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admiringlove · 3 years

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IX: aparecium; an incantation to always remember.

— you finally read all the other pages of his diary.

+pairing: miya atsumu x reader.

+genre: crossover(hq x hp); fluff; angst; frenemies to lovers.

+word count: 2.9k.

+warnings: FLUFF!! pls, if i don’t put fluff, some of my moots would cry(*cough* ray).

+usual customers(taglist): @babyworld @renee1414 @anotherhydrangea @seita @tobiosnoelle @weebslxt @tsukkiwaifu16 @loveusandoor @kozumebri @sarawrz @crackheadsara @kyuudere @cultsax @supernovaa-a @akaashikeijisan @b3llo-there @sugasloverr @kagebunshiin @tetsurolls @velvetfireworks @kritiiiii @1wai@seijohlogy @sweetrosemilktea @bellesowl @ems1des @akaashi-todorki @sakuric @irishhbamb @sweetsamus @cherriechurros @mxshimoo @bluebirdandcomrades @zukuroo @denki-core @sarahvvictoria @littlevoxine

+author’s notes: this is the last chapter(im def not sad) BUT i will be writing bonus parts!!

+navigation: previous, masterlist,.

You stand in front of your apartment, sighing as you close your eyes, making your way inside your bedroom and begin to pick up the cardboard boxes with the help of your wand, moving them outside into the living room for someone(who is quite late, yet again) to take to your new home.

You tie your hair up, fixing your overcoat a little as you sigh, making your way to the smallest box, placed in the corner of the room. Just by looking at the stamp on top of it, you smile.

The memories of your time at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

You carefully sit on your knees, your plaid skirt riding up just a smidge, as you open the carton in front of you.

To say that it was filled up completely was an understatement because right now, a few books and photographs fell out onto your lap, making you chuckle. You picked up the photographs, settling with your back against the wall and your legs stretching out, as you looked through them one by one.

The first one—one of your graduation ceremony, standing next to Shimizu Kiyoko(the current owner of the most popular Quidditch shop in London) who was beaming vividly at the camera with you, holding up your wands as a gesture that you had finally done it. Something that seemed almost insurmountable when you first started school, and now? You all were content, happy with your lives.

The second photograph was one from the third year, your first time in Hogsmeade. You were in The Three Broomsticks, and a mustache of the froth from the butterbeer had formed atop your lips. Behind you, a certain fox pointed and laughed his guts out.

The next picture was from the Shrieking Shack—where all of your friends had ditched the second last day of school and spent the whole day drinking and reminiscing the past seven years of nostalgic happiness. A boy held your hand with the fondest look in his carob orbs, and you returned it.

You gingerly took the three photos, storing them in the photo album that had also fallen out of the box in the process of you opening it. Smiling, you took out some more mementos.

Your broomstick, the Nimbus 2001, sat at the bottom, but you excitedly removed it and placed it on the ground, saying, "Up!"

It almost made it to your hand but fell down upon grazing your fingertips. You pouted, blaming the number of years it had passed since you had played Quidditch. Peering into the box as you placed the broomstick aside, you found something even funnier.

Cheap, piss colored hair-dye that was almost ten-years-old.

You chuckled, looking at it playfully as you opened the top of the bottle. The disgusting odor that came from it made you grunt as you immediately placed the cap back on top, never desiring to touch that thing ever again. And once more, you placed the item in your hand to the side, looking into the box to find more things that reminded you of your happiest years.

You couldn't believe your eyes at what sat at the bottom of the carton.

An empty notebook with a soft leather cover, with a grey quill by its side, sitting there and ridiculing you.

You blinked twice, making sure what you were seeing was real. Hell, you even rubbed your eyes until you could see mindless patterns in the dark. You opened your eyes, the patterns making themselves sort of visible in plain sight, disappearing after a few milliseconds when you grabbed the brown book in front of you and whispered with your wand in hand, "Aparecium."

September 2, 20**.

I don’t know what I’m doing at this point. It’s been 3 years since I started loving her. When I saw her walk into the train today, umm, yesterday cause it’s past 2 AM now… I felt so happy?? I mean, I know I tease her and all, she’s quite amazing. She’s got the brains for it all and insults me back even when I say something stupid. I really dunno. 3 years and I’ve made 0 progress. I seriously need to re-think my decision about my love for this girl 'cause 'Samu says there’s no chance she loves me back. Dunno if I’ll be able to stop my feelings, though. I’ve liked her since my second year. Damn me, for being such a lovesick puppy. And to think I colored my hair for her too. [Y/N] called it piss-colored. Out of all things, why the fuck would ya compare somebody’s hair to piss? That’s utterly disgusting. I wonder where [L/N] gets these dumb ideas. Damn her, that slug. Anyways, I have class in a couple hours. G'night.

'Tsumu.

You immediately let out a hearty laugh, flipping to the next page when you remembered a certain encounter with the boy who wrote the diary. The day he told you he loved you, by the infamous Black Lake, he spoke of this particular page. He said that he addressed the nightly trips around Hogwarts, about how much he longs to be yours, about his happiness when he sees you, and your snarky comments that are just as, if not more, witty than his.

September 4, 20**

Today was the third day of school. Also my first trip around Hogwarts with [Y/N] under my invisibility cloak. We snuck into the kitchens and got ourselves steak pies and treacle tarts, and then went to the Astronomy Tower where we ate them while laughing about nothing in particular. I love these little trips. They make me all warm and fuzzy inside. Dunno how to put it into words, but I really like spending time with her alone. It makes me really really really happy. I wish that someday, maybe when I'm all grown up and play for a known Quidditch Team and she's a DADA professor, we are still like this. Going around to aimless places, eating food, and laughing about the old times(or anything really, I just want to be with her even when I'm older). And just like always, she doesn't fail to throw dumb comebacks at me. I can't help but chuckle at them, because sometimes they really are offensive. Well, looks like it's time to hit the hay now, so g'night.

'Tsumu.

You gasp as the page comes to an end, a hand on your mouth. He wasn't wrong when he said he wrote about you. You smile as a tear runs down your cheek as you flip to a random page this time, and you realize that it's written in his sixth year of Hogwarts.

December 23, 20**

I stayed back for Christmas break this year and my dorm is all empty. So is hers, because she says she didn't want to go back home at all until the summer. I feel bad for her gran, that woman must feel lonely.

You giggled at the line, grinning because you remember your grandma sending you a Howler, which yelled at you in the empty dorm-room for not coming home for the holidays. She said she missed you, and that your grandfather's health was deteriorating. She had also said that she knew why you didn't come back, and that it was okay, because she understood that you couldn't see another loved one go. The Howler ended on a sorrowful note, but everything eased back into its place because you remember the writer of the diary in your hands being there to comfort you when a dreaded letter came in after the holidays. You continued reading where you left off, wiping away the new wave of tears that had emerged from the memories.

Yesterday, me and [Y/N] went around the castle under the invisibility cloak I gave her. It was fun because I always get to see this little smile on her face that only shows up during these trips. We also went to the forbidden section of the library just because we wanted to look at a few spells that are probably illegal. I did accidentally kill a rat practicing the second unforgivable curse, and [Y/N] helped me hide all the evidence by feeding the dead rat to the Hippogriff she had found in the Forbidden Forest. I swear, if someone saw the way I did the spell and couldn't stop until [Y/N] threw Expelliarmus at me, they would throw me in the deepest pin in Azkaban and I'd probably never be able to see [Y/N] again. Anyway, I have to go back out for dinner now. G'night.

'Tsumu.

You, again, laughed at the man's childishness. You recollect distinctly how scared he was, that he had almost pissed his pants in the Courtyard that night. You had assured him that nothing would go wrong and that your lips were completely sealed, because he was your friend of course, so you had quickly formulated a plan to help him. And yet again, you flip to a new page, one from the fifth year this time.

July 15, 20**

I hate this part every year. Ever since my third year, it sickens me to come back home for summer. I can't see her because she lives in Lambeth while I'm in Westminster with my posh family. It makes me a little angry sometimes that my family is well-known in the wizarding world because this means my summers are filled with whatever my parents want me to do. The train ride back home was definitely not quiet. It was so chaotic(mostly because of the constant bickering between me and [Y/N]) and Kita-san yelled at us at the end. That was the first time I've ever seen him get angry, so he was either really fed up or we were being too dumb. Anyway, I'm gonna miss Hogwarts a lot for the next month or so, because after that I get to see her again. Honestly? Can't wait for the sixth year. I hope she grows taller, because right now, she's quite the midget. I'll write her a letter or two, but I probably won't send all of them. G'night for now.

'Tsumu.

You continue reading it all. Page by page, parchment by parchment, word by word, letter by letter until you finally get to the last page. The one he wrote on the graduation day, where he says that he wants to marry you someday. But you don't get to read it just yet, because he walks into the room with his booming voice and boyish grin.

"[Y/N]! Sorry I'm late, sweetheart! I apparated back home as fast as I could 'cause Coach saw me slack off a lil-"

"So ya actually read it all, huh?" he smirks, walking up to you and crouching down next to you, "Ah, the last page, have ya read it yet?"

"Not the last one," you smile, "—if only I'd read these sooner, we wouldn't have gone through all that mindless drama in seventh year, right?"

"Eh, 'twas kinda worth it in the end," he shrugs, sitting down next to you and placing his thumb on your chin, "Love, you've been crying?"

You shook your head lightly, letting out a small chuckle which to him sounded like the sweetest melody on the face on the planet, "Tears of joy, 'Tsumu. You were a cute teenager in love."

He smiles with his teeth on display, his fading blonde hair falling on his face with perfection as he whispers, "Only for you, darling."

"I'm glad," you mutter, closing in and placing a ghost of a kiss on his lips when you realize, "Wait, shit! We have to take all of this to the House! I'm supposed to leave for Hogwarts tonight!"

"Kiss me first, then we'll talk."

"'Tsumu, you really didn't have to come all the way to Hogwarts to drop me off," you giggle, as the yellow-haired man intertwines his fingers with yours quietly, giggling along with you as he says, "Hey, now yer students get to see yer hot boyfriend that you've been with for the past eight years."

"My stupid boyfriend that did a lot of illegal things in school. You're not exactly a good influence, you know," you mumble, earning a little offended open-mouth Atsumu walking alongside you to your quarters. He continues faking the vexed expression, a hand on his heart as he says, "How could ya wound me like this, baby?"

"I love you though, so it's justified," you say, opening the door and placing your trunk by the bed. He closes the door, leaning on it with his arms crossed over his chest as you set up your things in the room. When you turned around, you saw Atsumu looking at you with the most enamored look in his clove-infused eyes. You sighed, your shoulders immediately relaxing when your orbs land on him by the door. You step towards him, your beige trench coat trailing behind as you wrap your arms around his very muscular figure(now that he's a part of Nottingham Jackals as a Beater).

"You're going to leave, aren't you?" you mumble against his chest softly, as he chuckles out, "Yer lucky ya get to stay in Hogwarts when I'm gone. Everything's gonna remind ya of me."

Before you open your mouth to retort, your boyfriend says, "Don't worry, slug. I'll send ya letters everyday. And I'll come to meet ya twice a month. Maybe you can even let me meet yer students."

"'Tsumu, no-"

"Imagine! Children and teenagers, all of 'em love me to death. They'll love yer class, even more, when you make me meet 'em!" he exclaims, his eyes filled with curiosity, "Also, also! What about the third years? I wanna be there when the boggart lesson goes on-"

"'Tsumu, no. The school won't allow it. Although, my students do come and ask about you a lot because they like your Quidditch playing skills. They're not idiots like me, they won't fall in love with your stupid personality," you chuckle, pulling away from the hug, but still holding his arms with yours. He pouts, pulling you into a soft kiss, but immediately pulling away and winking at you, "I'm gonna see ya in a few weeks. Maybe I'll take ya on a date to Hogsmeade again, we can sneak into the Shrieking Shack again under that invisibility cloak."

"'Tsumu, I'm a teacher, not a student!" you laugh, but he simply says, "If anything, that gives us an excuse!"

Miya Atsumu never expected you to be agitatedly running around in your green-room, trying to find things for your hair and make-up. He chuckles lightly because all the other people in the room can do is shake their heads and sigh at your frantic state. Your maid-of-honor, Kiyoko, tried to calm you down about half an hour ago, but it was to no avail.

Atsumu sent Kiyoko a knowing glance, to which she and all the other bridesmaids stepped outside for just a minute.

"[Y/N]," he says, his voice low but still soothing. You stop in your tracks, turning around and gasping as you looked at him—clad in sweatpants and a white shirt—and widened your eyes.

"Dummy, you aren't supposed to see me just yet! Go away and wait at the altar!" you yell, walking over to him and attempting to shove him outside the room.

Emphasis on the word, 'attempting'.

"You look exactly like what you are right now, a slug. So listen to me, love. I need to give ya something before you start stressin' out all over again," Atsumu murmurs, placing his hands on your shoulders tenderly as he pulls out a book with a leather cover and hands it to you.

You sigh, picking it up as you sit down by the vanity. Atsumu looms behind you, crouching down to whisper next to your ears, "Love, open the last page, will ya?"

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, turning your head to look at him with exasperation. He places a peck to your cheek, humming indulgently as an indicator for you to continue as he instructed. You sigh again, shoulders drooping low as you turn over the book and open it, and muttering, "Aparecium."

July 2, 20**.

I want to marry [L/N] [Y/N] someday.

Miya Atsumu.

From the last day of the seventh year, and Atsumu continues to explain to you that during the train ride back home when all of you were sleeping, was when he wrote the last entry of his diary, and never opened it again. Because he knew, that he meant every word scribbled on every page.

You sat there, listening to the man with the messy faded blonde hair, losing yourself in his perfect brown eyes all over again. You felt as if you were diving deep into an ocean of pure chocolate, the sweetness and the slight bitterness getting the best of you as you drown—but voluntarily, because drowning was your intention.

"I love you, Atsumu," you say out of nowhere, cutting him off. He stops abruptly, his eyes growing wide and his mouth forming into a pout. His lips form into the brightest smile ever, as if the rays of a thousand suns meeting at one point. His boyish grin melts your heart, as he presses his lips to your forehead and says, "I love you more, darling. Now, take a breather, will ya?"

"Oh, and before I go. Don't disappoint me today, slug. I've been waiting to do this for the past eleven years."

i’m not crying. yes.

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rons-hermiones · 3 years

Text

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Fourteen

“What is it?” He asks impatiently.

“How did she know all this?” The old man whispered to himself, almost amazed as he skimmed the pages.

“What is it?” Harry asked again, this time louder.

“And this book, I, I didn’t even know it still existed, I thought,” he’s talking to himself, but Harry is still listening.

“Listen to me!” He boomed, Dumbledore knew something. And as far as Harry knew, this something could get Hermione back, or at the very least help him understand what Voldemort might want with her.

Dumbledore snapped out of it to meet his green eyes.

“Is this, whatever this is, can we get her back?” Harry almost whispered, pushing down any hope best he could.

“I’m afraid,” the old man's voice is shaking, “I’m afraid this only endangers Hermione further.”

Feeling bold, Harry moves forward and tries to snatch the leather bound book Hermione’s been scribbling in. However, Dumbledore is faster despite his age and pulls it out of Potter’s grasp.

“Harry.” He warns, voice dangerously low.

The dark haired boy recognized that voice, the last time he heard it was when Dumbledore had told the Gryffindor to get closer to Slughorn, for his memory.

And it clicks.

“This is about what you needed from Slughorn, isn’t it?” His voice is stronger than he thought was capable with all the guilt wracking his mind.

“No one can know.” The white haired man says.

“Hermione does.”

“She shouldn’t.” Dumbledore says sharply, “I don’t even know how.”

“Tell me,” Harry’s begging, “please.”

The headmaster shakes his head a little, “I don’t even understand it myself, not fully.”

He sits on the edge of the cot Hermione had been occupying, it still smells like her. He wonders how long that’ll last, “please sir.”

Sighing in defeat, he sits next to him, “I knew that Voldemort had employed ancient dark magic to keep him so strong and I suspected he shared as much with Professor Slughorn. I believe that Hermione has found the very thing I’ve tasked you with retrieving from Horace’s memory.” He explained.

“And what is it?” Harry whispers.

“A horcrux, it conceals a part of a dark wizard or witches soul, the logistics are unclear, but it leads to immortality.”

“You think he’s made a Horcrux?” The Boy-Who-Lived asks.

Dumbledore nods, “possibly several, but I can’t be sure. Even I am not fully aware of the extent of these objects, there’s only been one text written on it. I had thought the very book was destroyed decades ago.”

“The book...” he trails, pointing to the black thing splayed on the ground.

The old man nods, “yes, it’s contents contain that of Dark Magic. I had every intention to destroy the book myself, but Headmaster Dippet disagreed. By the time I was appointed, I was under the impression a boy named Tom Riddle had obliterated the only copy in existence.”

“How would Hermione have gotten it?” She’s the last person who’d break any sort of rules.

Dumbledore shook his head, “I don’t know. It also appears several pages are missing, those I believe outline how to destroy a Horcrux. Miss Granger is exceptionally brilliant, more so than I am, she must’ve hid them away knowing how crucial it was.”

Harry nodded somberly, pondering on why Hermione didn’t tell him.

The professor broke his revere, once again sounding frantic, “would anyone know?”

He shook his head fiercely, “she didn’t tell me. Her and Ron haven’t spoken in a while. Ginny maybe, we can ask,” he began.

“No!” The man's voice boomed, Harry jumped, “no, no one can know.” He says calmer.

After a moment, a tense moment, the chosen one speaks with so much conviction, it shakes Albus Dumbledore himself to his very core.

“No.”

All the headmaster can do is scrunch his brow in confusion.

“Ron, he deserves to know.” Harry states.

Knowing there’s no point in arguing, the old man grants him this mercy, “just him, no one else Harry. This, this changes everything.”

And though Potter can’t comprehend how important this is, he nods anyway, sensing as much.

“You have to be strong, Harry. Now more than ever. Mister Weasley, I fear he has the potential to stumble down a long path of darkness. You must steer him of that, you must be strong.” He tells him.

“I don’t know how,” The chosen one admits quietly, eyes looking around the small room, “Hermione, she’s always been strong enough for the three of us.”

And it’s true. Whenever Harry is too exhausted to carry on, it’s always Hermione who stays up looking for a solution. It’s Hermione who makes sure he and Ron have a good time at Quidditch despite all the bad. It’s her who keeps them going.

“Now you must find the strength she once possessed. For yourself, for Ron, for Hermione. It’s the best chance she has.” Albus tells him softly.

Silently, Dumbledore charms both the book and diary, no doubt putting protective enchantments on them as he slides it back into her trunk.

Just when he makes a move to tell Harry they should go back downstairs and act as if nothing happens, someone speaks.

“What happens if he finds out Hermione knows?” The young boy's voice is trembling.

For a brief second Dumbledore’s voice catches in his throat, “I fear for the worst.” Is all he can manage.

...

Soon they go downstairs, no one questions how long they’ve been gone. Ginny however, does ask if they found anything. Quickly, almost awkwardly, Harry says no. No one seems to catch the lie, except for Ron.

Before he can question his friend, a small group enters the room.

Lupin, Tonks, Moody, McGonagall, and Kingsley walk in, however their arrival is anything but joyous.

Ignoring any niceties being exchanged, he stands numbly as they speak to Dumbledore. A few minutes later, they disburse a few Weasley’s as well.

“Ronald, would you mind accompanying me outside? I would like to make sure no traces of dark magic were left behind.” He says to the younger boy.

“Albus, I don’t think that,” Molly tries again delicately.

“It’s alright Mum. I’ll be fine.” Without another word, he walks to the door, not even bothering with a coat. He hopes the cold air will sting his skin and make him feel something.

They step outside as Ron wordlessly leads Dumbledore over to the oak tree.

“What happens if there is dark magic left behind?” The ginger all but whispers.

Weasley hears the old man's lips smack against each other as he starts to speak, “it’s a very rare, very powerful thing, but it seems those from the noble house of Black are able to master such things.”

“Such as?” The boy implores.

“Sometimes, if say an ancient spell, or even something dark like an unforgivable curse is used, a wizard or witch powerful enough may be able to trace the source of the dark magic.” Dumbledore peers over to see Ron looking confused, “essentially, if something other than expelliarmus was used, depending on the spell, Bellatrix is able to call to the connection of her magic here, she can apparate back.”

