meet me in the woods tonight [ashley]

late january 2002

This had been a terrible idea. She blamed Lynette. Angharad wanted to get out of her comfort zone and integrate herself back into the social scene, but going on a blind date hardly seemed the way to go about it. Lynette had signed her up, without her knowledge, then dropped by the shop earlier in the week to let Harri know she had to go out this Friday night, or else she’d be standing some poor boy up.

Despite not being sure that she really wanted to date yet, let alone spend time alone with someone she didn’t know, the former Hufflepuff had felt obligated to turn up. She didn’t want anyone to feel unwanted. And Lynette wouldn’t give her the contact details to be able to write and explain herself out of this mess. What was the worst that could happen, anyway? They didn’t hit it off and she went home no worse off than she was now? Or perhaps, perhaps they did – she didn’t know what she would do if that turned out to be the case.

Harri was sat at the bar, as instructed. Her legs were crossed at the ankles; her heeled feet dangling a few inches above the crossbar of the stool – she wasn’t quite tall enough to reach. By her usual standards her outfit was rather dressy; she was wearing a beaded skirt with a simple black strappy top. Her light-blonde hair was gently tousled in soft waves. Her jacket (for it was a cool spring evening outside) was thrown over the stool next to her, and she had ordered her first drink (a rosé) simply to calm her nerves. She’d never been on a date as an adult – only in school, where the options were limited to somewhere in the school grounds or Hogsmeade. This was new territory entirely.

She checked her watch again, anxiously. Just after eight. She’d been told to be here at eight sharp, so naturally had turned up at quarter to. She made a mental note to add a strike against whomever it was that turned up – she didn’t like it when people were late, even by a few minutes. Unless, of course, he had a valid excuse. Or maybe he’d stood her up? How long should she wait to find out? At least until half past, she supposed. She took another sip of her wine, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

[member=22208]Ashley Morigan[/member]

Ashley was on a mission tonight, his eyes as dark and fixated as a hunter's. He never liked things like this, even as the adrenaline began to pump in his veins. It was a thrill, surely, but that didn't make it good. In fact, that made it worse. He shouldn't enjoy any part of this. It was wrong, cruel even. He was doing this because he needed to. Not because he wanted to, and he had to remind himself of that until it sunk into his head. A part of him wished this was what it looked like, a nice date with a pretty girl. He wished awkward flirting was the only thing that could go wrong, and that something beautiful could come from it going right. That wasn't how things worked for Ashley Morigan, though, not even a little bit. If  things went well, this girl would never see the light of day again. If things went poorly..... well, he could find himself out of commission permanently. It was a big risk every time he had a job like this, so he had to be careful.

He was dressed about the same as usual, wearing brown leather jacket over his blue flannel, work jeans, and boots. He wanted to look presentable, but he wouldn't have a chance to change. He would need something he could move in, something warm, and something he could get dirty. As always, he was wearing his leather bracelet. He had been sipping on the same beer from a back table for awhile, out of sight, but with a clear view of the bar. When he was sure the girl in the beaded skirt was his mark, he made a point to watch her for a moment. She didn't seem to have any clue what was waiting for her, and he tried to remember what she was, not who, but what she was. A werewolf. Not a human, not anymore...

He stood, leaving his half-finished beer at the table. His alcohol tolerance was strong, and he knew he would still have a clear head after another round, but he didn't want to push it. Not drinking on their date (at a bar) would spark some red flags, so he knew that he would have to chance it. He approached her from behind. “Angharad?” He offered, butchering her name with his American accent, and moving over to the side so she could see him without sitting down. “I'm Ashley. You look beautiful.” He said, careful with his phrasing. He wanted her relaxed and comfortable. It would make this faster and easier. He took the seat beside her and motioned for the bartender. He ordered a light beer and offered to refill her glass. He smiled lightly at her. He was a little nervous, and tried to brush it off as blind-date jitters. He had never went out with a mark like this before, but he had a plan and he was trying to stick with it.

Angharad checked her watch again. Her brow furrowed and she moved to grab her jacket, no longer willing to wait to be stood up. Just as she gripped the material in her fist she heard her name, or, close enough. The petite blonde froze, then turned slowly, as if in a horror movie. She was pleasantly surprised by the man that greeted her, so much so that she just sort of gaped at him, blinking, for a second before gathering her wits. “Um, yes, hi.” She stammered out, offering a nervous smile and blushing lightly at his compliment – he had an accent. “Thank you, Ashley.” She repeated his name; she’d been told that saying someone’s name back when they introduced themselves helped you to remember it.

