Make the itching stop!

Rise couldn't stand it anymore. The scarf HAD to come off. She had been wearing it all day, and it was itching like crazy! Sweat had gotten into the aggravated scar, and the skin around it was angry red, and felt itchy and like it was burning. She winced every time the rough Hufflepuff scarf scratched over it, and she just had to take off the scarf! She had to! Glancing around the Library, she saw she was in sight of a few people there, so she picked up her books and moved to a section farther back in the library. Finding a nice, secluded corner, she glanced around quickly, before carefully unwrapping her Hufflepuff scarf from her neck and breathing a sigh of relief. The angry, swollen scar came into view. The school shirt didn't cover any of it, and even with her robes buttoned up all the way, and as much skin not showing as possible, it still stuck out uncomfortably, so the scarf hid it, only problem was that it aggravated it also.

Rise rested her head on the table, breathing softly, feeling the air wash over her sticky neck, pulling her hair up over her head, and keeping it there to let air from the window behind her brush against the hot skin, and then she sat up, feeling air brush over the scar. She unbuttoned a few of the top buttons so that the scar came into nearly full view. most of the scar disappeared down her cleavage, hiding from view, but with her shirt unbuttoned as it was, a lot of the scar showed to the air now, and she was breathing deeply, happy at the new-found feelings of freedom. The scarf made her reign in any impulses that the werewolf side of her mind tried to make her do. And now that the scarf was off, it was like her defenses towards the puppy were off too, and she felt so relieved. Finally she could be herself for a couple of minutes in the quiet, and even in public. The thrill of being caught by someone who knew what the scar meant made it even more exciting to the werewolf side. Even though Rise was just happy that the scratchy scarf wasn't touching her skin anymore, the fact that someone could round the bookshelf and see her was pretty high, though unlikely given what section she was in, and how far back from the entrance she was. So for the moment, she let the thrill die away, and her relief wash over her as she turned back to her school work and started to write, feeling much better now that she COULD wright without pausing to itch every two seconds.

It was a Monday. Kendall was still recovering from a lazy Sunday, recovering from the weekend that he had allowed himself to stay away from books, which indubitably involved staying away from schoolwork. After all, it was only the first weekend at Hogwarts. Perhaps it was, then, a luxury he allowed himself. Besides the textbooks for school, Kendall had other forms of readings to do. While the summer holidays are usually when Augustus Rookwood allows exposure and practical lessons for his son to the ways of a Death Eater, school terms were when the younger Rookwood had to complete assigned readings by his father, enrichment that Augustus believed Hogwarts to be depriving his son of. With the workload ever present for Kendall, it is no wonder that he had to play hard whenever opportunities were presented to him. The weekend was, however, spent lazing. He had partaken in a Slytherin party on Saturday, and found Rosie is his bed the next morning to laze around with. She was a substitute. Far from Athena. But at least she was somebody. He could not believe how he was backing out of giving himself to the older Slytherin girl, when his feelings were so strong. Bad habits die hard. He could not stand settling for one, even if his heart had. 

So it was Monday, after classes, and after dinner. Kendall had slipped quietly into the library and settled for a vacant and shrouded corner, one of his usuals. He had sat himself down and read ahead of what was allocated for Potions. After which, he was supposed to start on his father's enrichment materials, but part of him begged for a break, even if not much of a significant studying was done. Kendall relented, and placed the book back on the table in front of him. Sighing, he rubbed both of his temples, before running a hand through his hair. As that felt insufficient to the tension in his body, Kendall stood up and began to stretch, reaching both arms up and pulling them in their respective directions. The boy yawned, picked his knapsack up, and began to walk a couple of steps, before strolling into, and finding himself between two ceiling-high book shelves.

