"Sorry... He says he's sorry." Really, she should have remembered to lock the door. But what was he doing in her office anyway. Oh and the lava potion was burning through the wood of her desk... Perfect.

She summoned a glass beaker, as glass is the only thing the potion won't burn through and tried to scoop it up, by summoning it in the beaker. Once she was finished she put the beaker in the locked cabinet. The desk now had a whole in it... If Tate would ask, it was a beverage holder. She smirked to herself before turning back to the boy and taking his ice encased arm to examine it.

"Don't worry, you won't scar. The pain will go away in a day or two, but I'm charging your father for the wasted potion." You bet she was.

Sabel winced at her words, ducking his head even more as if those words had been a cuff across the back of his skull. Another wince pull over his features as she took his arm, having to restrain from pulling it protectively back to himself. Instead, he turned his eyes to the ruined desk.

"I'm not worried about scarring." His voice was still quiet, shaken. He really should have just slid the paper under the door, or not bothered writing a note. "I'll...pay for the potion....and your desk." Apparently that's what his summer earnings were for; damage control.

"You should be worried about the scarring." She said and pulled up her sleeve to show him. She had a substantial scar over her own forearm. "Believe me, you would not like that." She covered it up again.

She glared at him and in her mind she knew she should keep her mouth shut, but instead she said "Just... forget about it... I shouldn't have left it out." She said looking at the kid's arm.

... Sweet Circe, she was getting soft working at this bloody school!

Hecate Lafay...

Slytherin Softie...

...NOT!

As the ice melted she made another layer, and then went to her potion's kit. She set herself up and began brewing a pain potion for his arm. "What am I going to do with you Master Dakest...?"

His attention was quickly taken away from the desk by the extended limb. For a good few moments he could only stare. When she began to move about again, he found his mind locked on what he had seen, his stomach twisting with the knowledge of the pain such a wound would have caused. Even when she wrapped another ice layer around his arm, he barely noticed, her words filtering around him but not really sinking in. What to do with him hardly seemed an important question in light of what she had just showed him.

It took a hard swallow for him to find his voice again, however weak it was. "I'm...sorry." And it wasn't an apology for the damage this time. "What...happened?" Why he even considered asking such a question of her, when he was fairly certain she would sooner shove him out the door than answer, he had no idea. But his eyes went up to her, searching. Once again, there was a lot more to Lafay than she ever let on.

She looked up at the boy with a look of you-really-think-I'm-going-to-tell-you?

But the boy seemed genuinely interested. "I'm a potioneer, Master Dakest... What do you think happened?" She finished the potion and gave it to the boy. "Drink this. The pain will go away." She said inspecting his arm again... One or two more layers of ice should do it... She gave him another.

He didn't say anything right away, watching Lafay with a heavy expression of sympathy. Only when she handed him the potion, did he draw his thoughts away from their distant place.

"I'm...sorry...." What potion could have caused that kind of a wound? With hesitation, he picked up the bottle with his good hand, giving it a second of consideration before drinking it.

A few coughs had him putting the empty vial carefully on her desk, his hand going back to gripping his elbow.

She smiled at his coughing. "Dakest... It's my fault. Happened last term. This is why I insist on safety in my classroom. I was in a hurry and thought I had things under control... so I didn't put on my dragon hide gloves. I was... experimenting on a different sort of potion, and when I added a certain ingredient it spat out." She said and sat on her desk, still holding the boy's arm. "Judging from you're reaction, I guess I was lucky it didn't hit my face."

The last thing he had been expecting was a confession from Lafay. A little dumbfounded and bewildered, he listened quietly, barely noticing as the pain started to dwindle. Some things of her story sounded a little sketchy, but overall it was simply, very human.

How many students would be shocked to know Lafay was just a human, like any one of them? Probably a few of the younger ones.

Her question had him dropping his eyes to his arm, shaking his head a little. "I...didn't mean it like that...just...it looks painful." Hesitantly he chanced a glance up at her. "Does it still hurt?"

His eyes met hers and she held his gaze. She debated in her mind if she should just lie or actually tell him the truth. He was of age. And probably not going into the potioneering business anyway. The truth couldn't hurt.