Harri scooted back further onto her stool, now that it seemed she was staying. She took a sip of her wine as her date offered her another glass. “Yes, please,” she nodded with a small smile, sitting a little straighter as she tried not to seem too nervous. The blonde had sort of wanted this whole thing to be a flop so that she could avoid ever having to do it again, but now that she'd seen Ashley she was somewhat more keen for this not to be a disaster.

The former Hufflepuff waited to let the bartender pour their drinks before she spoke, using the time instead to discreetly try to look at the man sat beside her. Tall enough without looming over her, dark hair, and a pleasant face. He really was a lot better looking than she had expected for a blind date – weren’t they usually full of the kind of people that couldn’t get a boyfriend or girlfriend? Maybe mildly disfigured or with some glaring personality flaw? Perhaps there was something wrong with him too – but whatever it was it wasn't obvious. She'd have to stick around a bit longer to find out, she supposed.

Angharad cleared her throat lightly as she slid her now-empty glass back along the counter towards the barman, taking the stem of the fresh one between her delicate fingers. “So, Ashley,” she flicked her eyes up to meet his, “where are you from? What do you do?” They were boring questions, she knew, but where else was she supposed to start? It seemed like it would be bad form to kick off with 'so who signed you up'?

Ashley smiled as warmly as he could manage at the pretty girl at the bar. She seemed nice, which he didn’t like. She had a soft smile and she was beautiful, which would make this even harder. He had to remind himself what he was doing, before he got lost in pleasant conversation with her. Remember what she is. He reminded himself. Remember, remember, remember…

“I’m from the States, as you can probably tell from the accent. Tennessee, to be specific, but I travel a lot. I’ve been mostly here for about two years, I guess.” He offered. “I’m a magical pest control specialist.” He said, leaving out his work at the ministry. “I de-gnome gardens and battle boggarts in old vanities, and stuff like that. It keeps life interesting.” He laughed lightly. “What about you? What do you do?”

He thought that, perhaps, his ministry world would startle her, but pest control was good enough. He wasn’t above lying, but he was better at telling the truth if he thought he could get away with it.  He had been taking on more jobs in the pest control business lately. It kept things fun and he didn’t have to do paperwork on a de-gnoming. He liked the active, manual labor portion of it, too. Ashley always had liked to work with his hands.

“Tennessee?” Angharad repeated, her eyebrows rising as she pulled a sort of impressed face. She grinned, “How exotic.” Her eyes widened the moment after she’d said it and she quickly turned her face away from him to take a large drink of her wine; hiding her rosy cheeks as she internally groaned at herself. Exotic? He was from America, not the Middle East or a Pacific Island or something. Ugh, Merlin. She needed some serious help from her cousin if this was how much her dating skills had deteriorated in a few short years.

Hoping he didn’t think she was a complete idiot, Harri turned back to look him in the eyes – he had very nice eyes, after all. “A… oh.” She blinked, “That does sound interesting.” She agreed with a little nod. “I suppose you’d have to be pretty good at Defence Against the Dark Arts—or whatever the… American equivalent is? I don’t know a lot about, um, Ilvermorny? Is that it?”

The petite blonde took another deep drink of her wine, then tucked a few loose strands of hair behind her ears. “I… work at a shop. Here in Diagon Alley.” She bit her lip nervously, unsure if he’d think it a bit silly, like, immature or, worse, unattractive, to find out that she worked in a joke shop. She knew she shouldn’t be embarrassed – it was a job that paid the bills, and she was no longer living under her parents’ roof (thank goodness). But she still felt like she was lagging behind everyone else. Harri took another sip of her wine and surprised herself a little when she found she had emptied the glass.

She skirted around giving any sort of detail by looping back to where they were from; “I’m from Wales.” Should she be more specific? “Caerphilly. You know, like the Catapults. If you follow Quidditch, I suppose. Do you?” The wine was starting to make her lightheaded, even though she had only finished her second glass. She pushed it further onto the bar, thinking she should slow down if she didn’t want to make a real fool of herself.