And then he noticed someone, framed by the space of the end of a row of books and a wall of the book-shelf. Kendall stared, watching a girl as she unbuttoned the top buttons of her school shirt. They stayed there, his eyes, on noticing something not entirely conventional about a girl's chest. It was a scar, and a familiar one at that. Still, he could not put a finger to what it meant. The robes that the girl had on, then, made him smirk. Puffers. This one was alone, funny. He had always seen them at least with one other person. Since he needed a break, Kendall shrugged, as if telling himself [I]why not?[I]. At that, he walked slowly out from his place of hidden voyeurism, revealing himself confidently. Running a hand through his hair, Kendall smirked and took the necessary steps to the front of the Hufflepuff's table.

"Melancholic Monday, or so they call it. I prefer Mellow. The library's a good place for that. Mmm, Mondays." Kendall nodded, and grinned. On the surface, he was friendly. He was popular, no matter the House. He liked that, too, taking pleasure to appear like the rare one in Slytherin who actually looked open to students from other Houses. Perhaps, like some say, it's the safest that is the most dangerous. It was a cliche, but not sufficiently realised by people in reality. Kendall, however, believed in it wholeheartedly. It was the best place of exploitation. Why scowl and spout meaningless words of insult when one can make friends and use them instead? Kendall offered a friendly smile to the Hufflepuff girl.

"I was just done with some work. Okay, no. Not really. I read a couple of pages and I couldn't go on. A lot more to go." He made a face, as if pained and inviting the girl to relate to him in that way -- academic pains. "I could use a homework buddy, if that works for you too." The smile did not leave his face. 

Rise froze in shock when suddenly a boy appeared in front of her table. She had just been relaxing, enjoying the moment when she could be in public, and wear normal clothing, when suddenly, a very handsome, older Slytherin boy was in front of her. She felt a blush creep across her face, and she felt shock flow through her body. He saw her scar.. he saw it, his eyes had flickered over it at least once she was sure! Her whole body was stiff as he spoke easily, not even bothering to ask her name, or offer his own. He spoke of Mondays, and homework, and she sat, staring at him like a deer caught in headlights, unsure of how to handle this. Slytherin's didn't talk to Hufflepuffs, it wasn't how it worked. More importantly, Slytherin's didn't talk to Werewolf Hufflepuffs.

Slowly, carefully, she looked down at her book, hoping her hair would be long enough to cover the scar still peaking through. She couldn't cover it up without looking suspicious doing so. So she sat under his smiling gaze, blushing hard, unsure of what to do now. The scar itched horribly, and she wanted nothing more then to reach up and scratch it, but doing so would call his attention towards the scar, and that was the last thing she wanted. "Erm.. sure, that's.. that's fine." She said softly, the blush getting larger on her face. "I was just.. reading... and kinda.. relaxing I guess.. I mean.. homework can be hard.. I'm not a fifth year yet.. so.. so I don't have as much as OWL students do.. but I do still have a lot of homework." She said, trying to keep his attention anywhere but on her scar.

His smile was kind, but she knew better then to trust a Slytherin. She knew better then to associate with them, talking to a Slytherin usually meant bad things, look at the Greybacks.. they had been Slytherins, and that meant they were not to be trusted. She had learned early on that Slytherin's were not nice, and she knew this one.. she had heard his name before, seen him in the hallways. He was Kendall Rookwood, a Rookwood, they had been pretty tight with Voldemort hadn't they? Well this kid was bad trouble, no matter how much he smiled, but she couldn't exactly say 'no' now could she? It would make her look like a chicken, and to be honest, he hadn't done anything mean towards her. So she sat there, blushing, wishing she could hide her scar without looking to obvious about it.

The girl actually blushed. Kendall smirked, before he returned his expression to the friendlier one, quickly enough. He was less privy to the reasons for her blushing, but more concerned about how blushing was a rather common reaction he got from girls, especially when they were younger ones. This one girl seemed to not tend to a contradiction, not that he was complaining. Kendall, however, did not make it a point to reveal what he had noticed. He thought it was tact -- as if he showed that he respected the other person enough to spare them further embarrassment. Inside, though, it was a ball of arrogance. He approved of the reaction. And then his expression was of surprise.