She looked down at his arm and coated it one more time with ice, "Yes, and no." She said raising her own sleeve again, exposing the scar. "I have steps in place so I don't feel the pain." She showed him, her sleeves were loose. "I charm my sleeves so the fabric doesn't touch it. If it did, I would be in quite a lot of pain." She pointed at the raised marks, "I need to lance the raised portion once a month to drain it of the fluid, that accumulates. Although the process itself is painful, it alleviates the throbbing."

He couldn't believe Lafay was actually telling him these things rather than brushing him off with a cold shoulder. Even moreso, was the disbelief in the amount of pain the injury was causing her. He had always known Lafay to be a strong woman, but before now had viewed that strength as brutish and abrasive. Now, he was seeing a completely different side of her.

Drawing his eyes away from her injury, he focussed them on some blank spot on the side wall, not sure of how to respond to her. That she had to go through so much pain, every year; it was a hard thought to hold.

"Muggles...." Swallowing his brow furrowed as he attempted to collect his voice. "Muggles can do a procedure called skin grafts." Gradually he returned his eyes to her. It was most likely she had tried everything already to heal it, but he couldn't think of anything else to offer. And he felt like he had to offer something.

She smiled.

"Master Dakest." Dark Potions are like dark magic... cursed wounds... but she couldn't tell him that. "Grafting will not heal me."

Plain.

Simple.

To the point.

That was Lafay in a nutshell.

The ice was melting and his arm was certainly less red. She summoned her potions kit and began working on a dittany based unction. "That mark will remain on your arm for no more than a month." She held his arm with both hands and cracked the ice covering it, letting it fall off. She dried his skin with a charm and then added. "Spit in the cauldron, please."

He wasn't sure what bothered him more; the fact that her arm couldn't be healed or that she had been playing with a darker kind of fire than he could understand. Unless, he was missing some very vital information about basic potions and their dangers.

The statement of how long he would have the injury for was lost with the sound of the cracking ice and how his body jumped in surprise and fear. Where he had thought there would be pain, there wasn't, much thanks to the handy potion she had given him. A slow breath of relief left him, suddenly catching in his throat when she asked him to spit into the cauldron. That was just rude and rather disgusting. But he didn't have the patience or energy to argue and he knew he would lose anyways.

Trying not to think too much on it, he leaned over a little and quickly spat into the potion she was brewing. An awkward wipe of his hand across the back of his mouth came before he considered speaking again. "Do you have to call me 'Master' Dakest?" He understood the purpose of the formality of it, but there was no sense in it. He was no way a master of anything, except for perhaps klutzy feet or verbal vomit, and he couldn't say it exactly sat right. Dakest was fine. Master Dakest was just, strange.

She watched his face when she asked him to spit in the cauldron. "There is a protein called Histatin in the saliva... it has healing properties, Dog saliva is the best, but I don't have any... yours will do..." She said and then with her hand took some of the unction and rubbed it on his arm. "Master is the correct way to address you. You are barely 18, maybe still 17... Why grow up so fast?" She said. "I am merely extending you respect."

That was an interesting but rather disgusting fact. Next time he had a cut he wouldn't be able to not think about getting a dog to lick it. Dog slobber. Shudder.

"I...I know you are." Once again he was ducking his head, this time drawing his bottom lip in between his teeth and chewing on it a little. Whatever she was applying to his arm felt nice and cool; not so frigid as the ice and a soothing relief from the fire that had abused his skin. "It's just...strange." May as well keep up the practice of speaking his mind. "I'm just, as you say, a kid. Not a Master of anything. I own little but the clothes on my back." After all, wasn't Master the term used to address young boys of high social standing back in the time, when they were to inherit property and wealth? It just wasn't him.

"Dakest..." She said looking up at him and halting the application of the unction. "Do you have to challenge everything I ever say? Of course you are not a master of anything, but you are too young to be Mister, so you are a Master."

"I..." Eyes went up to her instantly, a heavy frown on his expression as he clamped his mouth shut. For a moment he watched her, holding onto the reminder that she was tending to his injury and that required a certain tact to his response. He had a lot of new found respect for the woman, but like with Tate, no matter the respect, he would always be honest. He just had to learn how to be tactful with that honesty.

"I wasn't aware everything I said was a challenge to you." Did he really sound like that all the time? "I was just asking if it was possible to just call me Sabel or Dakest for my own personal preference. It was just that, my perception." Could he not give his opinion on anything?

Tact. There had to be tact. But still...