Ron hadn't realized it, but they had stopped walking, the tree in sight, but they weren’t exactly there.

“And if it is there, how do you, you know, stop her?” He gulped. Asking questions was a line of defense, as he tried to block his mind from the thought of an unforgivable curse used on Hermione.

“I shall expel the magic from the area, strengthen the wards, extend the apparition line.” He assured.

“Bellatrix,” he whispered, “she never, she never passed the wards, Harry, Hermione, and I, we ran out of them.”

The headmaster nodded, “yes, if nothing else you and your family will be safe as long as you stay within the bounds.”

Ron opens his mouth to make some snarky comment about what good that did Hermione, but refrains from it. He’d hate to see so much as a hair out of place on someone else’s head he cared about. This was enough pain to last him a lifetime.

At the silence, the ginger breaks it by continuing his stride to the tree, dreading every second as he goes.

Again, wanting to avoid the inevitable, he talks again, “I reckon someone should do the same at the Granger’s.” It’s unspoken, but the fact that Death Eaters could go after them is very plausible. Something that’s been eating at Hermione for a while.

“The wards have been placed around the Granger’s house after the tournament. Hermione requested her parents not know about their placement. The order checks in.” He assures.

“Oh.” Ron breathes stupidly. Hermione is brilliant, he’s not surprised, he just should’ve realized. He also wishes she didn’t do it alone.

A Gryffindor through and through, the bravest of them all she was, is, he reminds. Now it’s his turn to be the courageous one, to buck up and face her parents, help the order anyway he could, and get her back.

And like he can read Ron’s mind, Dumbledore breaks his thoughts, “don’t worry yourself too much Ron, there will be time for that later,” to worry about Hermione’s family, about her, “for now we must focus. One thing at a time.”

With a huff of air, his shoulders ease the slightest bit, but are still tense. Ron finally steps to the tree, focusing viciously on the unfamiliar incantation Dumbledore whispers rather than the fact Hermione was here not long ago.

Then something catches his eye.

As the old man casts the spell, a glowing white light outlines the grass. There’s a few shapes, one is a silhouette of what Ron knows to be Hermione’s crumpled body, two outlines of pairs of shoes, but the other, it’s a rectangle.

Meaning, something was there on the ground as they apparated away, but it vanished with her.

After a moment he realizes, heart breaking as he does, “the book.”

Dumbledore drops his wand at the word.

“What did you say?”

“Book,” he chokes out, “the book, she grabbed onto it, it’s gone.” It was a gift, he was supposed to give it to her. Give her that and all the love he had to offer. To show he cared.

Then with a thud, his back is hitting the tree trunk as Dumbledore’s piercing eyes bore into his own.

“Book, what book?” He sounds panicked, more frantic than Ron ever imagined he could sound.

He just stares at him with wide, shocked eyes.

“Ron!” His voice booms.

The red head flinches, “a gift- a Christmas gift. It was Hogwarts, A History. That’s all.” He explains quickly.

At the admission, Dumbledore’s hands slide off his shoulder as he steps back. “My apologies.” The man says rather calmly.

However, Ron is anything but.

He slants his eyes to the most respected man in the Wizarding world, not caring less, “this is about that book, isn’t it? The one she’s been holding onto.” Realization strikes again, “Harry showed you, it means something doesn’t it? Come on, out with it!” He commands loudly.

“Keep your voice down. No one can know.” The white haired man tells him.

“Tell me what it is! Tell me it can help!” He pleads angrily.

“Mr.Weasley!” The headmaster roars, making the younger wizard slink back, turning red. “I will tell you what I know, if you swear this information stays strictly between us and Harry. Do you hear me, no one can know, this is life or death.”

Anxiously, Ron nods. He’s praying to whatever is up there that this information hasn’t reached Hermione. That this proclamation of life and death won’t touch her.

Dumbledore’s voice drops to a deadly whisper, “Miss Granger seemed to either knowingly or unknowingly, uncovered what I believe is the key to destroying Voldemort.”

Ron shivers at the name. Shivers even more at the prospect of what this could mean.

“The book she’s been immersed in, the last known person in possession of it, was Tom Riddle. I believed it had been destroyed upon his departure.”

“What’s in the book?” Weasley gulps.

The old man shakes his head, “dark magic. The darkest magic possible. The type of power that’ll make you wish you rotted in Azkaban rather than meet it’s fate.”

Still, Ron’s brow remains scrunch.

“A horcrux,” it’s barely audible, “bi products of murder, that if done correctly, can give one immense power, immortality.” He tells in a whisper.

“How do you destroy one?” It’s the first thing he thinks of, if these ruddy things are out there he wants them gone.

Regretfully, Albus sighs, “that’s the thing Ron, I believe only Hermione knows how to do that.”

“Meaning if she found these, whatever, she could then kill Vold,” he stops, “kill him.” He amends.

“Yes.” He nods slowly.

“And that’s exactly where she’s been taken to, to him!” Tears sting the corners of his eyes.

“Listen to me, you are fearing the worst, I doubt Voldemort even knows the extent of the information Hermione has, even if he really does suspect it.” His eyes meet Ron’s glassy ones, “and Miss Granger, she wouldn’t give it up for anything.”

“You see professor,” Ron chokes, “that’s exactly what I’m afraid of.” He admits.

Sadly, Dumbledore nods with sympathy, as he flicks his wand one more time. Ron bites his lip and closes his eyes shut at seeing the outline of Hermione again.

A moment later, the old man's voice causes him to open them, “there’s no dark magic here.” He promises.

Ron let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. At least it was one last thing to worry about.

“Now to strengthen,” Albus starts until a shriek sounds from inside the Burrow.

Without a glance, the ginger takes off toward his house. Surprisingly, Dumbledore doesn’t stray far behind as they clamber into the living room.

Lupin is dropped to his knees consoling the shaky body. Ginny is backed into a corner horrified. Molly is crying.

“I don’t, I don’t understand.” McGonagall’s uneasy voice says.

In front of Ron, is Harry Potter, writhing on the floor and clutching his scar.

“It’s him.” Is all he can say to the room.

#ron x hermione #ron and hermione #rons-hermiones come find me #ron weasley #hermione granger #romione #romione fanfic #hp fanfic #hp #sixth year

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h-styles-babes · 5 years

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Something Wicked

Hi guys! After a couple years of telling myself that I’m going to write a fic for Halloween, I’ve finally done it! I’m honestly kind of proud of myself, but I don’t think I would’ve gotten it done if not for my wonderful cheerleaders and ego boosters: @thicksniall @stylishmuser @harrysdodgyankles @takemedancingmaine @harrytheehottie @feminarrie @booksncoffee @fireawaynjh @midnghtcities @pagesuponstpages @almondharry

(I’m sure I missed someone, but ya’ll know who you are.)

This ended up being a long longer than I originally intended, so I will be posting it in two parts. Second part will be up tomorrow afternoon.

Thank you so much for reading!

Words: 13k

Warnings: Smut

Leaves crunched beneath three sets of feet as they trudged through the thick layer of fallen foliage that covered the forest floor. A crisp wind blew past the trio, whipping the girl’s hair around her face and ruffling the thick strands on the boys’ heads. The younger one was glad in that moment for the dramatic haircut he’d gotten just the month previous. Nothing was worse than trying to brush out his curly locks out after a windy day.

“Why are we doing this, again?” Harry asked, trying to shove his hands further into the leather jacket he was wearing. He’d much rather have been in a nice comfy jacket, maybe a nice fluffy jumper underneath, but no. Niall had been very adamant about both Harry and their other friend, the only girl in the group, Andie needing to be dressed in dark, “witchy” clothing for this occasion.

Niall was a photography major and needed some fall themed photos for a project. Andie had been his first choice as a model because…well, she already fit the aesthetic so well.

Andie, whose full name was even Andromeda (how much cooler could she get?) dressed year round like the epitome of a modern witch. If an item of clothing wasn’t black, it was blood red or deep purple, and she wore jewelry with symbols of the occult on it, and sometimes cats and bats. But that was because she thought the animals were cute. Whenever anyone ventured to ask why she dressed as she did, she simply shrugged and said, “I look cute.”

And she wasn’t wrong. The dark pallet of her clothes contrasted with the pale smoothness of her skin and flaming red of her hair. Her eyes were the most peculiar part of her, though. While they were most typically a pale blue, nearly grey colour, if you looked at her long enough, her friends would swear they’d turn purple.

So, Andie had been the obvious choice for the female model. Niall had mostly chosen Harry as a favour. Don’t get him wrong, Harry was an extremely attractive man and had the looks for a model, but Niall was especially being a good friend.

For as long as the two had known each other, Harry had harboured a huge crush on Andromeda.

They’d first met their first year of uni in an English class, where they’d been the only two people who’d completed the summer assignment of reading Pride & Prejudice. They’d joked together about the incompetency of their peers, and the rest was history.

Harry had obviously been first taken with her looks, because she had this almost otherworldly quality about her that was hard not to be drawn to upon first glance. But, very quickly, he’d realised her personality was exactly the type to which he responded most. She was quick and witty with enough dry humour to catch him off guard for just a moment before he started laughing. When he’d first brought her around his other mates, like Niall and Louis, they’d initially been a little taken aback by her appearance, but one joke about one of her professors that both Louis and Niall had the semester before, and it was like they’d all been the best of mates for years. She’d been hanging out with them ever since.

It had now been two years, and Harry had still not done anything to make it known that he was interested in her romantically. Everyone except for Andie knew about it, so his other friends had taken to trying to work their magic to get them together in different scenarios that had them spending ample amount of time together. Harry had yet to make a move, though, and he was running out of time. This was their last year at uni and then who knew where they’d all end up?

“Because the wind will do great things for Andie’s hair. And the leaves are pretty. Just stop complainin’ and this’ll go quick,” Niall told him.

Andie chuckled at both Harry’s whinging and Niall’s snappy response. Those two were like and old married couple. Andie found it endearing.

“Oh, perk up, Harry,” she encouraged, shoving her shoulder into his own. The heeled boots she was wearing got them closer to a similar height, so when she looked at him, she didn’t have to look up to meet his eyes. “It’s a beautiful day out, even with the wind. Now, put on your Blue Steel and take some proper photos for our dear Niall.”

Harry grumbled nonsense under his breath until they reached the clearing Andie had suggested to Niall as the setting for his photoshoot. It was a place she liked to come to get away for a little while when the constant happenings of the world for to be too much. It had an energy pulse to it that was calming and cleansing. It was good when she needed a breather.

It was also her prime spot for casting spells that required more than she inherently possessed in her being.

This particular spot in the forest just outside of the bustling center of Surrey was filled with ancient energy that had been infused by witches before her. There was an ancient enchantment placed around it that connected it directly to the energy at the core of the earth, coupled with the ageless magical energy. It was like a safe haven for all witches of pure intentions and those that needed its protection. Andie had chosen to attend uni here specifically to be close to this magical wonder.

Meeting Harry and Niall had been a happy coincidence. And keeping her status as a certified witch the whole time was nothing short of a miracle.

“This is beautiful, Andie,” Niall exalted, looking around. “It feels so…” Niall took a deep breath and sighed, “good.”

Even mortals could feel the good energy of this place.

This spot in the woods was almost completely cleared of trees and plants, aside from the plush grass. However, sat directly in the middle of the clearing was a large, pitch black rock. It was an obsidian boulder, which was a great medium for harnessing magical energy when more than a witch possessed was needed for a spell. Andie had spent many a full mood with artifacts surrounding the rock, incantations falling naturally from her tongue.

“This is pretty sick, mate,” Niall awed, running his fingers over the smooth surface of the stone. Andie couldn’t be sure if mortals could feel it, but the rock emitted a thrumming flow of energy, like a satisfied cat purring in your lap. She wasn’t even touching it, and the stone was sending a steady vibration through her being. Just standing there was making the magic that flowed through her system surge with the need to be used. This was not one of those visits, however.

“I figured it would be good for the shoot. It’s very autumn-y,” Andie agreed.

Harry joined them and ran his hand over the stone. His eyebrows raised in surprise. “It’s warm,” he marveled. He looked up to the sky. It was completely overcast that day, rain definitely threatening, and it had been since they’d woken that morning. He was confused as to how the stone could be so warm with no obvious source of heat.

“Obsidian is said to have magical properties,” Andie told him, tongue-in-cheek, trying not to laugh at her private inside joke. “Maybe you’re a little magical yourself, Harry.”

Andie watched as Harry’s cheeks tinged pink over her comment. She knew of Harry’s crush on her. In all honesty, she had a crush on him too. And she would have acted on it long ago, but she couldn’t risk Harry’s safety with her magical abilities. By simply being a witch, she was constantly at threat of being found and attacked. Everyone thought the witch trials had ended in the eighteenth century, but they were wrong. There were still the select few that targeted witches because of bizarre religious views, sort of like they prosecuted gays and certain races. And while those witch hunters were few and far between, she couldn’t risk getting closer to anyone than necessary. Even if it was just to prevent him from finding out her secret, it was all for the best.

However, it didn’t mean she would turn down the opportunity to shamelessly and harmlessly flirt with him and get him a little flustered.

Niall quickly called the two to order to get to work. The sun would be setting in about half an hour, and they had to get the whole shoot done in that time. He’d be able to take a set of them while the sun was actively setting, to really capture the essence of autumn, the sun blazing through the gaps in the leaves that were turning colours with the onset of the season. They were going to turn out beautiful.

Andie was trying to help Harry pose in a more causal position against the obsidian rock when an overwhelming sense of dread flooded through her body, nearly drawing her to her knees. She braced herself against the rock and Harry reached out for her, asking if she was alright. Honestly, Andie wasn’t sure, because she’d never felt something so strong and draining before. It stole her breath from her lungs, leaving her gasping. When Harry grasped at her elbows, it was like the contact burned, searing her skin. She looked around them with bleary eyes, sensing there must be something around them that was causing her such a severe reaction, given that she’d never had such an interaction with Harry before.

Just over Harry’s shoulder, she spotted a smoky, dark figure, menacing in just the way it made Andromeda feel, like something was tugging at her heart. It was shrouded in a dark, wispy cloak and the feet and hands that peeked around the edges were skeletal with bits of flesh clinging to it, like a decaying corpse. Andie had never seen one personally before, but she’d recognise the entity anywhere. It was a wraith. There was no telling how long it had been wandering the earth, but it was most likely the result of an immortality spell gone wrong.

Witches were already at a high predisposition to live longer lives than humans—typically around 150 to 175 years—but some sought out to live forever. There were more steadfast methods to achieve this, like drinking from The Fountain of Youth or consuming a tea steeped from the leaves of to Everlasting Tree, but both were rare to come by for the typical witch. There were spells that claimed to cast eternity on the witch who performed it, but if even the slightest mistake was made or the witch did not harness the correct amount of power, a wraith was borne from the offered life force of that witch. These dark entities were doomed to an eternity roaming the earth, seeking out life forces to steal to sate their own need for vitality. Before they administered their final, soul-sucking touch, they’d latch onto their target and slowly but surely submerge them into a crippling depression, priming them for offering over their very soul and all their energy when the wraith was ready.

And this one had just attached itself to Harry’s flourishing life force.

~*~*~*~*~

“Hey, S, I need your help,” Andromeda hushed out into her mobile, Niall and Harry walking a few paces ahead of her, back to Harry’s car. Andie was doing her best to cast the protective spell she’d long ago placed over herself over Harry to keep the wraith at bay. It wasn’t the strongest ward she could conjure up, but it was what she could manage around two mortals without an active incantation or new spell altogether.

“What’s going on?” Sarah asked, sounding like she’d been pulled from sleep, which was entirely possible. When Sarah wasn’t busy being one of the senior witches in their coven, she played in a band that typically took gigs in bars and pubs. She’d probably been out until three in the morning before going straight to her job at the local chemist at five. She typically got off at one in the afternoon and went straight to bed. Given the hour, she was probably only asleep for three or four hours before Andie called. She’d be more apologetic, but this was sort of an emergency.

“Harry’s got a wraith attached to him,” she whispered frantically into the mouthpiece, watching to make sure Harry and Niall weren’t paying attention to her. They were still walking beside each other, laughing about who knew what.

“You’re fuckin’ kidding,” she gasped, suddenly sounding much more awake.

“Obviously not. I’m keepin’ it back with a pretty typical warding spell, but it’s not gonna last. I don’t know enough about this stuff to do anything about it.”

“Keep Harry close for awhile. Do what you can with the warding spells. I’m gonna visit a friend who might be able to help,” Sarah said, already sounding like she was getting dressed. “Maybe ask your mum if she can add some strength tho these wards.”

“No way,” Andie vehemently disagreed. “She figures out I got my friends close enough to magic to attract a wraith and she’ll kill me.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Sarah scoffed. “Anyone can attract a wraith, magical or not. They’re life suckers. They don’t care where the source is coming from. Coulda happened at any time.”

“I took them to the clearing,” Andie told her.

Sarah was silent for a few beats, obviously realising it was no coincidence that Harry had been latched onto by the demon. “Okay, don’t tell her that part.”

Andie choked out a laugh, covering it with a cough so she wouldn’t draw too much attention to herself as Harry held the passenger door open for her once they reached his car. She thanked him and slid into the front seat.

“Alright, I’ll do what I can. Let me know when you figure something out,” she told Sarah. The older woman agreed and they hung up.

Andromeda watched with apprehension as the wraith lingered outside the car, unable to interfere directly with the human world. It just followed alongside the car as it traveled back to the university. The ward that Andromeda cast around the car was keeping it further than it would normally follow, creating a physical barrier that it couldn’t cross. While from what she knew about wraiths, it would linger around Harry for weeks, if not months, before executing its final blow, she was erring on the side of caution. She’d spend every second of everyday with Harry until they figured out how to get rid of this thing if that’s what it would take. She wouldn’t let harm come to her best friend because of her stupid decision to bring them to a magical space. She thought the protections put around the clearing was enough to keep out all the nastiness of the magical world, but apparently the energy emanating from it was enough to attract the desperate ones, too. Her mistake.

Andie was too focused on keeping up the stretch of her spell to notice the silent interaction Harry and Niall were having via the rearview mirror. Niall had initially tickled the back of Harry’s neck between the bars in the headrest to get his attention, and then started making expressions with his eyebrows and mouthing words to his friend in the reflection. Niall was trying to silently convince Harry to ask Andie to hang out further, since it was a Thursday and neither of them had class the following day. It wasn’t unheard of for Harry and Andie to hang out together, separate from the rest of their friends, but Niall needed Harry to make it very apparent that his intentions weren’t just about friendship. They only had this year left to get their shit together, and Niall wanted to see it happen, if not for Harry’s sake, then for his.

Harry eventually rolled his eyes and nodded, relenting to his friend’s insistence. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hang out alone with Andie, he just didn’t want to make it awkward when she realised he liked her as more than a friend. But he supposed he had to swallow his pride and get on with it at some point, and there was no time like the present. And there was nothing like two years of silent pining to make a guy want to finally make a move.

As they got closer to campus, Harry cleared his throat intentionally to get Andie’s attention, since she seemed pretty spaced out, her eyes focused on some invisible point just beyond the passenger window. She very slowly turned her head away from whatever she was staring at, and only tore her eyes away at the very last second, before looking at Harry. She had an expectant look on her face.

“Was wonderin’ if you and Niall wanted to hang out at mine. Have some beers, watch a movie?” he suggested, already knowing Niall was planning to decline. They obviously hadn’t decided on a concrete plan, but Niall would jump at any opportunity to get those two alone.

“Sorry, mate, can’t,” he declined, genuinely sounding solemn. He honestly probably was, since he wouldn’t get to witness two year’s of handiwork on his and Louis’ part finally coming to fruition. But it was for the greater good. “Need to get to work on editin’. Lots to do before I turn these in.”

Harry nodded. “Right. What about you, A?”

Andromeda had to work to prevent her face from lighting up at his suggestion. The whole ride over, she’d been trying to work up a way to get Harry to keep spending time with her so she could keep her eyes on him while Sarah was of getting whatever information they needed from her mysterious source. However, she hadn’t been anticipating him handing her a reason on a silker platter.

