It was amazing how loud everything was.

People talking, just... speaking words that all seemed to blend together to form what could only be described as noise. To her they were all meaningless. None were meant for her, and anyway, she prefered it that way. But the sheer amount of noise around her was troubling. Perhaps she'd been studying too much again or something (although it still baffled Alannah how anyone could ever study too much), but the noise seemed to penetrate her skull, ruffling up the thoughts inside and leaving everything sort of ... messy. It was an unpleasant sensation, which made her feel disorganised, although all her notes were properly filed, and disheveled, though not a hair on her head was out of place, all neatly pulled back in a bun. An entirely senseless experience, in Alannah's opinion, but not one that she was able to avoid, despite the knowledge of this. It would have been easier if she could have traced it to some sort of a source, but it wasn't a practical sort of a problem like with a charm or some sort of Transfiguration exercise. If there was an equation that was out of balance, she couldn't work out what it was. Perhaps it was that she spent so much time alone that a single human voice could be very disturbing, or perhaps it just came from her having been avoiding most people for the last few days. The best she could really come up with was that it was just 'one of those days', which was a wholly inadequate explanation and did not help her at all.

All that she could do, which she did after spending about half an hour walking around Hogsmeade, was to head for some place quieter, where she could wait for three o'clock to come and then head back to the school with the last few students who generally made a lot less noise, being in the process of running to make it back in time.

Of course, to find a place like that was not so easy at this time, when the village was practically swarming with students, the scene flecked with Hit Wizards who watched everyone in a way that made Alannah uneasy. Even if most people grumbled about the shorter timings and cribbed about the constant supervision, the implication of it wasn't lost, not at least on her. The difference was evident; there was a sense of urgency in the air. All of which just added up to become a whole lot of noise, like disturbance over the wireless network, just buzzing about in her head, inexplicable and monumentally aggravating. Especially since getting away from it was hardly an option, for how on earth did one run away from one's own thoughts? It was just the sort of useless, unanswerable question that added to her frustration. For yes, she was frustrated, agitated for reasons that remained ambiguous mostly because there were a great number of things pressing on her; all of which, when dealt with separately, were really rather minute and insignificant. And she knew this, which irritated her still more, for somehow, she'd let it get to her.


Making her way to a slightly quieter spot towards the less appealing parts of Hogsmeade, which were not crowded with students, had not been easy. The watchful eyes of the Hit Wizards were difficult to avoid, but then again, Alannah had spent five years perfecting the art of being visibly invisible. It took her a few minutes, but she soon found what she was looking for; an empty alleyway between two houses, where she could lean against the wall and breathe. It was colder here, certainly, but the silence was preferable over the din that reigned in the shops. Even the book store had been unbearable, with a monotonous rhub-a-rhub echoing all around. Here, where the cold wind pulled a couple of strands of her hair out of their neat form, was far better, though she was acutely aware that she was hiding away, in a sense. One had to wonder why she had come to Hogsmeade at all. She wondered too, but the very idea going back to the castle to do nothing at all made her feel claustrophobic, somehow. As foolish as it did sound, nothing was happening at Hogwarts. Everything seemed oppressively motionless. Nothing moved. as insane as that did sound.

Perhaps she was going insane, but she knew that to be false too, as for the most of the part, she felt quite normal. And anyway, it would have been alright to have gone insane. The notion was no longer bothersome as it had once been. Insanity would have been welcomed, for insanity, at least, was dynamic. The inertia of her life at present made her want to ... oh, she didn't even know that. But the urge to do something radical was nearly overwhelming. For to have knowledge of something big, in even the smallest part, was a burden, one that pushed one towards action of some sort; but there was nothing for her to do that she could think of. It was perhaps fortunate, thus, that she was saved from thinking any more. Stiffening suddenly, she shifted further backwards into the alleyway.
The unwelcomed sound
s of footsteps reached her ears, unmistakeable through the silence that surrounded the area.

