I Thought It Was Pretty

His breath was inescapable. It smelt like cigarette smoke and strong coffee. The hot stench blasted from his mouth, swirled around his teeth; which were an off-shade of white, decorated with colourful morsels of food that had been trapped in them. The right canine was cracked- his gum line bled around it. His lips were dry. Peeled, yellowy skin. A strong jaw, though. The rest of his skin seemed to be smothered in an oily grease. His forehead was particularly shiny, she noted. A sharp, hooked nose.

The man was, in Ines' opinion, considerably revolting.

She was trying to be as fair as possible with him. Being fair, being logical, being calm was the only way she could possibly survive this. Later on, if she memorised his features accurately, there could be a possibility that she could identify him. And stop him from doing what he was doing to her now to anyone else.

"Come on, love." The man breathed heavily, another warm cloud of his foul breath engulfing her. Her eyes were level with his mouth. Every detail, she needed every detail. She would not close her eyes. Trying to be fair. She had to be fair. Perhaps he had mistaken her for someone else, someone who he in fact was intimate with.

A hand on her hip. Heavy hand. Calloused. Thick fingers. This hand had the potential to cause a fair amount of damage. Trying to escape him through physical means was pointless. And simply enduring- that outcome would be inevitably scarring- whether he had mistaken her for someone else or not. It was his other hand- the hand that was gripping the well-polished baseball bat- that Ines was far more concerned about. And then there were the hands of the five, at least by her count, other men who lurked around them both in the darkness of the evening.

She hadn't thought that visiting Dostoevskogo, her now local bookshop, would be so dangerous at 9 o'clock. There had been a glimpse of a knife, returning from the store. She had dismissed it, continued walking. Avoided two men in the alley she usually walked through. Taken a different turning- three men. Another turning- the same two. She remembered that they had been snickering- she knew then, of course. She was being herded. Ines had, admittedly, experienced several moments of panic- which she tried her utmost to conceal as she continued to walk. A heavy lump had swelled in her throat then, rendering the girl speechless. The young witch knew little self defense, either physical and magical. She'd never needed it before; secure in her own bubble at home and-

A nose on her neck, inhaling her scent deeply. He had lowered his face. She swallowed thickly. His hands were slipping around her- she didn't know how to- why, what to do-

"Stop." Ines choked out, squirming weakly underneath him, finally reaching her breaking point. She couldn't stay silent. She couldn't. He paused, pulling away from the girl. His lips moulded into a large, lazy, lopsided grin. He looked up at her, eyeing her hungrily. He was watching her as if she had said "go".

"That's what I were waitin' for." His hands gripped Ines' wrists painfully, shoving her against the wall again. "A bit o' spirit, that's what I like." His smile widened, and he ran his tongue over his teeth, before ducking his head to dive towards her own lips-

"ENOUGH!" Her voice was embarrassingly hysterical. There was no control in it. Shaky, high pitched- scared. She was so frightened. She didn't want to be- to be- anywhere near him. Snapping her knee upwards into the man's stomach, Ines shoved past him- finally free of the trap between his body and the wall and ran. A trap of the other men circled her- no escape, but no choice- she kept running, even running towards one of them- he was laughing loudly- but she couldn't stop running, she had to keep running, keep-

A huge weight came swinging against her back, knocking the wind out of her. Ines crumpled, clutching her stomach with both hands. The bat swung downwards on the base of her spine- a gurgled cry escaped her throat as a red blur began to cloud her vision- another blow, on the side of her ribs- louder, strangled cries, a mix of apologies and pleading and begging as the man hit her. Kept hitting her.

It was supposed to be a regular day.

He hadn't been feeling particularly lonely, not since he had left Ninette - albeit reluctantly and at her insistence that she had plans - and the thing inside him still hadn't gone away. The innocent Zander that thought no one could hurt someone who did not deserve it was gone. The things he'd done to Aldric had landed him in a muggle hospital far enough from prying wizarding eyes to keep him there, as long as he went no where. He would heal slowly, just as Zander had all those years, until he was at a point in which he could apparate himself to St. Mungo's without being caught. He had left the staff with very specific instructions to not let him out of their sight - a runner, he explained, that would try to escape medical care at the slightest urge - and they had held true to that so far.

Still, a part of him was guilty. Not for taking his fists to the boy -not in the slightest - but for leaving Ninette long enough to do so, and, surprisingly, for not feeling guilty at all.