"You're not a Fifth Year yet? I thought you were a Sixth. Wild guess gone wrong. Ah, well." Kendall shrugged. The girl was awfully quiet, after she stuttered through a reply to his self-invitation. He continued to look at her, before running his hand through his hair, and then taking a sit just opposite her. It was fun, watching her. Then again, it was fun watching any girl, as long as there was something that could make him curious about. The quieter they were, the more secrets they hid, and Kendall could not help but feel intrigued. The boy licked his lips, in thought, before realising what he had missed. He offered a hand over the table.

"It's Kendall, if you were wondering." He smiled. He deliberately dropped the last name. In no way was he not proud of it. Usually, though, he left it out on first interaction with students from the other Houses. It was as if by doing so, he believed it made them less guarded against him. As the years went by, however, it seemed as if the technique was failing. Word-of-mouth had made him rather popular, so that although he knew a lot of people, there were still many more who knew him, even if it was just his name and his face. That, he was also not complaining about.

"And what's that you're scribbling at for, Charms?" But his eyes moved from the parchment to where he had spotted the scar, hoping it was a subtle of way of looking at the scar closer up, alternating between that and her parchment. Kendall was pretty sure it was what he thought it was supposed to be, although it was not a brilliant idea to simply ask it. No, he was going to see how he could draw the girl out. He could almost rub his hands in glee, although it was perhaps only his own confidence encouraging him.

Rise looked confused, and then frowned, and realized what she had said. "Did I say yet? I mean.. I meant.." She coughed, and blushed harder, realizing her mistake. "Oh... I am a sixth year.. I'm sorry.. I mean.. wow.." She flushed red. "I meant... I mean... I had OWLS last year.. and I.. I'm not.. in fifth year.' She stammered, her face going the same shade as a Gryffindor scarf. She watched his face carefully, watching every flicker of his eyes, watching where he rested them, afraid of his reactions. Suddenly he was extending his hand towards her, and she felt her eyes dart to his hand, watching it for a moment before carefully taking it, giving it a weak shake, and letting her hand move away from his a little to quickly, her gaze darting up to his.

"Rise.." She said softly, staring at him. She was right, it was Kendall Rookwood. Kendall... the Slytherin.. the Slytherin who EVERYONE knew, and everyone knew of, and had seen, he was okay to people, but he was a Slytherin.. smiled a bit to.. nicely, and made her feel uncomfortable under his gaze. When he glanced down at her homework, her breath caught in her throat, and she saw his eyes slide over her scar. He noticed it! He noticed it and there was nothing she could do about it! She glanced down at her homework, and could feel her face burning, she wished it would stop, she hated blushing, it made her feel girly and weak. "Umm... I mean... It's... History.. HIstory of Magic." she stammered, picking up the paper and carefully holding it up in a fluid movement, and effectively covered her scar from view.

"Just working on.. taking book notes, it's... easier for me to remember it that way.." She said softly, her eyes darting around the small nook she had sat herself in. Where was his stuff? He was going to join her at studying, but his stuff wasn't anywhere in view. "What.. what were you working on? I don't.. see any of your school work here." She said softly, her eyes darting up to his frantically, knowing that the way she was holding the paper was starting to get suspicious, so she set it down again and stared at it, wishing he would get up and get his stuff, so that she could hide the scar from view when he was gone.