Ashley laughed a little at being called exotic, though he wasn’t laughing at her. He supposed that, to someone outside of the US, Tennessee would seem a little exotic. “Can’t say I’ve ever had the pleasure of being called exotic, but thank you.” He sipped his beer, watching her nervously go through her wine. Did he make her that scared? Maybe he ought to up the charm a little bit. “And, yeah, Ilvermorny. That’s where I went. I was a Thunderbird there, the house of the adventurers. It’s pretty interesting. There is a Defense Against the Dark Arts class there, actually, and I’ve heard a bit about Hogwarts. That’s where you went, I’m assuming, if you’re from Wales?” He asked. He didn’t want to overstep. “I’ve made a few friends from there, so I have the gist of most of the houses, I think. Which one are you?”

They said houses said a lot about a person. He wondered how true that really was. Ilvermorny houses weren’t the same as Hogwarts houses, they incorporated a more diverse group of individuals, he thought. An Ilvermorny house didn’t tell too much about anyone. Hogwarts was different. He was pretty sure there was an easy way to tell good people from bad people based on house alone. Bad people were in Slytherin and good people were in every other house. That was how it worked, right? Gryffindors were brave and Ravenclaws were smart, and… what was that other house called? What was its trait?

He flushed a little at his forgetfulness, then let the conversation move to sports. He knew a little of quidditch. He particularly liked the Harpies, probably because the idea of a team of girls kicking ass was just too fun for him. Other than that, though, he didn’t really follow. He had played quodpot in school, and liked it more. It was probably just an American thing, they liked to be different than the rest of the world. “Eh, I know enough about quidditch. I take it the Catapults are your team, since they’re from your hometown? I fancy the Harpies myself, but I’m not particularly tied to them. Quidditch isn’t as big of a deal in America. It’s all about quodpot there.” He watched her push her glass away, and bit his lip for a moment.

“Do you want another glass?” He asked. “On me.”

“Mhm.” The witch pressed her lips together and blushed. Merlin, why was she being such an idiot? Probably because a hot American was her blind date.

She was grateful when he cruised back into conversation; talking about their schools would be a lot easier to not make a fool of herself. “I, yeah.” She nodded, “I went to Hogwarts. Hufflepuff.” She admitted quietly. She knew there really was nothing wrong with being a Hufflepuff -- in fact, during her school years she’d been very proud of her house. It was only since leaving school that she had started to wish she might have been placed in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. “We’re not… adventurers, or anything cool like that, but we’re… ‘hard working and loyal and fair.” she recited the last bit with her eyes looking skyward. They were traits to be proud of, she knew. It was just difficult to sound mysterious or sultry when your house emblem was a badger.

“Yeah, they are.” Harri rolled her eyes at him, “Of course you’d like the Harpies.” She grinned, just like most of the guys she knew -- many of them had a team they genuinely followed and the Harpies. “Even my brother likes them and he’s lost to them.” She had to admit that, had she tried to go professional, Harri would have loved to be a Harpy. She’d been a lifelong supporter of the Catapults, but there was something innately cool about an all-girl team who could hold their own in the League.

“Hm? Oh,” the blonde glanced at her near-empty second glass and blinked, surprised. She really should slow down, but her gaze was drawn back to Ashley and she thought maybe that more alcohol would make it easier to talk to him. “If you’re having another, yeah, okay.” She nodded and looked around, “Did you.. we could move to a booth, if you want? Or just, one of the tables.” Her warm brown eyes met his and she stared at him softly, hoping he wouldn’t think she was being too easy.

She was so adorably awkward that Ashley almost forgot she could be a cold-blooded killer if she was caught at the wrong time of the month. He found himself smiling at her just a bit, and looking carefully at her as she spoke. Hufflepuff. That was right, the fourth house. He couldn’t remember the emblem, but knew it was yellow. Hard working and loyal and fair, that sounded nice too. She seemed like a pretty nice girl, all things considered. He didn’t like it. That would make things harder.
 
She laughed as he mentioned the Harpies. Yes, he knew, it was a typical man thing to like watching women play sports. Still, he enjoyed them and they did well. Hell, they’d won the leave this year. Ashley had been looking forward to the world cup, too. Rhydderch and Jones from the Harpies would be playing for Wales in the semi-finals, and he hoped they made it. That was about as much as he followed quidditch—and since America wasn’t in the playoffs—he had to go for the one team he knew. He wondered if she followed the world cup, and decided to hold onto that topic for a little bit as she responded to his offer to buy her another drink.
 
