[OPEN] If I were anyone else, I'd have stayed away

For someone who was a drop out and was supposed to have cared less about Hogwarts and anything related to it, a certain nineteen year old found himself in the area around it more often than not lately. There was little reason he had anything to do now that Ekko was gone, but one thing was for sure, he wanted to get some kind of revenge for having lost the little girl. Everyone must think that it's strange for a werewolf to care about a vampire enough to want to get anything even remotely similar to revenge for having been separated from them.

It wasn't the fact that Ekko was gone he wanted revenge for, though. It was because he'd lost some of the ground he'd earned with Moira while she was there.

Basically, his ego had been hurt.

Moira rarely even talked to him now and Dylan knew there was one person who's fault it was. The girl who had come for Ekko that night and took her away. Dylan could feel himself getting angry and while he'd usually try to contain himself while out in public, especially in a place like Hogsmeade, he found that he was having a slightly hard time of doing that this time. Dylan had never really been interested in coming around the village until now and that was because he knew that the girl was a Hogwarts student. In fact, he knew more than just that. He actually knew her quite well, thanks to her hanging around Olivia and Nathan while all of them were still in Hogwarts.

Hit.

He was going to get back at her, somehow. Just how was something he hadn't been able to decide yet. But for some reason he thought hanging around Hogsmeade would give him some sort of clue. Maybe he could find a way to use a friend, or sibling against her.

"Tch, this is such a waste of time." Dylan said, head turned upward toward the grey sky. His eyes were dull, void of the light that had once been in them. They'd been like that for a while now, though, probably since he'd been turned into a werewolf. How could they not? Dylan had seen some gruesome things since that night. It has been a long time since, but it didn't change that he'd never been the same. Anyone who knew him before would be able to see that now.

There was no point in leaving empty handed, though, Dylan decided. He could at least buy something while he was there, or eat there. At any rate, it was better than sitting in the den all day and doing nothing. Sighing, the ginger walked to the Three Broomsticks thinking some food would probably be a good idea while he planned what he was going to do next. Clearly wandering Hogsmeade wasn't going to help him get to who he was looking for.

She'd never admit it, but she had started the fight.

She had been complaining to Molly as was custom on their trip to Hogsmeade, explaining that Hayes should be too busy Headmaster-ing all of them to notice she turned in her essay a day late, but of course he had, and he had docked her, and wasn't that just ridiculous all things considered? Molly was reacting as she always did, staring quietly forward at the horizon and taking it all in without any real indication that she was listening to her blonde friend.

Usually, Margo didn't mind. But this year, Molly was acting differently. She had taken on a heavy class load and spent much more time studying than she had the year before, which didn't make sense considering they were in between exam years. There were also unexplained absences. Before, had someone asked her where her Weasley counterpart was, she had a ready answer. Nowadays, she could hardly guess.

So, it didn't seem so out of the blue for her when she suddenly said, "You could at least pretend you're listening."

Molly stopped dead in her tracks, looking forwards. Margo shuttered to a halt and turned, but her friend was still looking forward. Slowly, those dark eyes crept towards her.

"What?"

Margo was already this deep in. She cocked a hip and crossed her arms. "I said, you could at least pretend to listen."

"Seriously?"

"Yeal, Mol, seriously."

Molly's jaw moved as though she were grinding her teeth and she tilted her head. "You don't think I'm listening?"

"I don't think you care," Margo challenged. "You've been a real arse this year, and I did nothing to deserve it."

"I have, have I?" Molly said, her words quickening but each word given the same weight and tone as the one it followed.

"Yeah!" Margo said, picking up steam. "You're not better than me, you know. Just because you act all dark and mysterious doesn't mean people are dying to get to know you. People like me. Just because you think I'm annoying doesn't mean everyone else does."

Molly stared at the blonde for a long moment, before finally saying, "Is that what you think?"

Margo wasn't sure, in all honesty. These were her insecurities, the ace in her back pocket she had saved for a day she really needed. Anytime it had ever come up in her mind, she had reminded herself of the nights Molly had taken care of her when she was sick from alcohol, or all the close calls that ended peacefully because Molly was there to intercept her. A lot of horrible things could have happened to her without her friend.

But she was hurt. She felt Molly withdrawing and she, like most humans, didn't realize that the solution was to draw her loved ones close when distance threatened to undermine them. Instead, she pushed.