Instead, she gave him a small smile, like she usually would when she was agreeing to hand out with him. “Sounds good. Take me home first, though? I need to get some stuff.”

Her and Harry usually ended up staying at the other’s flat overnight when they did movies, so her request wasn’t odd. While she would get some things to change into, she also needed a few things to complete a protection spell over Harry, so that he’d be safe, even when he wasn’t in her presence. She’d still spend as much time with him as possible until they could figure out how to drive off the wraith, but she couldn’t be with him all day, everyday. They still had classes and jobs to get to and lives to live that made that impossible. She’d cast this more general spell first in order to give him a layer of protection, and then she’d get to work on finding a spell that more specifically warded off dark entities. Maybe her mum would have information on such matters. She was a member of the enclave, so the protection of magical beings and mortals alike was sort of her specialty.

They dropped Niall off first, so that he could get to his editing. Then Harry drove Andie to her flat. She insisted he come up with her, since she didn’t want him left waiting in the car. She had a bunch of things to gather and a cat to feed, after all. Not to mention, the projection of her warding spell only cast so far, and three levels up and two hundred yards away from the car park were a bit out of her range. She was powerful, but no simple spell had that sort of distance, unless it was cast on the other individual.

Harry fed Beelzebub, Andie’s three year old black cat, while she was off in her room, getting a bag together. Bub, as Harry affectionately shortened his name, seemed to have a permanent scowl on his face that sort of begged off anyone new that hadn’t been around him before, but Harry knew better. While Bub’s eyes looked like they were set in a constant furrow, he was a really sweet cat that loved chin scratches and head butted anyone that was at the appropriate height. Which was exactly why he hopped up on the arm of the couch, next to where Harry was sitting, after he’d finished his meal. He dipped his head to bump the top of it against Harry’s chin and promptly began purring. Harry gave Bub a good rub down, starting at his chin, working his way over the top of his head, and down his back, lingering at that place toward his tail that made him arch his back.

By the time Harry had completed the circuit a few times, Andie had rejoined him. She tapped the toe of her boot against his to draw his attention from the cat that was currently impersonating a motorbike on his lap. Andie had never known Beelzebub to purr so loud until Harry had made his first visit to her flat two years previous. He’d promptly sat himself in Harry’s lap and flipped over to expose his belly. He starting purring as soon as Harry scratched his fingers down the vulnerable pudge, and the rest was history.

Bub had been bestowed some magical properties upon his adoption into Andie’s life, as was normal for pets of witches, so he was more sophisticated and intelligent than a typical house cat—which were pretty smart anyway—but that didn’t mean he was above endless scratches and rubs.

“Ready?” Andie asked.

Harry looked from the cat in his lap to his friend stood in front of him. “Why don’t we just bring Bub with us? He’ll be fine at mine for a night.”

“Then who would be here to scare away any potential freaks that try to get into my flat?” Andie argued, sending a wink Bub’s way. He gave a short, succinct mew, as he knew his main duty when Andromeda was gone was to guard all the magical and nonmagical things that resided in her flat. Bub may only be a seven pound cat, but he wasn’t just claws and teeth. Those magical properties had been bestowed upon him for a reason.

“Fine. I just feel bad leavin’ him here by himself,” Harry said. He scooped Beelzebub up from his lap and set him down on the cushion beside him. He rubbed his head against Harry’s thigh as he stood. Andie swore that if the cat wasn’t magically tied to her, he’d have found a permanent home with Harry by now. He loved her, sure, but he had some weird obsession with her friend.

“He’s a tough guy, he’ll be fine,” Andie assured, not for the first time. Every time they went from Andie’s flat to Harry’s, there was always a brief conversation where Harry tried to get Andie to take Bub to his for the night. She wasn’t really sure why Harry didn’t just get his own cat, considering it seemed he wanted one so bad. She had thought about maybe looking into cats for adoption for him on more than one occasion over the years they’d known each other.

The ride back to Harry’s flat was quick. They only lived a few blocks away from each other, which was nice when they were in the need of company at odd hours of the day. She was able to walk to his flat in less than five minutes at any given time of day, and it was a fairly lit path, so it felt okay to walk at night. While she was protected pretty well from all things supernatural, she wasn’t immune to human predators.

Harry was in the process of getting something together for them to eat when Sarah called Andie back. She walked back into Harry’s room, where she knew she could get a bit of privacy, before pressing the green button.

“What’d you find out?” she asked, getting straight to the point. Time was of the essence with this thing, and they didn’t have any to waste.

“I just got into contact with my lady. She doesn’t know anything off the top of her head, but she’s looking.”

“Looking? Sarah, I need answers. I can feel this thing lurking. I got stuff to place his own warding spell on him, but it’s not gonna hold it back long.”

“Well, it’s a good thing he’s got one of the world’s most powerful witches with him,” Sarah told her firmly. “I trust you can keep ahold of this thing. Talk to your mum. And I’ll get to you as soon as my source gets back to me. She’s good, Andie, but there’s barely any literature on wraiths. We’re doing what we can.”

Andie groaned and leaned her head against the door frame of Harry’s room. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just…he’s my best mate.”

“And you’re in love with him, I get it,” Sarah assured.

“Wait, what?” Andie asked, head shooting up from her slouched position. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, c’mon, Andromeda, don’t play dumb.”

Andie sighed, lightly banging her head against the doorjamb. “Doesn’t matter. Nothing can happen. But I need him safe.”

Sarah was silent for a few moments on the other end of the line. Finally she said, “He will be. Give me a couple days.”

~*~*~*~*~

When Harry fell asleep that night, Andie went about very quietly setting up all the things she needed to perform her warding spell. Considering Harry was one of the heaviest sleepers she’d ever met—he’d slept through not one, but three fire alarms in their dorm building their first year of uni—, she didn’t bother with a silencing charm for the a spell that wasn’t going to take her longer than ten minutes to perform.

She carefully placed her four stones at the compass points of Harry’s living room, creating a magical energy barrier around the flat and its resident. She then unfolded a small tapestry with the symbol of the three goddesses, the ultimate symbol of protection in her family line. Anyone bestowed with a protective ward by a person of her lineage on this symbol was set against anything that could try to intrude upon their lives. The wraith was a different sort of entity, of course, but it would keep it at bay as long as Andromeda kept up the protection. It wasn’t a fail-safe, but it would have to do until they got a better answer.

Andie set the Harry’s token in the center of the middle moon on the tapestry. She’d been a bit of a creep and found Harry’s hair brush in the bathroom and collected his hair off of it. She supposed she could have found his pair of reading glasses and used those, but there was always a chance that a token that didn’t contain the subject’s DNA could render the spell void, and that was a chance she wasn’t willing to take. So she made sure his little clump of gathered hair was within the center moon before stepping back from her tapestry.

She waved her hand in a sweeping motion over the room, lighting all the ritual candles she’d placed in the room, lighting it in an eery haze. She closed her eyes against the sudden onslaught of energy she felt surge through her body, taking a deep breath to properly channel it. Her body knew when some more powerful magic was about to be used and it rushed through her veins, lighting them on fire in a way that was supremely pleasant. If she had to compare it to anything a mortal would experience, it would be like that feeling right before an orgasm, where every inch of your body was on edge, waiting for that one last thing that finally pushed you over. She could see why lesser witches could get addicted to the act of using magic like this.

Andie rubbed her fingers into her palms, that sensation sparking, and then held them both over the tapestry she’d placed on the floor. With one last deep breath, she began muttering the warding incantation under her breath. It was a slew of Latin words she knew by heart. It was one of the first spells a young witch learned, since it was relatively simple, but powerful when done correctly. She’d memorised the words by the time she was eight, and she was glad to not have to cart around a spell book everywhere she went.

She was only into her second line of incantation when there was a crashing sound from the hallway. She gasped and opened her eyes, her eyes automatically locking on Harry’s wide, shocked ones. Andie could’ve sworn in that moment that they both were not breathing. Harry was frozen in shock but Andie was frozen with the fear of being caught. She was still composed enough to take in the fact that Harry was in nothing but a pair of boxers and an entirely too large jumper that nearly hung off his shoulder and covered down the tips of his fingers. Such a contrast to the tight jeans and leather jacket he’d been wearing earlier in the day. Her heart would have leaped at the sight of him if she wasn’t completely hung up on the fact that her biggest secret had just been revealed to her best friend.

“What the fuck?” Harry finally uttered.

“Shit,” she spat. With a dismissive wave of her hand, the candles all blew out and the lights overhead turned on, bathing the room in a more normal light.

“What the fuck?” he asked again, louder this time, more emotion laced in his voice.

“Harry, I can explain,” she told him, reaching her hand out in a calming motion.

He stumbled back into a small cabinet he had in the middle of his hall. “Jesus. Your eyes were…”

“Purple, I know,” she appeased, trying her best to use a soothing voice. She knew he was more than a little surprised and possibly equal amounts of freaked out, and she didn’t want to exasperate it. She never wanted for him to find out she was a witch, especially like this, right in the middle of a spell. Granted, it was a spell for his protection, and one of the simpler setups that could be going on in his flat, but it was still a shock to mortals witnessing it for the first time.

“What…”

“Harry, why don’t you sit down? Lemme finish this, and then we’ll talk.” At this point, his protection was more important than whatever potential shock he was in. While her heart was sort of breaking from the concerned look on his face, she needed to do this.

Harry stumbled into the first chair in his living room, sort of sliding himself into it over the arm, never taking his eyes off of her. “What is…this, exactly?”

With a snap, the artificial overhead lights went out again, and a wave of the hand brought the candles back up to full flame. “A protective ward. A simple spell, but you can’t interrupt me, Harry.”

Harry nodded his head in a sort of mindless, perpetual motion, muttering some sort of affirmations to himself under his breath. Andie was sure he was trying to convince himself this was all normal, but she didn’t really have time to fret over him in that moment. She had more important business to complete.

Andie raised her hands out, palm down, over the center of her tapestry again, and she began reciting the incantation quickly under her breath. Harry watched as the flames in the candles grew brighter and larger as her chanting went on, admittedly getting concerned when they started flickering violently, like there was a strong gust of wind in the room. Adversely, it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the atmosphere, a ringing taking up residence in his ears. Andie’s eyes were darting back and forth quickly under her lids, lashes fluttering. Sparks of electricity seemed to be erupting from the ends of her fingers, creating a crackling, static sensation in the room. Harry felt like his skin was tingling. He was in too much of a daze to really be concerned about anything, though. His best friend was currently doing what was arguably magic in his living room.

Andie’s volume of muttering rose until she was speaking at regular volume, and the light of the flames seemed to brighten to almost that of natural daylight. Harry sunk himself deeper into the cushion of the chair he’d claimed as the spell seemed to be coming to a head. The energy surged in the room, making the hairs on Harry’s body stand on end. A cold chill flashed down his spine as her chanting stopped and Andie’s eyes flashed open to meet his just before the candles all blew out at once. There was no mistaking it. Her eyes had been glowing a bright purple in that second before everything went dark.

~*~*~*~*~

Harry had remained silent and unmoving the entire time Andie had been cleaning up from her spell. She could have just magically whisked everything into her bag, but she figured one magical happening was enough for the night.

She had gotten him a glass of water and placed it into his amazingly steady hands. Then she’d helped him from his seat and walked with him to his bedroom. He seemed to still be in shock, so she’d laid him down in his bed, back where he’d rumpled the sheets from earlier, and turned to leave. She could understand his despondency, so she was going to give him the night to sleep it off, and if in the morning he wanted her to piss off, she’d leave. But for now, she would stick by him, just in case.

“Wait,” Harry called, his hand grabbing her wrist as she’d turned to walk out of his room.

Andromeda looked down to his hand that was burning into her skin, up his arm and to his face, his head already resting on the pillow. He’d lost that vacant look in his eyes and he was now looking at her like he always had: with a little bit of adoration and a lot of honest interest. The bright green of his eyes scanned over her face, most likely looking for something that would make her look like the monster she was sure he thought she was after everything he’d witnessed. She never wanted Harry to think she was anything else but just herself, but she wouldn’t blame him if he told her to leave and never come back. It wasn’t easy to deal with and accept that your best friend from the last couple years was a witch. Not even Harry could feasibly be that understanding.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t hate you,” he said bluntly.

Andie’s eyebrows furrowed. “How did you…”

“I can see it on your face,” he shrugged. “And I know you. I don’t hate you. I’m shocked as fuck, but I’m okay. We’re okay.”

Andromeda let her eyes roam over his face for several moments, taking in his smooth features. He looked okay, as far as external emotions went, and he was verbally telling her that he was okay. She supposed she had no choice but to believe him. He still had to know why he had walked in on her doing magic in his living room, though. “I’m just trying to protect you,” she whispered.

“From what?” Harry asked. His thumb was now gently gliding over Andie’s wrist where his hand was still clasped.

“It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

Andie could tell from the look of determination in his eyes that she wasn’t going to get out of this one. When Harry had his heart set on something, it was very hard to get him off the scent.

With a sigh, she gently shook off Harry’s grip and bent down to take off her socks and then her jeans. She should have been more apprehensive about slipping into Harry’s bed without her trousers on, but, honestly, it was a semi-regular occurrence when they had sleepovers. She wasn’t willing to sacrifice her comfort for some weird perception of modesty.

She slid under the covers Harry was holding up, nestling in on the pillow his own head was occupying. He dropped the blankets back over her, and she pulled it up to just under her chin. She felt Harry’s warm feet slide past her own, and she didn’t hesitate to tuck her toes between his calfs. For all the energy constantly flowing through her body, her toes were always frozen. And Harry was always hot. It was a no-brainer.

“Where should I start?”

It took Andie nearly an hour to get through her explanation to Harry, the whole time silently thanking him for remaining quiet and holding off to ask all the questions she could see swimming in his eyes. When she finally sighed after she finished, he surprised her by not asking all those questions she was sure he had been holding back the whole time. Instead, he just slung an arm around her waist, pulled her closer as he let his eyes fall shut, and whispered a quiet thanks. Andie was shocked by his behavior, but not enough to let it prevent her from swiftly falling asleep, comfortably resting in his arms.

~*~*~*~*~

“So the whole witch trials thing in America?”

“I mean, it’s possible someone was actually a witch, but as far as any witch history can tell, they were just victims of a crazy strict Christian society that saw anything that was “other” as bad and dubbed it as witchcraft. There’s a chance someone was practicing hoodoo or something similar, but we don’t think there were any legitimate witches there.”

“And hoodoo is different from witchcraft?”

Andie took a sip from her latte before answering. “They’re both magic, technically, but they garner their power from different sources. Hoodoo is mostly based in the spiritual, sort of like a religion. There’s a lot of tie to the afterlife and the power passed beings can offer. Whereas witchcraft is based on the existing energy in the earth and its creations. Every living being on earth has the ability to harness this energy, witches were just bred inadvertently to have better control. When I cast spells, I can feel it in my every cell.”

Harry nodded, looking thoughtful as he peered down into the hot chocolate he’d ordered. “I sort of noticed that last night. I could physically feel it run through my body when you’d completed the spell.”

Andie hummed. “It’s not uncommon for the recipient of a spell, especially protective ones, to experience an energy transfer upon completion of the ritual. In a nutshell, I’ve connected my magical energy to you in order to keep you protected from any sort of magical harm. As best as I can anyway. Some magical and supernatural entities have a bit more power than I can put into a basic warding spell.”

“And I’m reckoning wraiths are one of those entities.”

Harry and Andie locked eyes, and she was reluctant to nod her confirmation.

The duo had stayed up until nearly three in the morning, Andromeda best explaining what she could about her being a witch and why it was that she was taking extra steps to put a protective ward around Harry. He’d accepted it easily enough, but she was pretty sure it was just because he was starting to drift off into sleep.

When they’d woken that morning, she was expecting to be in bed alone, Harry off somewhere freaking out over everything that had happened in the wee hours of the morning. Instead, she’d opened her eyes and immediately been confronted with Harry’s own green ones, seeming nearly translucent in the morning light steaming through his window. Their legs were tangled together, so tightly that Andie wasn’t really sure who's limbs were who’s. Their noses were nearly touching, both their heads resting on one pillow despite Harry having a pretty spacious queen bed. And while they’d woken up plenty of times snuggled together after a sleep over, they’d never woken up that close.

If Harry was startled by it, it didn’t show. He’d simply smiled at her before placing a soft kiss on her nose. He’d suggested heading to the cafe around the block for breakfast, and here they were, only twenty minutes later.

Andie wasn’t really sure what to make of it, but she was going to act like it was any other day if that was the way Harry wanted to play it.

“Unfortunately.”

“What about them is so special?” Harry wondered, swirling his mug, most likely to mix up some of the chocolate that had settled at the bottom.

“Wraiths are created when dark magic goes wrong. Usually a resurrection ritual. If it’s performed incorrectly or the witch isn’t channeling enough energy from the right sources, something goes haywire, and the result is a manifestation of all that, since it can’t be channeled to whatever resurrection the witch was trying to perform.”

“There’s a difference in magic types?” Harry asked, his brows puckering in confusion. Andie would think it was adorable if they weren’t in the middle of a very serious conversation.

Who was she kidding? She thought it was adorable regardless of the topic.

“Of course. I like to think of magic like the internet.” Andie grabbed a napkin from the dispenser at the end of the table and looked for a pen in her purse. Coming up empty, she glanced at Harry and pressed a finger to her lips, telling him to keep quiet about what she was about to do. She rubbed her fingers together before pressing the tip of her pointer finger to the napkin. It started writing like a pen onto the paper, and Harry emitted a startled gasp before quieting down.

Andie drew out a triangle and then a line through the top of the shape, imitating an iceberg in water.

“The tip is the surface magic. It’s about ten percent of the entire magical ability of the universe.” She drew an arrow to the small section at the top and labeled it. “Hypothetically speaking, anyone can access this part of magic if they really wanted to and dedicated their time to learning how. But all witches can harness this magic pretty effortlessly. Some spells are a little harder than others, but it should be no real strain on a witch.”

She drew a dotted line about halfway through the rest of the triangle that was under the waterline she’d drawn. She made another label for the center portion. “This is what we’ll call advanced magic. This can only be accessed with dedication and an ability to harness energy from other sources, like the earth and crystals and natural phenomena. New moon, blood moon, eclipses, all that. It’s a bit more of a stretch for most witches, but it can be achieved with a bit of hard work. Witches with an inherently stronger bloodline can pretty easily access this portion.”

Andie finally circled the lowest portion. “And this is dark magic. It’s all the stuff that betrays the laws of nature. Necromancy, possession, time travel, teleportation. When a witch fucks it up somehow, bad things can happen. Usually to the witch trying to perform the ritual, but sometimes to nature itself. Thus, wraiths are created.”

“And now I’ve got the result of botched dark magic following me around?” Andie nodded. “Love that for myself.”

Andie couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped. Harry wasn’t one to commonly use popular slang or phrases, so when he did, it was startlingly hilarious.

“While I’m glad you can joke about it, it’s not something to take lightly. I’m workin’ on getting some information about how to get rid of it. Either just disconnecting it from you or putting it back in whatever hell hole it came from.”

“Considerin’ that thing was made from dark magic, sounds like gettin’ rid of it is gonna be hard,” Harry sighed, pushing his mug away from him.

Andie paused. How was she going to tell her best friend that she was part of the most pure witch bloodline in the world? That her mother was pretty much the strongest witch that had ever lived? That she herself was bound for that same tier once she hit her twenty-fifth birthday? It wasn’t exactly something you just drop on an unsuspecting mortal. Though, she supposed you didn’t just tell them you were a witch, either. Given the extenuating circumstances, maybe it wasn’t the most shocking thing he’d heard that day. And hopefully all the revelations wouldn’t get her in trouble with her mum or the council. She had an obligation to protect the mortal world from any magical threat, and Harry was her best friend.

“Can we go back to mine?” Andie suggested. She grabbed the napkin she’d drawn on and crumpled it up in her fist before shoving it in her pocket. No need for any curious waitress to come along and see that.

“Sure. Wanna go get my car?” Harry asked.

Andie shook her head. “No, follow me.”

“Andie, your flat is a ten minute drive. That’s nearly an hour walk.”

“Who said anything about walking?”

“Please tell me you’ve got a broom.”

Andie laughed and shook her head, leading him out the doors and into a deserted alley.

