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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

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Personal Demon (Indruck)

@pantstacular requested: 58 Is such my entire jam I’d pretty much die if you did it with Indruck. “I’m a demon, you’re a witch, we’re enemies but when I show up to kill you, you’re crying and I really don’t know what to do now.” SFW

A talented, young warlock will employ the most complex, innovative, and powerful wards on their home.

A seasoned warlock who was never that excited about all this in the first place will employ straightforward but deeply aggravating wards on their home.

Indrid’s nemesis is in that second category. His wards are never fancy, but they’re durable and reliable, an utter pain in his tail to break down. Some cannot be broken by spells at all, and even a demon of his skill could burn through all his power trying to destroy them.

Which is why Indrid simply pays a passing human twenty dollars to kick a gap in the salt barrier, grits his teeth passing through the Rowan trees while his skin feels like he’s getting a full-body tattoo, and uses an oven mitt to open the iron door knob (the door is lined with iron, so he cannot slip as a shadow beneath it), hissing in pain all the while.

“Duck Newton…” He lilts, certain the warlock will be terrified to hear his voice in his strong hold, “it is time to end things once and for all, dearest enemy.”

He keeps his eyes on the present, not wanting to spoil the fun for himself by peeking at the futures. He glides into the human’s bedroom, plants his feet on the floor, “your worthless soul is mine.”

“Ughhhh” a muffled sound, Indrid flicking on the lights to find the human face-down on his bed, “are you fuckin serious? Now?”

“Yes, Duck Newton, now” dark energy crackles in his fingertips.

Thwump

“Ack!” He shakes his head, Duck now sitting up, preparing to throw another pillow at him.

“Get out.” Duck glowers, voice flat.

“You dare to order me-”

Thwump

“Get!” Duck’s eyes are wet, red-rimmed, and Indrid notices he’s in sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt that’s damp in patches.

“Have you been crying?”

Thwump and his glasses are knocked askew.

“How many of those blasted things do you have?”

Two hovering pillows turn to four and all collide with him at once.

“Clearly you are, ow, in no mindset to, ow, duel me as I, ack, see fit. I shall return!”

He dissolves into shadow and speeds out the door, materializing on the sidewalk and paying a passerby ten dollars to fix the salt ring.

Not willing to let a plan go to waste, he repeats this process the next night. This time, Duck is laying in the darkened living room.

“Now, my greatest adversary, it is time to meet your end--why are you still crying?” He cocks his head as Duck magics the light on.

“Because I’m in my own fuckin’ house and can do whatever I want.”

“But you seem upset.”

“No fuckin shit, sherlock.” Duck raises a throw pillow and Indrid covers his face far faster than he’d ever admit in public.

“I merely mean that, ah, perhaps a duel would be a welcome change of pace?”

“I look like I’m in the headspace to duel to you?”

“Not at the moment, but that could change, yes? I do wish to destroy you, is that sufficient motivation to shake off this fog of misery that’s hanging about your soul like stale cologne?”

Duck groans, but straightens, reaching over the far arm of the couch. Indrid perks up, approaches at a safe distance, certain he will see a familiar sword or spell in a moment.

What he gets is misted with holy water.

He hisses, wiping his face in a hurry. His power is so great that the diluted mixture doesn’t harm him, but it’s as if someone is squirting him in the face with lemon juice.

“I banished you worse ways than this, demon, but I’m fuckin tired and you ain’t worth the goddamn energy and you don’t wanna end up straight back below. So get.” He raises the spray bottle, spritzes him again and Indrid backs away, spluttering and hissing.

“You, you think you can threaten me, shoo me out like OW some common ghost GAh that was in my nose that time fine, fine I am going.” He stumbles over the threshold, falling on his ass on the pavement as Duck slams the door.

Perhaps a new plan is in order.

----------------------------

“You wanna know Ducks’ what?” Aubrey taps her spoon on the edge of the potion she’s mixing.

“His favorite food. I wish to cheer him up. Unless of course, you wish to simply tell me what is troubling him.” Indrid grins at the witch.

“You know the rules, Cold; I don’t trade information between sides. And, like, even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you what’s going on with him. It’s...personal, okay?”

Indrid sighs. He expected that answer. Aubrey is the child of a witch of the light and a witch of the shadows, giving her a rare balance of powers. It also means entities of all moral alignments will come to her for aid. Her rules are simple; no fighting in her house and no getting her in the middle of major conflicts.

For all that, Indrid still has never told her his true name. She calls him ‘Cold,’ as everyone does.

“French Onion Soup. That’s his favorite thing, from the Wolfe Grill downtown.”

“He likes that coffee fudge too, the one Barclay makes” Dani, Aubrey’s wife, adds from her spot spinning fur off a massive angora rabbit.

Barclay is a kitchen witch, one with whom Indrid has a shaky truce (he egged on a fight in the restaurant, needing some quick points with the higher demons. It’s not his fault one of the humans knocked over a candle). He can probably manage to buy fudge without being scolded.

Duck’s added more fortifications since yesterday, and Indrid only needs a few moments anyway. He finds a sliver in a plane that lets him slip into Duck’s mirror, knowing the human is getting ready for bed.

The human senses him, looks up from the sink, toothbrush still in his mouth. He blinks once, to tired to even count as annoyance.

“ ‘wat ‘ow?”

“I have brought you food.” Indrid waits until Duck spits into the sink to pass the two bags out of the mirror.

“Why-”

“It will cheer you up. It is your favorite. Then you will have your fight back, and be ready to face me.”

Duck takes the bags, then several steps back, “y’know, most demons would see this is a chance to get me while I’m down.”

“Well” Indrid sniffs haughtily, “I am not most demons. Besides, what good is claiming your soul if it was like stepping on an ant?”

The warlock looks at the food, then at Indrid, “I ain’t gonna eat this.”

“Bu-wha-I got it specifically to please you!”

“And it could be poisoned or cursed or some shit.”

Indrid growls in frustration, “fine, wallow in your misery.” Then he’s out on the street again, ready to cause some evil. Or to go back to the bakery and drown his aggravation in a caramel eggnog latte.

----------------------------

Duck stares at the bags, still sitting on his kitchen counter. If he’s not going to bed any time soon, he should at least eat something. Not that though. Even if it’s his favorite. How the fuck did the demon know that?

Cold has never quite been like other demons Duck’s run across. When he’d yanked him out of Boyd (because Ned decided to read the inscription on a new artifact for the Cryptonomica), he hadn’t taken it personally, but proceeded to try and tempt Duck for two days solid with everything he could think of. Then he decided he liked Kepler and could do plenty of demonic work in it, which had Duck worried. The demon is powerful, he can feel it when they fight. But, while he still worries, Cold sticks to being a mid-level threat at best even if he keeps promising to destroy him.

