. The International Statute of Secrecy of 1692 separated muggles and wizards, marriage to a muggle was a breech of this secrecy of their secret was ever discovered. If their child Merlin-forbid had that spark... how dangerous it was for them all.  "But at least their kids have magic," she relented. "I am sure your family will come to accept them, they must have had enough magic between them." It felt more like a kind platitude because in a lot of ways it was, the fact that there had to be a few bloodline traitors in his family was an unfortunate blemish on their family tree. One that would ultimately tarnish their family name, she wondered if it was a cousin of some sort. Someone detached from the family.

They had a lot to say in what would have proven to be their longest conversation to date. Perhaps that was a mistake. Erin was a capable conversationalist but there was always a motive and a plan, she did not have that. Not even a bad plan. 

"Okay...how about we start over?"

Start over? She stopped what she was doing and cautiously took the glass of pumpkin juice.

"Minus the names, families, and other formalities, since we obviously know those well enough. We could...start off like you an Thomas. As friends."

Well, that was a fast dumping. No fight. No screaming. No... well, anything. She felt a tightness in her chest, as if someone's hand had reached past her sternum and gripped her heart. She wanted to puke. She was not even mad, but she was not even sure what she was feeling. It was this rush of anxiety and shock that shot through her as if it was injected into her body. She wanted to... leave and wallow in her own self pity. She did not even remember that she had the glass of pumpkin juice in her  hand or that it was tipping over as she sat there dumbfounded like a stupid ox. 

"Friends on top of being boyfriend and girlfriend, since they're not mutually exclusive. I always thought that was the best start to any positive relationship, anyway."

He corrected himself as the glass poured out onto to lap. It was as if she had heard the addendum from underwater, her mind so fixed on the previous phrase. It took a moment to register. It probably would have been kinder to dump her on the spot, to end this charade rather than to fill her mind with the notion that she deserved better, deserved more. That there was the possibility of friendship or love, not some petty diversion. 

She had a headache, this pounding between her ears.

"I understand wanting more. And I think you deserve it. But for that, we have to start and point A and move to point B - not start at point F and pretend we've already run through points A through E. Right?" 

He was not wrong, they had skipped a lot of the steps a conventional relationship would have had. One that was based on heart and emotion, not just logic and convenience. She absentmindedly realized that there was pumpkin-juice in her lap and tried to blot away the moisture. The clothes she could do without, when you're naturally pretty you tend to take it for granted because it is always there.  

"You don't need to try to do anything special to encourage me to stay. I like you as you are; you're intriguing as a person. And in return, I'll do more initiating from now on. Okay?"

The headache began to recede. The grip on her heart would slacken. The temporary ache would remain. To avoid having something stupid come out of her mouth she did the only logical thing that she could think of, she stuffed her face with food. While she struggled to overcome the wave of sentiment that refused to dull, she nodded in agreement and acknowledgement.

New subject. Something. Someone. Fangs, whoever he was. What was he to Paracelsus-Jack? What had he done to become so relevant?

"'Fangs' is the nickname I gave to a dorm mate of mine - the one you met." 

Jack gave her a scripted answer. A strange name, but like all things it had meaning. 

"His student name is Selim Faust as I believe he told you when he introduced himself. We made a contract with each other to use each other as we wish for an equal exchange. If he asks for a favor, I do it for him provided I have the means and will to, but then he owes me one equal to it for me to redeem in the future. Just think of it as a business partnership."

Selim in some baby book would say that the name means something along the lines of peace, which is technically true. However, the name transliterated slightly differently had a more specific meaning, safe or undamaged. The surname, Faust. In the modern age Faust is often poorly remembered as the devil who was actually Mephistopheles rather than the protagonist in a German tale of a man,  Johann Georg Faust a magician or rather a wizard who made a deal at a crossroads with a devil in exchange for unlimited knowledge and worldly pleasures. A tale of a weak man who succumbed to his own avarice and was ultimately carried off to hell.

The fact that there was a tit for tat sort of relationship, one based on favors seemed a bit cliche if not humorous considering the name. "Making deals with a boy named Faust..." it should have been a hint that "and you the devil?" Well, she said it, even if her tone did not seem entirely serious. After all, it wasn't. She had lost her cleverness some time ago, when her mind became a tangled mess of emotional duress.

He offered her a bite of food. Good call, distract her with meats or sweets. An effective strategy.

"As for the nicknames, it's been well-known throughout history that true names are very important and intimate things. For that reason, we choose to keep each other at a distance by using nicknames instead of real ones. That's also why I generally refer to everyone by their last names. Er...everyone but you, that is." 

His rationale made no sense, not really. But she was not capable of piecing it together, the flaw in his logic. That he endeavored to keep himself distanced from this Faust who owed him favors, or perhaps it was the other way around? That words had power. However, she was taking it differently than he narrated. His desire was to withhold not the power of a true name, like an incantation to a spell that could have disastrous consequences but rather to hold his own emotions at bay. To feel nothing. To want for nothing. At least of another person. 

"No real need for me to be on an intimate, first-name basis with anyone else, now, is there?"

In this regard they were diametrically opposed. She yearned for friendship, companionship, love and community. Things that she had always lacked despite living a privileged life. It was still a line that made her feel special, the exception. There was no spark or hope to change him that came from it, why would she want to lose an exclusive status in her supposed paramour's heart and eyes. She she accepted his answer as simply as it was said, nodding.

"So...forgive me if you mentioned this before and I wasn't paying attention...but...those crones. You said they...fixed you? How, exactly?"

A question that she did not want to answer. She never even intended to bring them up. She should not have mentioned them. She shifted restlessly where she sat and her eyes darted to the side. It was at this moment she pondered a lie. "The crones..." A lie she would not give. She let out a sigh. "Are my friends," she claimed. "Old ladies that liked me before, when I was broken." They were people of value, at least to her. "I..." how to make this sound less bad? Echo the relationship between him and Faust. "Did them a favor and they gave me, this," she pulled at the collar of sweater and pulled a heavy gilded chain from the confines of her clothes. The charm was not incredibly large, easy enough for her to hide as she revealed it to him. A curious brass locket that did not belong to that chain. "It... gave me what I lacked," she admitted with a halting hesitation. A sense of shame.

The reason Paracelsus did not care for her was because she was a monster and the girl knew it. She was not capable of loving or even liking him back even if she tried. Even if she wanted to. It was a fact that she had accepted and had resigned herself to. "Without this, I feel nothing," she claimed. "Which I suppose is why," she was referring to them now. "We are such a mess," something she blamed herself for. "But," there was a pained smile. "I might be a bit less," well a lot "less clever. But, life and people have meaning."

What she had to do. Why she was like that in the first place. Two questions unasked so unanswered.

Follow-up as this has been a full month.

If the thread dies. Information collected --
- Basic information about her family. She has a brother named Geoffrey. Her mother is a full Veela. Her father is a pure-blooded wizard. Her brother also goes to Hogwarts, a year behind. He is also in Slytherin but she has not seen him in some time. He shares in her condition, but to a lesser degree. Her father is a researcher, his interest is dementors. It is his life work.
- She is from Ireland. She lives on an isolated estate with her immediate family. She has no friends at home.
- Favorites:
flavor - ice cream
animal - squirrel
color - purple
type of magic - does muscle wizard exist? likely charms
music - does not know any music, never heard music
clothing - pureblood, she is unfamiliar with muggle fashion. Her clothes outside of school would appear both old and unusual
weather - rain
season - fall
sunflowers would be her favorite flower because they look weird and are tall. The kings of gardens

She seems happy.