She suggested they move to a booth, and he nodded. It’d be easier to talk that way, albeit a bit harder to get her drunk. He wanted to play kindly, though, so he nodded. “A booth would be perfect. I think I see one right over there.” He pointed to one in a nice quiet corner. “Why don’t you go grab it and I’ll come by with the drinks.” He suggested. He was considering drugging her. That would be kinder, really. It would be the perfect chance, too, should no one at the bar see what he was doing. There was always a chance, though, always a chance that someone was looking and would get the wrong idea. He supposed he did mean to kill her, so perhaps not the wrong idea at all.
 
He ordered the drinks, and hesitated. No, there were too many people here for him to safely do it. He would need to do this the old-fashioned way. Hopefully she was a lightweight. On second thought, he also ordered two shots of firewhisky. The bartender helped him bring the lot to the table. He smiled. “Got us something to celebrate with.” He began. He tipped the bartender, who left, and slid in across from her. He lifted his shot glass. He was lucky that alcohol went through him like water. It took a lot to get him buzzed. “To new meetings.” He offered. He hoped she would take it. Maybe be too polite to say no.
 
He took his shot without even a grimace, though it burned like fire on the way down. He was showing off a little, and didn’t notice it. He brought his eyes up to meet hers with a smile.

Angharad smiled and mirrored his nod, slightly mesmerised by how easy he was to talk to. Yes, they should move to a booth. She twisted around on her bar stool and her eyes followed where he’d been gesturing to: a rather secluded corner. Her heart started beating a little faster. Harri turned her head back to Ashley and nodded, again, “Great, yeah.”

She slipped down from the stool, careful to hold her skirt down so that it didn’t ride up and flash her backside. Grabbing her handbag and her jacket and clacking over to the booth her date had pointed out. The petite blonde slid into the booth, not so far that she couldn’t get out without shuffling for five minutes, but far enough that if he wanted sit beside her he could do so smoothly. She crossed her legs, then uncrossed them, then crossed them at the ankles. She glanced down at her chest, quickly rearranged her top slightly, and ran her fingers through her hair before he left the bar and made his way over to her.

Harri smiled up at him as he approached, trying to look more seductive than giddy and sort of succeeding. “Oh,” she exclaimed softly in surprise. She bit her lip, grinning, “What are we celebrating?” The bartender retreated and Ashley answered her as he lifted his shot glass. The former Hufflepuff eyed her shot and picked it up, ignoring the warning voice in her head that told her she didn’t normally drink this much – didn’t normally drink at all. She’d sort of missed the ‘partying’ years most of her peers had experienced right after leaving Hogwarts. Was this when she’d start catching up?

“New meetings,” she parroted and tipped her head back, gulping the liquid down in one. Unlike her companion, Angharad was unable to keep a straight face; she screwed up her nose and eyes, blinking as the alcohol burned down her throat. She let out a light cough and covered her mouth daintily with her fingers, “Mm, strong.” She croaked out, picking up her new glass of wine and taking a sip to wash it down.

Harri set her glass back down and licked her lips, glancing at him before looking out at the room – though she only lasted a few seconds before her attention was drawn back to him. He was so gorgeous, wasn’t he? She propped her chin on her first, elbow on the table; her other hand outstretched to fiddle with the stem of her wine glass as her eyes glossed over a little as the alcohol started having an effect. “So... how long have you been in Britain? Do you miss America?”

From the bar, Ashley had been peeking. He had seen Harri fiddle with her clothing and struggle to decide how to sit. He thought it was adorable, and had trouble getting that thought from his head. She wasn’t allowed to be cute and sweet and adorably awkward. He needed to remember, but for a moment he let himself relax with her and enjoy her presence. If only she wasn’t a werewolf. If only she was just a pretty girl he was taking on a date, things might go differently. He would have wanted to see her again, probably. He would have wanted to know her better. When she brought up the topic of him, he considered his words carefully. He didn’t like to give away too much.
 
“I’ve been here for a few years now.” He admitted. “Remember when that dome went up around Hogwarts? I heard there were creatures inside terrorizing people. I figured I could help and came over to rush in.” He admitted. “My family’s pretty well-known in America for beast hunting. My parents write books about their adventures, which is how they’re well-known. My dad’s brother and sister were both in the game, too, but they’ve kind of retired by now. My aunt spent 20 years hunting a Yeti in the Himalayas, and my uncle is pretty accomplished too, but now he’s paralyzed from the waist down. Nothing anyone can do. He was like a second dad to me, though, growing up. Taught me everything I know.”
 
