Something’s Amiss {Pyro}

[Ruth Hosker-Thornhill]

{This thread is open to anyone who wants to join, but there's a limit of two more people. Also, perhaps older/more mature students for this one. (: She's in her 'Slytherin' mood. }

Ruth stared at her wand with a look of incredulity clear on her face. Once again, it was disobeying her. She had already seen the most prominent wand maker about the thing and had even tested various other wands- but none of them felt like this one when she held it beneath her fingers and gave it a flourish. This wand was Ruth’s and always had been. Since her first year she’d been attached to it- as was only normal. So why was it disobeying her once more? With disbelieving eyes she glared at it angrily as if that would improve the current state of things. It was not that the wand was disobeying her in a sense… there was just something missing when she tried to connect with it and the magic it normally offered her. It was something so important that if it was not there, then the magic would be lost for that charm, spell or curse. Ruth’s mind quizzed itself, searching for an answer like it had done so many times the past year. But nothing came to her. Nothing popped into her head light-bulb style like it did whenever she put her mind to something. Things were different this time. Although she tried to push away the knowledge of it, she knew that this was one problem that probably would not be fixed.

With a sigh the Ravenclaw rubbed her thumb gently across the base of her wand. It was beautiful, that was sure. The core was of Chimaera scale; very rare, with the potential to give more power and focus into spells. The wood was dark, polished and soft from an Acacia tree. The length was just under ten inches in total- fairly short, but by no means was Ruth’s wand stumpy. She adored it despite the fact that it hadn’t shown her much in the way of magic lately. This is not how a Ravenclaw should be! Had the thought been spoken aloud, it would have come from Ruth’s lips like a hiss. Fortunately it stayed locked in her brain to wander in its own worries and confusion. It was true, she supposed. Although her knowledge lay in runes and watching the skies, in literate magical history and in the facts of the world, she felt that all of that knowledge was not enough. Ravenclaw’s were seen as clever and generally skilled in lessons- that included wand magic. And Ruth could barely cast a decent Orchideous charm, the spell to spout fast-growing flowers from the spellcaster’s wand tip.

A growl slipped from Ruth’s throat and escaped from her lips as she realised she wasn’t alone- a movement in the corner of her eye alerted her to this fact with a scowl. The student’s lounge was of course open for all students but it was late, and most people were studying at this time or getting ready for the night’s sleep. There were a few student’s dotted around near the fires, but Ruth was further away from them, perched on a very large bench-like window sill with space for at least four more people. She’d been watching the torrent of rain from the window and absent-mindedly levitating things with her wand. And she had been doing so alone, excusing her white mouse that was curled comfortably against her neck. Her scowl still on her face, Ruth threw her head up and pushed her long hair from her eyes. Although she was not angry at the newcomer, her annoyance couldn’t be taken out on her wand, so she decided to use it to show that she was not in the mood to be messed with.

[Pyro Blackfire S5]

Pyro slowly made his way into the castle, the rain was pouring and he was soaking wet but still he took his time. Not even the almighty force of nature could make Pyro do something he didn’t want to do, and today he didn’t want to rush around. Besides, he was a wizard, what could a little bit of rain do to him that was immediately fixed with a simple wave of the wand? Pyro was the last of his Care of Magical Creatures class to arrive at the castle. All the other little varmints had scuttled and ran through the rain to get inside quickly. Pyro shoved on the large front doors leading into the castle and a smirk couldn’t help but cross his face. Today’s class had been the simplest Care of Magical Creatures class he had ever had, unless you counted the time they took care of Flobberworms for an entire year. The topic had been about Phoenixes, and if there was any student in this school who knew his Phoenix information it was Pyro. He crossed the threshold and paused as the large doors slowly drifted shut behind him. A simple wave of his wand dried his body, clothes, and school bag. Pyro sighed as he considered his options.

He could go back to the common room, but at this time of the day it would be packed with students and Pyro didn’t know if he could deal with the noise at the moment. The weather sucked too much to do anything outside that was worth doing, and the library was out of the question because Madame Pince was way too naggy for anyone to get work done there. Suddenly his mind drifted over toward the student lounge, he rarely ever went in there, but he also knew that at this time of the day it would nearly be deserted. He smirked, perfect, he could go there and enjoy the quiet and get his essay on Phoenixes done. Pyro reached into his pocket and pulled out a small whistle, he placed it between his lips and blew. Not a sound came out of the whistle but Pyro placed it back into his pocket as if it had done its job. A second later a bright flash of flame exploded over Pyro’s left shoulder. When the flash disappeared Miaka, a large red and gold feathered Phoenix, was sitting on his shoulder. Pyro smirked when he felt her comfortable weight on his shoulder and her long tail feathers resting gently against his back. He reached up and stroked her gently for second. “It seems that oaf Hagrid has assigned me an essay on Phoenixes.” Pyro told the bird, “Care to help me?”