~*~*~*~*~

“I thought you said teleportation was dark magic.”

“There’s ways around most of the magical no-no’s,” Andie shrugged, dropping her bag by her front door. “Conjuring a portal is not technically teleportation. It requires an already established ending point. So, this mirror, for example.” She pointed at the mirror right by the front door of her flat that they’d just stepped through. “I’ve bewitched it to act as a portal. I can arrive to it from any given location, and I can use it to access other portals. But I can’t just decide in the middle of my day to pop into Paris for an afternoon trip. Unless I knew a specific portal location.”

Harry gazed at the mirror for a few moments, probably trying to see if there was anything physically out of the ordinary from any other vertical mirror he’d ever seen. He eventually gave a short nod and said, “Neat.”

Andie started the kettle on the stove as she regaled to Harry the importance of her family line.

“My family can be traced back to, like…the inception of witches,” she told him. “And there’s only three families that can say that. So, those three families have always made up the council, as well as elected witches from prominent covens.”

“You have a council?” Harry asked, tucking himself beside her as she prepared their teas. Her kitchen wasn’t very big, so it wasn’t difficult to be in each other’s space, but this was intentional. He’d pressed himself into the sliver of space between where she stood and the counter, not seeming to have any care that her elbow was brushing against him with every move that she made.

“Witches need governing bodies, Harry,” she said pointedly. “Why do you think dark magic is considered taboo? That wasn’t just something every witch decided on independently. In the early nineteenth century, it was voted on by the council that the usage of dark magic is punishable by death, if that witch hadn’t killed themselves in the process.”

“This sounds a lot like that season of American Horror Story,” he commented.

Andie smirked. Harry and her had watched all the seasons together on Netflix the previous summer.

“Sort of,” she shrugged. “We have rules and laws and our own judicial system, essentially. But the whole competition for Supreme thing and those weird tests aren’t true.”

“So no, like, Queen Witch, then?”

Andie bobbled her head around, a mix between and nod and a shake. “Not necessarily. Some witches are more powerful than others, based on bloodline. But that doesn’t give them superiority over other witches.”

“And I’m guessin’ you’re in one of those bloodlines.”

She glanced over at him while pouring the water in their mugs, trying to gauge his reaction. His face was almost annoyingly still, betraying no real emotion beside his genuine interest. There was no telling what he was really thinking. Considering all that he’d been made privy to, Andie reckoned this stuff was easy.

“Yeah. My mum is the oldest living female of the succession, so she’s considered the most powerful. And as her daughter, I’m second in line.”

“Do men ever possess that title?”

She shook her head. “No. Not unless there are no other females. So like, if I had a brother, and both my mum and I died, he’d acquire that power.”

“What if you never have kids? What happens then?”

“My mum has two younger sisters. The line would fall to her and her children.”

“So, it’s kinda a royal family situation?”

“Pretty much. Except female-oriented.”

“Why is that? Do you know?”

Andie handed off his tea, prepared just the way he liked it, with a dash of milk and one spoonful of sugar. Andie preferred hers plain.

“It’s got to do with females being able to bear children, and their inherent connection with the earth because of it.”

Harry was quiet for a few moments, seeming to finally take a moment to think things over. Andie ushered him into her living room, where Beelzebub was napping contently on the arm of her couch. Darn thing hadn’t even stirred when Andie and Harry had stepped into the room, simply opening one eye to see who it was. When he’d deemed them nonthreatening, he’d closed it and went back to sleep.

After nearly five whole minutes of silence, Harry spoke up.

“Is this all to say that if anyone can get this fuckin’ thing off my back, it’s you?”

Andie paused before giving him a reluctant nod. “Yep.”

He was quiet again, staring pensively into his tea, which he’d only taken a couple tentative sips out of. Suddenly, but with a sureness Andie was almost surprised to see out of him, Harry reached his hand out and grabbed onto the one she had resting in her lap. He slotted their fingers together and gave it a brief, tight squeeze before looking up at her.

“I’m glad it’s you.”

~*~*~*~*~

Until Andie got some answers or leads, she insisted that Harry stay with her in her flat when he wasn’t in class or at work. She was hoping that the ward she’d put up around him, as well as the protections she’d put up around her flat were enough to keep the wraith far enough away to let Harry carry on like normal. It seemed to be working, as she’d never seen the thing more than one hundred yards away at any given time. And when Harry couldn’t be in the protection of her home or in her presence, she sent Bub with him to keep an eye on him and alert her if anything was wrong. Luckily, it’d been a week and nothing tragic or harrowing had happened as of yet. She knew she couldn’t become comfortable in the mundane, but she was going to enjoy it while it lasted.

She’d received a call from Sarah a few days prior, letting her know that she’d contacted someone who might have some insight, and she was just waiting for them to be available to come to the UK. The witch was apparently a pretty prominent facet in a large American coven, so she had her hands full, but she was trying to arrange things to help Andromeda. She was glad to hear that something had panned out, but it seemed like now it was a waiting game.

However, for as anxious as Sia was about getting answers and keeping Harry safe until that time, she was actually really enjoying being with Harry so often. While they hung out regularly before, now it was amplified. They were living together, for all intents and purposes. When she got home from class, Harry was there, revising at the kitchen table. When she got hungry, Harry helped her prepare food or called into a local restaurant to order take out. When she woke up in the morning, it was to the sound of Harry singing in the shower—beautifully, she might add. It was really unfair how amazing Harry was at pretty much everything he did.

Spending all this time together was really playing with Andie’s emotions, though.

Since she didn’t have an extra bedroom, Andie and Harry shared a bed each night, so they fell asleep next to each other, and if neither of them had an early class, they woke up together. Harry was usually awake first, so Andie would wake to his leg brushing against hers and the back of his fingers brushing her hair away from her face. And the way he would look at her when he woke her like that…she couldn’t describe it. She wasn’t sure she wanted to describe it. She was thinking too far into it would leave her with a perpetual migraine.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want Harry to have the feelings she knew he was harboring. She harbored them herself, admittedly. All his little touches and the way his eyes would linger on her when she came or went from any room would make the butterflies in her stomach take manic flight. She loved every second of his attention, but she kept trying to convince herself that nothing could come of it. While it wasn’t uncommon that witches had relationships with mortals, she didn’t want to put Harry at more risk than she already had with the whole wraith situation. With the type of power that Andie possessed, dark forces liked to follow her around. It was only natural that they would sense the weakness of a mortal and latch onto him. She didn’t want that. She had to protect him. Partially because she had a moral obligation but mostly because she loved him.

Her love for Harry had never been more apparent and strong than the last week they’d been in close contact nearly 24/7. And there was no denying that she’d been in love with him for nearly as long as she’d known him. She couldn’t even lie to herself anymore, let alone her friends, both mortal and witch. Sarah never let her forget it, and while they were keeping from Niall that they were currently staying together, he seemed to be picking up on it whenever all three of them were together. Andie could see the knowing look in his eye any time Andie would laugh at one of Harry’s stupid jokes and place a hand on his arm, or when she would reach over and wipe something from his face with no hesitation. She steadfastly avoided Niall’s gaze when she knew he was giving her a pointed look. She didn’t want to give anything away in her guilty look.

“What are you thinkin’ so hard about?”

Andromeda gasped and gave a little yelp, nearly jumping a mile in the air. She whirled around from her spot at the stove where she was browning some ground beaf in order to make some spaghetti for dinner. She slapped at Sarah’s arms a few times in retaliation, groaning out her frustration with her friend just popping in unannounced and scaring the shit out of her.

“Jesus Christ, S! Make some fuckin’ noise, will ya? Gave me a fuckin’ heart attack.”

“Sorry, figured you’d heard me,” she shrugged, peering over Andie’s shoulder to see what she had going on the stove. “Wasn’t tryin’ to be quiet.”

“I wasn’t paying attention, and I sent Bub out with Harry.”

“That’s what I’m here about,” she said. “Why are you makin’ this by hand?” she added as an afterthought.

“Just because I can use magic, doesn’t mean I should,” Andie huffed, rolling her eyes. “Besides, I like cooking. Anyway, what have you got?”

“Got word from my source,” Sarah said, watching as Andie filled up a pot of water to put on to boil. “Said she’ll be here by Wednesday. Wants to make sure your portal will zap her in from America.”

“There’s no restriction on distance, as long as I accept the transportation request. Have her send it over, and I’ll get it done.”

“I’ll let her know.”

“Does she have concrete answers?”

Sarah was silent for more than a few beats, so Andie looked to her after she’d lit the burner under the water. She was chewing on the inside of her cheek, her ultimate tell for her anxiety.

“What is it?” Andie asked, dread filling her stomach.

“She has answers, but there’s no guarantee that it’ll work,” Sarah said hesitantly. Andie was working extra hard on not letting her sinking emotions get the better of her. She didn’t have time to freak out. “There’s no official records of successful wraith banishments.”

“Just because they’re not recorded doesn’t mean they didn’t happen.”

“Exactly,” Sarah agreed with a succinct nod. “My source claims to have witnessed one, and she has a text from the early seventeenth century that outlines a ritual that is supposed to do the job. I haven’t seen what it entails, but it’s worth a shot.”

Andie blew up her cheeks and let out the breath between pursed lips. She turned off the burner for the meat before looking back to Sarah. She nodded.

“Okay. Just let me know what time on Wednesday. I have class at eleven. I’ll skip if I have to. I’m sure Harry would, too.”

Sarah agreed just as the front door of Andie’s flat opened, Harry sort of stumbling in the door with his book bag and a few bags of groceries, Bub sneaking in behind him just before he closed the door. He hung his keys on the hooks near the portal/mirror and toed off his shoes.

“Hey, I know you’re makin’ spaghetti tonight, so I picked up some French bread and a couple bottles of wine. And I also got stuff to make chicken parmesan tomorrow. Oh, and some more coffee creamer. I used the last of it this morning.”

Harry didn’t realise there was someone else in the kitchen until he walked through the doorway, stopping short when he saw Sarah standing beside Andie. They’d never met before, as Andie had always tried her hardest to keep her witch friends and coven away from her mortal friends. It was easier to keep track of conversations that way, and it prevented any slip-ups beyond Andie’s control. While she trusted her coven with her life, she couldn’t control what came out of their mouths, and she couldn’t risk that around her mortal friends.

“Hey,” Harry greeted, eyes glancing between Andie and Sarah, obviously a bit confused.

“Harry, this is my friend, Sarah. Sarah, Harry,” Andie quickly introduced.

Harry and Sarah exchanged pleasantries, and Andie could see that Harry quickly realised that Sarah was also a witch, not just some random friend she’d never introduced or brought around.

“You staying for dinner?” Andie asked Sarah as Harry unloaded the groceries he’d brought home.

“Nah, just wanted to pop in and update you on what was goin’ on,” Sarah declined. “If I don’t see you before, I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

Andie bid her friend farewell and watched as she disappeared through the portal.

“Is she in the same coven as you?” Harry asked? He flitted around the kitchen to get the bread-cutting knife and a cutting board as he waited for her to answer.

“Yeah, she’s a couple years older than us, but we’ve always gotten along really well. And she’s travelled a lot, so she’s got a lot of connections. She’s our go-to when we need contacts.”

“She the one that’s trying to get ahold of someone to help with the wraith thing?”

Andie added the spaghetti to the boiling water as she nodded. “That’s what she was here about. The other witch will be here Wednesday. Hopefully, we’ll have some concrete answers soon.” She didn’t want to tell him about the lack of substantial evidence that any of it would work. No need to stress him out when he’d been handling all of it so well up to that point.

“Well, I can afford to miss a couple classes if I need to,” he assured.

“I figured. I’ll let you know when I get a better idea of when she’ll be here.”

The changed the conversation after that, talking about their days as they finished up dinner. Harry helped her plate the food and take it to the table before pouring two glasses of wine. Harry asked if they could play some music, so Andie asked him what album he wanted. They agreed on the Rumours album, and with a wave of her hand, the record player set itself up and started playing the album softly through the speakers around her telly.

Harry asked her about the abilities she had that weren’t related to specific spells and incantations. She explained that it came with the “powerful bloodline” thing, as not all witches had the sort of telekinetic abilities she did. It could be learned, sure, but it would never be like the natural ability Andie and her family had.

By the time they finished dinner, they’d finished the bottle of wine Harry had opened before they sat down. While Andie was not even close to drunk, she was pleasantly buzzy, and her cheeks hurt from smiling so much at Harry’s stupid jokes and wild stories about people he came into contact with at his job at the record store near campus.

Andie was still chuckling at Harry’s last joke when she took their plates to the sink to rinse them off and load the dishwasher. Harry was quiet, and Andie figured he was going to turn off the record player or something, so she startled when she felt hands on her waist, not gripping, just gently resting.

“I’ll do the dishes since you cooked,” Harry offered, his voice quiet, nearly drowned out by the music that still played in the living room.

“No, it’s fine,” Andie denied. “It’s like three dishes, and I’m nearly done.”

“Then just let me finish.”

Andie chuckled again, turning off the faucet. “Harry, really.” She turned to look at him, and the sound that was in her mouth died when she saw the look on his face.

Harry didn’t say anything, either. His eyes flit over her face, probably taking in the slight widening of her eyes at her surprise and the way her lips were gently parted from the words fading from her lips when she’d turned around. His left hand left her waist and reached up to push her hair back from her face, carefully tucking it behind her ear. He let his fingers linger, tracing over her jaw.

The buzz that had been lingering in her veins quickly dissipated in favor of the static Harry’s fingers were zapping into her skin. Andie gasped lightly as his index caressed her bottom lip.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he whispered.

Harry stepped closer to her, pushing the small of her back into the edge of the sink and placing his thigh between both of hers.

Andie thought if Harry ever gathered the courage to kiss her or start anything with her, she would deny him. In the nicest way possible, of course, because Harry was a sweet baby angel who was too pure for this world, but it would still have to happen. She didn’t want to get him tangled up with anything that could be dangerous for him.

But that was the exact opposite of what she was doing now that the situation had actually presented itself. When Harry leaned down and barely brushed his lips against hers, she was the one who leaned forward and pressed harder, effectively pulling them both into a kiss that had both of their hearts racing. Andie was the one to wind her arms around his neck and reach up onto her toes so Harry wouldn’t have to lean down so far. She was the one that sifted her fingers through the cute little curls at the back of his neck and pull him tighter into her. She was the first one to dart her tongue out, swiping lithely at his bottom lip, and gave a little satisfied moan when he opened to her, his tongue meeting with her own.

Though she wasn’t sure who it was that led them down the hallway to her bedroom, their mouths still pressed firmly together. She did know, however, that Harry was the one that closed her bedroom door, shadowing them in darkness. Andie didn’t hesitate to swipe her hand and light the candles that were scattered around her room.

With a light shove, Andie plopped on her bum to the bed. She scooted back further into the center, watching as Harry stood at the edge, watching her closely. Andie was sure she’d never seen Harry so serious and still, save for the light heaving of his chest.

“You sure?” Harry asked, his voice nearly a whole octave deeper than it usually was, a slight growl to it.

Andie nodded.

Harry proceeded to provide Andie with the most scintillating strip tease she’d ever had the pleasure of witnessing. While that probably wasn’t his intention, watching as he shucked his cosy jumper to reveal a plain white t-shirt underneath, then watching him peel that off to reveal every inch of his toned stomach and broad chest, along with all the dark ink that was scattered over his smooth skin was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen.

He paused after removing his shoes and socks, his hands poised at the fly of his jeans. He looked up at Andie from under his lashes, looking her over from head to toe.

“You gonna join me? Or am I gonna be naked on my own?”

Andie swallowed hard, a little surprised and a lot aroused by the commanding tone in Harry’s voice. She quickly reached to take pull her shirt over her head and then wiggle off the skirt she was wearing, leaving her in her knickers and the thigh-high socks. When Andie reached around to undo her bra, Harry finally un buttoned his jeans and pulled them down with his boxers, finally letting Andie see all of him. When she saw his cock, standing stiff and proud from between his hips, she gasped.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath, but not quiet enough to prevent Harry from hearing. He was big—a lot bigger than any other man she’d ever been with, and while it was a bit daunting, it only served to excite her more.

Harry smirked at her before kneeling on the bed, making his way between Andie’s legs. He ran his hands from her ankles, over the soft material of her stalkings, up to her exposed skin of her upper thighs and hips, before hooking his fingers into the lacy material of her panties. He looked up at her as he leaned down and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her inner thigh.

He made quick work of pulling her panties off and tossed them off the side of the bed. Andie went to peel her socks off, but Harry caught her hands.

“Leave ‘em on.”

Andie nodded and pulled her hands away, leaning back into the pillows that were propped up on her headboard. Harry followed her, resting his hips against hers and using his elbows beside her head to hover over her. He leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss, swiping his tongue once along her lips before trailing his own across her jaw and down her neck, placing a teasing bite at the junction between her shoulder and her neck. Goosebumps rose along her arms.

She ran her hands down Harry’s back, gently gliding over the muscles as they tensed and relaxed with his movements. He skimmed his lips along her collarbone and down the center of her chest, taking a detour to her left breast, and then her right, laving his tongue and teeth over her erect nipples, pulling little mewls and moans from her mouth. He drug licking kisses down her stomach, stopping briefly to place a kiss just below her navel, but continuing his pace down to her mound.

He pressed a light peck to the hood of her clit before sliding his tongue out to lap at her folds. He moaned as her tangy flavour burst across his tastebuds. She was already wet, despite them not doing much but kissing and lightly touching. He couldn’t wait to get more of her in his mouth.

With that little taste, he couldn’t stop himself from completely covering her with his mouth. Andie shivered as he darted his tongue into her entrance, gathering her arousal before drawing the tip up and flicking lightly at her bud. Andie shot her hands into his hair, pressing his head closer to her center. Harry took the hint and took a broader lick at her clit before pursing his lips around it, giving it a cursory suck. Andie moaned loud, dropping her head back into the pillows. Her fingers tugged at Harry’s curls now, hips thrusting up to meet his pulsing sucks. He wound his arms around her thighs, keeping her close to him as he buried his face into her sweet center. He couldn’t withhold his own moans as more of her arousal flooded into his mouth, her hole fluttering and clenching around nothing. He swapped his mouth for three of his fingers, rubbing swiftly at her clit as he pushed his tongue into her entrance.

Andie took a shuddering breath. She was completely overwhelmed with his attention, on the verge of falling over the edge. His grip on her thighs were preventing her from rubbing more vigorously against his mouth and fingers. She needed more though.

“Harry, please,” she gasped. “Need more.”

He reluctantly pulled his mouth away from her, licking his lips. “What do you need, love?”

Andie didn’t realise when the words, “Choke me,” came out of her mouth. She didn’t have time to process it and be embarrassed, though. Harry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, before he leaned back down to wrap his lips back around her clit. The fingers that were previously rubbing at it moved to enter her, two sliding in easily with how wet she was for him.

She let her head drop back, reveling in the new sensation of Harry’s fingers rubbing at the soft spongy spot inside her. She hummed when his free hand trailed from it’s place around her thigh, up her stomach and chest, and eventually around her throat. His fingers deftly found each of her veins running up her neck, applying light pressure. That mixed with the weight of his palm resting against the center of her throat was exactly what she needed to finally succumb to her pleasure.

Harry moaned against her center as her walls clenched against his fingers and her wetness coated his chin and palm. He kept rubbing and sucking her through it, Andie eventually having to shove him away by the crown of his head.

He crawled up her body, pressing sporadic kisses as she came down from her high. Her legs bent up to cradle Harry’s hips against her own, bucking up into the feeling of his erection resting against the curve of her pelvis. Harry groaned into the curve of her neck before pressing a kiss to her jugular. He drew his knees up on either side of her hips and wrapped his arms around her back, pressing their chests together and lifting her so she was straddling him.

“Want you like this,” he sighed into her mouth.

“Okay,” Andie agreed. She had no hesitation in reaching between them to take ahold of his cock and place it at her entrance. Slowly, she sank down on him until they were flush against each other. They moaned into each others mouths.

“So fuckin’ tight,” Harry panted.

“So fuckin’ big,” Andie returned smiling into his neck.

Harry snickered as he thrust his hips up into her, causing her to gasp.

