Suspicion or Fact? {Mercy Williams}

The boy had debated with himself for awhile before he'd resolved to find out the truth for himself. He'd approached it from every angle he knew and had run out of areas to explore short of a few that would be very telling. Gaspard hadn't shared his suspicions with anyone as they were just that; suspicions. If they were confirmed to be turned into fact, he still wouldn't tell anyone even if he did have someone to tell. While knowing he could have asked the girl's friend, it would be second hand knowledge or hearsay. It was also very underhanded and Gaspard wasn't brought up that way. He was taught to go and find the answer for himself and to draw his own conclusions.

Knowing the girl he was seeking could be found at the quidditch pitch, he had trudged down to the field. It could be a dangerous thing what he was going to do, and he knew that. Anyone with the right motivation could be dangerous though. Gaspard had also thought this out thoroughly beforehand. It wasn't going to be an accusation. One could not help what they were when it came to cases such as these. Nor did he really care one way or the other if she was. It technically was her business, but he was rather curious. When he was curious, he tended to be tenacious until it had been sated.

Spotting the girl he gave a wave to let her know that he wanted to speak with her. Hopefully, he'd get his question answered.

Practice was technically over, but the chasers had stayed behind to toss the quaffle around a little more, practicing some of their more complicated maneuvers. They were still basking in the glory of the Hufflepuff game, which had pushed them up to second place in their overall standing. They'd done a spectacular job, all three chasers on point with their teamwork and their individual performance--but there was always room for improvement. And their next and final game would be against Ravenclaw, possibly for the cup. In order to have a chance, they'd have to not only win the game, but win with a margin of at least 150 points to tie, or 160 points to win. Ravenclaw was set to be their hardest opponent yet, and the team was relying on the chasers to keep their score ahead of Ravenclaw's until the Gryffindor seeker could catch the snitch.

Mercy swooped low and snatched the quaffle from the air in one smooth motion as Janine let it drop from her hand above her. Almost instantly, she swung upward and let the ball fly from her own hand toward Leanna, the captain, who caught it with one hand for less than a second before pushing it back toward Janine. Mercy loved this drill--it was fast paced, and kept everyone on their toes. Each person had to keep moving at all times, and no one could hold the ball for more than two seconds before throwing it to someone else. It helped them all move as one smooth unit--after a while, they could almost start to predict each other's actions.

As Mercy received the quaffle again and passed it to Leanna, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and glanced down. Gaspard? What was he doing here? She didn't peg him as a quidditch fan. She snapped her attention back to the drill just in time, intercepting the quaffle as it flew at her face, and tossing it back rather clumsily.

"Mercy!" Leanna reprimanded. The younger girl looked up at her captain sheepishly, then shot a distracted glance back down at the Ravenclaw on the ground. He seemed to be waving at her. Did he need something? Was something wrong?

"Sorry," she called back as the captain stopped the drill. "That's my friend. I, uh, I'm gonna go see what he wants, I'll be right back."

Before anyone could protest, Mercy drifted down to the grass below and dismounted, approaching Gaspard with a questioning look on her face.

"Gaspard, hey! What are you doing here?"

He hadn't really expected the girl to stop what she was doing and come down to meet him. Not really. Gaspard had just wanted to let her know that he was here and would be waiting for her when she was done with practice. Seeing as she was here now, he didn't think she'd take too kindly if he told her so. Unintentionally he'd interrupted her practice. Based on he felt when people interrupted him when he was in the middle of something, he internally winced.

Why was he feeling bad?! He never would have felt terrible about getting in the middle of something as tedious and boring as quidditch before! It had nothing at all to do with the fact that she was hardly alone or that it didn't seem like the best time to inquire of her about her suspected affliction. His stomach hurt causing the boy to wince then frown. Perhaps it hadn't been such a good idea to skip out the last meal. He didn't realize that it clenched a bit more as the Gryffindor got closer.

Shifting, he gave a hesitant smile that barely curled up the corners of his mouth. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out and he frowned as he swallowed and tried again. "Hi."

Gaspard didn't want to just blurt it out, but he wasn't sure exactly how to say it without coming off as rude. It had never bothered him before and this new reason for caring troubled him. He didn't want to care. He wanted to just be able to tell her the facts and have her either confirm or deny them. Instead, he was trying to find a way that wouldn't cause her to punch him. She seemed like she would punch someone instead of kicking or slapping. Having never been punched before, he didn't want now to be the first time.

Sighing, he knew there really wasn't a good way to segue the conversation into the matter of werewolves safely. Not exactly. Deciding it was best just to lay out all of his cards he mentally braced himself for her reaction to his news. Holding up a finger asking for a minute he stated, "I got curious. You were sick a lot, but you still came to classes even when it was obvious you were not well. I've looked back and from what I can recall it was during a certain lunar cycle."

Licking his lips, the boy really hoped that he wouldn't upset her. Lycantrhopy wasn't like they showed on muggle shows. He knew that, although he was quite curious to test out that silver theory. Nor was it like the muggle condition that gave rise to the wolfman myth in the first place. It did however have a really huge stigma and he hoped that Mercy knew that even if she told him it was true, he woldn't be blurting it out to everyone. Then again, it could be a muggle condition of a very low immune system. There were different types of wizard diseases and who knew what havoc they would reek on a compromised health? Or it very well could be psychosomatic like that one character in the Sherlock Holmes story he read once.