God that soup smells good.

He picks up a piece of amethyst, runs it over and over the air around the bag. No trace of anything dangerous.

Fuck it.

Twenty minutes later his belly is full, he actually feels kinda sorta almost borderline happy, and he hasn’t turned into a frog or been transported to the underworld.

When Cold inevitably shows up again a few days later, Duck doesn’t even look up from the model ship he’s working on .

“Thanks for, uh, for dinner.”

“How did you know I was here?” The silver-haired man steps out of the hall, red eyes glowing behind redder glasses.

“I may not be able to sense auras or souls or shit, but you and I been dancin around each other for long enough that I can tell when the hair on my neck is standin up thanks to you.”

“Then you are prepared to fight?”

“No. Look, I dunno now how it is for demons, but takes more than nice food to make a fella get over somethin serious.”

“I see…” Cold looks around the room, “are you certain you are not interested in even a small bit of conflict?”

“Nope. Busy.”

“Well I am not!”

“Can’t you just go find another warlock to bother?””

“No! Well, yes, but I do not wish to. You are my adversary, the one I devote most of my time to tormenting.”

“That’s kinda an exaggeration. And it don’t change that I’m workin on this.” He points to the model, “so I’m just gonna ignore you until you leave.”

There’s a huff, followed by the fluttering of his mail as the demon knocks it onto the floor. He glances up and notices that Cold’s tail is now visible and twitching with agitation. When Duck does nothing else, he knocks the remaining mail on the ground.

“That ain’t changin my mind.”

A roll of glass on tile, Cold pushing a water glass towards the edge of the counter with his finger.

“Y’won’t like what happens if you do that.”

The glass tips over. As water spills onto the floor, Duck summons a towel with one hand and a dish of salt with the other. Before the demon can stop him, he draws a salt circle, trapping him in a small spot by the table.

“Erase that this instant.”

“Nope. You been poppin in and out the last two weeks and not leavin when I ask nicely, so now you’re gonna stay right here until I decide you can leave.”

The demon drops down onto the floor, arms crossed and tail thrashing, “I just do not see what is so severe it makes you uninterested in anything but work, sleep, and making ships that cannot go anywhere.”

“Don’t expect you to understand.”

“Yes, but you also will not tell me so how can you know if-” a future flickers into vision, “your romantic partner left you.”

“That’s cheatin’.”

“That is what has upset you so?”

“Yeah, because we were together for six fuckin years, and she watched me grow up since I was eighteen and was my mentor and it feels like a big constant in my life is just fuckin gone.” He leaves out the part where he'd felt it going for awhile, where part of him knew it needed to but the rest wanted things to stay as they were.

The demon cocks his head in that way of his, smirks but says nothing.

“Nevermind. You’re a demon, love ain’t somethin you got a concept of.” He stands, retrieving another bottle of adhesive from the too-empty living room.

As he picks up the next piece, Cold murmurs, “It is not so foreign a concept as you might think.”

Duck shoots him an incredulous look.

“I was a creature of the divine once, beings capable of great love, even if many of them do not utilize that capacity. Even if I was not supposed to in my role. But more than the memory of that feeling, I have moments in which I suspect I can feel it still.”

“Like when you see someone do somethin real wicked?”

The demon doesn’t rise to the paltry bait, “When I go sit in a park, or those woods you like, and draw and watch people coming and going in a thousand little moments of mundanity, I feel something more than mere tranquility. Sometimes I will go to movies or to concerts, to feel the swell of joy and excitement, and it almost seems as if I love those around me.”

It’s the last thing Duck expects him to say, and so all he can do is stare at him a moment before returning to his work. The demon, content with the silence, watches cross-legged. When Duck grabs a packet of cookies from the kitchen he pauses, then hands one to Cold.

The demon sniffs it, proceeds to nibble on the edge before making a delighted sound and shoving the whole thing in his mouth.

“You never had Girl Scout cookies before?”

“No. I do not need to eat, and often only do so when temptation requires it. Or when Barclay makes something with eggnog in it. Which is a pity; I really enjoy human food, you come up with such interesting things. Now it is my turn for a question. Why are you making those?”

Duck looks at the near-complete model, “I dunno. Helps me relax, nice to just be able to focus on one thing rather than worryin’ about work or warlock stuff or dyin’ alone or if you’re gonna randomly turn up in my goddamn bedroom without warnin’.”

“Knocking is not exactly demonic.”

He says it so matter-of-factly, the smile on his face oddly honest, that Duck cracks up. Giggles spill out of him as he rests his face in his hands. His elbows slip on the shiny tabletop, collapsing him forward, laughing loud enough to startle the cat from her hiding place.

“Yeah” he sniffs, finally sitting up while wiping away tears and still chuckling, “guess it ain’t.”

The demon is smiling again, softer than his usual grin that glints like a knife in the dark.

“Will you show me more of your ships?”

“You ain’t gettin outta that circle that easy.”

“I am aware. But you could bring them where I could see.” He seems genuinely excited at the idea.

Duck stands, hands him the packet of Thin Mints, “I could do that, yeah. Sit tight, I’ll be right back.”

-----------------------------------------------

Duck picks up to the two reusable grocery bags, locking doors and throwing up extra wards behind him as he walks to his car.

He slides into the drivers seat, sets the bags in back behind him. Turns around and finds the passenger seat occupied.

“Venturing forth at last, I see.”

“I ventured forth plenty.”

“That was only for work. You have been the picture of a hermit since you were dumped, Duck Newton.” Cold adjusts his glasses in the rear-view mirror.

“Have not. And it was mutual.”

“Shall we get out of the car so I can destroy you?”

“We could do that. Or…” he points at the bags, the demon peering into them curiously, “we could take these two bags of snacks to a concert in the park.”

Cold bites his lip. Duck holds his breath, already gearing up his spells in case the demon says no.

A seatbelt clicks, “very well.”

They find a spot under some trees, far back from the crowd. Cold is in his human disguise, but Duck would rather not risk being seen if his tail or horns make an appearance. The concert is all movie soundtracks that Duck doesn’t pay attention to. He’s too busy watching the demon gleefully explore the food he brought (he chose the weirdest desserts and snacks he could find, wanting to give him a taste of things he’d never had) and talking with him about more or less everything.

As they’re getting into the car under the light of the half moon, Cold sighs happily, “we should do this again sometime.”

“Yeah, we could. Just uh, don’t get your hopes up, okay?”

-------------------------------------------------------------

Duck is up to his elbows in the pieces of an IKEA dresser when Cold’s voice comes through the mirror.