He bit his lip, thinking  of his uncle. If it wasn’t for him, he wouldn’t be there right now. He wouldn’t be in this situation. Even so, he knew that he was doing the right thing. He had been taught and brainwashed to think all werewolves were evil. He remembered what happened to Nadia, the girl he had one day hoped to marry. “I reckon I do miss the USA a bit. I travel there sometimes, but I’ve been exploring England for a few years, bopping around from place to place. Even there, I was never at home, it was always one motel or another.” He shrugged. “My parents traveled a lot as a kid. I got used to the idea that home’s wherever I am. What about you? You travel much?” He asked, watching her. He could see her eyes were a little glazed, but she wasn’t slurring yet. He wasn’t sure how drunk he wanted to get her, maybe just enough to make her take him up on his ride home.

Angharad nodded along as he mentioned the dome. She didn’t really know that much about it, had been too busy wallowing in self pity upon leaving Hogwarts. She had felt sorry for herself right after the attack, started getting a little better once she returned to take her final year, then dove off the cliff headfirst again once she was back in Caerphilly. Back in the bedroom where it had all happened. She’d had no prospects, no chance of a normal life; who would want to hire her? Who would ever want to be with her? That was all starting to change now – she was here, for a start, trying to meet someone. Trying to be normal. She’d like to be normal. Ashley seemed normal—well, actually, he seemed better than normal.

Oh, she'd gotten lost in her own thoughts. What was he saying? What had she missed?

She blinked, trying to focus on him. She’d zone out on the entire monologue about his family and beast-hunting, only catching the tail end. She nodded anyway, rather than have him think she was rude and disinterested. She really was very interested – in him – but her warm brown eyes were sort of staring into his. Ashley bit his lip and Harri’s attention was drawn to it. She distractedly took another large sip of rosé. “Mm,” she nodded again, her eyelids drooping the tiniest amount. “So do you live in hotels?” That sounded lonely, no wonder he was going on blind dates. “Must be hard to meet people…” she trailed off, losing her train of thought before it had fully formed.

“Oh, no,” she blushed and giggled, her cheeks now having taken on a semi-permanent shade of pink from the wine. “I don’t have that sort of job… I’ve been to Australia, just got back actually, but um, that was because of my cousin.” She took a smaller sip this time, eager to keep talking thanks to the alcohol in her system. “He lives there, he paid for my portkey.” She took a deep breath in through her nostrils, holding it and stifling a hiccup in her throat. “He has too much money, really,” she commented offhandedly, going on a tangent of her own, “Massive house. Mansion. Motorcycle.” She waved her hand as if shooing that topic away. She didn’t want to talk about Hefin, she could already imagine the inappropriate comments he’d be making about her being on a blind date with an American.

“I’d like to, though. Travel.” She sighed and rested her chin on her hand again, gazing at him dreamily. “Where do you want to go?”

There were some tell-tale signs in her cheeks and the way her eyes dropped over-so-slightly as he spoke, she was getting well-beyond buzzed. He was pleased with this progress. She ought to be easy to catch in this state, though he hated to reduce it to such terms. She was a nice girl, really. She was pretty and seemed sweet. In fact, under any other circumstances he would be putting on the charm and trying to set up another date to do something a bit more interesting than sitting in a pub. When she brought up her wealthy cousin, it set off a few red flags for him. He hated when they had family that would miss them, and she seemed a perfectly normal girl in any other regard. She was probably close with her parents and stuff, especially if she had a cousin she was close with. A cousin with resources to find her killer…
 
He tried not to be too nervous, as she provided a lovely segue into him leading her out. He all but ignored her last question, too stuck on the mention of a motorcycle. His own was parked outside, and of course he had charmed it to fly—an uncommon addition, though not unheard of. He doubted very much her cousin’s motorcycle could fly. Maybe this would be a perfect way to lure her out of the bar and into the night.
 
“Motorcycle, you say? Have you ever ridden. I have a motorbike parked outside, actually. D’ya wanna see it? It’s a special little thing. I’ll tell you a secret if you promise to keep it.” He teased.  “It flies.” He grinned widely. “Come on.” He said, sliding out of the seat. “I’ll show you.”
 
He extended his hand to take hers. “Do you trust me?”