Both of Kendall's eyebrows were raised in a questioning stance, and then he put them down again, before his face returned to a grinning expression. The fluster that seemed to be his fault was too amusing. Part of the boy attributed it naturally to what he had always be known for. There was nothing about the Hufflepuff girl that suggested otherwise. She must find him charming, as usual. The handshake was a quick one, but Kendall wasted no time sparing much thought for it. Instead, he repeated whatever little that he knew about her. "Rise ... Sixth Year ..." The repetition looked like he was being kind, merely helping the girl establish her own details. Truth be told, Kendall was merely trying to prolong her embarrassment by letting the moment of her fluster linger. Licking his lips in amusement, the boy allowed his attention to slip back to the scar. Once again, it was an extremely familiar look of a scar running down from near her neck, down through her chest. For once, the thing that interested him the most was not a girl's chest. Rather, he felt like he had to figure out what the scar meant. Too bad for Kendall, his free view of the scar was quickly disallowed. That prompted him to shoot a look at Rise.

"History of Magic? Well, Hogwarts never teaches History reasonably, do they?" As much as that sounded like a question, it was merely rhetorical. Kendall wanted to be heard. "Don't give much of a room for debate. It's all just ... from the textbook. It sounds objective, but it's a one-sided view. Tsk, tsk." Kendall shook his head before running his hand through his hair. He smiled again when Rise spoke, trying hard to be interested in the conversation when all he wanted was to learn more about something else about her. The boy eased back in his chair, before sliding the knapsack off his shoulder and placing it gently on the table in front of him. "Easy, pet." He paused, and placed both elbows on the table to support his shoulders as he looked at Rise square in the face. "They're all here." His eyes looked to the direction of his bag, before turning up to accompany the friendly look on his face.

"Potions," he said, in response to Rise. "Not easy, but it's the N.E.W.T.s year, so I figured I'll have to spend time in the library this year if I want to know it reasonably." Kendall felt a tinge of impatience tug at him. He need to divert the attention to what he wanted to know. Shrugging, Kendall, crossed his arms, but still had his elbows on the table. Leaning towards the direction of the girl, he spoke in a lower tone. "But enough of me. Something tells me you've an interesting story to share ..." And then he strained his eyes, with the help of how tall his torso was with his arms of the table, and tried to look at the girl's scar.

He spoke her name and her year, and she couldn't help but feel even more embarrassed, he sounded like he was simply trying to help her get her own facts sorted out, but as it was, she couldn't believe she had said the wrong word, and forgotten her own year, her own age, in her flustered meeting with this boy. Her face was beet red, and she kept staring down at the table, a soft embarrassed laugh escaping her with a rush of air. "Yeah... Rise... Sixth... Sixth year.." She said stammering over her words again, and flushing, knowing he must be concerned about her mental stability, knowing he must think she was a freak, and it made her stomach hurt and flutter as she watched his eyes shoot back up to her face. There was no doubt about it, he was staring at her scar, and she felt despair and nervousness flit through her mind and body, causing her stomach to tense up, her breathing to quicken, and if possible, pushing her scar out even more for show at how quickly she was breathing.

"Erm.. yeah.. I erm.. I guess so... I've never really.. thought about it." She stammered, her eyes locked on his as he ran his hand through his hair, and then suddenly leaned towards her more, and she couldn't help but lean back in her chair, almost like a frightened puppy, afraid of getting hit or yelled at. "Oh..." She said her eyes darting down to look at the bag before her eyes flew back up to his, finding his eyes locked on her face, she flushed harder, feeling like she was trapped in a corner and didn't know how to get out. "N.E.W.T. Must be.. hard.." She gulped and stared at him when suddenly he leaned forward, and stared directly at her scar, directly in an attempt to let her know he wanted to know, and she quickly put her paper back over the scar to hide it. "I erm... I don't know... I mean... What... I don't know what you're talking about." she whispered, sinking back in her chair under his gaze.

What a way to ask a question like that. He wanted to know about her scar, and she was extremely confused, and embarrassed and distraught. He was asking about her scar, staring at it, how tall he was made it obvious that he could have seen it just by glancing at her, it was such an imperfection, who wouldn't notice it? Who wouldn't be curious.. but any normal person would just ignore it until she brought it up, or just let her carry on with her life, not harass her and force her to show and tell. "I don't... I mean... it's a long story, and I mean.. " She cowered under his gaze, completely frightened now, he was staring at her like she was a piece of meat, and he wanted to find out why there was a cut in the meat, not caring about her, only wanting to know about the imperfection, and it scared her, it truly scared her, and she just wanted to get out of there and get away from his accusing gaze.