Miaka affectionately nipped his finger, which was all the confirmation he needed. Pyro made his well known way down the hall toward the student lounge. The halls weren’t crowded, but they weren’t completely deserted either. Everywhere he passed there was a small group of students talking. The weather was too horrible to go outside with and some students just didn’t want to retire to their common rooms yet. Pyro frowned a little, could this mean that the lounge would be unusually packed because of the weather? His fears were quickly dispelled as he shoved open the doors and entered the lounge. He glanced around, only a few tables were occupied and there were many vacancies. Pyro entered and paused by the window and looked outside a the torrents of rain that fell down onto the grounds. There was a girl already sitting at the sill and she looked up at him when he approached. He stole a glance at her and noticed annoyance on her face.

Pyro frowned. “What? You’re not the only person who appreciates a good view when one is found.” Pyro eyed the girl carefully, he had heard the slight growl she had given and his hand moved a slight inch. His wand was within reach, if the girl decided to get nasty with her wand he would be ready. He couldn’t help but smirk a little, he and Miaka seemed to share a telepathic bond at times, if the girl made any move to attack Miaka would spring into action and take Pyro out of the danger, not that many people ever had a faster draw than he. “If you wanted to be alone I suggest you find a less….” He paused and searched for the word, “attractive spot.”

[Ruth Hosker-Thornhill]

Ah. Blackfire. In an instant, Ruth’s eyes relaxed slightly as the saw him. This automatic reaction to seeing the Slytherin both surprised and interested her. Most people would probably quail at the sight of Pyro towering over them. But Ruth was, essentially, not most people. She was uneasy with the boy- to say that she was not would be a lie- but not scared, nor worried for herself. Her eyes relaxed because she realised she wouldn’t have to put on a show for Pyro Blackfire. She wouldn’t have to pretend to be extremely irritated by the newcomer’s presence, so much so that whoever it may have been would want to leave. Because for some strange, inexplicable reason, she felt oddly comfortable when she looked into Pyro’s dark eyes. So Slytherin, she noticed. It was endearing. This realisation shocked her- she never, ever found anything attractive about males. This didn’t mean she was a lesbian; she merely preferred to keep her life separate from dating and guys. Ruth did not need one extra worry in her life and knew how much lack of time and stress relationships could bring. So no, Ruth was not attracted to Pyro. She just noticed his different personality and it shone to her, a green beam which she found difficult to follow. She wanted to keep the light close to her. But she was also extremely distracted- for she had noticed that Pyro was not alone.

In an instant any thought about Blackfire’s endearing qualities fell from Ruth’s head as her eyes took in the beautiful sight that was the Phoenix on his shoulder. Had she been a girl with less dignity Ruth’s mouth may have opened ever so slightly as she spent the next moment looking at the creature. She was wondering why she had never seen a Phoenix so close before, and was soon cursing herself mentally for not giving herself the opportunity. For Ruth adored beautiful things and this love intensified even further if the beautiful thing happened to be magical. She did not look the stunning bird in the eyes, merely scanned the gorgeous array of fiery feathers in open admiration. To stare the Phoenix in the eye would have seemed disrespectful, she felt. Ruth was not sure how she knew this, but she did. From her seat on the sill she rose gracefully. As she moved her wand was still in her hand, but she tucked it away. Once standing she nodded a gentle greeting to the Phoenix. Although unsure of how exactly to acknowledge such a regal bird she knew to ignore her presence completely would be an insult. Ruth soon realised that she stood level with Pyro, neither shorter nor taller, which pleased her. Tucking a strand of hair beneath one ear, Ruth looked back into Blackfire’s blue eyes and the feeling of liking what she saw again sprung up- she pushed the thought down, deep down. It was not a Hosker-Thornhill thought.

Ruth was never an overly confident girl and her forward movements did not come from any Gryffindor-like confidence. It was merely Ruth being herself, matching up to anyone she wanted. She took Pyro’s words in a similar manner, twisting them until they pleased her a little more in her mind. “It is not necessarily the empty venue that I want. I merely dislike the thought of having to deal with a lost first year or tell some kid that his homework is correct.” This latter brought a furrow to Ruth’s brow- more than once had younger years approached her, expecting her to offer words of appreciation and admiration at their completed homework. Although Ruth did not dislike younger children, she was rarely in the mood to act as an older sister just because she was in Ravenclaw. “... thankfully, you are not a first year, and nor do you appear to be particularly lost.” Her words were not a challenge, merely words that fell swiftly from her lips without any hesitation. They were neither kind nor harsh, neither welcoming nor hostile. That was Ruth’s manner. But then she hesitated and for a moment her eyes flickered from Pyro’s to the elegant Phoenix. She wanted to feel those silky feathers but knew that to request contact or initiate it would probably irritate Blackfire. As she hesitated she felt movement at her collar and scrabbling claws gripped the neckline of her blouse. Bella was waking. Instantly she saw herself and Pyro from a distance- he with the regal bird upon his shoulder and she with a tiny white mouse no bigger than her fist. The difference pleased her and, despite the Phoenix's beauty and grace, she was glad to have Bella at her neck and not the bird. And she knew that the little mouse had more spirit than any bird in the castle- Phoenix or eagle, sparrow or owl.

