Goats (anyone)

[Greyson "Grey" Sebastien]

Grey had decided that it was past time he got to know the neighborhood, and that included those establishments which were not quite so frequented. He walked into the Hogshead and was quite surprised to see a goat being more or less herded out a side door by a tall, thin man. There was no one else in sight.

Still, Grey sat and ordered a firewhiskey, despite the rather neglected air of the place. He really had nothing better to do.

[Michael Blackwood-Hardt]

Michael had been walking through the town for the past few minutes, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, before walking into the nearest place he could find. He began to walk toward the bar and noticed, out of the corner of his eye, someone sitting. Glancing around, he recognized the professor he had met the night after the attack. Stupidly, he stopped and stared, wondering if he should leave or just pretend he didn't see him.

[Greyson "Grey" Sebastien]

"Have a seat," Grey said, without so much as looking up. Even if he hadn't been surreptitiously watching the motion of the bar and its patrons, he could feel the boy's gaze. He recognized Michael, and before a moment had passed, he had gone through his memories of those dark hours after the so-called boat party. He wondered if his instincts about Michael had been right. "Enjoying your summer holiday?" Grey asked casually.

[Michael Blackwood-Hardt]

Michael walked over slowly and sat down, watching the man as he did. "Not exactly," he replied, thinking of the conversation he had just gotten out of. His summer so far had been horrible, the worst he could remember. His mistakes chasing themselves around in his head, not allowing him to sleep, keeping him from eating as he should. His life had went from being perfect...to the complete opposite. "And you?"

[Greyson "Grey" Sebastien]

Grey noted the uncomfortable look on Michael's face, and his own lips rose slightly in a self-mocking smile. "Much the same as yours, I imagine." Grey had spent his holiday searching for the Death Eaters who'd managed to escape the very night that he couldn't stop thinking of. It seemed time had simply frozen in December of last year. "I am looking forward to the new term," Grey admitted. "Ready to make a new start." Grey looked pointedly at Michael, wondering if the teen had made a new start of his own. In truth, he hadn't heard a thing about the boy or his whereabouts. He supposed that the Headmistress had thought it none of his business. So had the mysterious Sapphire.

Grey gestured to the barkeep for a butterbeer for Michael and looked down into his own drink a moment, almost amused at the volumes which silence was speaking between words. It would not be at all appropriate to ask Michael about the obvious strain which Grey had noticed between the teen and his classmates that night, the undertone of danger in the entire affair, or the fact that the boy had been obviously walking the line of indecision between the mortal enemies of dark and light. And yet he wondered. Had the boy chosen after all? Was the fact that he was sitting at this table with a more or less known Order Wizard a declaration of sorts? Or was Michael simply alone, with nothing better to do?

[Michael Blackwood-Hardt]

Michael looked up at Grey, barely noticing his butterbeer, lost in thought. "A fresh start would be nice," he said after a few moments. "Though I'm not sure it would do me any good." He was uncertain whether or not he would be able to live down the mistakes he had made. Other witches and wizards with much worse reputations had redeemed themselves, but would he be able to? Or should he just continue on the path he had chosen, whether by choice or not. He found himself wondering what all the older man had been through in his life, and he studied his face, wondering if Grey could have any helpful words for him, though unless Michael told him everything, how was he to help?

[Greyson "Grey" Sebastien]

I'm not sure it would do me any good. Grey suppressed a sigh at the boy's words. Had his own fresh start done him any good? It certainly hadn't seemed so the night of the boat party, and yet... "Could it be much worse than going on the way you were?" Grey heard himself and wondered a moment whether he was talking to Michael or only thinking aloud. He raised his eyes to the teen and smiled. "It's a decision you're old enough to make for yourself," he assured the teen. "And it's also up to you who you choose to help you make that start, or who you choose to go on with." Grey hadn't been left much of a choice the first time he'd moved on, and now, he had simply become used to solitude.

[Michael Blackwood-Hardt]

Michael leaned on the table, his shoulders hunched, and thought for what seemed like a long while. Finally, he decided to just be honest. "I know....what I want to do, I want to leave everything I've done behind me..." The words were hard coming, and he thought carefully before speaking each phrase. "But I'm just...." he looked down, his hair falling around his face, "Scared." He finally admitted, to himself as well as to the older man. He couldn't bring himself to look up though, he stared down at his knuckles instead.

[Greyson "Grey" Sebastien]

"It takes courage to admit that," Grey said softly. "Many men go through an entire lifetime thinking that courage is an absence of fear." Grey himself had learned long ago that courage was simply the ability to do what needed to be done, regardless of fear or uncertainty. "Sometimes there's a difference between what you want to do and what you should," Grey went on. "When they're one and the same, there's not much of a choice. It'll happen, it's just a matter of when." Grey only hoped that his suspicions were right, that Michael was leaning toward good and away from the Death Eaters.

[Michael Blackwood-Hardt]

Michael was quiet for a long while, before finally looking up at Grey. "I'm not a Death Eater any more, I stopped being one that night, leaving in the middle of that meeting...I've appologized to Dru, I don't think she forgives me though...I don't know what to do now." His eyes begged for help, for someone to tell him where to go, he felt completely lost.

[Greyson "Grey" Sebastien]

Grey smiled gently. He'd hoped, and he believed that Michael was telling the truth. He'd turned himself in that night. "Forgiveness takes time," Grey said. It was a lesson he was still learning. He hadn't yet forgiven Claire-Elise, had he? Strange, how he could think of her again without so much pain. Perhaps he had forgiven her after all. Grey took a strengthening drink of firewhiskey before looking back at Michael. "The best thing you can do is just keep living. Don't give up. Actions are everything." It was the best advice he could give at the moment.

[Michael Blackwood-Hardt]

Michael stared, "I'll try my hardest, if I could just hear her say she forgave me..." he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Then he looked back at Grey, "Has anything like this ever happened to you?" he asked before thinking. He quickly realized that it was probably too personal a question for him to ask and he backtracked, "I mean...you don't have to answer that."

[Greyson "Grey" Sebastien]

Grey looked down into his near-empty glass and gave a rueful chuckle. "I was on the receiving end of it," he admitted. "But she never repented." She never would have either, he was sure of it. It just wasn't in her nature. Grey sighed, then straightened, throwing off the ghosts of the past. "It took me ten years to forgive her. Just give Dru time. If she won't believe the words, show her. She'll figure it out."

[Michael Blackwood-Hardt]

"Ten years..." he repeated softly. The idea of waiting that long scared him, but the idea of her never forgiving him scared him worse. "I hope she can forgive me," he paused, chewing on his lip, "I love her, the last time we spoke I didn't say so." How big of an impact would those words have had?

[Greyson "Grey" Sebastien]

"Ah," Grey sighed. He took another quick drink, draining his glass before setting it aside. "Some words are as important as actions. But only if you can believe them. Only if she can believe them," he corrected himself. He'd heard the worry in Michael's voice and wished he could ease it, if only a little. "I never got an apolgy," he clarified. "I loved, but wasn't loved in return," he added, his voice almost too low to be heard. "You have advantages. As long as there's a thread of hope, let it help you be strong." Maybe he wasn't quite as jaded as he'd thought.