𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒

Chapter 2

Days turned to weeks and Edward found himself hunting in the forest each night, though he didn't need to feed. He justified his actions using boredom as a rationale because anything else was preposterous-and impossible. So why did he still to listen for a certain set of footfalls, only to be disappointed again and again? Why did he hope to happen upon a dark cloak and shock of blond hair?

Weariness and ennui; no more, no less. Edward would have been equally interested in any human who'd been walking out in the woods at night alone.

But the blood, that scent-he'd never encountered anything like it in his long life. Even the memory was potent enough to fill his mouth with cursed venom. Best never to see the other boy again.

There was only one thing to be done. He needed an occupation-something to distract him from his solitude and unnatural longing. Without his piano or any electricity to listen to music or operate a computer, many of his usual creative outlets were unavailable. Instead, he took to writing, filling page after page with useless, self-indulgent drivel. One day he grew frustrated with himself and tore an entire notebook full of ramblings to shreds. Useless apologies, now that the people who deserved them were dead. He'd postponed his trip to London after the nearly disastrous encounter with Draco in the forest, so new books would have to wait. Clearly his control had been badly damaged by the incident in Seattle; he needed to get it back if he were ever to live in a more populated area again.

In an effort to break the monotony, he went on long runs through the forest. He learned to stay out of particular areas, especially the Centaur colony, as the creatures were territorial and easily irritated. During the full moon he came face to face with a true werewolf, not kin to the shapeshifting wolves he'd known in America, and just barely escaped without being mauled. He didn't doubt that such an attack would be devastating at the very least.

That was the same night he finally glimpsed Hogwarts; he'd been running on the outskirts of the forest when the lighted turrets had come into view. Such an arresting, medieval looking place, and much larger than he'd imagined. The stone facade looked to be nearly a thousand years old, if not older-surely Carlisle knew it existed. The fact that he'd omitted this crucial detail weighed heavily on Edward as he returned to his own abode, so humble in comparison.

A few days later, Edward found himself back near the edge of the forest as evening approached. He could hardly remember what day it was, or even what month for that matter, but the leaves on the deciduous trees seemed to indicate mid-fall. He leaned against a tree and listened dispassionately to the distant sounds of students filtering down the expanse toward the forest. He did not envy them their lot, though he supposed magical education was likely much more interesting than anything he'd learned in human or, as Draco would say, Muggle school. He wondered what life was like for Draco in the castle, and if the boy had ever thought of him again.

Just as the thought entered his mind, a figure appeared in the distance headed directly toward the tree line. Edward's keen eyesight determined almost immediately it was Draco; his lithe, forceful strides indicated a purposefulness that Edward both hoped and dreaded had something to do with him. There was only one way to find out. Darting quickly between trees, Edward made his way back to the clearing where he'd met the wizard on that earlier occasion. He didn't want to be caught out in his current position, which made it seem as if he was waiting for Draco's return.

It didn't take long for the other boy to approach, but by the time he'd arrived, night had fallen. He did, however, seemed surprised to see Edward. The two of them stood facing each other, arms crossed, both assessing.

"Hello again." Edward spoke first.

"You really do live here." The words seemed to be said as a sort of self-confirmation.