"I do," she said, her tone a bit to spiteful to sound sincere. There was a terse moment between them, right in the middle of the path to the picturesque village. Molly glanced across the landscape, the smallest shake in her head, before her eyes landed heavily on Margo's again.

"Then this is a sad day."

She didn't say a word more, turning and heading right back up to the castle. Embarrassment immediately flooded Margo's being, and the desire to call out or chase after her friend was tremendous. But she doubled down on her own feelings of abandonment and turned on her heel, stomping towards the village with the mission to prove Molly (but really herself) that she was just fine on her own.

Immediately, she felt vulnerable. She didn't need Molly, in fact, she had grown more independent over the past year, but the sudden knowledge that she didn't have Molly on her side at the moment made her feel as though the world was going to take its best shot at her. She beelined for The Three Broomsticks as soon as she saw it, seeking the comfort of the familiar haunt. But the decision was a spur of the moment one and she spun in her tracks to angle towards the pub-

putting her right in the path of someone else.

She rebounded off of the person and reached out to catch them, quickly saying, "Oh, f-ck, I'm sorry, mate. That was me." She cocked her head now that she could view the stranger and her eyebrows pulled inward in recognition. "You're Davies, aren't you?" A grin stretched across her cheeks. She barely knew her former housemate, but she had needed a companion and Fate had provided. "Merlin, where have you been?"

He'd never admit this, but he was lonely.

And he hated himself.

He hated a lot of the decisions he'd made in the past and he was sure he would regret and hate plenty of his future decisions. Dylan tried to live in the now, mostly because it kept his mind preoccupied. Without a mindset like that, he'd easily become wrapped up in his memories - and no one wanted that.

Especially him.

The memory of being with his friends, Caspian, Nathan and Olivia. The memory of being human before he was turned. The night he was turned. But most importantly, his memories of Nessarose. When they met, when he turned her..

Their child.

The child that never was. He'd been stupid. His stupidity had cost the life of his first child. And now he wasn't ever going to be able to have another. Well, he could. He just chose not to. He hated the thought of being with anyone else other than Nessa (though he tried really hard to convince himself the only female he needed was Moira). No matter how much he tried to lie to himself and say that he didn't need her, the fact that she constantly plagued his thought was proof enough that he did need her.

He felt bad about Maude, though. Not really. But he would if Nessa ever came around and found out he'd been messing around with her. She had already been peeved off enough whenever he mentioned Moira, he could only imagine what would happen if he mentioned Maude.

A smirk had spread across his lips but quickly fell when he realized that she'd never ask. The last he'd heard, she was living with someone and he doubted there was anything he could do to get her back. She hated him.

Clearly, he hadn't been paying attention to what was going on around him. If he had, he wouldn't have been bumped into. He looked at the girl who spoke, a former housemate, but younger than him. His face remained expressionless as she seemed to remember who he was and questioned where he'd been. He didn't have to give her any explanations but maybe she could help him.

Still, he didn't think he should divulge anything he'd been up to. Why would he?

".. Around."

Well, that was less than a warm welcome.

Margo tilted her head, eyebrows drawing together in slight confusion, saying, "Well, we've all been around, Dylan, but most of us are around the castle." She felt the edges of lips turn upwards into a teasing smile, trying to tempt a smile onto his own lips. He certainly looked graver than he needed to considering he was young and healthy.

A chill crept into her bones and she pulled the cardigan she had 'borrowed' from Peter's friend Paddy a few weeks before. She kept running into him, but managed to throw him off the trail by sweetly thanking him for the smallest things, be it reminding her of the homework or scooting over at breakfast, and the slight sultry quality she added to the words seemed to do the trick on the poor guy. Eventually, she'd remember to give the cardigan back.

Then again, it was really cute on her.

"C'mon, let's go inside," she said. "You can buy me a drink. And you can tell me what you've been up to." She slipped her arm through his and all but dragged him towards the pub.

Dylan nearly groaned when Margo intertwined their arms and began to lead them to the pub.

This was definitely not what he'd envisioned when he'd decided he would stick around the quaint little village for the afternoon. There was no getting around it now.

There obviously was, but he didn't think he should show Margo that side of him.