[Pyro Blackfire S5]

Pyro noticed a multitude of things transforming the girls face. The first was recognition in her eyes. This was something that came quite frequently into Pyro’s life. Before he had taken control of the family people only knew the name. No one recognized him until he had introduced himself, but now that it was he who was in the spot light recognition came simply by looking at him. Pyro had had his photo in the Prophet quite a lot recently as he carried the Blackfire name to new heights. Also her annoyance slowly started to slip away and she began to relax a little. Pyro’s own wand hand began to relax at the site, it seemed like she wouldn’t be the type to battle it out with a wand if this situation turned nasty. As all of these emotions crossed her face Pyro studied her right back. He didn’t recognize her enough to know her name or her family’s name, but there was something familiar about the girl. She was obviously a 7th year, she carried the air of importance and weight of knowledge that all 7th years carried as their time of graduation neared. Also she was a Ravenclaw, which was evident by the colors she wore, Pyro winced slightly at this revelation.

Still, something held back his judgment for the time being. Pyro had no problems with Ravenclaws, since that house frequently allowed Purebloods with the right mental framework in. Gryffindors on the other hand were all muggle loving, hero complex buffoons. And Pyro had not met a single Hufflepuff in his 7 years at the school that he liked. Suddenly the girls eyes switched to Miaka and Pyro had to hide his smirk as he recognized the awe come into the girl. He internally applauded the girl, she may have been in awe of Miaka, but she managed to do it elegantly. Pyro watched her closely though as she stood up and became level with him. Could she hold that elegance or would she begin to babble and ask all the inane questions that every student asked. Can I pet her? How did you get a Phoenix? How is it your able to keep her at Hogwarts? He watched, preparing for the routine of questions as the girl nodded at Miaka in a gesture of acknowledgment. Once again this girl impressed him as her eyes once again met his and instead of running down the predictable line she moved the subject elsewhere.

His lips curved into a little smile at her words, it was rare for anyone to catch his attention like this girl had done. Her words were spoken with hardly any emotion, a perfect neutral tone, neither friendly or insulting. Her concentration wavered for a second and her gaze flashed back to Miaka and Pyro recognized the desire in that glance. He was impressed nonetheless, like most people, she was awed at the beauty of a Phoenix, but she had managed to suppress her urges in the face of being polite and not imposing. “No, I am clearly not a first year and I haven’t gotten lost in this castle since my second year.” He responded in the same neutral tone that she had spoken in. Pyro placed his right hand up and touched the front of his left shoulder and dipped into a short bow, the girl had owed this show of respect and politeness. Miaka shifted easily on his shoulder so as not to be thrown off during the bow. Pyro knew that the girl recognized him, still, polite was polite. “Pyro Blackfire, and this…” He stood tall and brought his left hand up over his shoulder. Looking like he was placing his hand behind his head but stopped short and rested his hand on Miaka’s wing joint. “is Miaka.”
Pyro noticed a movement on the girls shoulder and looked there to spot the mouse there. He nearly laughed at the imagery, he holding a bird on his shoulder and she a mouse. The image was somehow pleasant, perhaps he could get an artist to make a painting out of it. The girl had earned one more privilege in Pyro’s book, and he knew that she would never ask outright. “Feel free to pet her if you would like. I daresay Miaka is a glutton for a attention.”

[Ruth Hosker-Thornhill]

A smile. She was marginally surprised as it appeared on Pyro’s lips, curving them into something that could almost- almost- have been friendly. She recognised it not as a smile for friends however, but of appreciation. Despite this, the appreciation was equally as marginal as her surprise and she neither acknowledged it, nor allowed herself to gloat over it. For it was obvious to Ruth that she was not repulsing, irritating or offending the Slytherin, probably something which few people could say they had achieved in honesty. His voice was pleasant. It fell like hers had into the air. What she realised with the odd manner in which the two spoke- odd, not for them, but for student society- was that when the words fell from their lips they were placed into the air. Not spat, thrown, blown. They didn’t rush out like water but neither did they crawl. It was oddly inviting because by being placed between the two, it meant the conversation could go pretty much anywhere.

At the mention of getting lost in his second year, Ruth’s lips almost seemed to curve in the way his had, a fleeting smile, so quick you would miss it if you blinked. She did not speak of it, but Ruth had never been lost in the castle. An amazing thing to say with honesty perhaps, but true. For Ruth despised forgetting anything and losing her way would mean that she had forgotten where things lay. Perhaps this was a result of foreshadowing of her mother’s Dementia, perhaps just a characteristic of a Ravenclaw that preferred her quill to her wand. Whatever it was, the mention of losing one’s way momentarily took Ruth’s attention elsewhere. Her mother no longer knew where the bathroom was in her own house- and the Hosker-Thornhill cottage was certainly not a large house. They didn’t have the money, time, or care to look after anything bigger than the two-bedroom cottage. This neither irritated nor upset Ruth, because she had never really given it much thought. Her mind was always too preoccupied in coping with Claudia to think about where she was doing it. A movement, a shifty in his position, made Ruth blink and return her attentions to Pyro. Ah. A bow. How very formal. Despite Ruth’s formal words, formal signs of respect, and formality in the manner in which she held herself, she knew that Blackfire was a name which easily trumped Hosker-Thornhill in today’s formally superior hierarchy. Once, Hosker-Thornhill was the family. But no longer. The illness that had struck its women had made sure of that.