“I need to be let in right now please and thank you.”

He sounds pained, so Duck hurries out to the front yard and opens the circle, allowing the demon to pass through. He’s hunched at an odd angle, clutching at his back. Once they’re inside he strips off his coat, revealing a splinter at the base of his neck.

“Shit, what happened?”

“I materialized in the house of a well-prepared witch and was immediately backed into a Hawthorne bush. Lucky I am not a vampire, but gracious it stings.”

“Why come to me?” Duck is already guiding him to the couch.

“I thought you might be able to help. Also it is movie night.”

Duck examines the injury; it’s a small splinter, but the skin is already looking sickly.

“Should be an easy fix. Lemme get my tools and I can get to work.”

------------------------------------------------

Indrid waits patiently for Duck to return, tries not to hiss at him too loudly when he pulls the splinter free. The human works quickly, and soon a tingling salve coats the sore spot.

Rather than pull away, Duck smooths his hands down Indrid’s back, “damn, you’re all knotted up.”

“I was trying not to move too much and aggravate it.”

Duck’s thumbs rub small circles along his back, “here, I can fix that real easy.”

Indrid foresees where his fingers will touch next and let’s his desire overtake his caution. When Ducks hands come down again, he whimpers and wiggles happily.

“Uhhhhh”

“It is my wings. In a way. They exist on another plane when not manifested here, and where you are touching is the place where it feels as you are stroking them.”

“That a good thing?”

“Yes, but you do not need to continue if you do not waAAhnnnt” he gasps as Duck slowly, steadily, runs his fingers over the spot again and again.

The human leans forward, giggling, and whispers in his ear, “you’re purrin’.”

“I am awarerrrrrrrr.” His tail and horns appear, seeming to understand there is no need to hide here. One of Duck’s hands skates up to his head, petting his hair and stroking his horns.

He whines, pushes his head into Duck’s hand for more.

“Is this-”

“No Duck Newton, it is not sexual. It can be, but at the moment it simply feels comforting and pleasurable.” He purrs louder as Duck rubs the base of one horn.

“That’s a good, uh, good demon? Bein’ so patient while I patch him up.” Duck coos.

“Yes.” Indrid whimpers.

“Lookit you, goin all mushy on me, so goddamn cute. Who knew you had it in you.”

“Duck.” Something is coiling through his veins, warm and ecstatic, as the human keeps up his stream of praise.

“Right here, demon of mine, just relax, lemme tend to you, there we go, you’re bein so good, such a charmin demon.”

Tears prick his eyes; he can’t, he can’t handle Duck speaking this way but speaking as if Indrid could be changed out for any one of his kind. He wants to know he means those words for him, he must, the feelings flooding him are incomplete without it and if they remain so he will wither away.

“Indrid, please, call me that.”

“Indrid.” It sounds joyous in that drawl as Duck adds a hint of pressure to his touches, “Indrid, you oughta stop gettin into trouble, oughta just stay here and put your head in my lap.” The human is getting carried away, the fantasies becoming more elaborate, interspersed with his name, until the name itself becomes the litany.

Indrid cries out, the energy in his veins enveloping him utterly for a moment, wings of absolute darkness flashing into view for an instant

He collapses forward, shaking, hoping the thanks pouring from his mouth are intelligible.

“You, uh, you doin’ okay--Oh FUCK!”

Indrid whirls, finds Duck staring at his arm. There are glowing markings on it, blue and black light fading into a facsimile of ink on his skin.

“What did you do?”

“What did I do? What makes you think this has anything to do with me?”

“Because this wasn’t there a minute ago! And you got one too!”

“I…” Indrid gapes at his forearm, where a matching symbol is setting in his skin. “Oh dear.”

“What?”

“It is, ah, well, it is a soul bond.”

“How in the everlovin’ fuck did that happen--wait, fuck, is Indrid your true name?”

“Yes.”

“Shit! I thought you gave me another false one, or I never woulda kept saying it. I ain’t that kind of warlock, I don’t want a personal demon.”

“I am not exactly thrilled either. I cannot return to the underworld, and for the first few days of the bond I will need to stay very close to you. All the same, that was rash of me and I am sorry.”

Duck rubs his forehead, takes a deep breath, “we’ll deal with it tomorrow. Right now, all I wanna do is sleep.”

“I as well. I suspect that took a lot of energy from both of us.”

The human stands, heading off towards the bedroom. As soon as he’s out of sight, pangs pulse through Indrid’s chest.

“Ah, Duck?”

A groan, “yeah, I feel it too. Get in here.”

Indrid hurries to the bed, finds Duck down to his boxers as he turns over the covers.

“I, ah, I can sleep on the floor, or get a blanket for that chair, or lay by your feet.”

Duck pats the bed, “sleepin next to you ain’t nothin’ compared to bein’ soul bonded. Bed feels too big anyway. And none of that by my feet talk; you’re my equal, not my fuckin pet, even if you are a pain in my ass sometimes.”

Indrid crawls in beside him, lays stiffly on his back as the lights go out. After so much contact, his body aches to touch Duck again.

A hand rests in the space between them, and Indrid takes it.

“Duck? I, ah, I am glad that if this had to happen to me, it was you who it happened with. I cannot think of another warlock I would actually enjoy being linked too.”

“Feelin’s mutual.” Duck squeezes his hand, voice gentle.

Indrid rolls to face him, and in the dark he can just make out the slight smile on the warlock’s face.

“Goodnight, Duck.”

A yawn, then, “sleep tight, Indrid.”

#indrid cold/duck newton #Indruck #duck x indrid #meet ugly #demon au

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arrantsnowdrop · 4 years

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A Dangerous Game - Chapter 3 (Theseus Scamander x OC series)

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Summary: When Victoire McKinnon, one of the wizarding world's most proficient curse-breakers, is asked to assist and protect the Ministry of Magic's Auror Department in their crusade against Grindelwald, she finds herself stuck working with the extremely annoying, exceptionally good looking Theseus Scamander.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence and death, 2,674 words

..........

“He’s just so rude, Thea, I don’t understand how anyone could be so rude,” Victoire seethed, reaching out to grab a lengthy looking novel from the bookshelf in front of her. She plopped it down on top of the other two books she was already holding.

“He’s probably unnerved,” Anthea Barrows replied reassuringly. The two had been best friends at Hogwarts, both sorted into Gryffindor, both hired by Gringotts right after graduation. Anthea left her position as a Curse-Breaker a year ago to work as a full time professor at the Uagadou School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where she taught the interpretation of ancient runes.

Victoire worked there part time (still being heavily involved in the excavations Gringotts was conducting in Japan), teaching a few classes about ancient magical civilizations.