Andie got the hint and started rocking her hips against his, groaning each time he hit the deepest part of her. They were in a position that had her clit perfectly rubbing against his pubic bone. She wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to keep up the position, but she was going to really enjoy it while it lasted.

Harry helped her along by gripping her hips and propelling her motion, keeping his head buried in her neck, licking at kissing at her skin between his moans. When he realised she couldn’t keep it up any longer, he laid her back down on the bed, lifting her legs by the back of her knees, pressing her thighs into her chest. His cock was so hard that he had no trouble sliding back into her with no aid.

“Fuckin’ soaked for me,” he grunted. “Like the way I fuck your cunt, darlin’?”

His hips were pounding into her so hard Andie had to reach up to brace her hands against her headboard to avoid bashing her head into it. Of all the ways she’d imagined Harry would be in bed, this was not it. He was always so gentle and kind, so seeing his muscles all bunched with effort and his skin shiny with sweat and the words coming out of his mouth and the strength behind each of his thrusts…it was a lot.

Andie sobbed out a moan when he brought one of his hands down to rub his thumb along her clit in a quick flicking motion. Her orgasm barreled through her, her mouth opening in a silent scream as she lost her breath. Harry didn’t slow through her climax, simply just forced his hips harder to overcome the strong clenching of her walls around him. He was barely keeping it together, since she was so tight, but he was determined to draw at least one more from her before he finished himself.

“So fuckin’ beautiful when you come for me, pet.”

Harry withdrew himself as he tried to catch his breath. He tapped on her hip to get her attention, motioning for her to roll over onto her stomach. She nodded before gracelessly flopping over, only being careful enough not to accidentally knee him in the junk. That would be a tragedy in the middle of all this.

He grabbed her by the hips to lift her onto her knees, keeping her chest pressed to the bed. He asked her for his hands and gathered her wrists in one of his fists at the small of her back. He used the leverage to draw her back onto his cock, his balls slapping against her skin. Her moans were load even when muffled into her pillows as Harry drove into her at a punishing pace. Andie’s hands flailed in his grasp, trying to find purchase on something to grip onto in her haze of pleasure. Harry saw this and released her wrists to clasp one of her hands with his, her other one reaching down beside her to grip at her sheets.

“Harry,” she gasped when he changed positions, angling his hips so he was hitting that sensitive spot inside of her. She got that telltale sensation that she had only experienced by herself before, that full feeling and that tingling pleasure that said she was going to explode. “I’m gonna…”

He reached under her with his free hand and rubbed against her clit, too close to his own orgasm to keep her on the edge.

Andie couldn’t hold it back any longer. With a few sure passes of his fingers and his unrelenting pace, Andie was cumming harder than she was pretty sure she ever had, especially with anyone else. Liquid pulsed from her body in rhythm with Harry’s thrusts. She was moaning out unintelligible words.

It took Harry a few seconds to realise that she was ejaculating all over his thighs and her sheets. If the strong fluttering of her pussy was enough to send him over, then seeing the evidence of her orgasm all over his skin was really overkill. His stomach clenched hard, forcing him to double over on top of her, pressing his chest to her back. He laid sucking kisses to her shoulders as he came down, both of them panting and sweaty.

After several moments, Harry pulled his hips from hers, breaking them apart with a groan. He flopped onto his back beside her, pulling her off her knees and into his chest. Her pale skin was covered in a light sheen of sweat and her pupils were still blown out when she looked at him. She licked her lips before smiling coyly at him.

“Wanted to do that for a long time,” she told him.

Harry smiled and pushed her hair back from her face like he had in the kitchen earlier, which had led to their time in bed. He pressed a quick but passionate kiss on her lips before saying, “Me, too.”

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles fluff #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #halloween fic #witch!au #witch!ofc

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mmmleckerlecker · 4 years

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really wanna be swallowed by a demon whom I’ve naively summoned to do my bidding on a task which I perceive as a just cause for stooping to such dark methods and he spends the whole time resenting his enslavement to me and planning how best (and most painfully) to kill me in revenge but I treat him with respect and in the mean time he is intrigued by my motives and amused by my endearing attitude of doing the right thing and slowly he becomes attached to me but won’t admit it even to himself until one day when I slip up JUST ENOUGH that he frees himself from my command and before I can utter the incantation to bring him back under my control, he grabs me by the neck, lifting me until my toes are dangling off the ground, I am filled with a sinking feeling of dread because, after all the tasks I’ve sent him to do, I’ve seen how powerful and strong he is first hand and now I am on the receiving end of that raw power and he leans in close, seeming to grow in size even as he does so, leering at me with a twisted grin of sharp teeth, “finally,” he mutters almost to himself, his voice deep and rumbling, his hot breath on my face, i gape at him because I’ve actually grown to like his biting humor and constant jokes about eating me one day, ive never taken his threats TOO seriously, always dismissive, I’ve almost come to think of him as a friend, the idea of a betrayal like this was always a possibility but one so far off and terrifying to consider, I’d shoved it to the back of my mind, but here he is, his eyes gleaming with glee, and he’s lifting me higher, his mouth widening, and triumph is coursing through him, all his patience and waiting for the right moment has paid off, but even as he lowers me into his eager maw, feeling my struggles and screaming pleas as i call his name with tears of desperation, sincere apologies tumbling from my lips, he thinks maybe he doesn’t really want to do this? does he really want to go back to his boring life of drifting through hell, waiting for the next foolish human to summon him? wouldn’t it be more interesting to keep me alive and see what I might do next? but he’s been waiting so long and he’s so close to this long awaited revenge, the nearness of his oncoming satisfaction is an aching in his core... but yet... what if? I’m halfway in his mouth and he thinks this is his nature after all....

#this is such is fucking mood tonight lads #is this too specific or....?#soft vore #demon vore #fatal vore #????#or is it???#the ambiguity... is so good...#heck me up bro #hard vore #unwilling vore #monster vore

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devilrising · 4 years

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Fallen Draco, Pt. 14

This story is following a prompt set by @mymindsmadness

Summary: AU where Draco is a fallen angel, and the way he gets his wings back is by guiding Harry in defeating Voldemort, but it all goes wrong when Draco starts falling in love with Harry.

Word Count (Part 14): 3,216

Word Count (Total): 45,312

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of abuse/torture (non-graphic), graphic injuries

***

26th April, 1998

It turns out Harry did have a plan. Multiple, actually. After that dinner with Hermione and Ron two days ago, Harry firecalled someone who he trusted to rescue Mother from the Ministry. Once Harry told me that the rescue team was on its way back to Grimmauld, I couldn’t stop pacing around the drawing room. But now, as Apparition cracks on the doorstep, the only thing I feel is dread. What if something's gone wrong? What if she’s terribly hurt? Harry glances over at me with reassuring green eyes, before rising from his dining room chair and answering the door.

“Right this way- over here!” Harry’s voice echoes down the corridor, bouncing off the walls. I clench my hands into fists trying to calm my nerves. Giving up immediately, I jump up from the leather sofa I was reading on, and walk to the mirror. Gazing into my reflection I sigh heavily. I pull my wand out of my pocket and wave it over my entire body. My wings slowly fade out of sight, as do the remainders of my cuts and bruises. Turning and leaving the dining room, I walk as slowly as I can towards Harry. Slowly ends up being slightly faster than normal, but it’s better than sprinting which is what I feel like doing.

“Lay her down here,” Harry is saying when I arrive at his side in the kitchen, next to a couch that’s been transfigured into a small bed.

“How is she?!” I ask Harry, my voice raised above normal pitch with worry.

Harry turns to look at me and places a hand on my shoulder. “I can’t be certain.”

I swallow hard and pull him into a hug. My head rests on his shoulder as his arms wind around my back.

“Thank you,” Harry nods to the wizard carrying Mother, a stranger to me. The man nods back and walks out into the corridor. Harry releases me from his arms and I finally turn and look at her.

Mother’s pale skin has turned black, blue, and purple with bruises. Red lines run down her skin in the form of cuts and blood trails. I feel the warmth drain from my face as I take in a particularly harsh graze down her left side where the skin looks like it’s been peeled away and stuck back on as an afterthought. Suppressing a shudder at her delicate figure being torn apart, I pivot around to face Harry.

“We need to help her.” There is no room for argument in my voice. This has to be done and I want to be a part of it.

“Let’s get started then,” comes Harry’s response. No questions asked. He knows how much this means to me.

Harry summons a stack of books from somewhere in the house, and I listen as they thud the whole way down to the basement—no doubt running into furniture and knocking things over. Harry catches them with a swift hand and puts them on the rounded end of the bed, where they wobble for a while before settling in. I scan the titles quickly before finding one about testing for internal damage. The book is a massive volume in a red cover with a white cross on the front. Harry scoffs at it for a second, the colours and symbol clearly meaning something to him. Opening the cover, I search for an index on the front page. I find a section called “Magical Scans for Internal Bleeding” and flick to the referenced page.

A wall of text and nothing else is there, and I swallow hard.

“Maybe we will need Hermione…” I whisper. “I don’t understand a word of this.”

Harry takes the book from my hand and runs his eyes over the paragraphs. “Neither,” he confesses. “But hold on… I can fix that.” I watch as Harry pulls his wand from his pocket again and waves it over the book. The words rearrange themselves and shorten, the entire book thinning out slightly by the time he’s done.

“There we go…” he murmurs. “Now we can read it.”

He hands me the book back and my jaw drops. Harry has essentially translated it out of scientific-medical terms into something we can easily understand. Overwhelmed by the thought, I press a firm kiss to his mouth before reading over the page. Harry wraps an arm around my waist as I read, kissing my forehead every so often.

“Okay… so we need to cast this spell and then write down the results so we can see how her body and magic are functioning,” I tell Harry. I hold up the book so he can read the spell’s incantation and see the required wand movement. “I probably won’t be able to cast it, so can you do it?”

“I can give it a go,” Harry says with a nod. He turns to a pillow not being used and transfigures it into a small mouse. I quickly freeze it in place so it can’t scuttle around and ruin the bed. Trust Harry not to think of something like that.

“Salutem taxationem,” he enchants, flicking his wand to form a cross in a circle. I watch with bated breath as numbers and words rise above the mouse, detailing everything from heart rate and blood pressure to magical signature—in this case a zero, because it’s a mouse.

I hug Harry tightly before reversing his transfiguration. “I guess I’ll scribe then,” I suggest. He nods and turns to face Mother.

“You’re sure about this?” He asks. “What if something goes wrong, it’s not like I’m a professional.”

“Then we’ll take her to St Mungo’s, I just don’t want to risk something else happening to her.” I can’t allow her to be taken again. Not when I have her now and have already failed her.

“Sure,” he replies. “Okay then,” he murmurs under his breath. I summon a muggle pen and a notebook like Hermione’s, getting ready to take down information.

“Salutem taxationem.” Harry casts the spell over Mother and we watch as the numbers and words rise up once again. I immediately start moving the pen over the paper, jotting down her heart rate, blood pressure, blood sugar, oxygen levels, magical core strength, and a whole range of other figures. The spell wavers a couple of times but never dies out, a testament to the strength of Harry’s power.

“Finished,” I say, the second I write the last word. Harry drops the spell, the results wavering and flickering out of existence.

“Let’s see them,” he replies with a raised eyebrow. I watch as different expressions cross his face. Harry seems to understand what he’s reading completely, and I feel kind of stupid that I don’t. I know what some of them mean, but that’s only a handful, and the rest I’ve never even heard of.

“Everything looks alright Draco,” Harry declares a couple of minutes later.

“Really?!” I ask, excitement bubbling in my chest.

“Yeah, it’s all external damage apparently.” Harry puts the notebook and pen down on the ground before stepping closer to me. “Now we only have to clean and close her wounds,” he states.

“Oh thank Merlin,” I breathe. I peck Harry’s lips again, finding it addictive now I’ve started. I still can’t believe he lets me.

Harry grins and kisses me a bit longer. “Come on, let's get her healed up.”

With reference to another book—this one titled “Cleansing and Closing Wounds”—Harry and I manage to remove the excess blood and any dirt or possible causes for infection. The waste is gathered into an empty potions vial and set aside for Hermione in case she wants to run any tests on it. Then, it’s my job to knit her cuts back together. My stomach squeezes as the pale skin shifts and reforms under my wand, memories of the same on my own body coming to the forefront of my mind. Harry’s hand on the small of my back keeps me concentrated, the only reason I manage to finish the task without being sick.

“Is that all of them?” I ask once I can’t see any more lines.

“It appears so,” Harry confirms behind me.

“Thank Mordred for that,” I say on a heavy breath. I never want to have to do that again.

“You don’t want to thank Mordred,” Harry chuckles. “He’s basically Voldemort but in the past!”

“Technicalities,” I wave the argument away. “It’s a saying, and I said it.”

Harry shakes his head, black fringe falling into his eyes. “Come on, let's get her to bed.”

“Which room?” I ask. “It can’t be the one she used to be in.”

“I know…” Harry chews his bottom lip for a second. “What if she’s in your room?”

“Would there be enough space for both of us?” I say with a tip of my head.

“Probably not,” Harry confesses. “But you could stay with me…”

“Harry Potter! Are you saying what I think you are?”

“We don’t have to do anything,” he says, throwing his hands up to show his innocence. “But I’d like having you next to me.” Harry blushes an adorable dark red.

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about it…” I admit.

“Which part?”

I slap him. And then kiss him. “So we’re doing this?”

“I guess we are.” Harry kisses me again.

I pull away first, my breath gone and my heart pounding. “We have to move Mother.”

Harry sighs, presses his lips to the side of my mouth, and levitates my mother off the makeshift bed. He walks out of the kitchen with a backwards glance at me, and then makes his way through the corridor and up the stairs. I wait a second, not knowing what to do, before deciding to follow too. I catch up pretty quickly and walk just behind Mother’s floating feet. The stairs prove to be slightly difficult, given the sheer number of them, but Harry manages to get her up and onto the landing. I offer to help, and once Harry agrees I take over the charm. Harry all but collapses in on himself, exhausted from the amount of magic he’s used today. I levitate Mother’s body into my room—or… my old room—and carefully drop her onto the bed.

She looks ethereal there, her blonde hair a halo around her pale skin and eyelashes. Despite being really injured a couple of hours ago, she looks much better now. Her skin still has a certain tone to it, revealing recent trauma, but for the most part she looks to be healing nicely.

“She looks good Draco.” Harry’s sudden voice behind me makes me jump, unaware as I was with my surroundings. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Harry murmurs into my ear.

“You didn’t!” I protest. “And yes, she does.”

“I definitely did, and I’m sorry, but you’re wrong. You should have seen your face!”

I scowl at Harry from over my shoulder. He tickles me in retaliation. His fingers dig into my skin, rubbing against my ribs and waist.

“Fine, fine!” I give in. “I forfeit!”

“Do you admit it?”

“Guess so,” I huff.

“Oh come here,” Harry says with an eye roll. His lips land on mine and I allow myself to smile into him.

“We have things to do Harry,” I murmur as his mouth connects with my throat.

“Mmmm,” Harry hums against my skin. “Yeah, you.”

“No, Harry. Like preparing for a war.” That sobers him very quickly and steps away. “Sorry, that was uncalled for,” I apologise.

“No, no. You’re right,” he sighs. “I’ll call Hermione and catch her up with Narcissa, we’ll figure something out to keep her safe.”

I only nod in response. We turn and leave the room together. “I guess I’ll cook some dinner for us,” I offer. “Merlin knows you can’t cook.”

“Thank you Dray,” Harry smiles. I scoff at the nickname.

***

The water finally starts boiling, and I carefully pour it into the two mugs sitting on the kitchen counter. The teapot is heavy and very hot, and I rush to put it back down as quickly as possible. Scents of peppermint and chamomile fill the kitchen, and I tip my head closer to take it in. I push my hand through my hair, annoyed at it falling in my eyes. It’s growing very quickly, and is steadily reaching my shoulders. Sighing, I search through the cupboards to find a tea tray. As I bend down to open the bottom row of cabinets, a sharp pain cuts down my back.

Not again… I bring a hand up and around to touch my spine, and find it covered in blood. At this point I’m just sick of it. Gasping in pain, I stand back up and hunt for a towel or something to clean up the blood I know is about to come. I don’t see anything immediately, and give up when I feel my wings twitch where they’re connected to back. A groan pushes past my lips and pain shoots down my back again. I twist and bring my hand back to my skin, finding it warm and wet. A drip rolls downwards, tracing down my skin. I feel around for the bones I know are jutting out of my back and grip them hard. They feel solid and normal in my hand, and I travel up to where they split into branches. The feathers are soft but droopy, and as I’m touching them they curl in towards the bone.

A scream is ripped from me as they start to fall out; memories flashing before my eyes of the days spent in the Manor, and the pain I experienced, merging with the current pain underneath my skin. I force my hand away from the feathers and back down my bone. It’s twitching, shuddering inside my skin.

“Draco!” Harry shouts, running into the kitchen. “What’s happening?”

Relief fills me when I meet emerald eyes. Harry will help me. He always does. His question goes unanswered, but he catches on once his eyes roam over me. Blood is dripping down my back and arm, red lines a stark contrast against my skin. His eyes bulge, he swallows hard, and then he’s rushing towards me.

“They’re going back in Draco,” Harry explains as he looks over me. “Your wings are withdrawing into your back.”

“Ughhh,” I groan as I feel them shift slightly. Now that he’s said it, I can feel them moving beneath my skin. It’s going to be a slow process this time. Bone grates against bone and I shudder at the sound and feeling. It’s like being exposed to the cold, and it sets my teeth chattering in the most uncomfortable way imaginable. A rush of warmth follows, and I’m repulsed to discover it’s a wave of fresh blood. My head spins, the room going blurry and spotty with purple dots.

“Nu- numb me,” I gasp out to Harry as the pain rapidly increases.

I hear Harry patting himself down, hunting for his wand within his clothes. When he finds it, he recants a long, intricate spell. Must’ve gotten it from the books.

A cool relief washes over my body, and the pain dulls down to a bearable level. I can still feel every push into my skin, every time something catches or grates, but the pain isn’t there.

“Thank you,” I manage to get out in a whisper shout. I shudder again, my body twitching, as the bone sinks in further. “Where is it up to?” I need to know how much longer. I need to prepare myself mentally for this.

“Just where it splits into the branches,” Harry replies. His voice is unsure and worried.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, swallowing hard.

“I’m not totally sure…” he says. “It just- the feathers are curling in and falling off. Has that happened before?”

“I don’t think so…” I murmur. “But my memory isn’t working too great right now.”

“Oh Draco, I’m so sorry you have to go through this.” Harry walks around to face me, his hand on my shoulder and his eyes sympathetic. He rests his forehead against mine, his tan skin filling my vision and making me dizzy for a totally different reason.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” I say as the first branch shifts under. One of the sharp bones catches on my skin, and I feel it tear. I gesture to Harry, who goes back around and carefully unhooks it.

“There’s no way I wouldn’t be here,” Harry replies.

The moon is high as time passes while we stand in the kitchen, the charmed windows reflecting the sky above ground. Eventually, the entire bone structure recedes into my back, and feathers litter the tiles. Harry collects them all with wandless magic, conjuring a jar and placing them gently inside. The numbing spell starts to wear off and I can begin to feel Harry’s hands wandering over my skin gently. We stand pressed up against each other for a few minutes, wrapped up in the comfort and warmth. I feel safe and at home in Harry’s arms. But something is off.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Why haven’t they regrown yet?”

Harry sighs, rubbing his hand over my arm. “I’m not sure.”

I feel tears burn at my eyes. I’ve gotten so used to having wings these past few months, and now it feels weird to not have the weight pressed into my back. Searing pain shoots down the entire length of my spine again, and I almost laugh at the timing. It feels different than normal though, the pain is more… distant. It feels far away, like it’s not happening on the surface of my skin, but rather to a different person entirely. The very-most tip of my wing prods against the inside of my skin, and then it breaks through. It doesn’t stop. The bones keep rising out of my back with no intention of slowing down. The pain still doesn’t register, even as the skeleton becomes fully visible.

“Merlin Draco!” Harry shouts as he realises what’s happening. He whips around to face my back, gasping with the sight he sees. “They’re fully regrown! Draco, they’re fully regrown!”

“Let me see!” I call out, excitement filling me to the point I can’t control my voice.