"Are you a werewolf?" There was no accusation, malice, or anything all aside from curiosity.

Gaspard looked vastly uncomfortable. Mercy stood before him, clutching her broomstick, and waiting for him to say something other than "Hi," although it had taken him quite a long time to even manage that. She glanced back up at her teammates in the air, who had continued their drill without her as they waited for her to return. She turned her attention back to Gaspard, wanting to tell him to just get on with it. She was about to say something when he held up his finger to stop her. She shut her mouth.

As soon as he started talking, she wished he would stop.

Everything inside her seemed to sink further the more he spoke. She could almost feel the colour leaving her face. He knew. She hadn't even said anything remotely suspicious to him! How had he figured it out? Merlin, she bloody hated clever people. It wasn't even her fault; he'd just been watching her.

Finally, the question dropped, and it was her turn to say something. Her stomach churned and her fingers felt numb. Her grip slackened and she dropped her broomstick, giving her a brief second to think think think as she bent over to pick it up. She let out a nervous laugh.

If he was asking, that meant he wasn't certain, which meant she could still, potentially, lie her way out of it. Only, she didn't like to have anything relying on her lying skills. She steeled herself. She couldn't avoid it.

As she straightened, she continued laughing, hoping it didn't sound too forced. "Am I a what? A werewolf? You mean like," she made an exaggerated snarling face and brandished her hand like a claw, then burst out laughing again. "Merlin, no! Do they even allow werewolves at Hogwarts?"

Please buy it, please buy it, please please please...

"I told Mimosa," she continued, hoping an alternate explanation might appease him. "I thought she might've told you, but I guess not. I have a condition called Lupus. It's pretty rare, I guess. It's an autoimmune disorder, so I get sick a lot. I haven't really noticed if it lines up with the moon or whatever; I don't really pay attention to moon cycles. If you noticed a pattern, it's probably just a coincidence. I don't know why the moon would have anything to do with it."

She felt like she was rambling, but she felt a need to keep reinforcing that she was not in any way connected to werewolves whatsoever. She studied his face for any sign that he might not believe her, and hoped desperately that this conversation would end soon because she wasn't sure how much longer she'd hold up under pressure.

Watching her, Gaspard wondered if he'd made a mistake. Not in his theory, but about confronting her. While he could have pretended he hadn't noticed, that was not in his nature. He had to confirm his theory. know if he was right or not so he could pursue the correct track. When her broom fell, his stomachache grew. Her laugh sounded off, but then he could be overthinking it and hearing what he wanted. Right?

Eyes narrowing a bit, Gaspard watched and listened to her antics and tried to force his own smile, but his lips refused to move from their position. He knew that at least one werewolf had been allowed at Hogwarts in the past. Why couldn't there have been more? He had never really understood the stigma around them. His mother being a person that studied magical creatures had knew about the laws concerning each. It was a fascinating read for the Gaspard even when he was young. He understood the dangers of a werewolf, but not why they were excluded from learning.

His attention snapped to focus as soon as she'd stated she told their mutual acquaintance. Never hearing of the condition, he made a mental note to look into this 'lupus'. For now, he nodded because it made sense. "Maybe it has something to do with the gravitational forces or something. It wasn't until Newton that we learned how the moon and sun had an effect on tides."

And wasn't there something about how weather conditions had effects on the human body as well? Some people were exceptionally happy during sunny days and were lethargic when it rained.

Feeling embarrassed and having that pain in his stomach had the boy feeling not very well himself. Knowing that he should admit he was wrong, but having a very hard go of it. Even when his parents caught him doing something he shouldn't he wasn't very repentant. He was only really sorry he'd been caught. However, this was different. The pain gnawed at his stomach and he was sure that she would talk with Mimosa and they'd both distance themselves from him for basically accusing Mercy of being a werewolf.

Not sure how to progress, he gave a sharp nod. "Right. Well, hope it doesn't hit when you have to play your next match."

Mercy really didn't know Gaspard all that well. They'd met on the train, and she knew he was Mimosa's friend. They'd spoken a couple times, but never really about anything serious. She wanted to trust him, but she just didn't know. She had no way of knowing how he'd react if he knew--if he'd tell anyone, if he'd tell Mimosa. Not that she thought Mimosa would reject her, but more that Mimosa would know that Mercy had lied to her, and the only thing worse than lying in the first place was lying and getting caught, because what if Mimosa didn't trust her anymore? And, well...maybe she was a little worried that Mimosa would reject her. She didn't think it was likely, but she wouldn't risk it. She didn't think she could bear it if Mimosa was ever scared of her. She didn't want anyone to be scared of her.

So when Gaspard seemed to accept her Lupus explanation, Mercy held back a sigh of relief. The crisis was averted, at least for now.

"Maybe," she agreed, not really listening as Gaspard tried to justify why the moon might have an effect on her illness. As he wished her well, she forced a smile.

"Thanks, I hope so too. It's been okay so far, thankfully." She did often dread that one of their games would fall on a full moon and she wouldn't be able to play. Luckily that hadn't been the case so far, though she had missed a couple practices. She glanced back up at her two teammates in the air, then back to Gaspard.

"Well, if that's all..." she trailed off, sincerely hoping it was and he didn't have further questions.