“I literally cannot deal with him, he somehow gets on every nerve in my entire body,” Victoire admitted, eyes scanning the shelves for any other books that could be of assistance.

Earlier that day, she’d discovered a vase enchanted with a vanishing spell while investigating a case with Theseus; the vase was likely the cause of three seasoned Aurors disappearing spontaneously during an assignment, but unfortunately, Victoire had absolutely no idea how to un-vanish them. She’d apparated to Uagadou immediately after work to search their large library for any helpful material, and Anthea had volunteered to help.

“I’m sure he’s just insecure Travers called in someone for assistance,” Anthea replied calmly, grabbing a book and adding it to her own pile. “He probably would’ve been annoyed with anyone in your position, so don’t take it too personally.”

“It’s like he enjoys making me mad,” Victoire grumbled, turning to face Anthea. “He’s always got this stupid grin on his face, like he knows he’s being a prick.”

“Ooh, he’s teasing you,” Anthea joked, wiggling her eyebrows. Victoire made a gagging noise and grimaced. “Is he hot?”

“Like the fucking sun,” Victoire muttered, picking up a dark blue book and inspecting it closely.

“You always get to work with beautiful men, it simply isn’t fair to me,” Anthea stated, turning around and beginning to walk towards the checkout desk.

“This is literally the first man my age I’ve ever worked with!” Victoire laughed, following her closely.

“Still more than me,” Anthea grinned.

“I’m gonna try to ignore him, though,” Victoire said. “I won’t let him break my resolve.”

“If he’s hot that’ll be pretty much impossible,” Anthea replied honestly. “Is he tall?”

“Yes.”

“Nice hair?”

“Definitely, he’s got that like unruly yet refined look going on, very swoopy,” Victoire remarked.

“Wow, what a catch!” Anthea remarked as they dropped their books on the head librarian’s desk.

“It’s such a pity he’s an asshole,” Victoire said mournfully.

“Oh, Miss McKinnon, it’s so lovely to see you again!” the elderly head librarian said happily, opening the book on the top of the pile to sign it out.

“I’ve only been away for a few days, Mrs. Hinde,” Victoire laughed.

“A few days too many, my dear,” Mrs. Hinde replied, smiling warmly.

“Victoire’s working at the Ministry now, Mrs. Hinde,” Anthea said.

“Is that so?”

“Yea, I’m helping solve a crime, very thrilling stuff,” Victoire added. Mrs. Hinde laughed.

“I would tell you to be careful, but considering what you do for a living, I’m sure you’ll be fine,” the older woman replied.

“I don’t know, fourteen Aurors have gone missing, seems a little risky,” Victoire said honestly.

“And I’m certain you’re far more capable of handling yourself than all fourteen of them,” Mrs. Hinde said genuinely, handing her a list of the books she’d checked out.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hinde,” Victoire replied.

“You just return these whenever you get the chance, dearie, have a lovely time in London!” she called, turning to greet the next library patron.

“I love that woman,” Victoire said to Anthea, sliding the stack of books into her worn bag.

“She’s one of the nicest people here, and that’s saying something, since everyone is nice here,” Anthea reflected. Victoire chuckled and hoisted her bag on her shoulder.

“I shall hopefully return in less than two weeks,” she said in a jokingly posh tone. “Do tend to any affairs that may arise in the meantime.”

“Of course, madame,” Anthea replied in an equally prissy voice, bowing deeply. The pair burst into a fit of quiet laughter and hugged tightly.

“Please be safe, Tor,” Anthea whispered.

“I will,” Victoire reassured, stepping back and offering her friend a bright smile before apparating back to London.

~~~~~

Two days later, Victoire was back in Theseus’s office, still sitting in the maroon armchair in the corner of the room. She had put in a request for her own desk space, which thankfully was granted fairly quickly, and her many books and papers were now scattered over its surface. She’d tried to ignore the remarks Theseus made about her poor organization skills.

“The Revelio Charm can be used to reveal the true appearance of a person who has changed their appearance using magic,” Victoire said, reading out loud from one of the books she had checked out.

Theseus hummed, not looking up from the report he was reading about a recent attack in London. One of Grindelwald’s followers (who unfortunately had not been identified) had murdered five people in broad daylight, two of whom were muggles. The Ministry had been in a tizzy trying to erase the non-magical community’s memory of the event.

“Does entering a state of nonbeing count as changing one’s appearance?” Theseus inquired. Victoire looked up at him, surprised he’d been paying attention.

“I don’t know, but I’m putting it on the list of spells that could possibly work,” she replied, scribbling a few notes down on a messy-looking piece of parchment.

“The three wizards who were killed seem to have nothing in common,” he noted, setting the report aside.

“Is that a good thing?” she asked. He nodded.

“It means they aren’t targeting specific groups of people yet,” he clarified.

“Yet?” Victoire questioned warily. Theseus nodded.

“These attacks are going to get more frequent and more brutal as Grindelwald gains power. It’s only a matter of time before he starts going after different lots of us to incite more fear,” he said dryly.

“Who do you think is most at risk?” she asked softly.

“Aurors,” Theseus said, looking up at her with tired eyes. “But we’ve already been seeing that. Anyone who works with muggles or deals with muggle affairs, or who has something he could use.”

Victoire nodded, sinking further into her seat. Theseus sighed, picking up another report from a stack of unread documents.

“Gringotts has been discussing what we’ll do if Grindelwald attacks,” she said reluctantly, interrupting the silence. Theseus looked up at her, a little surprised, but gestured for her to go on.

“The vaults have a lot of objects we’ve found over the years but haven’t been able to remove curses from,” she continued. “Most of them are under ancient spells we have no written record of, and of course we’re working on undoing the enchantments, but it’s time consuming and difficult.”

Theseus nodded.

“Anyways, we had a meeting a few weeks ago, and the main point was that Grindelwald would probably be able to use many of them to his advantage if he got his hands on them.”

“What are you going to do to prevent that?” Theseus asked genuinely.

“Upping security a lot, starting in a few weeks we’re halting most expeditions and excavations and reassigning people to guard vulnerable sites or the vaults themselves,” Victoire explained.

“And if Grindelwald targets them?”

“We’re supposed to defend them or die trying.”

A pause.

“I’m sorry, it’s not really relevant,” Victoire started, but Theseus shook his head.

“No, don’t apologize, Grindelwald is affecting all of us right now and it’s better to talk about it than try to pretend it isn’t happening,” he said. Victoire nodded, a little shocked he hadn’t criticized Gringotts or curse-breaking yet.

“Are you scared?” he asked.

“About what?”

“The worst possibilities, I guess,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

“I’m not afraid of dying, if that’s what you’re getting at,” she said, biting her lip thoughtfully. “I’ve almost died many times, and I think that’s why I’m not scared of that happening anymore.”

“I’m bloody terrified of dying,” Theseus exclaimed with a laugh. Victoire grinned.

“It’s what might happen if I die that scares me,” she admitted. “I know they’re going to reassign me to guard one of the main vaults, so if I die that means Grindelwald is going to have access to a bunch of dangerous shit. I think that’s terrifying.”

“Could you destroy the items in the vault? Or would that be more dangerous than just letting them be?” Theseus questioned. Victoire shrugged.

“I have moral issues with destroying any of the artifacts, but I don’t think that’s a possibility. Those curses are strong as fuck, regular spells won’t break them,” she said, stretching her arms over her head.

“You swear a lot,” Theseus chuckled.

“Sorry,” Victoire replied, grinning bashfully and redirecting her attention to the book in front of her. Up until this point she hadn’t shared any information about her job or personal life, and she was pleasantly surprised Theseus hadn’t made fun of her.

A comfortable silence fell over the room, interrupted only occasionally by the sound of Theseus’s quill or Victoire flipping a page in her book.

Suddenly, Victoire gasped and stood up abruptly. Theseus’s head shot up, expression laced with concern.

“Holy shit!” she exclaimed, eyes fixed on the book in front of her.

“Are you alright?” Theseus asked seriously. Victoire laughed and nodded, looking up at him with a wide smile on her face.

“Homenum Revelio, or the Human-presence-revealing Spell, can be used to indicate hidden bodies in the surrounding environment to the spell’s caster,” she said excitedly.

“That spell is usually used on people who have made themselves invisible somehow,” Theseus said, quite familiar with Homenum Revelio in his line of work.

“Yes, but it says here that in 1763, someone used it to reveal a person who accidentally cast the vanishing charm on themselves!” she continued, pacing around the room.

“Does it say whether or not that un-vanished the person?” Theseus asked.

“I’m assuming it didn’t, since this spell only shows where hidden things are, rather than unmasking them,” she said, “but this could help us find where the three Aurors’ presences are-”

“And that could help us figure out where to cast the actual revealing spell,” Theseus finished. “That’s genius!”

“I know!” Victoire squealed, jumping around in place. “Now we just have to figure out what spell to use after this one, and we’re basically all set!”

“How do we do that?”

“Since it seems like the event from 1763 is a recorded case, I’m going to try to figure out what they did back then,” she said, spinning around to face Theseus. Her brows knit together in confusion.

“What?” she asked. Theseus tilted his head to the side.

“What do you mean, what?” he asked.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” she clarified.

“I’m not staring at you!” Theseus said defensively.

“You just were!” Victoire accused.

“I most certainly was not!”

“You most certainly were!”

“Oh, fuck off,” Theseus hissed as he looked back down at the papers on his desk, cheeks tinged with a light pink.

Victoire laughed and returned to her seat, setting the book back down on top of her desk.