No one ever came by here, unless they were doing something they weren't meant to; which was usually a visit to the Hog's Head, which lay a bit futher up ahead. Alannah frowned slightly, moving back just a bit more. Really, to be discovered by some student with nefarious intent at the moment would be most unfortunate. Not that they would report her, being out of bounds themselves, in a sense. But really, she had no wish to enter into an agreement of sorts with anyone, or to answer questions about why exactly she was here, and who exactly she was waiting for. The sort of questions that were typically accompanied by raised eyebrows, basically. Stupid inquisitions into her supposedly sordid life, full of affairs with betrothed seventh year Slytherins and so on. It was tedious to have to laugh it off, and in her present mood, asking her something of the sort would have been unwise, especially since the only person she'd ever even thought of waiting for would not be coming. Or perhaps it wasn't a student at all. Perhaps it was a Hit Wizard, or whoever the Hit Wizards were looking for. In either case, being discovered here would be unfortunate. There was a crate of something or other at the other end of the alley that began to look altogether very appealing to Alannah.

As it turned out, there was no need. For Charles Montague didn't have the time to look into unassuming alleyways while on his way to the Hog's Head.

A soundless 'huh' of surprise of escaped her lips. The Head Boy of Hogwarts, heading towards an unpleasant, probably illegal pub without his general clique of friends at his tail... oh, that was dubious indeed. None of her business, certainly, but most utterly odd. And despite that she wanted absolutely nothing to do with Montague, who was, in her opinion, an insult to everything in general, it was intriguing. The only reason anyone would want to go to the pub was to get a drink, which he, certainly, could do in better quarters (or perhaps not, she was unclear on the general etiquette surrounding drinking), or to meet someone. Such as Montrose, came the immediate thought, but she dismissed it, for the plain reason that Montrose was hardly likely to want to meet someone at the Hog's Head. Which was not, on Alannah's part, an educated guess, but it brought her to a different conclusion. A more disturbing conclusion, based on more than just the vague impression she had of Montrose. Based on things she'd heard when working at St. Mungo's. Things that left her surprised about Dumbledore's decision to let Montague keep his badge.

For a moment, Alannah stood there, looking at the wall before her, thinking. This problem was of a different nature, for it had a beginning and it had an end, though at the moment she could see neither. But she had enough dots on her paper to be able to make some sort of a connection, to get some kind of a picture; one that had been forming ever since she'd encountered Macnair so many months ago. It remained incomplete. The question was only whether she wanted to leave it just so.

But she couldn't do that, of course. It was a little too late for that.

Aware that she was doing something inexplicably foolish, she pulled up the hood of her cloak, and stepped out of the alleyway. The cold wind nudged her forwards, and wrapping her cloak around herself a bit tighter, she made her way towards the pub, feeling quite a bit uncertain of herself, a sensation made worse by the fact that she'd never so much as stepped foot into the Hog's Head. The place, as far as Alannah knew, was foul; but foul places were ideal for meeting someone equally foul. It didn't make her following Montague any less foolish, really, and a day or two later, it would probably feel even more foolish. But there were somethings that one just had to do, despite how stupid it felt. As predicted, Montague made his way to the dingy pub, disappearing into the dimly lit room as Alannah watched him. Looking around to see if someone had followed her - no one had, from what she could make out at least - she followed suit, keeping her hood up and her head down for as much as was possible. It didn't take much to slip in. For all the fuss people made of it, it was actually quite alright, aside from the somewhat odd smell, of cigarette smoke and alcohol and something stale (Alannah didn't want to venture a guess as to what that was). She slipped in as quietly as she could, trying to look as though she did this everyday.

And anyway, she told herself, what was it to anyone if she wanted to get herself a drink? That she had not the slightest clue what to order only occured to her a bit later. Would raising a finger and saying, "an Odgen's" suffice? She didn't know; her only experiences with actually ordering drinks had been with Billy Sawyer, but he'd had black spikes instead of hair, and with Braeden, but that had been a Muggle pub; so she wasn't entirely sure if either of those counted. Somehow, the idea of asking for a Butterbeer seemed exceedingly senseless. Suddenly nervous, she bit her lip. Her fingers were white against the dark wood of the table, the pub no warmer than the outside. Montague, she could see, sat at the bar-counter, apparently waiting for his order. Or perhaps for someone else.

Swallowing, she watched him from under her hood, ignoring the growing sensation of unease at the pit of her stomach.