Morela smiled weakly at Josh's brush off of the whole situation. She knew she had been kneedled on by that horrible woman but part of her, the part of her that took being referred to as a werwolf in a negative way far to personally, was also upset that she had allowed herself to make such a horrific scene. It was simply that it seemed to give Skeeter what she wanted. Oh! The way she walked out of the courtyard with such a disgusting smile.

"What was it's bloody name again?"

"Greezabella!"

Morela piped up, this time a little more enthusiastic with her response. She busied herself with wiping the blood from her knee and the palms of her hands. There wasn't much but certainly enough to dirty Josh's clean rag he had handed her. Scattered with blood, the rag sat limply in her hand. Morela's green eyes were transfixed on the rag, specifically the blood, and she seemed almost to be in a thoughtful sort of reverie with her brow furrowed while biting her lip. It seemed so normal, she'd wiped blood from herself time and time before when she played quidditch. It should seem all the same, but it was drastically different it seemed. The blood on the rag in her hand wasn't just blood, it was werewolves blood. It wasn't like Josh's blood, hell it wasn't like the blood in the veins of anyone at that party. It may appear to be to be normal but she knew it would always be different, just like her.

Oh, you look so tired
Mouth slack and wide
Ill-housed and ill-advised
Your face is as mean
As your life has been