~~~~~

It was two in the morning. Victoire had read through two books and over twenty ministry reports but had found no information on the case from 1763. She was thoroughly frustrated.

The original footnote referenced a newspaper article that she’d found with ease, but it offered little information and didn’t say whether or not the person was ever un-vanished.

Victoire had discovered that the wizard’s presence was detected near the place the vanishing spell had been cast, meaning the three Aurors would probably be found back at the house on Chester Street. Other than that, she had nothing.

She yawned and stood up from her chair, throwing the report she’d been reading onto the floor haphazardly. Short-Snout hooted cheerfully from where he was resting on Victoire’s bed.

“I’m glad one of us is happy,” she muttered sarcastically, walking to the kitchen for another cup of tea.

She just wanted to finish coming up with a plan as soon as possible. Then, she could get the Ministry’s approval, execute a rescue mission, and move on to the next case. There were eleven more missing Aurors that needed to be found, and though Theseus had become more tolerable to work with, she was beginning to miss her normal job.

Of course, had she not had to work with the Ministry, she’d be on vacation right now. She was still annoyed about that.

The kettle was just starting to boil when Victoire heard something bounce off her window. She jumped, and peered outside cautiously, seeing a large Grey Owl perched on her windowsill with an envelope in its beak.

She shakily opened the window, and the owl hopped inside energetically, dropping the envelope in front of her.

“You just scared the shit out of me,” she said, glaring at the bird sitting on her countertop. She turned the envelope over in her hands and rolled her eyes at the Ministry seal on the back.

She ripped open the letter and shook its contents out onto the island. There were two pieces of paper, one handwritten and the other typed. She picked up the handwritten letter and squinted at it in the dim lighting.

Miss McKinnon-

I had to go through the Ministry Records today after work to find something for a colleague, and I stumbled upon a file I thought you might find interesting. Enclosed is the official report of the 1763 Vanishing Spell mishap, I’m sure you’ll find it useful in your research.

I asked your brother for your address, since you said you wanted to try and finish your analysis of the situation tonight. I figured you’d rather have the report now than wait until tomorrow morning.

Also, sorry in advance for anything my owl knocks over. Bentley has always been a bad houseguest, and you have my permission to throw him out your window if he starts misbehaving. He’ll know to come home and won’t take personal offense.

Cordially,

Theseus Scamander

Victoire found herself grinning by the time she had finished reading Theseus’s letter. She glanced into her bedroom where Bentley and Short-Snout were hopping around on the floor. The larger owl didn’t seem to be causing any ruckus yet, so she figured she’d let him stay for a little while.

She picked up the Ministry report, eyes lighting up when she saw it revealed the end of the case.

“Fuck yes,” she whispered excitedly, grabbing a spare quill from off the counter to underline the many spells the report mentioned.

It seemed the friends of the vanished wizard had tried many different spells to bring him back, but most of them didn’t work. She groaned as she read the list of nonfunctional spells, realizing most of the research she’d done would be ineffective.

As she neared the end of the report, she was beginning to lose hope - perhaps her efforts were futile, perhaps the effects of the Vanishing Spell were truly irreversible.

She bit her lip as she began to read the last paragraph, hoping desperately for some sort of revelation:

In a final attempt to rescue their friend from the state of nonbeing, the wizards asked Professor Ptolemy Algernon, Order of Merlin (First Class) for assistance. Professor Algernon resolved the issue within a matter of seconds; after locating the victim’s presence in the room, he cast a strong Summoning Charm (using the traditional incantation followed by the victim’s name). Following a bright flash of light, the vanished wizard appeared in a fit of coughing and shouting. Medical examiners declared him to be in perfect physical condition, and though he seems undoubtedly traumatized, he is fine otherwise.