He noticed. The girl had become more afraid than anything, to the point that it was bigger than her embarrassment. She had leaned away, and that was a clear indication to Kendall. He attempted, then, to rein himself back. He had, in his eagerness to know, forgot to behave. He had forgotten how important it was to make people put some faith in him, even if they would almost always have some kind of doubt. Kendall liked to play on the expectations of exceptions. Too many girls had believed themselves to be some sort of exception. He had allowed them to believe so, to believe that this time, things would be different. It was a great idea to sell. Kendall offered an apologetic look, before he moved back slowly, slightly away from his piercing stance just a moment ago.

"I must, apologise, Miss ..." He paused, as if awaiting a reply, providing an illusion of respect. "Curiosity killed the cat, isn't that what muggles say?" Kendall smiled, kindly. "The eagerness got the better part of me. I just ... well," his eyes returned to Rise's scar. "You've a familiar scar. I don't know where I've seen it before." And, then quickly. "I've got scars on my body too. They're fine." His attempt to provide an illusion of assurance, although it was a weak one. "Qudditch, you see. Mmm." He drummed for a few seconds at the table, before ruffling his hair up. And then it dawned on him, what he had been wrecking his brain for. The scar. How could he have forgotten?

Kendall eyed Rise from the distance he had allowed between the both of them. He was less eager in his curiosity, now that he thought he had hit the nail on the head in his suspicions about her scar. With a father like Augustus, one saw things, people, brought to the Manor, or when out tagging along with the men. Kendall was pretty sure about what he saw. "It's not that bad ..." He began, gently, not wanting to alarm Rise about his realisation.

Rise knew her face was beat red when he suddenly leaned back away from her, and she could feel his eyes on her scar. Her hands were shaking to badly to cover it up anymore, and she was in such a shock about it that she didn't even think. It was the one time, the ONLY time she had ever let her scar breath air in public, and she had been caught, it was obvious that she just couldn't take faith in no one disturbing her, of course someone would march over there, the one day no one ever did, and the day she thought it was safe, it wasn't. She couldn't be sure of anything anymore, and it frightened her, quite a lot. When he spoke about curiosity killing the cat, she watched his eyes flicker down to the scar again, and she found herself shivering under his gaze, as though he were stabbing her through with an icicle.

"M-My scar... I got it pretty recently.. and I-I-I don't usually let people.. see it." She stuttered, her eyes wide as she stared at him, his eyes taking in the scar she was to weak to cover up. Slowly she moved the paper back up and hid it from view, she couldn't help but let out a soft, puppy sounding whimper, and watched his eyes carefully, keeping her distance, but slowly feeling relaxed by his easy charm, and the comfort he had with the whole situation, it was infectious, and she wanted nothing more then to sit there like a normal person and speak to someone without them staring at the scar, or having that itchy scarf on, or having to cover her chest with a piece of paper. She set the paper down, her eyes glued to the table, and she carefully buttoned back up the couple of buttons she had opened up to let the scar air out. Her eyes pinned at the table, when suddenly he said something that made her blood run cold.

"It's not that bad ..."

He knew... he knew now.. he recognized the scar, and her life was over. The news would get out to everyone, and she would be laughed at, pointed at, FEARED! That was the word that she hated the most. The thought that people would be afraid of her. She wasn't evil, she wasn't a monster! Her eyes darted up to his and she saw the realization in his eyes. He knew, and there was no unknowing something like that. The first word he would think when he looked at her was werewolf, he'd probably run back to the Slytherin common room, and brag about how he had terrified a poor little Hufflepuff, who he had discovered was a Werewolf. It wasn't fair...