"I apologize if I offended." Turning his eyes down, he let them trail across the red marks on his arm, his voice dropping quietly. "It wasn't my intention." Probably not a good idea to tell her he didn't like the sound of Mister Dakest either.

Hecate sighed.

Really? He was challenging her again? "You Gryffindors are going to be the death of me." She whispered to herself. That was true in more ways than one.

"Very well, Dakest, if you wish me to drop the title, I shall." She said and turned to her cauldron. She summoned a wide mouth jar and put the rest of the unction inside it with her bare hands. "Just apply this every morning until it is gone... It should last you the month." She said and then began to clean her hands with her wand.

...

"How are you..." coping with the loss of your mother?

Nehh...

"...doing?"

Hecate Lafay. Humanitarian.

Not.

A few rapid blinks left him at her statement before he let out a small breath and returned his eyes to watching what she was doing. Gryffindors could be...difficult in a manner of speaking. He could be difficult.

Still, he was rather surprised when she yielded to his request. Blinking up at her, he slowly took the unction from her, all the frustration fading away. "...Thank you..." For both.

And then, yet again, she surprised him. He was quickly losing count on how many ways Lafay was showing him she was not what he had assumed her to be. She was asking how he was? In what context? Given the current scenario however, he assumed the present and gave a slow nod of his head. "Better...thank you."

Sweet Circe... Did he mean now? With his arm?

"And... in general?" she asked.

Drop it Hecate...

"With school... and..."

DROP IT!

"... home?"

...

Was this the same Lafay he had known last year.

A few more surprised blinks left him before he nodded his head again, slower. "School is...confusing." Why couldn't he just say 'good'? "And home is...still painful." Again, good would have been a good answer.

Dropping his eyes he gave a slight shrug of his shoulders. "But that's life right?"

"It is." She said a little coldly. "But what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. Remember that."

... kill you. Bad analogy.

"What about school has you confused?" She asked sitting back behind her desk and motioning to the empty chair in front of him.

That was a little more like Lafay. And then that was a lot less like Lafay. Since when did she take time for personal conversation? Then again, when before had he even felt comfortable having a personal conversation with her. The coin flipped both ways.

Slowly, and with some hesitation, he took up residence in the empty chair, still holding his arm by the elbow. It was more a stance out of memory than any pain. Apparently shock took some time to wear off.

"Just...the Statue business." He shrugged his shoulders a little. She knew his stance on helping muggles. "And its just been very...quiet lately." Did he dare tell her the silence in the school made him edgy? Something was always happening at Hogwarts and the beginning of the year had been somewhat chaotic with the curriculum alteration. Now, he had either gotten used to it, or something had fallen silent.

"Statute," she corrected, "A statue is a stone representation some people refer to as art... a Statute is a law." She said and then added. "You were invited to Borr's party. I will be there. And there is where you can speak to people about changing the statute."

Then she stared at him... "You don't like quiet?" She asked.

Statute, statue. The English language really needed to stop being so similar. That or he needed more rest.

Shifting slightly, he gave a shrug of his shoulders. "Its not that I don't like the quiet. I do. I really do. Especially after....last year." Last year, the school had been relatively quiet aside from the tournament, but his home life had been hell. "It's more that...Hogwarts has a history of being a plank in some rocking ship or another. And at the beginning of this year, it was rocking quite a bit. But it just went quiet." Something like expecting another hit, another crashing wave and just waiting for it. "It's a little unnerving."

But then, there was that. The invitation that he had received. Perhaps it was the next wave? "Why....were we invited?" His eyes went back to Lafay, a frown creasing his brow. "I understand that some of the students are good representatives for Hogwarts and others have a diplomacy and natural ability to forge good impressions and relationships." But some of them were more likely to be a hazard than anything. Including himself. [b]"I...don't understand why I was invited. I'm probably one of the worst people you could bring to a political gathering."

Lafay laughed. Yes. Laughed. He was right. The boy's brain wasn't connected to his mouth the way his heart was. "I believe you were invited because..." She thought about it... "Well... Truth be told, I'm not really sure. It may be that the Headmaster recommended you for some job with the ministry and they want to meet you in a social environment prior to interviewing you... or it may have something to do with your first potions essay. I took it upon myself to show the essays to certain ministry officials I know. Or it could be totally random..."