Victoire really wanted to be annoyed with her older brother for giving out her address, but all she could think about was how grateful she was for Theseus sending her the report. Finally, she had cracked the case.

~~~~~

“So you’re saying all we need to do is Accio them back into existence?” Theseus asked incredulously as he walked across the Atrium. Victoire, who was at least a foot shorter than him, was nearly jogging to keep up. They had both needed to return the reports they’d checked out, and were now heading back to Theseus’s office.

“Apparently,” she replied, a little breathy due to how fast she was walking. “Ptolemy Algernon was listed in one of the books I had at home, and it seems he used the Summoning Charm to summon people quite often.”

“I thought you couldn’t Accio living things,” Theseus said. “I’m pretty sure that was a question on my O.W.L.s.”

“Then you definitely got that question wrong, there are several records of wizards summoning farm animals during the Middle Ages,” she stated, following him into a lift.

“That would explain why I only got an Acceptable on my Charms O.W.L.,” Theseus chuckled, pressing the button for level two. Victoire grinned, stepping closer to him as several other wizards entered the lift.

“Doesn’t the Ministry want all its Aurors to be more than proficient in their spell-casting abilities?” Victoire teased, swaying slightly as the lift began its ascent.

“Luckily, I got fantastic results on my N.E.W.T.s,” he sassed, reaching out to steady her, “so as far as my employers are concerned, my qualifications are impeccable.” Victoire laughed, looking down to where his hand now rested on her upper arm. He followed her gaze, quickly returning his arm to his side. She felt her face flush, and made sure to keep her face fixed downwards.

The lift slowly came to a halt at level five, and as the doors opened, the rest of the people in the cab filed out.

“What’s going on out there?” Victoire asked as she peered into the open area outside the lift. The Department of International Cooperation seemed more crowded than usual.

“There’s a big meeting in half an hour,” Theseus said simply as the doors closed and the lift took off once again.

“I used to spend all my time there,” Victoire remarked. “Got into a lot of trouble once because one of my brothers and I broke a couch.” Theseus grinned.

“Was this back when your father was the head of the department?” he asked. She nodded.

“I have no idea why he always let us come with him to work, we were the biggest distraction,” she remarked.

“Your brother used to go on and on about all the trips he took here back when we were in Hogwarts,” Theseus added, laughing a little at the memory.

“Emrys?”

“Yea, we were in the same year,” he replied.

“Ah, so you graduated before I started my first year,” she said as the doors opened.

“And you would’ve been a few years ahead of my younger brother, Newt,” he added, stepping out of the lift and glancing back to make sure Victoire was following him.

“I remember Newt!” she said enthusiastically as she followed him down the hallway. “He tested into my Care of Magical Creatures class during my fifth year, and we all loved him.”

“He wrote me a letter about that, he was really proud he got to be in your class as a third year,” Theseus added.

“He had better grades than all of us,” she added. “I remember having to ask him for help on a number of occasions.”

“I did the same with your brother,” Theseus said, slowing his pace so he was walking next to her rather than in front of her. “Emrys is the only reason I passed Potions class my fifth year.”

“My brothers are both insanely good at brewing and understanding potions,” she nodded.

“It must run in your family, considering your aunt,” Theseus remarked as they approached the door to his office. He was referring to her Aunt Maeve, a potioneer specializing in healing potions at St. Mungo’s.

Like half of the wizards in her family, Maeve McKinnon was internationally acclaimed for her work. For centuries, the McKinnon family had a reputation as one of the most powerful and influential wizarding families in Europe, which had definitely been intimidating to think about when Victoire was younger. Luckily, her parents had done a great job of emphasizing their children that they would be proud of them no matter what, so over time, that pressure had faded. Now, McKinnon was just her last name, not some expectation to accomplish great things.

And yet, unintentionally, Victoire and her siblings had gone on to continue the so-called “McKinnon legacy.” Her oldest brother, Emrys, was an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries, her other older brother, Thomas, was one of the chasers for the Kenmare Kestrels, and she had become one of the most talked-about Curse-Breakers of the century. Their names would be added to the lists of the greatest McKinnon wizards.

“I was excluded from the ‘skilled-at-potions’ genes, then,” Victoire laughed. “I wrote home too many times asking for money to buy a new cauldron. My mother nearly celebrated when I dropped the class in sixth year.”

“Were you the type to burn a hole in the bottom of your cauldron or to just blow it up somehow?” Theseus asked as he opened the door to his office, gesturing for her to go in before him.

“Explosions were my forte,” she joked as she walked past him. She plopped down into the chair behind her desk, looking up at him as he closed the door.

“Speaking of your brothers,” he said as he walked over to his desk, “I wanted to apologize for asking Emrys for your address, I just wanted you to get the report as soon as possible and didn’t know another way to contact you.”

“No, it’s fine,” she reassured him. “I was already awake and stressing about the fact I couldn’t find any information on the case, so it was a very welcome interruption.”

“I hope Bentley didn’t cause any trouble,” he said, a small smile on his face.

“No, Bentley was very well behaved. I think my own owl kept him occupied for the majority of his visit,” she said. Theseus laughed.

“So, Mr. Scamander, what do we do next?” Victoire asked.

“We write up a summary of what we’re planning to do, including all the research we’ve done to show the plan will actually work,” he said as he walked over to his desk. “Then we send it off to Travers and hope he approves it.”

“What happens if he doesn’t approve it?” Victoire asked curiously.

“He tells us we’re both idiots and we come up with another plan,” Theseus said with a small grin on his face.

“And if he does approve it?”

“We go back to the house on Chester Street and un-vanish those Aurors.”

[Tags: @littleyellowladybugg @missjockey101 @hearteyesmotherclucker @mrshazosterfield @greeneyedthief ]

A/N: It's our SECOND EVER Theseus Thursday. Look at me actually following a proper updating schedule, who would've thought we'd ever see this day? Hopefully I'll have another oneshot fic up this weekend, and then another chapter of this next week - lots of content! If you wanna request something specific please do so (LOTR, Harry Potter, Fantastic Beasts, Star Wars, I'll write for most fandoms, really). Otherwise, I hope you enjoy/enjoyed reading this, and have a great day! :)

#fantastic beasts and where to find them #fantastic beasts the crimes of grindelwald #theseus scamander x oc #theseus scamander imagine #theseus scamander fanfic #theseus scamander x reader #theseus x reader #theseus x oc #theseus imagine #fantastic beasts

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ron-stepupable · 4 years