To the bow, Ruth did however offer another nod to both boy and later bird, and also another transitory smile. “Ruth Hosker-Thornhill.” Her words were lighter and softer than before. “And this, Bella.” Ruth’s nose wrinkled slightly in amusement as she glanced at the mouse from the corner of her eye. How was it that she could adore such a tiny creature such a large amount? The mouse seemed to be trying to sit in an upright position. But her place on Ruth’s shoulders meant that she had to keep her claws firmly gripping the material of her mistress’s blouse to save her from falling off. When she finally realised this she resumed her curled up position in the crook of Ruth’s neck, her soft fur brushing soft skin. Yes- Bella was certainly full of spirit. But she was certainly not the cleverest of mice, which by no means diminished Ruth’s love for the tiny furball.

Pyro spoke the words she had been wanting to hear; permission to stroke Miaka. Ruth considered doing so, but did not. Her head cocked slightly and she finally glanced Miaka in the eyes. When she did so she knew that from the top of the bird’s head to the tips of her talons and tail feathers, she was extremely wise. It saddened Ruth to think that Miaka- save for Pyro- might be alone at Hogwarts. For Ruth did not know of any other Phoenix’s there. But this momentary emotion turned to something else. Being the only one of her kind, Miaka had that space to be the best damn Phoenix there was. More respect showed in Ruth’s eyes as she looked into the Phoenix’s. And she knew then that she would not pet her- perhaps not ever. Knowing that she now could was enough. She was not sure why she chose not to. It was not out of disrespect of course. Perhaps because the honour in knowing a Phoenix to the point of contact was greater than any pleasure she might gain out of actually making that physical move. “Feel free to pet Bella.” Another smile. It was her natural way in dry humour that made it impossible for her not to say this. “May I ask… is Miaka a Blackfire bird?”

[Pyro Blackfire S5]

Pyro couldn’t help but be amazed; this was perhaps one of the most interesting conversations he’d ever had with someone that wasn’t in Slytherin. It was quite an impressive feat for any student to achieve. In this day and age the Hogwarts student’s integrity was slowly deteriorating, something Pyro was planning on changing once he graduated. Yet this girl seemed to still fit the old bill of competency that was so rare to find now. After his short polite bow and introduction the girl offered hers and something clicked in Pyro’s brain. The name, Hosker-Thornhill, he felt like he should know the name. It sounded like a old and proud name, clearly pureblood wizard name, yet no matter how hard Pyro racked his brain he could find no relevant information on the name, and he made it a business to know all the current pureblood families. His attention was quickly diverted from her name to the mouse on her shoulder.

Pyro liked animals, their loyalty and un-judging ways made them the perfect companions to anyone. He looked at the mouse with amusement, but he didn’t view it as a creature below him, just in a different class. The little mouse showed a lot of spirit in its attempt to stand up on its hind quarters, though the precarious perch wasn’t allowing such a shift of position. He grinned at the little creatures antics and then turned his attention back to Ruth just in time to notice a slight flash in her eyes. It was short, but somehow Pyro realized everything at this point. Ruth was awed by the Phoenix and desired nothing more but to touch Miaka’s brilliant feathers, yet he knew that even though he had invited her for just that Ruth would never take him up on the offer and pet Miaka. This move both surprised and impressed him greatly. He had never met anyone with that much self control and respect for another creature. Pyro smiled internally, if this girl continued to impress him, he just might have Miaka drop off a present in her dormitory sometime, he knew that it didn’t damage Miaka at all to leave behind a feather of hers. She had done it on many occasions to warn or simply just send a message to Pyro.

An external smile joined his internal one at her invitation to pet her mouse. Pyro once again looked at the little fur ball on her shoulder. Although the creature didn’t repulse him he really didn’t have much of a desire to pet her right now. Pyro moved his hand that was resting on Miaka’s wing and brought it around to Miaka’s front and gently stroked her beak, which she nipped lightly in return. “No,” He answered to her question about Miaka being a Blackfire bird, “She came to me during my third year. Some animal vendor in Hogsmeade was trying to get rid of her so he kind of dumped her on me.” He looked up at the large bird on his shoulder. “Not that I mind much.” He didn’t know how much the girl knew about Phoenixes, but since she was a Ravenclaw she was probably very knowledgeable on many subjects. “Phoenixes rarely pass between multiple owners, and on those rare occasions it is within the family.” Pyro shrugged lightly. “So it will all depend on my children. Either Miaka will decide to continue on with one of them when I am gone, or she will fly off to the wild.” He sighed, lowering his hand. “Either way, it is her choice.”