Harry conjures a large mirror and holds it up to my face. Sure enough, the webs of bones are back in place.

“Feathers?” I breathe. I raise my hand to touch them, but quickly withdraw when I realise just how soaked through with blood they are.

“Let me clean them,” Harry offers with a kiss to my cheek. “Tergeo!”

I watch as the blood is siphoned off my wings, and my jaw drops.

“Harry. Harry are you seeing this?! Please tell me I’m not imagining it!” I gush.

Harry lifts a reverent hand and strokes it over the feathers, eliciting a shiver from me. “Definitely not imagined…” he murmurs. “Dray, they’re white. Actually white,” Harry laughs with amazement and joy.

I twist to face him, sharp pain reminding me that my back has just been split open. I wince, my face screwing up. But none of that’s relevant, because my feathers are white, and I’m fully restored.

***

A/N: Another chapter out on time! I hope everyone is staying safe and that you’re looking out for yourself. Stay home! and spend all day reading fic because why not? Xx

Masterlist — Previous Part — Next Part

@draconianhorntail @p3trovass @cowboy-simp @queeneyart @ohheavenlylord @h0pehauntedmyw0rld @unsolicted-chick-picks @itsclayclay @harrybpoetry @slash-slut @jianing2603 @magical-fairy-princess-stuff @give-me-the-queer @youmakeprettybeautiful @hello-i-am-moi @slytherclaw134689 @sinnysin-sin @lafilleetlechatnoir @rebelwolf91017 @irrelevantdrarry @glo-up-goddess @birdy1032 @d-addict @pizzasandwich72 @madison-is-a-small-baby @joshoriande @sugarhoneyice-t @imaginemymemories @shipperofalltheships @uniiicornen @thewanderingnomadsworld @randominternetloser @levi7755 @localxmermaid @biyaaaaaaaaaa @just-some-bibliophile @pizzabitch @champagnemonarch

#devilrising #fallen draco #drarry #drarry fanfic #drarry fanfiction #fic rec #harry potter #draco malfoy #tw: gore #tw: injury

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trikkidetroit · 4 years

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THE REVELATION - GOD IS NOT DEAD

Do you believe in God? In Heaven and Hell and the fight for our souls on Earth against the false prophets who promise you more than they can deliver? If you do, these photos that I will continue to post (despite threats) might be of interest. If they deny God, they might ask me if "I'm okay" for posting something that makes them "uncomfortable" (LOL).

"Blessed are the pure in heart, For they will see God." Matthew 5:8

The photos above are from when I was paddle-boarding. I was living at a sober living house in Walled Lake. As my friend took photos from the shore, my body went translucent, I believe this was God sending a message to the astral projectors with demonic ability to make people fall asleep and drown while swimming. *Side note, when my mother was younger, she had a cousin that drown who knew how to swim. I avoided the pools this summer, I only went swimming twice, when I would get into the water, it was ICE COLD, but when I stuck my hand in to test how cold it was, it felt much warmer than it actually was. I believe the Angels were protecting me because people who have the ability to put people to sleep (albeit behind the wheel of a moving vehicle or while swimming) and it happens so fast, you literally pass out right where you are with no chance to either pull over in time and park the car or swim to shore/to the edge of a pool and get out in time. I have been put to sleep behind the wheel of my car while not under the influence of any sedating chemical substance, after drinking coffee or red bull and still I would begin to nod off while driving and while driving only. I believe that day at the pool, my core body temperature dropped so that I would get out and not swim that day, because the evil individual or individuals with the ability to decay a persons body from the inside out using demons could also sink me like a stone in the deep end of the community pool I was swimming in on that particular day. I feel that in the past 10 years I have been targeted for death by a small group of satanists in the Metro Detroit area, a group that has had all power over satanic/demonic abilities for over 70 years to cause severe bodily harm to people and they became addicted to blood. My family, friends, and I became targets and were forced into silence or else they can make you appear crazy, like you are "just imagining things", or that you "need psychological help" instead of what actually needed to happen, that GOD takes the satanists powers over our lives and the satanists get put in prison for the rest of their lives for their CRIMES AGAINST HUMANITY. Not only has my whole world fallen apart since I started catching paranormal activity on film, but my physical body suffers weird and unexplainable pains and sicknesses, including but not limited to severe headaches, chest pains, body aches, nightmares, PTSD, and what seems to be an actual onset of cancer that they are able to grow simply by astrally projecting into people's bodies and chanting ridiculous words on repeat that are actually demonic incantations said with the INTENTION of causing physiological/psychological harm. The power of PRAYER IS POSITIVE INTENTION, A PERSON USING DEMONIC INCANTATIONS IS NOT PRAYING OR REPEATING A MANTRA, that is so disgustingly deceptive it is not even funny. People in my life went missing and when I considered going to authorities, I would instantly either feel physiological pain or would feel intense dread, like my life was in danger. I will continue my work in paranormal research because I believe my mission on Earth is to show the world that GOD is WITH US, no matter how bleak the situation or how trying things may seem, including the recent pandemic that is plaguing our world known as the Corona virus. This was Biblical misreckoning on the part of the satanists, and because of their ability to downplay the fact that they got away with exorbitant amount of stalkings/violence/murders that were made to look like accidents, then had the power (using demons) to downplay the fact that they murdered people/the severity of their actions. The ability to give a person cancer or a heart attack/stroke without even touching a person physically, using demons they know they can control, is BIOTERRORISM and ORGANIZED CRIME/CULT BEHAVIOR and the most violent acts I can think of because there is no way to physically trace it back to one particular person and bring them to justice via court of law. They can also blow up household appliances (including furnaces and computers) and crash airplanes/helicopters) using these same demons. They can shrink your hard drive space on your computer and cause software malfunctions, which is being looked at by the United Nations right now as Cyberterrorism. It's that serious. If they come to you and ask you to ask me if "I'm alright", just remind them that I am exercising my 1st amendment rights, then ask them "what exactly makes you think that Nikki Foglia is talking about you in her message that is clearly her just exercising her FIRST AMENDMENT RIGHT TO FREE SPEECH/FREEDOM OF THE PRESS?" They undermine the entire U.S. legal system and it is as insulting as it is baffling to very nervous and terrified heads of Government, worldwide. IT'S ONE NATION UNDER GOD, NOT ONE NATION UNDER SATAN. IT'S "IN GOD WE TRUST", NOT "IN SATAN WE TRUST AND GIVE OUR SOULS TO" (because they don't "sell their souls" they give them away when they deny God so they can get away with murder, and they will bear the mark of the beast for doing so, which won't be some fucking microchip but rather a physiological decline in the physical senses that the satanists who were out playing judge, jury and executioner, took for granted to begin with. THE TRUTH MUST BE RESTORED SO WE AS A NATION AND AS A PLANET CAN BEGIN TO HEAL. WE THE VICTIMS ARE CHILDREN OF GOD AND MENTALLY SOUND, A SATANIST MURDERER IS NOT

APATHY IS LETHAL // AGITATE AGAINST APATHY // RAGE AGAINST THE DYING OF THE LIGHT

"No one lights a lamp and hides it in a clay jar or puts it under a bed. Instead, they put it on a stand, so that those who come in can see the light." Luke 8:16

#God #therevelation #revelation #paranormal #paranormal activity #ghosts #spirits #Angels #Archangels #demons #heaven #hell #souls #war #freedom #religion #paranormal research

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happymetalgirl · 4 years

Text

Nile - Vile Nilotic Rites

Holy shit! Nile really came the fuck back, hard! Sorry I know that isn’t much of an introduction so let me back up. Nile, one of technical death metal’s justifiably most respected names, a few years ago (mid-2017) parted ways with longtime guitarist and vocalist Dallas Toler-Wade, much to the surprise and disappointment of many fans who have appreciated his role in Nile’s early days and their ascent to their golden era that began with Annihilation of the Wicked. His not-so-gruff, yet convincingly sardonic vocal delivery, in tandem with Karl Sanders’ deep, bellowing incantations, became a staple of Nile’s already otherwise distinctly middle-eastern-influenced signature sound, with which the band really hit their stride in 2009 with my personal favorite album of theirs, Those Whom the Gods Detest, an album whose impeccable technicality was paired with similarly sharp songwriting that highlighted the enthralling capability of extreme technical death metal when channeled into finely crafted banger after banger. For me, it’s one of technical death metal’s best albums, of not the genre’s very best.

The ancient-Egypt-obsessed band, unfortunately, have been in a bit of a slump since then; 2012’s At the Gate of Sethu was a respectable, but inevitably inferior follow-up to Those Whom the Gods Detest; it had its fine moments, but it was definitely an album that felt like a band at least somewhat exhausted after such a strong peak.

2015’s What Should Not Be Unearthed was a further slide down the hill creatively, being the band’s stalest album to date. Granted, I’d probably take even a stale Nile album over the majority of the techdeath crop, but the band were obviously in a creative dry spell on those two albums, and it perhaps makes sense that Dallas Toler-Wade felt it was time for a change.

While the loyal guitarist/vocalist’s departure by itself might have been seen as a chilling premonition for a fractured future for Nile, the arrival of Brian Kingsland in Toler-Wade’s position has been a revelation for Nile, as his more traditionally aggressive death growl has provided a newly energized angle to the band’s live performances since then, and he has shown what a refreshing impact his newly fiery approach to vox/axe pairing with Sanders could have in the studio on Vile Nilotic Rites. Indeed, Kingsland really takes charge on this album, and his fierce presence and committed performance behind the microphone takes a lot of spotlight; while Sanders’ and Toler-Wade’s pairing became a signature aspect of Nile’s sound, with Kingsland, the band finally have a vocalist as punishing as their instrumentals. Sanders himself even sounds more emboldened and putting more gusto into his normally casual bellow. With that, everything that Nile has succeeded with on the past just kind of falls into place. The production is impressively crisp for an album as potentially suffocating as this one and highlights the technical instrumental work and the killer guitar tone finely (my only wish being that George Kolias’ drumming was brought up a little higher in the mix).

The band break out plenty of the quick, direct technical firestorm tracks that showcase their impressive high functionality at the highest tempos, from the blisteringly fast “The Oxford Handbook of Savage Genocidal Warfare”, to the exceptionally vocally vicious title track, to the mercilessly erratic hyperspeed thrashing of “Snake Pit Mating Frenzy”. The thunderous “Where Is the Wrathful Sky” breaks out a tribal percussion section and an acoustic solo over it, and George Kolias really gets to shine here more than he does on most of the album’s songs. These songs are the kind the band can always churn out and show off with, but they are also the kinds of songs that can be vulnerable to feeling like the band is going through the motions; here though, they sound alive and tenacious, like they have something to play for, like they’re a young unsigned band again trying to catch a label’s attention with their sheer instrumental power.

The band also showcase their ability to weave in the various middle-eastern elements that have shaped the Nile sonic identity and their more proggy, cinematic side like with the theatrically scored, choir-backed “Seven Horns of War” and “Revel in Their Suffering”, the slave-driving-chants that open the percussively ripping and also choir-backed “That Which Is Forbidden”, and even the horn-supplemented opening track, “Long Shadows of Dread”. It’s these kinds of songs that showcase what lies in the Nile creative barrel that the band weren’t able to quite click with on the past two albums but surely are feeling quite good about themselves here. The band further channel that slower-churning Ithyphalic-esque grandeur on the multi-sectioned eight-minute epic “The Imperishable Stars Are Sickened”, which fixates more on the band’s menacing aesthetic than their raw speed, and they close the album out on a shorter, yet still climactic, cinematic, and gloriously brutal “We Are Cursed”.

After losing a key part of their creative core to a bit of a creative drought for the past couple of albums, Nile have returned with a bountiful harvest this year, with Brian Kingsland’s guitar work and added vocal intensity being a driving force in kicking this band back into high gear. It’s certainly not just his more powerful vocals that have enhanced Vile Nilotic Rites; the band seem to have broken through a creative barrier with the consistently well-arranged firepower of the tracks on this album. But it’s impossible to ignore, and hard to overstate, the impact Kingsland’s energy has had on this band live and in the studio. While there is no diminishing of the incredible work Dallas Toler-Wade did with this band for so many years, it’s hard not to see his replacement by Kingsland as an upgrade on a strong, but creatively aging, legend for the band, like the honorable, timely replacement of an aging team captain who has won everything with their club with fresh eager blood, hungry to prove themselves and win the same honors. Nile sound as dominant and confident on Vile Nilotic Rites as they did between Annihilation of the Wicked and Those Whom the Gods Detest, and it sits right up there alongside those masterpieces. It’s undoubtedly the best technical death metal album of the year, and hopefully it’s the beginning of a vibrant new reigning era over those lands for the pharaohs of technical death metal.

Hotepsekhemwy/10

#Nile #Vile Nilotic Rites #technical death metal #techdeath #death metal #metal #heavy metal #new music #new album #album review #great album

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fancycakedragon · 5 years

Text

I Love You

Tommy Kinkle x Witch!Reader

Warning(s): none

A/N: this is the second part to Me, A Witch?! I suggest you start from there. Happy reading.

Masterlist

When you saw her again Sabrina got an earful from you. How could she be so careless with a secret that came down to life or death. Tommy or Harvey could say the wrong thing to the wrong person and they could end up dead. Or worse, they could tip off a hunter without even knowing it leaving the Witch population in Greendale at the mercy of a phsychopath. Sabrina had never seen you so livid. You and Ambrose were the only two people that were her safe havens from the community of dark magic. She knew it was ok once you gave her a hug because damn she needed someone on her side.

A few days later you had been called to meet with Father Blackwood to discuss urgent matters. It was rare for Blackwood to make such a request since you had graduated from the school of dark arts two years ago but who were you question your superior.

When you got to his office, Blackwood gave you permission to enter. You sat on the seat across his desk staring back at his calculating gaze. "Tell me, Y/N, how have you been faring as Ms. Spellman's tutor?"

"She's doing quite well," you answered, "but I don't think that is your main concern." You weren't sure what Father Blackwood wanted from you but it wasn't this.

Recognizing the suspicious look in your eye Blackwood decided to just cut to the chase. "It has come to my attention that you are in a relationship with a human, is this true?"

You felt dread seep into your core as your hands got sweaty, "Well, yes but-"

"And you are aware that this breaks witch and warlock law, yes?"

"Well in the case of High Preist Spellm-"

"Don't you dare bring up that disgraceful man," Blackwood spat. He stood and began to pace his office. "This reckless disregard for sacred witch law will not be tolerated under my watch. Now, you will go to the mortal that you stupidly decided to grow affections for and you will end all relations with him. To be clear, you cannot allow this relationship to continue any further. If you do I will have you know that there are far worse fates than any harrowing or being cut off from the church." With both hands resting on either side of your seat Father Blackwood leaned towards you menancingly. "Am I clear?"

With a tight nod you aswered, "Yes, Father Blackwood."

Blackwood stood back up smoothing out his clothes before he made his way back to his seat, "Get out of my sight."

Without a word you sped out of the office and left the school shaken.

Three days after your meeting with Blackwood and you still hadn't spoken to Tommy. You ignored all calls, messages, and even pretended to be gone when he came to your apartment. You needed to find a way to break up with him but didn't know how. You knew for a fact that Blackwood hated Sabrina's father for choosing to marry a human so now that he was incharge it wasn't going to happen again. You weren't even going to think about what would happen to you or Tommy as punishment for being together.

After a day of moping and wine drinking, Wednesday evening was when you decided it was going to happen. You were going to break up with Tommy Kinkle. It was bound to happen anyways. You were going to outlive him and that kind of information would easily dampened your relationship further ahead.

It was the end of another work day when Tommy saw you waiting for him by his truck. The worry on his face was evident when he hurried over to you.

"Y/N, are you ok? I haven't gotten to talk to you in a while," Tommy took your hand in his. "I missed you."

You pulled your hand away and ignored the hurt expression on his face, "We need to talk."

"Um, yeah sure. About what exactly?"

"Us."

Tommy felt something was wrong but gave a strained smile anyways, "Can we go talk at the cafe?"

You wordlessly nodded before disappearing in the blink of any eye.

Tommy made it to the cafe to find you had already ordered a coffee for him and just water for you. He went over to the table you were sitting at.

"Y/N what's going on?"

"I'm just going to be straight foward get this done. Tommy, I'm breaking up with you."

Tommy opened and closed his mouth trying to figure out what to say. "I-you-we-why?"

You gave a shaky shigh before continuing, "Please don't make this harder than it has to be."

"Why, I thought we were happy, I thought you were happy."

"See Tommy, you're making this harder!"

"Oh, so I want to know why you're ending our relationship and you think I'm making this hard?!" Tommy whispered in frustration.

"You were moving too fast Tommy and I don't want this the way you do!"

"You couldn't have just told me you wanted to take things slow?!"

"I'm not used to human monogamy, ok? You're gonna age and die and I'll still be here! I'm done and if you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from me." You stood up and left the cafe without another word only for Tommy to run after you.

"Someone's making you do this!"

You stopped in you tracks holding back tears. "Leave me alone Tommy Kinkle," you tried to keep your voice steady but he could hear the quiver in your words.

"I love you," Tommy's words hung in the crisp evening air as he waited for a reaction. "That's what I've trying to tell you for so long but, I was too scared. Not anymore, I love you Y/N L/N. I don't know what's going on but please, can let's work through this?"

You turned to face Tommy and were once again looking into the same kind brown eyes that warmed you from within. "I don't know what'll happen to you if we're together any more. I honestly don't want to find out. This ends here Tommy, right now. Go home."

"Fine. Take it off."

"What?"

Tommy looked at you in masked annoyance, "The protection spell you put on me. Bruises disappearing, injuries healing in a day, you really think I wouldn't notice? If this is over you have then you shouldn't care."

You blinked back tears once again and said an short incantation releasing Tommy from your protection spell. He felt a tug at the back of his head as if a hair was plucked from there.

"You're free," you were about to finally leave when you turned back. "I'm sorry."

Tommy stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged avoiding looking at you. He clenched his jaw as he watched you go and did his best to control himself from stopping you again.

The next day was when you heard the news from Sabrina. It was the at mine, the accident, the exact day after you had lifted the protection spell.

You sat down unable to speak with Sabrina watching you carefully. Deep breathes you thought to yourself. It didn't matter though. It hurt. Everything hurt so much you it all became numb. How were you even going to start healing. You loved Tommy and now he was gone. Deceased. Extenguished. Dead.

Suddenly your whole body shook and everything in your apartment did as well when you screamed. The agony was too much to contain within yourself.

Sabrina's first instinct was to comfort you, "Y/N!"

"LEAVE!" You sobbed, "Leave me alone!"

The force of your powers pushed Sabrina straight to the door. She had no choice but to go.

---

You were cleaning up a glass bottle you had broken when you saw it. Peaking out from under your couch was a polaroid. It was you and Tommy when you had spent a week at your family's cottage by the lake. Remembering the carefree time spent together was too much.

You held back your emotions and sighed before kissing the photo.

"I love you too."

-----

Requests are open!

#tommy kinkle x reader #tommy kinkle #reader #caos #3-23-19 #chilling adventures of sabrina

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xx-thedarklord-xx · 6 years

Text

Saving the Pieces

Can be read on Ao3

“Excuse me, mister, but are you Harry Potter?”

Harry wanted to groan, he wanted to apparate away, he wanted to scream, but what he wanted the most was to disappear and be somebody else.

But he wasn’t.

So instead, he turned around and smiled down at the child who spoke; she couldn’t have been more than ten. Her smile was radiant, and her hands were waving around excitedly as he nodded in affirmation.

“My mum says you saved the world.”

Harry couldn’t be upset at the adoration in her eyes, nor the hesitant way she reached out for his hand with her own small fingers.

“Your mum thinks too highly of me.”

She shook her head so fast that the bobble in her hair slipped and her braid unravelled.

“Nu-uh. You are the hero of the bedtime stories she reads me. My mum says that the healers will save me, just like you saved us.”

Harry knew it would be a bad idea to open his mouth, he could already hear Malfoy’s lecture in the back of his mind, but as he stared down at the child, he felt his heart lurch.

“Healers? Are you sick?”

“My magic needs mending. The healers said I perform like a squib because there’s a block. They just need a donation. I’m on a list, at least that’s what my mum says.”