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So: fanfic about victor noticing Sarah and Nina’s similarities. The setting is after victor and sweetie confiscate the amulets but in this version Nina was wearing that pearl bracelet Sarah gave her after she died and victor also took that. Also FYI Nina came kind of overly aggressive in this so....warning? (I guess it’s not that out of character 😂) also format is shit I didn’t want to do a link.

During history, I could barely function. All I could focus on was how on earth would we get our amulets back from Victor, and fast. We could never find them mask with one amulet, it just wasn’t feasible. But Victor would never let the amulets leave his sight now, so the only way to get them back would be in plain sight.

I knocked on his door.

“Enter,” Sweetie granted diplomatically. On his desk, were several plastic bags with items of jewelry in them and student’s names on the outsides of them.

“Ah, hello, Nina, there should be a bag with your name on it somewhere...feel free to take a look.” Was this how we interacted now? Straight denial? Were we to pretend as if nothing ever happened, like he hadn’t just de-railed our entire quest. I perused the plastic bags and frowned.

“My name’s not here,” I gestured to parcels. Sweetie looked up and removed his spectacles.

“Hmm...Victor must have taken Anubis resident’s parcels. I’d check with him.” He seemed unphased, like none of this mattered, and to him it didn’t. I didn’t say a word in response as I left for the door. Then, halfway through the door turned around glared at him.

“You know what you are?”

He looked at me blankly.

“You’re a pawn,” I didn’t even feel guilty about saying it. “Victor is the chess master and you are his pawn. He is more headmaster than you are.”

And I left. He stayed behind spluttering pointless words. Someday I might harbor respect for that man, but certainly not now.

In Anubis house, I found two bags on the dining room table. One for Amber and one for Patricia, but not one for me. Damn him. He was a thief. That’s what he was, a manipulative, lying thief. How dare he pocket something like that? Something Sarah had given me—the last thing I had as a token of her love and care—and he pocketed it and acted like it was meant for him. It made me want to scream. He could steal the amulets, he could act like nothing had happened. But not that. Sarah gave that to me and not Victor for a reason. All the way to the top of the stairs I huffed, and then realised he wasn't there. So I huffed all the way to the bottom of the stairs and found Vera in the kitchen with her hands in a bowl of mashed peas.

“Vera?” I asked. She sighed exasperatedly but plastered on a seemingly genuine smile.

“Yes, dear?”

“Has Victor gone out?”

She thought for a few selective moments.

“Yes, I believe you just missed him, I should think he’s headed into town for some supplies.”

My face could have done one of two things: either gotten softer or harder and more murderous, I honestly have no idea. “Did you need something?”

“Yes, but I’m sure it’ll keep,” I lied and promptly left the room. Victor had crossed the line and now I would too.

Like a ticking bomb, two hours later, the front door to Anubis slammed open and in stormed Victor. I jumped at once from the sofa and hurried toward the foyer. Victor beat me to it.

“Nina Martin? A word in my office.” He turned and left. Let’s just say I followed. In his office, Victor was in his prime, he held authority in this postage stamp office. There was no way I’d ever win an argument here.

“I have something of yours,” he said calmly, putting his hand into his trench coat pocket. My spine tingled and only intensified as Victor retrieved the small pearled bracelet from his pocket. He cradled it like a priceless artifact and lifted it slightly into the air, but carefully as not to risk any chance of dropping it. A slight wave of guilt washed over me. I didn’t treasure that piece of history like he did. I didn’t hold it close to my chest and appreciate the artisan. He held his wrist out and gestured me to do so. I held my arm out cautiously and kept still while Victor fastened the clasp around my wrist with his wrinkled fingertips.

“Louisa always wore this.” He said with just a slight hint of bitterness. “I never saw her without it—ever. She was talented like that, with art. But that wasn’t what was so great about her.” He smoothed his thumb over the glass charm and dare I say he smiled? “She was ridiculously brave and I’ve never met anyone who loved as much as she did.” He let go of my hand and I returned it to my side. The bracelet now felt like a led weight. Victor’s eyes held memories too painful to comprehend. Somehow I needed to lighten them.

“I have something for you,” I blurted. “Wait here.” The door clicked behind me and I hurried off to my room. In the box of Sarah’s things hidden away in the passage, I retrieved a small leather bound notebook inscribed with RFS on the spine. I thumbed through the pages until I made sure this one had what I was looking for.

November 11th, 1919,

I am freed. We are all freed and soon we will go home. I count the minutes until I will be reunited with Louisa, and Sarah. You, non-sentient journal, couldn’t possibly fathom how deeply I miss them. It has been two years since I saw them last. I do feel some guilt my brothers fought for six long years while I served only two. But when these bouts of guilt come I should remember I was doing more important things than fighting for some land and a new democracy.

Sarah has written me about the boy who now occupies my house. And she writes so vividly of who he is, I feel as if I already know him. Of course I know of his father, though I haven’t spoken to him in years. Often I wonder if I’ve made the right choice in asking him to help care for Louisa and Sarah in my absence. Louisa has written that she dislikes him and would rather live with Satan himself. But how could I leave his little boy, Sarah’s new found “soulmate” so she says alone with the man Louisa has described? I have a duty of humanity to that little boy. No, the Rodenmaars will not be leaving Anubis house anytime soon.

It astonished me how much Robert cared for Victor before he had even met him. I do wish I could have met Robert, his writing mesmerizes me and his love for his family struck the same chord I lived on. I picked up a second journal and flipped to the end.

December 9th, 1921

I want Rodenmaar out of my house. I offered him all the money in the world to leave this house and never return, leaving Victor behind. I assumed a man of his stature would jump at the chance but he refused. What an arse. He is not the kind of man to nurture even his own son. What ties could he have to a seven year old who’s birthday he doesn’t even know? He must be onto us, otherwise he would have no reason to stay. To make things worse, the other night Rodenmaar spoke with Victor in his office again. Victor left crying. When I asked what had been said to him, Victor shook his head and ran outside to the park with Sarah and Rufus. On the face of that little boy I see such strength. I haven’t decided whether it is because he is a child and problems of this caliber sometimes lose their weight, or because he has learned and adapted to such power. Either way, he inspires me. I want to tell him that whilst trying to sleep under the weight of this daunting duty of mine or when my heart begins to flutter with the fear I know I shouldn’t feel I think of him and how indestructible he is, even at age seven. He doesn't deserve that man, especially not after all he’s done for us; making Louisa and I cry with laughter or give us the opportunity to to tack our crack at raising a son. And he’s so very good to Sarah. That boy is the heartbeat of this household. And his suffering breaks my heart into a million little pieces.