[Ruth Hosker-Thornhill]

She could not help but be amazed at the Slytherin’s reply to her question about Miaka’s origin. Someone didn’t want her?! She could not see how this was possible. But then Ruth was not an expert on magical birds- she had never been a fan of Care of Magical Creatures and although she took an interest in magical beings, did not know if Phoenixes were anything but beautiful and loyal. Perhaps they had an insanely dangerous side to them? Perhaps they were nice and regal on the outside, happy to meet and greet if you showed respect. But then if you got to know them, really got to know them, everything changed? Their secrets, what made them really tick, what made them really cry, laugh, hurt, bite. The questions ran through her mind and it didn’t take her long to realise she was not wondering about the Phoenix and what it was really like, but thinking about her own character. Ruth knew more than anyone about secrets. She was an expert at keeping them and an expert at collecting them. An awful life to live, perhaps. But sometimes it was the only way she could get through it whenever she was with her mother- with secrets, lies. Just to humour her. Giving into the disease, Ruth called it. Letting it win But what else could she do? For once, the Ravenclaw did not have an answer. And she barely knew what the real question was. There were so many and recently one had been present in her head constantly, always at the back of her mind. Was she going to look after her mother until the illness took her too, or was she going to live her own life while she could still remember how? Another unanswered question to line up with the others.

Ruth listened to Pyro’s explanation with a small nod at his knowledge. Although she didn’t know much about their current topic, she had guessed that a Phoenix was like… some sort of family heirloom. In no means did she see Miaka as an object. But the process of passing her through the family was a sign of respect, to give her to those you trust (supposedly) rather than a stranger. For some reason Ruth’s mind then latched onto Pyro’s last comments and for just a moment she looked wistful, although the expression disappeared as quickly as it had come. “Such a life.” She murmured softly, not caring in the slightest if Pyro though it rude to murmur. “To choose like that. To decide yourself where you want to go. No ties, no chains.” No sick parents to look after. “Just you, on your own. But I suppose you always do what you want now, right Pyro?” This question was not a challenge at all, and neither was it aimed to be an insult. She knew that Pyro was now very much the Blackfire man and could only imagine how much power- and money- this gave him. A quick feeling of jealousy, of desire, of want, flashed at her eyes as she thought about how much the boy before her had. How much he could have, if he acted wisely. These thoughts were not the normal ones that graced Ruth’s mind with their presence. They were almost Slytherin thoughts. Did Pyro have that much of an affect on her that she began to think like a snake and not an eagle? That would have to change.

So she smiled lightly. It was the first time the expression cared enough to reach her eyes and for a moment she looked younger and carefree. The girl she should have been. “You want children then?” Another question she did not really expect nor want an answer to. It came out with a scowl that she could not stop, although it came through her smile and turned what had been a very attractive expression into a momentarily twisted one. Of course Pyro wanted children - probably a son. An heir. And maybe a daughter to look pretty and marry an older man with a truck load of money and a bunch of connections with even older men with even more money. What a strange life. Ruth knew that she was being stereotypical here but did not care- she had enough respect of Blackfire not to voice her opinions, but could not stop her mind from thinking them. Ruth did not hate children, but neither did she enjoy many of their characteristics. They made her think of what she might have been when she had been that age and she knew she must have acted the same. Giggling, laughing, falling over in the mud and in puddles, tickling friends and sulking if your best friend took your pink hairclip and forgot to give it back. And how different she was now. Pink was her least favourite colour and Merlin knows who Ruth could call her best friend without listing all their negatives in her mind. Since when did she become so cynical and negative herself? When did the little girl with blonde pigtails grow up? When my mother lost her mind. For once, an answer, and a correct one at that. When my mother lost her mind.

[Pyro Blackfire S5]

As Pyro talked about Phoenixes and their qualities a sudden revelation struck him. Why was Miaka still with him? Phoenixes were noble birds, their hearts were pure and their songs emboldened those with good hearts and struck fear in those with evil intent. Pyro’s own life had been a skewed road and it crossed into the deepest of shadows in many of its points. He had many dark secrets in his heart, and Miaka knew them all. Pyro hadn’t been a straight arrow even when he was a child, he used to play childish pranks on muggles, these pranks had grown parallel with his age continuously fueling his distaste for their kind. Pyro had always been out for himself, he hadn’t cared who he trampled on as long as his own goals were reached. He had murder his own father as a strategical move to gain more power. Yet still the bird remained, she even helped him deliver messages and get certain errands done. Did Miaka see something within Pyro’s heart that allowed her to see past the darkness?