It was still there, within him, the dark creature who was still calling for that boy's blood. Not just him, but anyone who dared to hurt a woman in that way. He was fairly certain that as long as he ignored it, as long as he didn't do anything that would feed it further, he would go back to normal. He would stop thinking of how satisfied he had felt after leaving that boy barely breathing.

Enter Ines.

He wasn't exactly sure how it happened, whether it was the sound of a female voice or the fact that he didn't like the other sounds coming from that direction, but suddenly he was running toward it, the few dogs he passed on his way coming to chase after him playfully. He paused at the entrance to the alleyway, his eyes widening as he took in the scene before him.

That was all the hesitation he offered.

Sprinting now, he all but tackled the man with his bat raised, ready to strike again. A deft punch to the face had him dazed, and a kick to the ribs had him otherwise down for at least a while. His element of surprise was lost on the others, however, who paused in their beating of the small form that was Ines in order to fully blindside him.

He was suddenly being attacked from all sides, and not even his superior strength, height, high pain tolerance or any sort of anger could overpower the fact that he was hideously outnumbered.

That was when the first dog appeared, snarling and pouncing on a man just about to strike Zander. Taking the first chance he could, he slammed his fist into another man's jaw. Aiming a chop at another's throat, he was derailed once again as another dog, this one deep black and snarling, pounced on the men. Soon he was surrounded by dogs, all tearing at the men that had attacked Ines, and then him.

One of them stood beside him, one of his favorite companions of late, a stray named Charlie. He was the one who he had ran beside, and as he learned later, he was the one who had called the other strays to come help.

Never before had he thought of the extent of power talking to animals had blessed him with.

Charlie barked once before jumping into the frey, but Zander was already back beside Ines, tenderly stroking her hair and checking for any signs of concussion. Finding none, he deftly scooped her up into his arms, cuddling her close.

"Ines." He murmured softly, despite the bruises growing over his body and the open cut he felt across his cheek he was still worried about her, still worried about her wellbeing. "Just hold on, pulito." He said, moving away from the noise of the other men screaming for mercy. "Just hold on."

They were at St. Mungo's in moments.

Ines sang weakly, burying her face further into her knees and her fetal position tightening into a smaller ball on the ground. It was a good song. Steady, soothing- a remedy for her nightmares when she had been younger. And that was all it was. A nightmare.


She repeated, struggling to recall the next line. What was the next line? The blows had stopped, she registered placidly. Someone else- familiar, much taller than her, he had wonderful Italian accent, didn't he?- yes, wonderful-



She sang, her lips cresting into a minute smile. She was sweating. When had she begun to sweat? It wasn't warm. It was silly to sweat. She had to stop sweating- it was cold, it was very cold. Which was odd, because it was summer. Was it raining? There was a pitter patter. Pitter patter. Paws? Ines cracked a heavy eyelid open. Dogs scrabbling about the place- she had never been one for dogs. Cats were much nicer, in her opinion. But dogs would do. They could keep her company- it was very cold, after all, and there was a terrible pain-

Ines' mouth opened widely, sucking in a loud, raspy lungful of air. Her fingers scrabbled wildly at the floor, earning herself small, bloody cuts on her fingers. She'd reminded herself of her pain- it hurt ,it hurt, everywhere apart from her legs. Why didn't her legs hurt? Why were- Her legs felt heavier-Except, they didn't really feel, they- They were screaming, the men. Why were they screaming? Was it the dogs? It was the Italian accent. Italian- no, Zander.


Her voice sounded warped. Out of place in this nightmare. It was just a nightmare. It was just a silly nightmare, wasn't it? It was so silly. Dogs and villains and guardian angels. Angels didn't exist. She watched the angel- Zander, because angels didn't exist- through a thick layer of her eyelashes. Wasn't he lovely, coming to save her? She would have to arrange a gift basket for him. Did he prefer chocolate frogs over sugar quills? Or-

A sharp, poignant pain jolted in the side of her torso as she was moved, and a barely audible whimper escaped her lips. It hurt. And she was still frightened. Ines knew, of course, that it was silly to be frightened when she had an angel- No, angels didn't exist. Teddybears did, though. She had a teddybear.

"They all fall down." She mumbled into his chest, swallowing thickly. Chocolate frogs or sugar quills- she would have to remember for later- and that was her last thought before she slipped into a numb unconsciousness.