"I chose to not be around the castle because it didn't suit me." He muttered. "I'm a bad Raven." He added. He really didn't think he'd ever belonged in the House, but the Hat had. He hated that thing. Dylan hated a lot of things, actually. He didn't need Margo trying to pry on what he'd been up to.

It was none of her business.

A thought crossed his mind, though, and he was suddenly less reluctant to be pulled along by the younger Ravenclaw. Maybe he could use this coincidence and turn it into something worthwhile.

He still had to figure out how to, though.

Merlin was he grouchy.

Margo couldn't figure out why he was acting so withdrawn. She would have thought running into a friendly former classmate would be a joy for a dropout. She couldn't imagine how removed it felt to leave school, and she'd bet anything that it took a toll on one's social life.

Besides, she was a joy!

Well, if he didn't believe this meeting to be Fate smiling upon him, she'd prove it to him. He certainly didn't stop her from taking him along with her. That had to be a good sign.

She released him only to catch a waitress by the elbow and ask for two Butterbeers. She then cast a wide look about and spotted a small booth, grabbing his elbow and crossing through the crowd, before depositing him into his seat, slipping into the bench across from him.

She laced her fingers together and leaned forward with a smile. "What have you been up to then?"

That was a good question, actually.

What exactly had he been up to? He could just outright tell her that he'd been turned into a werewolf and he had been with the pack the entire time. That would kind of jeopardize the whole 'don't let anyone know about you being one of us' thing Moira had told him. The pack was always being looked for, for one reason or another, and he knew that if anyone found out about him being a part of it he could be used against them.

Especially since he was one of the only ones that was constantly going out for different things. However, he doubted letting Margo know about any of that would really cause a problem, she was only a student. Then again, so was Anabelle and she still managed to get in their way. He gritted his teeth as he thought about that, the bitter taste of having been bested by a girl like her still in his mouth. At the very least, she hadn't gotten out unscathed.

"I've been working as a songwriter." he finally answered, deciding that was the safest thing to tell her. It had no connection to the pack at all. "And I'm looking for someone."

The waitress brought their Butterbeers and Margo slid money over for both of them and a tip, figuring she could at least pay for Dylan's drink if she was going to insist on interrogating him. Usually, she wouldn't have been thoughtful enough to consider that he might not be comfortable, but her disagreement with Molly had left her a little more vulnerable than she herself even realized.

Not that she was going to be completely helpful.

"You should write a song about me." And then a roll of her lips, though there was something in her words that definitely implied she wouldn't mind it.

"Aren't we all?" she quipped to his statement. She laughed, yes at her own joke, and thumped the table before lifting her glass to her lips and taking a generous drink. Was anything more comforting than Butterbeer?

She smacked her lips and lowered the glass. "Looking for anyone in particular or just window shopping?" She reached up to brush her hair behind her ear, her elbow landing coyly on the table, false innocence in her eyes.

"I don't mean it in that sense." Dylan responded. Richards sounded like she was having fun with him, like she was enjoying his discomfort. That didn't sit well with him. He didn't know whether she was trying to make fun or if she that just how she genuinely was. None of that mattered to him, though.

He sighed. Getting angry now wouldn't help his cause at all.

Maybe getting to the point would end this suffering.

"I'm looking for one of the Mulcibers." He said, eyes narrowing. "Anabelle. She took something from me that I want back." He really wasn't concerned about whether or not Margo thought it was a good idea to help him. It wasn't like she had to.

He hadn't asked for her help.

From what he'd seen in the village so far, it didn't seem like the Gryffindor had gone to Hogsmeade. That would be just Dylan's luck. Nothing ever went his way so he was used to it, but come on.

Something that wasn't appreciated as much as it should have been from Margo was her honesty. It was this quality that had earned her many looks of scandal, tons of gossip, and a tendency to be avoided at all costs. Chances were, if there was something to be said that no one else wanted to say, Margo Richards would be the girl to say it.

So when Dylan got all mysterious and broody (as if she needed more people like that in her life) and stated the reason for his frustration, Margo couldn't help that monumental roll of her eyes.

"Mulciber?" she repeated, boredom dripping from every syllable. "What sort of hold does this girl have on you men? I don't get it - is she a good shag or something? Merlin. If I meet one more boy chasing after that girl, I'm going to snog her myself and see what's up."