Pyro drifted out of his self contemplations and found that thankfully his body had continued the explanation of Phoenixes and what Miaka would do once he was no more. Pyro noticed a slight expression enter Ruth’s eyes but she managed to remove it too quickly for Pyro to identify it and before he could think too much on it his attention was stolen away by the need to listen more closely at her words. She began to murmur slightly during her next few sentences. Pyro regarded this with curiosity; did she not want him to hear? Or was she not even aware that she was murmuring? Pyro hardly cared about why she was murmuring, but what she was murmuring. If anybody else had spoken those words, Pyro probably would have throttled them on the spot. But this girl had impressed him so far and it allowed him to see past the tone and realize that it was not meant in scorn. Pyro thought carefully on her words and couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Now?” He questioned referring to only a small section of her statement. “I have always done whatever it is I wanted.” Another chuckle escaped his lips. “Even if it displeased my father, ever since his death the only added advantage is that I no longer have to listen to him whine and complain.” Pyro knew he had to be carefully with this line of conversation. She was making him at ease, whether she knew it or not, and when Pyro was at ease he tended to speak without barriers, and seeing as letting people on the fact that it was he who had murdered his father would not be a good thing to do, he would have to watch his own words carefully. “Although I do suppose I have a lot more money to get things done with.” He chuckled once again, “Though if I subtract the amount that was within the Blackfire vault when my father was still alive from what I have managed to accumulate since my reign as head, it would hardly put a dent in my ledger.”

Pyro spoke the truth, his father had grown weak during his retirement from the Dark Lords plans, he had grown un-ambitious and therefore didn’t take as many risks. Pyro had taken those risks and he had been rewarded greatly for them. He currently held more power and fame than his father could ever have dreamed off. Once again Ruth managed to send his mind down thoughts he had never really explored before. Children? At first thought the answer would have been ‘of course,’ who wouldn’t want children at one point in life? Also Pyro wasn’t keen on letting his empire simply crumble to dust when he was gone, there would have to be someone there to continue on. But a sudden thought struck him; a horribly familiar voice rang in his mind.

"You can't beat me boy! You're too young to be able to pull this off!" His father had yelled during their battle in the study, almost as if he had expected something like that to happen. Had Charles done the same thing to his father? Was the Blackfire family nothing but a large chain of “Like Father Like Son”? Could Pyro’s own son plot against him? Pyro quickly shook the disturbing though away, he realized that he had held the silence for a long moment already. “Who knows? Children tend to come when not invited and don’t come when planned.” He shrugged, “Parenthood is an experience I am not actively seeking but I won’t shy away from it either.” As that topic seemed to die down a new thought struck him, something in the way Ruth had spoken earlier about Pyro not having chains keeping him down. “What about you Ms. Thornhill? I’m sure a woman of your strength and intellect find it quite easy to do whatever it is you want to do.”

[Ruth Hosker-Thornhill]

Immediately, Ruth felt that pang of jealousy return as Pyro spoke of doing what he wanted- always. She was not at all shocked by the harsh manner in which he spoke of his father. She didn’t know him, nor what his father had been like- she couldn’t call him cruel for speaking of the dead like that because for all she knew, his father could have been a total idiot. And probably was by the sound of it. She nodded however to his words about whining and complaining. Two things Ruth hated almost above everything else, whining and complaining made her grit her teeth and resist the tug of a looming temper. There was simply no need to whine and complain- if there was something you wanted to complain about, why not just cut the middle steps and solve the problem? She didn’t voice her opinions on this matter as she felt that Pyro felt the same, and another thing Ruth disliked was unnecessary chatter. At least, she disliked it in her current mood. She was not sure where this mood had come from but welcomed it with open arms, while subconsciously doing the same with the Slytherin’s company.

“Congratulations.” What was she congratulating him for? The boy had more money than he knew what to do with- he had just said so. Coins, truck loads no doubt, piling up in the Blackfire vault. She could just picture it. She wanted it. But she felt that the comments Pyro gave about his wealth needed a reply, and she could not think of a better one than a congratulatory comment. Her voice as she said the word was flat with a hint of annoyance lacing it. Her ancestor’s wealth would probably reach farther than that of even Blackfire- at least at that time. Now, Ruth spent all her money on looking after her mother and trying to feed and clothe herself. Unfair, that’s what it was. What she would give just to have a little more money. What would she spend it on? Well with so much, it wouldn’t matter. Her library would be enormous… in her mind’s eye she pictured what the Blackfire library must be like and almost let her thoughts show in her eyes, a further display of what Pyro would probably see as weakness. You are weak. Her head scolded her heart. You don’t need money. Just knowledge, and lov- She cut off the irritating voice with an inward scowl. Ruth was changing- she had never cut off the voice of her head before. It normally knew best, after all.

Pyro was then silent for a moment and Ruth cocked her head slightly, curious. “You alright?” The words were out before she could clamp her mouth shut and hold them in. By saying them she had expressed worry, which could either suggest that she cared for Pyro or was a nosy idiot. It was his own business what he thought, what held his time. Ruth made a mental note not to over-analyse every little thought and word that came into her head or out of her mouth- Pyro would probably just see the question as a simple question, not a sign of worry or care.
Not long after Ruth risked another smile, this one involuntarily lasting for a moment longer. She again agreed with Pyro’s words. Was there anything he could say that she disagreed with that strongly? She yearned for the moment to come when she would have something to argue about with him, although there was no explanation for wanting to initiate any argument with him. It would be fun, she knew. He would not back down and neither would she- so could anyone prevail?

