Liaisons With Wolves [Daciana]

[Samantha Snape]

It was midnight, and as cold as she had always imagined Hell to be hot. The redhead rubbed her arms, as she leaned against the railing of the tower. A luminous, though not quite full moon hung in the dark sky above. It washed out her already pale face even more, seeming to sharpen the angles of her face and the hollows at her collar bones, where the bones themselves stood out stark and fleshless. This could be seen because the dress shirt of the boys uniform she always wore was undone at the to few buttons; her tie handling loose for once. Her robes and sweater were nowhere to be seen, and in the thin, white material of her shirt, she looked almost as thin as she truly was.

Pale hands came to rest at her elbows, the only color which seemed to be within them now the blue of the veins which could be easily seen beneath her paper-white, paper-thin skin. For a moment, all was still. Strangely, she wanted a cigarette... Though Sam had never smoked in her life, she knew one or two people whom did; she'd always wondered what it was like to smoke, and now she wished she'd stolen a cigarette from one of her friends. She wanted to feel the calming effects they'd spoken of, as the nicotine flooded her veins; she had also heard that they helped with hunger. Her curiosity - strange want - was such that she was about to slip her hand out and conjure herself a lighter and a pack of cigarettes, when she heard a step behind her.

She was almost completely sure of whom it was; she'd known this person since her (Sam's) first year, after all - they'd been through a good deal together.

[dacian]

Daciana had found herself climbing the steps to the towers before she'd even realized that it had happened. Her converse clad feet had left the Slytherin common room, clad only in a pair of baggy shirts and a tight black wifebeater, and she was up the Grand Staircase before she'd even really come to her senses. This wasn't uncommon for her though. The wolf in her, no matter how quote-unquote slight, had instincts. And she'd learned to follow those instincts as time had gone on. Her long, curly blond hair was loose and flowing, occasionally tickling her arms and shoulders, in the draft that seemed to always be flowing through the cavernous halls of Hogwarts.

And there she was. Samantha. God she was beautiful! Even if she didn't see it herself sometimes. She had a way to leave Daciana breathless just be existing in her presence. She was younger than her, only by a year, and was in her house too. On top of that she was a Slytherin chaser. In other words, Samantha was perfect. Sighing lightly, she leaned against the wall, staring at the mass of red hair with the ghost of a smile. She and Sammy had been through a lot together. Daciana had grown attached to her, deeply attached. In a way, Daciana decided, she was more than likely in love with the petite girl. Not more than likely in fact, completely and utterly in love with her.

"Hey," she whispered, the singly syllable had died in her throat and came out a harsh whisper.

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[Samantha Snape]

Turning to face Daciana - Ana to most, Wolfie to Sam when they were alone - the redhead returned the gesture, a ghost of a smile playing across her own lips. The differences between them, the redhead thought, were striking and beautiful. Daciana was just a bit taller than she was, and just as full-figured and in possession of lean muscle as Sam herself was near-skeletal thin and still barely holding to what little muscle she had left. While the blonde often seemed to the Chaser to glow with the radiance and intensity of the sun, the potions master's daughter knew she was like the moon in this regard; pale and wan, often unremarkable, but shining in the reflected light when the sun - Daciana - was with her.

By this time, these thoughts, or ones of the same nature, had long ceased to make a blush stain her stark cheekbones rose. The two had been together through a good deal, and they had often shared very intimate moments with one another. However, Sam had resigned herself to the thought that Daciana was merely her very best friend - closer even than a sister would have been (had the redhead known what it was like to have a sister), but nothing romantically-inclined. Yes, she knew Daciana was a lesbian just as she herself was, but really, there were other girls in Hogwarts so inclined, and even a few bisexual ones, so who would want Sam, of all people, when there were others to choose from?

So her love of the blonde before her remained unspoken - at least, the romantic parts of it. Extending a hand for the partial-werewolf to take, the redhead returned the greeting, in equally as soft a voice. "Hey, yourself." But, as usual, her intentions had been ignored by God; from the purging she had done before coming up here, the pale teen's throat was still somewhat raw, and so her voice reflected this a bit. As to why she had extended her hand... The two liked their closeness, and would often hold hands when together.

It was the only hint of any kind of emotion Sam would ever show to 99.99% of everyone else. That remaining 0.01% contained her father, the current Potions Mistress, Professor Lawrence, to whom she was apprenticed, and her small group of friends. Only these few saw any hint of emotion from the usually cold, expressionless girl. But when she was around Daciana... And they were alone... Then Sam would allow her defenses to drop, and express her happiness at the presence of the woman she had, somewhere along the road they had traveled and continued to travel, fallen in love with.

She couldn't pin-point a how, where, when, or why, but it had happened; she was completely and irrevocably in love with Daciana.

[dacian]

Daciana gave the young Slytherin a smile, before sliding her way up next to the girl and taking her hand in her own. For Samantha it seemed an act purely based in friendship. But to Daciana it was much more and she would often find herself reveling in the feel of the girl's small hand in her own. She had memorized each line and contour with her fingers and the closeness would've made Daciana cry if she weren't so filled with joy. Samantha was her moon and her sun. And though Daciana knew that she would try to deny it, she believed Sam to be almost goddess-like. Moving with such unseen grace and untapped power. And Dacian wanted to show her that this was ll true. That she was beautiful and deserved happiness and love more than anyone she'd ever known. But Daciana could never bring herself to do it. Not in the way she wanted nor in a way that she thought Samantha would believe.
It wasn't sexual. The situation could be. But the emotions Daciana would show Samantha of herself would transcend teenage fumblings and eroticism. No it was about love and affection. But Daciana never had he bravery to put herself in that situation. S she contented to running her thumb long the petite girl's hand and trying not to imagine what Samantha's lips would fee against her own.
"Why're you up here?" her voice was thick and dripping with a Romanian accent that never seemed to quite disappear, "I mean, obviously I'm awake," she nodded her to the waxing, almost full moon,"Fete frumose need their beauty sleep. And you are the most frumos of them all Sammy." The insert of Romanian words into their conversations had become a habit of Daciana's. It took the embarrassment away from having to say them in English and having the young girl hear her stutter. But through the course o their friendship many words had been understood. The most common; frumose or beautiful. It was a word she often used to describe Samantha.
"Is it a girl? Daciana joked, nudging the girl softy with her elbow. Though the partial werewolf felt the beast rearing its ugly head up at the thought. It would be to much stress to close to the full moon, "She cute?"
Daciana knew that no matter what she'd always be there for Sammy. To hold her when she cried. To wipe the tears from her eyes. To tell her how beautiful she was even if she didn't believe it herself. For that was her blessing, and curse as the best friend.

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