Harry winced. He knew that most people on a magical donation didn’t survive long enough to get the magic needed. It didn’t use to be a problem, at least not until after the war. No one wanted to give up magic, even if it would save a neighbour.

He knelt down, so he could peer into her face. “How about you bring me to your mum, and we’ll see about getting you that donation?”

----------

The door slammed open with a bang as it hit the wall and Harry had to fight the urge to flee. No other Healer would be so rude, unless it was Malfoy.

“Want to tell me why I have a transplant scheduled for tomorrow with you down as a donor?”

Harry couldn’t look up, not if Malfoy’s expression matched the anger in his tone.

“It’s just a sliver of magic. That’s all I’m donating.”

“You don’t have any spare magic to give, Potter.”

Harry clenched his fists as he glared up at Malfoy.

“I know that, I can’t ever forget,” He spat out, the anger causing his tone to come out far harsher than intended.

Malfoy’s face morphed into several emotions, and Harry hated each one of them. It wasn’t fair. Malfoy wasn’t allowed to feel anything when it came to Harry’s situation. It made it more real.

“Every month you come in here and I have to tell you the same speech, the same warnings and the same bad news.”

“Malfoy—”

“No, Potter.” Malfoy closed the door with a snap before he slumped against the door. “I can’t in good conscience allow you to do this.”

“It’s not your choice.”

Malfoy clenched his teeth, and Harry knew it would be wise to give in, but he couldn’t—not when he thought of the little girl.

“Potter, your magic is dying out, you know this. Every time you say a spell, mutter an incantation, use your wand, or wave your hand with the intent to call upon your magic, it slowly disappears.”

“I know—”

“Do you?” Malfoy asked, sneer in place and anger in his eyes. Honestly, Harry wasn’t sure who allowed Malfoy to be a healer, especially with that kind of bedside manner.

“Because I advised you to only use your magic under dire circumstances. Whatever happened to you that night mucked up your ability to regenerate the magic that resides in your magical core.”

Harry looked down the worn, ugly, and mismatched tiles of the floor. He knew magic was like a muscle, the more you use it, the broader your abilities become—but magic requires rest, as does any muscle. Instead of regenerating magic like his body would regenerate energy, his magic slowly decreased with each new spell used.

When he chose to come back instead of moving on all those years ago in the forest, he didn’t think it would have repercussions. But that was his price to pay, his burden to bear.

“Every time you come in, your magic has decreased at an alarming rate. Your idiotic Gryffindor morals can’t let you see someone suffer without offering aid.”

“I can’t help it,” Harry stressed as his fingers dug into his palms. “Malfoy, you don’t know what it’s like. I have this urge to help people, to be of use, and what I do best is the one thing you tell me I can’t do.”

His eyes stung, whether due to anger or something else, he wasn’t sure.

“I want to make a difference. I want to be somebody besides the bloody saviour of the world.” Harry’s voice caught as he screwed up his eyes and his forehead wrinkled. “But what good am I in wizarding society if I can’t perform magic?”

“Potter.” The delicacy to Malfoy’s voice should have been soothing, it should have calmed his emotions, but it only angered Harry further. He didn’t want to be understood, didn’t want to be pitied.

“I’m useless as I am. The only thing I can offer is my magic, and I’m going to do it until I have none left.”

Malfoy closed his eyes as his shoulders slumped.

“I can’t let you, Potter. It goes against every violation we have. You aren’t magically fit to be giving pieces of yourself away.”

Dread filled Harry, but he refused to take no for an answer.

“But I don’t care. I’m okay with that, okay with giving all that I have.”

Malfoy shook his head before crossing his arms.

“I won’t do it. I won’t cypher away your already limited magic.”

Harry wanted to be bothered by that, more so than the annoyance already inside him, but Malfoy was always like that—always attempting to lengthen his magic, and it was nice having someone to look after him.

“Then I’ll fight the decision to the Director of St. Mungos. You know how this is going to turn out, Malfoy.”

He didn’t like using his status against others, but Harry would if he had to—and he was going to. He didn’t care if he had to take it to the Wizengamot, it was his body, his magic, and he would be damned if someone tried to tell him what to do with it.

Malfoy pursed his lips. “You do that. When I’m ordered to perform the transplant, then we can talk. But until then, it’s my decision.”

Harry could respect that, he wasn’t sure what he would do if the situation were reversed.

When Malfoy walked to the door, Harry began to gather his things.

“I’m just trying to keep you alive, Potter.”

“I know,” Harry whispered softly. “And I appreciate that.”

They both knew he’d get his way in the end but having Malfoy fight so strongly meant a lot to Harry. It meant everything.

----------

“Healer Malfoy says it will be painless!” Estrella exclaimed, eyes bright and a happiness Harry wasn’t used to seeing oozing outward.

They only had a few minutes before the transplant, and Harry was rather pleased to have gotten to know Estrella better. It had been a rocky few weeks for the both of them as Harry had to petition St. Mungos.

He knew Malfoy was upset, and didn’t want to perform the transplant, but Harry knew that Malfoy would end up doing it.

“Has Malfoy said anything else?”

Estrella hummed a tune Harry wasn’t familiar with as her legs kicked back and forth from the hospital bed.

“Just that he admires you.”

Harry’s mouth parted, and he wondered if he could take her words at face value. Just last week she talked about her best friend who was a hybrid dragon and gorilla combination—so he wasn’t quick to believe her.

“Now, I don’t remember quite saying it like that.” The drawling tone had both Harry and Estrella sitting up straighter.

Malfoy was in the doorway, a clipboard in his hands and a few healers in training behind him.

“But you did, Mister Malfoy! Remember? I said that Harry Potter was so cool, and you said—”

“How about we forget what I said, alright?” Malfoy asked, a beautiful flush to his cheeks that had Harry unable to look away.

“I’d like to hear what it was that you said.”

Malfoy’s flush increased past his neck and Harry had to wonder if that was where it stopped.

“Can we hurry up?” A healer behind Malfoy asked. “I’ve got a patient in Creature-Induced Injuries who’s got a bad Chimera bite that needs to be drained in a few hours, and Merlin knows you two will flirt for that long.”

It was Harry’s turn to flush as Malfoy turned to glare at the healer.

Malfoy cleared his throat. “It’s a routine transplant, but I’ve got a few healers on standby due to your low magical levels. Odds are still in your favour, but it’s better to be safe.”

Harry smiled at Estrella when she frowned at Malfoy’s words. He didn’t want her to worry about him.

“Are you ready?”

When they both nodded, Malfoy brought his hands together before gesturing for them to lay down.

“Alright then, let’s begin.”

--------

Clammy. Harry felt sticky, his palms felt wet and he wondered why he was so sweaty. His mind was foggy, and he couldn’t remember where he was. Was he at home?

—“He’s seizing! The limited magic won’t separate from his core.”—

Something prodded at his mind as if urging him to remember, but nothing made sense, nothing stuck out. What was the last thing he had done?

—“He’s not breathing. Murphy, I need an Anapneo right away.”

“But sir, there’s no blockage.”—

Panic seized Harry as his mind blanked. He couldn’t remember anything.

—“Lower his heart rate. Marsh, I need respiration potions, half a vial.”—

Something wet touched his lips and he tried to move his head but his body wouldn’t cooperate.

—“We’ll have to rip the magic out of the core.”

“That could send him into shock.”—

As liquid seared his throat, Harry wanted to scream, he wanted his body to listen to him. What was happening?

—“Immobilize his heart, I can’t get his core to respond accordingly.”—

The more Harry fought, the more things began to hurt. Nothing made sense, not even his own mind.

—“Potter, I need you to stop fighting me, please.”—

Time meant nothing as he tried to grapple with his surroundings. If he concentrated he could make out a buzzing of noises, but nothing made sense and he didn’t know what it was.

—“He’s not going to make it. His magic is creating a shield and with how little there is it’ll take his natural energy.” —

The urge to fight was strong, but he didn’t have the will to keep it going. Why was he so tired? What was causing the lethargy? Harry just wanted to sleep, maybe he should, that seemed like a good idea.

—“Potter’s going to need an emergency supply of magic. If his core doesn’t stabilize then there will be nothing we can do.”

“We’ll need to place him in a stasis, sir, we don’t have a match on hand.”—

His body felt heavy, and Harry decided that giving in would be the smartest move. Conserve his energy for another time. There would be another time.

—“There’s no time, we’re losing him. Turner, I need you to take over, Lynn I need you to prep another bed.”

“What? Sir?”

“I’ll donate the magic myself.”—

The heaviness increased, but it was comforting in a way. It meant giving up responsibility when he was tired, oh so tired. It was nice to not have to keep fighting.

—“Potter don’t you dare give up now. Come on you stubborn bastard.”—

---------

Harry opened his eyes and quickly shut them again as the pain of the light stung his eyes. A noise of disgust left him, and his mouth felt gross as he tried to swallow past the uncomfortable feeling of sleep.

“Oh, you are up.”

He startled slightly at the sound of Malfoy’s voice. He squinted to the left of him as he tried to figure out if the blurry lump was really Malfoy.

It wasn’t until Malfoy chuckled, the noise sounding close to fond as his glasses were placed in his hands was Harry actually able to see.

“You look like shit,” Harry blurted when his eyes focused and he could see Malfoy’s pristine hair ruffled and sticking up in places, purple spots underneath Malfoy’s eyes, and an exhausted expression made him look years older.

Malfoy’s right eye twitched and Harry had to bite his lip to stop from laughing.

“Thank you, Potter. Your manners are spot on as usual.”

“Are you alright? What happened to you?”

“Me?” Malfoy asked, voice incredulous. “You almost died, you moron.”

“What?” Harry asked as he tilted his head to the side. “I thought you said it was a routine transplant.”

“Yeah, for those with normal magical reserves. Your magic refused to separate.”

Harry’s hands gripped his chest, as if he could feel the magic, but he just needed to hold onto something.

“But what about Estrella? And her transplant? Does that mean she didn’t get any magic?”

Malfoy clenched his jaw as he looked away.

“I tell you that you almost died, and your first question is about someone else.”

“Malfoy,” Harry sighed, not wanting to get into a fight. “Just please tell me—”

“She’s fine. I was able to separate enough magic to fix her blockage.”

He exhaled a shaky breath of relief. But when Malfoy didn’t relax, he began to worry.

“But?”

“You flatlined, Potter,” Malfoy’s voice cracked, and Harry watched in awe as Malfoy blinked rapidly. “You were dying and there was nothing I could do to help. Your magic was killing you as much as it tried to save you.”

Harry looked down at the bed as he fiddled with his fingers.

“But I’m still here.”

A hollow laugh left Malfoy, and he hated the noise, hated that he missed the normal laugh, the one that usually at his own expense.

“Only because I gave you some of my magic.”

Harry’s head snapped up and his mouth parted at the intense look in Malfoy’s eyes.

“But I thought that—” He paused as he tried to recall the ethics of something like that. There were rules on donors, and he didn’t think that was something allowed.

“I’ve been suspended.”

“What?” Harry asked aghast. “But—but you saved me.”

A small quirk of Malfoy’s lips could be seen before it mellowed out.

“I broke six hospital violations and committed a peccadillo that could be punishable by the Wizengamot.”

Harry frowned heavily. “They aren’t going to charge you with anything, are they?”

Malfoy shrugged. “I doubt it. I did save Harry Potter’s life after all. The papers haven’t vilified me, and the hospital is up by 50% in donations since it was announced.”

“I still don’t understand why saving me got you in so much trouble.”

“Donors are screened, prepped, advised and forced to sign waivers before ever being allowed to offer magic. Tests are run to ensure the recipient is compatible, and the other person must be aware.”

Harry ran his fingers through his hair as the realization of it all came crashing down.

“I injected you with my own magic on the hope that it would be enough. You were dying, Potter. If I had followed hospital rules, your friends would be burying you in the ground right now. I did what I thought was right, and that, unfortunately, meant breaking guidelines.”

“Why?” Harry whispered, eyes a little wet. “Why did you risk so much for me?”

“You aren’t the only one who can’t help but save others.” It was said with an accompanying sad smile, and Harry’s heart lurched at the sight.

“Maybe you’ve rubbed off on me. All I could hear was your damn mentality of giving pieces of yourself away, and I knew that I had to try, I had to do something!”

“Thank you,” Harry said as he closed his eyes and blindly reached for Malfoy’s hand. He wanted to thank him for caring, for being there, for yelling at him when it got rough, for listening when he needed to vent, for being the best healer and friend that Malfoy could have been.

“Thank you for everything.” He hoped that was enough.

When Malfoy entwined their fingers and moved onto the bed with him, Harry knew that Malfoy had understood.

It took many years of always being on the wrong page to synch up, and now, there was an understanding that went both ways.

An understanding that he wouldn’t change for the world.

---------

Bonus Scene

“Hurry up, Harry!” Estrella yelled as she rushed through the halls of St. Mungos.

“We have time, Draco’s shift isn’t over for another few hours.”

Estrella sighed as she slowed down to a brisk walk instead of the near run it had been before.

“Draco was right, you do suck the fun out of things.”

Harry gasped, the sound far more offended than he felt. “I resent that.”

When she laughed brightly, he decided to let that one go and just blame Draco.

As they rounded the corner, Harry waved at the welcome witch, Jeni.

“He’s on break for the next few minutes. I’d catch him now before he starts his rotation in the Artifact Accident wing,”

“Thank you!” Harry called over his shoulder as he decided to make treacle tart later and send it over for the staff. He would make sure to give Jeni the biggest one.

“Estrella!” Harry yelled as she pushed open the staff room without a second care or thought.

When he walked in, he was glad to see it was empty except for Draco who barely had enough time to catch Estrella as she launched forward to hug him.

“What are my two favourite people doing here?” Draco asked as he grinned at Harry before giving him a soft kiss in greeting.

“Show him, Harry,” Estrella demanded as her arms wrapped around Draco’s neck.

“Estrella’s mum sent her over with this.”

Harry pulled out the recognizable letter and watched Draco suck in a sharp breath.

“Dear Estrella,

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed—”

Harry cut off when Draco stepped forward, arms still wrapped around Estrella.

Estrella beamed as Harry showed Draco the letter.

“You did it Draco!”

“No, I—” Draco shook his head. “All I did was do the transplant. Your magic got you into Hogwarts, not me.”

“You saved me,” Estrella argued, a small frown on her face. “You saved Harry too. Just accept the compliment.”

Harry grinned at her fiery disposition as Draco laughed, the sound a little wet.

When Draco pulled Harry into a one-armed hug as he held onto Estrella and whispered, “Thank you,” Harry didn’t need any clarification.

He understood, and when it came to them, he always would.

---------

I am a day early, but I want to wish @rmh8402 a very happy birthday. I hope your day will be just as wonderful as you. I love you! Thank you @unicornsandphoenix for being a great beta and looking this over for me.

This ficlet was inspired by the song Anpanman, and the message behind it is something that has stuck with me for a while now.

#Drarry #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #Ficlet #XxTheDarkLordxX writes #healer!draco #Harry is a mess #but one that matters #he just wants to save everyone #Draco tries to save him #someone has to be responsible #small angst #some fluff #Estrella makes an appearance #Jeni makes an appearance #Magic transplant #Patient!Harry

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missnmikaelson-main · 5 years

Text

The Mummy - Thebes, 2134 BC

I do not own TVD or TO or The Mummy

Thebes… they called it the city of the living; the crown jewel of Pharaoh Seti I.

The people called him immortal, but no man can truly live forever. Not without cost at least. That was what he had told her.

Her confident steps never faltered as she strode through the garden that was really a corridor. She could feel their eyes on her, but none were allowed to touch for she was the Pharaoh’s mistress.

He was a selfish man. He was a possessive man. He was a lecherous man.

Pharaoh’s mistress. It was a fancy, polite way of saying she was his concubine; that her body belonged to him and him alone.

She had never chosen this life. It had been chosen for her.

She came from a respectable family. The shame had warred with their pride when she was chosen to be mistress to Seti. Her position came with prestige; she was one of the most powerful women in the court, but everyone knew she was his whore.

The list of people allowed to touch her was miniscule. It consisted of the Pharaoh and her handmaids; she despised both.

The handmaids would paint her body from head to toe. Clothing was not permitted for her during the warmer months of the year.

They happened to be living in the warmer months.

She knew guards were staring as she walked past them. Their eyes would be drawn to her glowing curves accentuated by the thick lines of black Kohl; it created a design of scales descending from her painted pectoral to the top of her sex. The only clothing she wore was the narrow cloth hanging between her thighs from a beaded belt.

The impression was that of a skin tight beaded dress, but anyone who stared long enough would see the smooth curves of her behind. They would trace the defined shape of her hips and perhaps catch a glimpse of her smooth core. It would take less than a glance to see her nipples formed into tight buds between the lines of paint.

She was naked, and she hated it. She kept her face impassive though. Who would dare to complain in her position?

She was the favorite. She was immortalized in stone and reliefs; her name would go down in history. Wasn’t that what everyone always wanted? Wasn’t that what truly mattered?

The gods would know her name when she arrived in the afterlife. She would live on in eternity.

She was his favorite, but he was not hers.

Her face remained impassive as she strode into the temple and past the ornate statues of Osiris. She could feel the eyes of the priests on her before she vanished between the curtains that led to the bedroom.

Her lips tipped up in a true smile when she saw him. He was her favorite.

Thebes was home to Silas, High Priest of Osiris and Keeper of the Dead.

Her eyes flicked slowly from his exposed chest to his eyes as his fingers traced the plains of her face and body without touching her skin. The proximity drove her mad when she repeated the action.

This was their ritual. This was all they were permitted to do, but damn it, she wanted more. She couldn’t contain herself when she saw the passion in his darkened gaze.

Her hand grasped the back of his neck. It took no persuasion. He wanted her as much as she wanted him.

Their lips met in a passionate kiss. Quiet moans reverberated through her body. She couldn’t stop them; his hands were roaming over her ‘perfect body’.

She loved him, and he loved her. For that love they were willing to risk their lives.

She broke the kiss when she heard the loud crash coming from the antechamber. She exchanged a look with Silas before urging him to back away.

Her hand was stroking the golden head of a cat when the Pharaoh strode inside. She smirked and ran her eyes over his body suggestively; he loved it when she showed an openly obvious interest in him.

His eyes narrowed. Lifting his hand he pointed an accusing finger at her shoulder.

“Who has touched you?” His cry was outraged.

He was a possessive man.

Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw the smudged paint. They were always so careful, but passion had overtaken him; it had overtaken them both.

Her mouth popped open as she started to back away. Her hands were raised until she saw who pulled the Pharaoh’s sword from its scabbard; she could see the shock on his face when he turned around.

“Silas,” his eyes grew round, “my priest?”

Seti cried out in pain when a bronze dagger was plunged into his back. He had just seen Amara’s determined eyes when the sword was stabbed into his abdomen. He lost track of how many times the couple ran him through; he was gone before the royal guards broke into the chamber.

Silas and Amara turned when the doors were forced open.

“You must go,” she inhaled sharply when he tried to stand firm beside her. “No,” she tore the sword from his hands, “save yourself, my love; only you can resurrect me.”

Silas’ eyes filled with despair. He knew what she planned to do; he would have fought to stay with her but he was outnumbered by his gold painted priests.

Determination settled over her shoulders like a well-worn blanket. She only had one choice, but that was alright; there were always options.

She met the eyes of the head of Pharaoh’s guard and hissed: “my body is no longer his temple.” It was almost satisfying when the blade plunged into her heart.

++++

Amara’s body was mummified. Her vital organs were removed and placed with in the sacred canopic jars.

For the crime of murdering the Pharaoh Amara’s body was to be cursed. It was the duty of the High Priest to curse it; the prospect had filled Silas with dread even as he read from the golden book of the living.

The book contained the sacred incantations that would send the evil dead on a journey into the darkest parts of the underworld. Such a curse was used on Amara.

The slaves who buried the body under the sand were killed by the soldiers of the pharaoh; the soldiers were in turn slain by the priests for no unholy person could be allowed to know the exact location of the burial site.

The thing that was unknown was that there was another book. The Black Book of the Dead which was never to be opened, never to be read; it contained the incantations that would bring a body back to life as a most unholy thing.

It was hidden at Hamunaptra, City of the Dead, inside the statue of Anubis, so that no such sacrilege might ever bring disgrace to Egypt, but for his love of Amara Silas was willing to defy all.