Before long a question was asked and she turned her attentions to it with a scowl that she could not hold back. After the scowl her brow raised slightly. “Hosker-Thornhill.” She could not resist. It was her full name, her ancestor’s name. But despite the momentary annoyance in her tone she didn’t linger on it for long, turning instead to the question asked. But what could she reply with? Her mouth opened ever so slightly before closing again. She didn’t care if this was rude. “I…” Another pause and she looked down at her hands. For that moment her weaknesses showed in her eyes, the questions she had been asking herself reflecting there. But with a tremendous force she pushed doubts from her mind and looked straight back up at the Slytherin boy, her strength regained. “I have personal affairs that will take up my time for the foreseeable future.” She was unable, again, to keep the annoyance and a hint of contempt from her tone. Ruth did not think that normally her voice would be calm- what was it about this boy that brought these negative feelings from her? “And so, for that reason, I will do nothing but tend to those… personal affairs.” Her eye contact did not waver. She stared into Pyro’s eyes as if daring him to challenge her reply.

[Pyro Blackfire S5]

Pyro hardly cared about discussing his family’s wealth in such an open setting. Most people knew that his family was very prosperous due to all the Prophet stories about him and his endeavors. Although in that respect half the stories that the prophet reported about weren’t true, especially those articles from that Skeeter woman. He couldn’t help but smirk as he thought about a few of his projects, setting up muggle orphanages, building new hospitals. He was already creating himself a muggle persona that would get the muggles to view him in a high light, and make the Ministry perceive him as a champion for Muggles, if only they knew. Pyro regarded her curiously for a moment as she congratulated him, he quickly dismissed it though. It had been an odd thing to say, but then again there really wasn’t much of a response to a statement like that.

Pyro wanted to move the conversation away from such an odd topic. He could talk about his fortunes and empire all day if he wanted to instill his dominance into someone, but he only needed to do that with people that did not know how to show proper respect. Ruth was a prime example of proper etiquette and didn’t a lesson on proper manners. He was caught by surprise again by her statement and he realized that he had been trapped in the memories of his father for longer than he thought. Apparently he had shown his distraction on the outside for Ruth had picked up on it. He quickly shook his head a little and made eye contact with Ruth. “Yea, mental demon had my attention there for a second.” He said with a little grin.

Pyro cursed himself as Ruth corrected her title for him, how could he have forgotten that little bit of manners? Usually Pyro was on top of little details such as these, yet during this conversation he had been caught by surprise at how sophisticated Ruth was. So much class, such an aura around this girl, how was it that Pyro had never heard of her before, even though her family name sounded familiar he couldn’t place it, and that was something that had never happened to him before. There was no way that she could be a half-blood, or a muggle born, none of them had this much class to them. Suddenly though it all clicked in his head, perhaps it was the way her voice had a slight annoyed tick, or perhaps it was the emphasize in her name that did it, but he suddenly remembered an old story his father had told him when he was younger.

Many years before his father took the Blackfire family, in fact the Blackfire’s hadn’t been known as Blackfire yet. There used to be a family that all other families had looked up too, that was until the family fell into disrepute and than a fire destroyed their house hold. The family name continued, but they no longer held the power, fame, or fortune that they once held. Pyro now knew where he had heard the name before, both in those stories and in old ledgers from his great, great, great grandfather’s days. Pyro realized that he was talking to the ancestor of the formerly most powerful and ancient family of the purebloods. Pyro didn’t know anything about her current situation, but the fact that the Hosker-Thornhill name wasn’t recognizable instantly anymore told him volumes about her current state.

Still, this new image did nothing to tarnish her in his eye. She still held the same air and aura that her ancestors had commanded, and that impressed him. Her current financial state had not been her fault, she had just been un-lucky enough to be born into that lot and was now forced to work with what she had. Another trait that Pyro greatly adored in her, although she was no doubt poor, she didn’t wallow in that feeling. He could easily detect the annoyance in her voice and decided that the topic was not one that he should dwell on, and in fact he was quite happy to move on. Pyro let his gaze move past Ruth over her shoulder at the window behind her; it was then that he realized that they had been standing for the entire conversation. Although the his legs weren’t bothered by the standing he felt that now that the formal greetings had passed between the two it would simply be awkward to continue while standing and facing one another. Pyro motioned to the large bench-sill by the window, “Shall we have a seat?”

[Ruth Hosker-Thornhill]

It was Pyro’s question that finally made Ruth hesitant in his presence, although she was unsure why it made her feel so. The reply should have been simple- affirmation, probably, followed by the two taking a seat and continuing their odd conversation sitting on the sill. And yet… what conversation was it, really? A Slytherin one, really. Formal, polite, cold, both people involved only looking for a way to… to be even more formal, polite and cold. Both expecting such a reply to challenge them. And yet even Ruth, who was admittedly inexperienced in relationships, could see the elements of flirtation in their tones. It irritated her that Pyro brought this tone from her; this tones that she had kept hidden and underground for seventeen years. It also irritated Ruth that the Phoenix was present- as if Pyro knew her love for beautiful and magical creatures, especially ones so regal and proud. Her mind travelled to other thoughts. What Pyro would think of her mother, so lost in her own world, so weak in her own mind. The Slytherin probably would see Claudia as a waste of time, space and money. Ruth wondered of his own mother and what she must be like. Probably as arrogant, and most likely just as handsome. Such a contrast to her own mother. Claudia’s beauty and bright eye had turned to the lost, detached air of a woman living a different life long ago.

