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That Butler
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Bad Jew

Vicente had been so lost in his painful thoughts that he hadn't even noticed the half-Veela's presence until she spoke to him, yanking him back to the present and causing him to give a small jerk in surprise. His eyes narrowed at her, lingering pain clearly visible within them, then he shifted a little further away from her. Honestly, he didn't trust himself to be in too close of proximity to any of these people. Certainly not Tyler, though. The scent of her Veela blood was enticingly sweet, and he did not want to risk a lapse in control.

He gave her no answer, preferring to sit in silence and return to his thoughts. They kept fixing on Madeline no matter how hard he fought to put them on other topics. It was hard to lose one's soul mate, and he found himself nearing tears as he kept thinking about her. She would have loved this view. She had always wanted to sit by the shore and watch the sun slowly sink below the watery horizon. Sadly, they had never gotten to enjoy this sight together. They never would.

Vicente had not told anyone other than Hermione about Madeline, and he wasn't sure if she had spoken to anyone else about it. Whether or not she had, somehow the word had gotten around the Order that Vicente was with them to seek revenge for his dead friend. Apparently the nature of his relationship with Madeline remained a secret, and he would prefer for it to stay that way. He didn't want anyone's pity or sympathy. He just wanted his revenge. Then he'd never have to see these people again. He doubted they would miss him at all.
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