Skulls bobbed in the thick black goop that made up the moat surrounding the underground cemetery. The water had once been crystal clear but the rot of human remains had long since turned it to sludge.

A quiet hum reverberated off the ceiling as the bald priests chanted and watched the proceedings with hooded, lifeless eyes. Their head rocked back and forth as they chanted; the collective voice was eerie as it rose from the heinous creatures that had once been vibrant men.

Silas finished removing the wrappings from her lifeless body; even in death she was gorgeous. He placed the canopic jars around her body and nodded. The organs were still fresh so a human sacrifice would not need to be made.

He chanted from the book and felt the large swirling hole that rose from the bog; it brought a gleam of fear to the eyes of several of the priests. They tore their eyes away and returned to their chanting.

A mist lifted from the swirling hole and passed through the jars and into the body of Amara. Within one of the jars her heart began to beat.

The voices of Silas and the priests, the rushing wind from the swirling hole and the beating heart filled the air until nothing else could be heard. When the noise was deafening Silas saw her eyes fly open.

Her soul had returned. All that remained was to return her organs to her body; their rightful place.

The noise grew impossibly loud as he lifted the ceremonial knife over her chest. He was about to plunge the blade into her chest when a mass of soldiers stormed the cemetery.

A loud crash announced the breaking of the canopic jar and the crushing of her heart.

Amara’s soul lifted out of her body and dissipated back into the hole.

Silas had barely been given a chance to cry out when he was captured by the royal guards.

The priests were sentenced to be mummified alive.

For his crimes Silas was sentenced to endure the Hom-dai. It was the worst of the ancient curses. It was so terrible it had never before been bestowed on anyone.

Sacred scarabs were released into his coffin, by eating them he was cursed to stay alive forever, and by eating him they were cursed just the same.

Silas was to remain sealed inside his sarcophagus for all eternity. The Medjay would never allow him to be released for if he was he would arise as a walking disease, a plague upon mankind, an unholy flesh eater with the strength of ages, power over the sands, and the glory of invincibility.

And if were to ever succeed in raising his beloved from her place in the underworld they would become an unstoppable force; an infection upon the world: the apocalypse.

tags @rissyrapp20, @elejah-wonderland @elejahforever @eternityunicorn @morsmornte

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lichtweh · 5 years

Text

coexist (with me) yoonkook / teen & up / 3.3k // for acire ♥

prompt: E. “Reading from an ancient book, never a good idea.” 2. “This is all your fault.” 6. “I beg to differ.”

(yoonkook, the occult and an honest mistake)

_______________________________________________

the end of the incantation leaves him quietly: tingling on his lips like the touch of something other, a kiss, feather-light, pulling the last syllable from his mouth gently. he inhales deeply, lightness spreading in him, no feelings in his body, no motion to the air.

it’s not air that makes the candle lights flicker, fight to stay burning, before they’re all put out.

the smoke dances, life to its movement, collects in the middle of the circle, growing and growing in front of him. there’s so much smoke, black, thick, spreading; it rises up to the ceiling and reaches out to every wall, engulfs all of the small attic in its darkness.

terror—terror envelops him, from his toes up his legs and into his throat, he can’t breathe, the fog like concrete around him. he gasps for air, but all his lungs fill with is heaviness, pressing down on his midst. the rush of blood roars in his ears, fear digs into his spine, and his fingers clench above his heart helplessly, vision black.

he shouldn’t have done this. he’ll die.

something brushes his cheek—gentle, the ghost of a touch, and everything goes calm and quiet.

he opens his eyes with a gasp, clear air flooding him.

red eyes meet his.

jungkook can’t move with the shock, staring up at the figure in front of him. black hair, perfect pale skin, small nose and pouty lips; dressed all in black, intimidating, gorgeous.

it makes sense he would look ethereal.

it doesn’t make sense for the spell to have worked at all, but it did. jungkook clutches the book in his arms.

his breath and words are caught in his throat, frozen beneath the other’s inhuman eyes. the figure blinks and they turn black, unassuming behind messy, long bangs. jungkook wills his body to move again, tries to find his voice.

“hi,” he croaks.

the man quirks his lips, an expression so familiar and human. but he’s not.

“hello.”

his voice is deep and raspy; it shoots through jungkook, hot and urgent. he’s—unfairly attractive, inhumanly so, draws jungkook’s attention like he’s never seen beauty before in his life.

jungkook doesn’t know how to go about this, what the etiquette says: if there’s an order of things to communicate and note down, if the creature has done this thousands of times and jungkook is the first not to know what he’s doing. he gapes up at the being in front of him, tries to swallow his nerves down.

“you’re... a spirit.”

“you could say that,” the spirit drawls.

jungkook straightens deliberately, but his fingers still curl in the edges of the book, needing reassurance.

“will you answer my request?”

the spirit doesn’t avert his gaze once, keeps jungkook pinned under it. it’s unsettling—abnormal. otherworldly.

“your first time?”

discomfort grows in jungkook’s stomach, all of him open and vulnerable in front of this existence.

“y-yes.”

he hums, low, reverberating; jungkook feels it in his bones.

“don’t be afraid. i can be gentle.”

dread—it might be dread coiling around his insides, fluttering around his ribs.

“gentle...?”

“i’m yoongi. what’s your name, human?”

“jungkook.”

“jungkook. it’s okay. i’ll be careful with you.”

“careful...?”

his mind can’t make sense of it.

the entity—spirit—yoongi. yoongi takes a step forward, and jungkook leans back.

“careful with what? shouldn’t you—i called you to—aren’t you here to help me?”

yoongi crouches at the edge of the invisible circle, balancing on the balls of his feet, elbows on his spread knees. he rests his chin on a palm, long fingers curling against his cheek elegantly. his fingernails are black.

“to help you, yes.”

his smirk is electrifying; positively dangerous.

“i—” the words get stuck in his throat, shame squeezing it closed. it hurts a little to force them out.

maybe shame in the face of an unearthly being is misplaced here, but jungkook feels his muscles tense against his will. even if the being doesn’t judge him, dutifully soothes his pain and disappears—jungkook has to live with the wound. has to live with the knowledge. he’s been fine all this time, for years and years, mostly on his own in this hollow house. he’s been fine. but his parents haven’t returned in months again, he doesn’t know where they are.

“i wanted some company.”

yoongi doesn’t blink, piercing gaze boring into jungkook’s core.

“company, yes. i can provide that.”

the tone of his voice, the glint in his eyes, the smirk pulling at his tempting mouth. it adds up to—something, but not what jungkook expected. alluring, mesmerizing, he’s heard of sirens before.

“what exactly… are you?”

yoongi raises an eyebrow.

“shouldn’t you know? we’re called incubi.”

“inc—what?”

“incubus. a sex demon.”

“a—what?”

yoongi stares at him, not moving a muscle.

“that’s what i was called for. sex.”

embarrassment shoots through jungkook, sharp and hot. he gapes, momentarily forgotten how to form words.

“no… no, that’s not—aren’t you here to,” he swallows hard, mouth dry, thought after thought escaping him, “offer your services?”

“sexual services, yes.”

“no,” jungkook mumbles, again and again, “no no no, i didn’t want that. it said—”

he stares at the open book in his lap, faded drawings on torn pages he can barely read. he’d found it at the bottom of a cardboard box, much older between children’s books and magazines from the last decade. servant, spirit, he understood that much. or not enough.

“ah,” yoongi drawls, “not enough training but already reading from an ancient book, never a good idea.”

“i didn’t—i didn’t think it would work.”

“why wouldn’t it, aren’t you a witch?”

jungkook meets yoongi’s eyes, black—demonic. a demon. an—incubus. yoongi glances up, and jungkook touches a hand to his red hair.

“witch… what? no.”

yoongi looks him up and down, frowning at the book in his lap.

“well, you couldn’t have done that without magic in your blood. you can’t summon demons on accident.”

jungkook summoned a demon on accident and has no idea what to do.

“magic in my blood…?”

his parents are upper middle class workers too busy abroad to have a family, his elder brother is a resigned model student in some university out of town. jungkook is a let-down.

jungkook blinks at yoongi, yoongi blinks back. then he tears his unnerving gaze away, looking around the cramped attic for the first time. he squints at an old flat-screen tv and playstation in the corner.

“what year is this?”

“2019?”

yoongi sits down with a heavy thud. “oh man.”

jungkook finally lets go of the spellbook and shoves it to the side, furrowing his brows. “why? how old are you?”

“i’m not old, okay,” he points a finger at him, “it’s just… been a while.”

“and ‘a while’ means…?”

“so, the sex.” yoongi’s eyes glint in annoyance. “let’s get to it.”

“no!”

“what?”

jungkook stares at the demon, cross-legged in front of him, mirroring his pose, like they’re two friends having a friendly chat about something—well, less bizarre.

“i don’t want to have sex with you.”

yoongi tilts his head, a twitch to his lips, brows raised. “you don’t?”

jungkook feels warmth rush to his cheeks. he clears his throat.

“i don’t.”

“human,” the demon sighs. “the incubus summoned is determined by the heart of the spellcaster. it is in your blood, and in mine.”

jungkook listens, waiting for it to make some sense. yoongi’s mouth stretches in a slow, smug grin.

“your magic called for me, so i had to answer.”

jungkook chews on his bottom lip, wanting to say something against it, but he doesn’t know what. he really doesn’t know what exactly any of this means.

yoongi’s grin is wolfish, scary, but so gorgeous, still. “your body definitely wants to have sex with me.”

“well i don’t. that’s not—” jungkook shifts back, the demon still contained inside the incantation circle. “i didn’t call you for that, i’m sorry, so you can go home.”

yoongi’s tone is flat. “i can’t just go home.”

“what do you mean, you can’t?”

“you called for me and i answered. we made a deal.”

jungkook doesn’t want to hear the rest of the explanation, sense of foreboding thumping loudly in his chest. yoongi only shrugs, a hand in his hair, messing it up almost artfully.

“i give you an orgasm, you give me your semen,” he wiggles his fingers, “then i go home. that’s the deal.”

“my—what—no,” jungkook squeaks, drawing his arms up in defense, warm everywhere, up to the tips of his ears. “why—no.”

“human.” yoongi’s low growl commands attention, amicable front gone in a split-second. “i can’t leave until the trade is completed. i am bound to you by the contract.”

he leans forward, one hand on the floor.

“i fulfill your needs, take a bit of life force—you won’t even notice it, i promise—and we’re free, you never see me again. simple.”

yoongi’s gaze is searing, felt all the way inside jungkook’s chest, so much so that he draws back even further. “but—”

yoongi shuffles forward on his knees, between the line of candles, and even further. he crosses the boundary without effort, as if it wasn’t there at all.

“how—you’re not supposed to—”

“the mood lighting is cute, but that’s all it is. even with your powers.”

the demon crawls towards jungkook, and jungkook retreats back, holding himself up on trembling arms. yoongi’s smirk runs down his spine, bursts white-hot in his gut.

“why do you deny it? i am everything you’re attracted to.”

yoongi inches closer, closer, to kneel between jungkook’s legs. his eyes glimmer with trouble, his mouth curves with fake promises. jungkook leans as far back as his arms can hold him, heartbeat pounding in his ears.

yoongi curves his body over his, breath teasing on jungkook’s skin. his lips look soft, full, deliciously pretty—jungkook inhales, stuttery, weak.

yoongi’s smell has his arms almost give out. it’s pleasant but intense, the sweetest blend of flowers and citrus and musk. jungkook inclines his head on instinct, craving more of it as it makes his head spin.

yoongi smiles so beautifully, knowing, leaning close. jungkook forces himself to turn his nose away, so instead he bares his neck, tingling all over his skin, anticipating. yoongi chuckles, close, so close, breath like sparks down his neck.

a demon. a demon is at his neck.

before yoongi can touch him, jungkook jerks away, losing his balance. he falls on his back, pain immediate, scrunching his eyes shut.

he braces himself, tense, but nothing happens.

when a quiet chuckle sounds above him, jungkook blinks up at the ceiling.

yoongi’s head pops into view, leaned over him, sharp demon eyes in amused curves.

“you’re cute.” he touches a bony finger to the tip of jungkook’s nose, pressing down once. his smile loses its edge, stretching all wide until his teeth show, then his gums, then his eyes disappear into crescents. no human has looked at jungkook this way.

“i can’t actually touch you without your consent, you know. master.”

jungkook shoves him to the ground, hard, cheeks burning.

“come on. jungkook.”

“i’m studying.”

“so keep doing it. how about my fingers in you?”

“no, no fin—no.”

“okay, fine, i could jerk you off?”

“yoongi—”

“more of a blowjob guy? i’m efficient at that.”

“wh—okay, you know what, no, you—leave, get out.”

“and where am i supposed to go?”

yoongi, unexpectedly, turns whiny when he doesn’t get his way.

it’s been hours.

jungkook tried making him do housework: finish chores, dust off the attic, mop the floors, do the laundry and the dishes, too. yoongi complained all the while, this is not fulfilling your needs, and why is the house so big, but did it all easily. with his magic demon powers or whatever. he didn’t lift a finger, anyway. he hasn’t disappeared, either.

yoongi sighs, long and heavy, frustration audible in it.

“jungkook, seriously though. i’m dying.”

jungkook’s neck cracks from how fast he snaps his head towards his unwilling companion. yoongi’s face is impassive.

“i can feel my powers decreasing as we speak. i am withering.”

jungkook should have considered that. yoongi is a demon—this is not his realm. he was called here by a spell. it makes sense that there is a penalty or cost to his stay. but—

“i will die. i will crumble to pieces if i can’t stick it in. or you stick it—”

“oh my god okay stop, please stop talking—”

“jungkook, please—”

“i can’t!”

his voice comes out much louder than intended, an uncomfortable feeling nagging at him, an itch he can’t locate.

“i can’t, okay? i just—we don’t even know each other, and i want my sexual partner to be someone i can trust, you know, someone that—”

“jungkook. jungkook, sweetie, i’m not human, i’ll just vanish into thin air after and—”

“that’s the problem.”

sure, it was stupid. to let weakness grip him so tight and painful he would even dare hope magic was real and he could just summon a friendly servant spirit to keep him company and help him pretend he isn’t—so terribly fucking lonely all the time.

he should’ve known even magic wouldn’t help with that.

jungkook stares down at his notes until they blur.

“jungkook. come on, jungkook.”

it’s been another hour. it was peaceful, though; jungkook pretended to be alone, as he always is, and yoongi kept his quiet and distance. until now.

“look—” yoongi sighs. “i get that you want… feelings, or whatever, and i’m not the… answer for that. that’s valid, i’m not telling you how to live your incredibly short mortal life.”

jungkook turns his head towards the demon slowly, mouth in a line.

yoongi looks tired, hair mussed, a hand fiddling with it.

“but i just can’t leave your side until the contract is fulfilled. i am not able to.”

jungkook regards him from head to toe, which is not a lot of distance to cover: he’s sat on the floor in front of the couch, legs drawn up to his chest, head hung. jungkook was busy feeling very sorry for himself, but it’s true that both of them are stuck with each other.

“what happens if you… if the contract isn’t fulfilled?”

“i die.”

yoongi crosses his arms on top of his knees and lays his head down on them. there’s no edge to his tone.

for a second, jungkook sees himself reaching out, his hand gently touching yoongi’s inky hair. he curls his fingers in the hem of his shirt instead, bottom lip between his teeth, guilt swelling in his chest. it was his mistake.

“can’t you just,” he clenches and unclenches his fists uselessly. “i don’t know—touch me and suck some life force out of me? use your powers for it?”

“suck… i’m not a vampire. and not a magician, jungkook. i need to—”

“can’t you at least treat me to dinner first? or is that not part of ‘fulfilling my needs’ either?” jungkook throws his hands in the air.

he’s half joking, but it’s quiet for so long that jungkook’s face turns warm all over, body tense.

yoongi’s face is stuck in a grimace.

“you want me to… court you? but that’s not—”

“court—why not? don’t i know best what i need from you?”

yoongi only stares back, mouth in a pout. “you do, but…”

jungkook has no idea how to save himself from this, except maybe embarrass himself more. if it’s about needs—what he really needs, from someone other than himself—

“a… hug, then?” the truth comes out weak, stumbling, never had to learn how to walk, “a hug would be… nice.”

yoongi visibly shivers. he presses his back against the couch, away from jungkook.

“what? sex is okay but a hug is too much?”

“no, just—” yoongi furrows his brows, eyes averted, drawing his shoulders up. “even if it counted, i don’t—”

jungkook has no idea what this form of his is; how much of it is real, how it is sustained, how his appearance was chosen. this, though, is a reaction that’s familiar: yoongi’s human-like body has his ears go red.

excitement flutters in jungkook’s chest.

“i want to cuddle. that’s what i really want.” it’s a bit embarrassing to say, and maybe silly, but that’s a low cost everything considered. yoongi shrinks in on himself, eyes glued to the carpet.

“i don’t think—” he raises a hand to his face, rubbing at his nose. “isn’t there something else i could do?”

the demon glares at jungkook through his bangs, curled into a ball, color on his cheeks both irrational and—cute, somehow. jungkook’s face is probably mirroring it, but it’s worth it.

“hold my hand, too,” he adds out of spite.

“this is terrible and i am dying.”

“you’re not. yet.”

“i am uncomfortable. i want this to end.”

“can you please be quiet?”

“please release me.”

jungkook huffs, yoongi’s voice small and muffled behind him. he tightens his grip on yoongi’s hand instead, arm around his waist, burrows further into the embrace and body against him. it’s warm; the physical touch, his back, his chest and cheeks.

“i’m trying to save your life.”

his voice wavers on the excuse, on the absurdity of the situation. yoongi goans into his neck.

“this is all your fault to begin with.”

“isn’t this kinda nice?”

their legs are tangled under a blanket, soft mattress beneath them. jungkook had taken the incubus to his bed.

“i beg to differ.”

yoongi hasn’t stopped moping since.

“this is ruining my enjoyment of it,” jungkook lies, gaze fixed on his nightstand. his phone might be in its depths.

yoongi growls, a sad and disgruntled little noise, pressing his nose to jungkook’s hair. he nuzzles his nape, his neck, inhaling deeply. it causes ripples on jungkook’s skin, heat rising beneath it.

yoongi’s lips are soft, warm, their movement distracting.

“how long do we have to keep doing this?”

“do you want to be stuck here forever?”

“it’s okay, i’ll just die.”

jungkook shoves his shoulder into his chest, hard.

in all honesty, there’s no telling if this actually works. jungkook can’t imagine what this contract between them looks like, what it says in the fine print. if pleasure that is not sexual still counts, so long as it is pleasure. it’s not sex he’s craving with all of his being.

if it doesn’t work, though—

“how much… how much time do you have? do you know?”

yoongi’s arms are solid, warm to the touch, human by all means perceivable. he breathes and has blood in his veins and a heartbeat gently tapping against jungkook’s back. everything to make jungkook believe and pretend.

“i mean, it’s… a vague feeling, but, calculated in your time…” yoongi inhales deeply, chest pressing against jungkook, his voice a low murmur. “a year?”

“a—what?”

jungkook goes rigid, straining to listen.

“what?”

“year? an entire year?”

his voice rises, goes high-pitched and disbelieving.

yoongi leans back a little, words slurred like through a pout.

“yeah? i’m fairly powerful, not to brag but—”

“a year—i thought you were dying—” jungkook pushes away from yoongi, his whole face hot, embarrassment pounding against his ribs. “okay, get off of me right this instant—”

“hey, i am dying,” yoongi tightens his hold around him, jungkook wriggling between his arms, “wait—”

jungkook grabs at the edge of the bed, trying to free himself from the embrace. yoongi’s all but clinging to his body now, draped over his back.

“wait, jungkook, it didn’t work yet—”

it’s so absurd that jungkook snorts, first, and then a giggle makes it out, and then another. yoongi’s whining against his shoulder blade, and jungkook hides his flush and smile behind a hand.

“we can’t give up now, you need to release me from this hell—”

yoongi tries to pull him back against his chest while jungkook burrows his face into a pillow, anticipation and hope in his veins. a whole year.

“you have enough time to treat me to dinner, then.”

#yoonkook #sugakookie #gakook #sukook #슙국 #*writing #prompts

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