“Actually…” She raised her head slightly and looked Pyro in the eye. For some reason she felt as though she were defying Pyro, despite being invited to sit, not told to. “I should make my way to the tower.” Her lips flashed a momentary smile, almost warm. “But… it has been a pleasure…” Had it? Thought she hated to admit yet, Ruth had indeed enjoyed their short conversation. A pause, momentary silence, before Ruth swiftly gathered her items together from the sill. She then straightened once more and held out a slim hand, her long fingers curled slightly inwards. When Pyro’s skin met hers she was momentarily surprised at the gentleness of his handshake. She didn’t care if the handshake had been the wrong move, of not something she should have initiated. The contact held for a moment longer, almost a moment too long. For some reason Ruth didn’t want to let go yet. The notion that it might have been too long slipped from her mind quickly as their hands parted. Ruth looked away and broke the eye-contact instantly. She imagined a satisfied smirk on Blackfire’s face; as if he had achieved something by making her look away first, like a kid’s Staring Contest game.

Lifting her eyes once more Ruth looked instead to Miaka. She nodded a goodbye and couldn’t keep the smile from her lips now. She hoped it would not be her last meeting with the creature, and something told her it wouldn’t be. Ruth turned then and made her way from the Lounge. She wondered if Pyro was watching her leave- or if he had already gone. At the door her curiosity got the better of her and to her own surprise, Ruth’s head twisted slightly. Her eyes sought out the tall Slytherin and found him with ease; he stood out against the kids around him. She did not blush- Ruth never blushed- and was not embarrassed at having turned around like this to catch a last glance of Pyro Blackfire, to instil in her mind a last image to remember this odd conversation. Their eyes met and held contact for a drawn-out second. Ruth broke the intense connection first once more and turned to face the door. She slipped through it swiftly, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she left, although she knew not why.

[Pyro Blackfire S5]

Pyro noticed the hesitancy almost immediately after his question was asked. He eyed Ruth carefully, wondering if he had perhaps overstepped some silent agreement between the two. Pyro knew her answer before she even came close to speaking it, and it only took him a few seconds more to realize that it was nothing that he had done. There was a point and time for any conversation to simply just end, and it appeared that the two had reached that moment. Pyro found that he was not sad or happy about the coming arrangement, but it would be futile to fight against that tide. Silently and slyly Pyro reached behind his back with his left hand and easily plucked a small feather from Miaka’s tail. Pyro had noticed Ruth’s awe when viewing Miaka, and he had already decided to leave the Ravenclaw a little present at her show of formality.

Pyro plucked the feather easily, he knew that Miaka didn’t mind and he knew it didn’t hurt her either. Miaka had on many occasions left feathers behind as signposts or signals for him. She seemed to be able to shed her feathers and re-grow them almost immediately, for no matter how many feathers she left behind Pyro had never spotted a single bald spot on her. Pyro inclined his head slightly in understanding of her refusal and smiled in return. “The pleasure has been all mine.” He stated and looked at the offered hand for a second before taking her hand in his. Pyro smiled, the handshake gave him the perfect opportunity. In his left hand, Pyro turned the feather inward and laid feather flat against his wrist so that it was harder to spot. While Ruth was distracted with the handshake Pyro brought his left hand foreword, as he brought the hand back he slightly pushed the feather away from his wrist and allowed it to simply slide into Ruth’s pocket as he retracted his hand.

Pyro continued to smile as his little sleight of hand trick went smoothly. Pyro had never specifically trained in that art, but thankfully dexterity was a byproduct of his training. The handshake seemed to last for quite a while, but didn’t mind though and it seemed like the handshake was ended prematurely. He watched as Ruth broke eye contact, nodded a farewell to Miaka and began to head out of the Student Lounge. Pyro turned slightly and watched her leave the Lounge. Pyro placed his hands in his pocket, his slender form silhouetted perfectly against the brick wall behind him, Miaka perched on his shoulder adding more of a regal quality to his image. Pyro watched Ruth leave, already his mind was replaying the recent events, Ruth had been an interesting person and he greatly wanted to meet her again.

Just before Ruth exited through the doors she stopped and looked back. Pyro locked gazes with Ruth, inclining his head slightly in farewell. Ruth soon broke the second long gaze before she disappeared around the corner. Pyro allowed a smile to play across his lips and took a seat on the sill that Ruth had abandoned. He wondered how long it would take for Ruth to reach into her pocket and find the gift he had left there for her. Pyro sighed, setting his bag down next to him and watched as Miaka hopped off his shoulder and landed on the sill next to him. He looked out across the rain swept grounds, all thoughts on his essay forgotten.