"It is.." She whispered, her eyes downcast, her hand reaching for her scarf. "It is bad... You don't understand.. I went from no one noticing me... I was normal, I was plain, and I was content! I... I can't say I was happy... but at least then I wasn't a monster." She said, her voice growing harder as she slowly looked up at him, anger, and fear, and hurt in her eyes. "And then I was kidnapped." She hissed, and then tore her gaze from him, and stared at the wall of bookshelves behind him. "And this happened... and I became a monster." She frowned, and glanced back at him, before looking back at the bookshelf. "And I hide it.. because the look on people's faces.. in my common room.. in my dorm.. that look of total fear, knowing that everyone who was my friend is checking their moon charts for the next full moon so they can be sure I'm not in the dorm with them... well when you're used to being ignored... that hurts." She said, startled slightly at the sudden increase in speaking, speaking that wasn't stammering or stuttering. Speaking that was telling him why she was so afraid of him knowing, trying to explain herself, trying to get him to understand, now that he knew... well, the only thing she feared was the look of total shock, disgust, and fear on his face, she didn't know if she could handle that from yet another person.

But she was alarmed. At Kendall's cautious revelation that he knew what the scar was about, Rise had tensed up. He regretted his eagerness, now that he knew what was it all about. Before, his intentions were rather cheeky, he was just being himself. His half-guess, however, had rendered him complete knowledge of Rise's condition. She admitted it, out loud. She did not merely admit it, she launched into a sort of frantic tirade. The stillness of the part of the library that both of them were at was suddenly an eruption instead. Kendall, despite how he would have chosen a better way to approach the situation, sat quietly and watched her, enjoying the pain that was showing in her eyes, despite his face maintaining a look of concern. He effected that look of concern, as if he wanted to care for the girl. After all, was not that what all girls wanted?

Kendall believed in that, but he spoke nothing of it. There were some girls who had a bit of the feminist streak running in them, and he would do well to protect himself for them. He was brought up in a patriarchal household, and he was not going to come out of it. He was certainly more tender than his father, despite the fact that Augustus did know the words and the actions to display to effect affections for his wife, even if the affections spoke louder than his heart. Kendall was less chauvinistic than his father, for sure, but there were still currents of that running through his veins, typical for boys who grew up in families like his.

Kendall was enjoying Rise's pain. He enjoyed looking at people in pain. Augustus had spared little from his son, always believing that exposure could never come too early. When people were brought to the dungeons of the Rookwood Manor, Kendall was there, watching, half of the time. Charity, as much as she wished for her son to be excused from those meetings, never got her way. Even now, she would look at her only son, and wondered if her husband did not create a kind of Machiavellian, a kind of subtle monster, in their son. He was charming, even to relatives and friends of the family. But surely, the things he had seen, must have some effect on his character. She took comfort in her daughter instead, who was left untouched by Augustus.

"Rise ..." A sad look came on his face. It was not pity. It was, really, sad. It was as if he felt her pain, but he laid off the pity. "You're not a monster. It's not fair." Kendall placed both of his elbows on the table again, taking care to appear cautiously tender. The distance between their heads closed up a little. "There'll always be people ready with mean attitudes. It's cathartic. They have to find some kind of avenue to let it all out. It's not fair that they chose you, not reasonable." He shrugged. "But I'm sure there must be one or two who can accept this." Kendall ran his hand through his hair. "I know people who are like you. They're good people. I don't doubt that about you too." He smiled. "You don't have to hide. Let them see it all. Fear separates the good and the bad." He paused, rolling the idea in his head. "It tells you the good and the bad that you have in people around you. Keep the ones who stay even after you reveal yourself. Let the scared ones bugger off." He grinned. "And that's how you should roll."

It was awfully nice, his words. Even Kendall himself was impressed. This friendship that he decided to make was going to be an interesting one. He needed her to trust him. He had no plans for her, but figured she could come in as an amusement from time to time, whenever and especially when boredom starts becoming too much of a pain.