Ps: Rodenmaar, if you are reading this, know that you will never find what I have hidden. No matter how hard you seek. Give up now and leave your son with me. Also, you sir, are an asshole and I hope you burn in hell.

I had read this entry before and it never seemed to resonate with me. Maybe because I thought it didn’t resonate with Victor, but clearly I was wrong about that. And if I was wrong about that, what else was I wrong about?

I snapped the journal closed and hightailed it back to Victor’s office where he waited with an intensely confused look on his face. I handed him the journals.

“I think you’ll find page 15 and 29 interesting.” I turned to go but he waved his hand and I stopped in my tracks. He read each entry carefully, about three minutes each. I had trig homework calling my name but I didn’t dare rush him, and I didn’t dare leave. Finally, he sighed and closed the journals.

“I am sorry,” was all he said.

“For what?”

“I have judged you harshly, chosen one. You are more like her than I had thought.”

I was about to open my mouth and ask who but then I noticed where his eyes were focused. On an old brown photo on the right side of the wall. It was on the front porch of Anubis. There was a man there, and a woman too—Robert and Louisa. On Robert’s knee was a little girl with a fierce stare and ribbons as long as America itself attached to her braids. On Louisa’s thigh, hidden by a flowered skirt (appropriately ending just past the knee) sat a tiny, skinny little boy. But that little boy was smiling to his ears, looking at the little girl to his left. No one else in that photo smiled, but he did. There was so much joy in those round brown eyes. And yet four months later it would shatter.

“I miss her,” I couldn’t help but say. I cursed myself for speaking. Victor stiffened and cleared his throat. It was the wrong door to open but there was no turning back now.

“I…” his hand hovered by his collar. The string of an amulet was poking through his shirt. My heart beat four times faster. If I keep this ball rolling could I manipulate his focus into giving them back? Never, but it was a nice thought. His fingers latched around the black string and he began to pull up, then he froze.

“She gave so much of herself to help me find my path,” I cut in. It might have been the wrong door, but boy would I knock it down.

“I—” his fingers let go of the string and his hands returned to the side. “You may leave now, miss Martin.” My fingers crunched like my parents' car around that telephone pole. I swallowed a mouthful of rage and nodded curtly. Then I left. How The Frobisher-Smythes ever held adoration for that man-boy is the greatest mystery this house has to offer. But then I think of moments like that—where he let his humanity take control. For a moment he was real, and for that moment he was something other than just the enemy—he was, like Robert had said, the heartbeat of the house.

#its shit but hey i tried #house of anubis #hoa fanfic #🤷🏻‍♀️

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writersrealmbts · 5 years

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Con Amore: Part 3

Bulletproof Melody Sequel

Description: Con Amore– A directive to a musician to perform a selected passage of a composition tenderly, with affectionate emotion, or in a loving manner; an instruction to the player of an instrument meaning ‘with love’ or ‘lovingly’. Three years with all seven of your loves, three years of relative peace. But now everything is threatened as darkness surges from the horizon.

Originally Posted: 07/24/2019

Tags: Superheroes, Ot7

Fluff/Angst: 1,833 words

A/N: Hope you’re excited! Any theories yet? It’s posted early because I have plans for tomorrow and intended to post it then. Probably wait five days before posting the next part, if not a week.

Jimin stroked your hair, watching your every movement as you sipped some ginger ale. “Better, chubs?” You nodded. “It was probably the artifact Tae and I recovered combined with my worry. Nothing to worry about.” “Of course we worr—” Jimin broke off, dropping his gaze, “Worry. I’m sorry, y/n. You were already worried about me, and Joon-hyung, and…and you—” You put a finger to his lips. “You should try to sleep.” He looked a little like a kicked puppy. “But—” “Jimin-ah, I really don’t want to talk about this right now. Please. I get that you don’t like conflict to remain, but there’s going to be even more if you push me right now.” He slowly nodded. “Okay, chubs. Cuddle with me?” You nodded, laying back and lightly holding onto Jimin. It was a good way of knowing that he was just worried about you instead of being upset with you. He craned his neck to get his kisses, then lay back with a slight smile when he received it. You matched his breathing, waiting until he had fallen deeply asleep, then glancing back. Yoongi nodded, climbing over and carefully taking your place. You slid off the bed, checking on Namjoon, who was half-asleep on the other bed. He caught your hand, squeezing it and pulling it so he could get a kiss. “Feel better?” “Yeah, you?” He nodded. “Hoseok gave me some herbs and painkillers.” “Good. Rest up,” You whispered, giving him a second kiss. Taehyung and Jungkook were eating in the next room, the one you sent Taehyung to get. Whatever they were eating smelled…absolutely terrible. You gagged a bit and closed the door, plugging your nose. “You okay?” You wrinkled your nose. “What the heck are they eating?” “Grilled chicken alfredo,” Hoseok answered, still looking concerned. “Your favorite. You must be really sick. You don’t like ginger outside of ginger-ale, so maybe catmint or peppermint…” He started muttering, feeling your forehead. “I really don’t want to consume anything right now, Hobi.” You tucked into his chest grateful he had come from taking a shower. He didn’t smell like anything but Hobi, and his chest had a comforting warmth to it. “I was planning on sleeping in there.” He hummed softly. “What smells are okay?” You shrugged, then sniffed your hand. “Citrus. I think peppermint.” He nodded. “Let me and the other two try and clean out the smell. If we can’t, are you okay sharing with Joon?” You nodded. You had told Jungkook that you wanted to have your own bed. You just needed space. Space to calm down. Space to worry. Space that should be filled by Jin. Space to punish yourself for not protecting your loves better. You had put off finding more protections for them, thinking they might find it a little overbearing and worrying that your love for them might cause you to overstep the bounds of your duty as an archivist. What if you used an artifact to protect them, and ended up hurting others because of it? But now Jin was missing, and even if you didn’t think he was in danger…Namjoon said Jin had been hurt. And who knew who had taken him, and for what reason. For all you knew it could be like what happened with your father. Oh God. “Tinny? Is your stomach bothering you that badly?” Hobi slouched to meet your eye, gently wiping your cheeks. You wiped a tear from your own face, staring at it. “No. It isn’t. I’m just…” You shook your head. “I don’t even know. I mean, I’m crying. Again. I’m broken. Why am I broken?” “Your voice just squeaked and it was adorable—no wait, don’t cry more!” “It’s not cute, it’s annoying and wrong and ugh!” “Sshhh,” He hushed you gently. “Jimin and Namjoon are asleep. We don’t want to wake them.” You pressed your face into his shoulder. “What’s wrong with me?” You asked, unable to push back the tears. “You’re sick and stressed, and I’m sure you’re tired and worried. I think you should just try and sleep, Tinny. Okay? Yoongi and Namjoon can help you figure out the songs you need in the morning. Do you want pajamas or are you okay in Jungkook’s t-shirt?” “I’m okay.” He guided you to the other side of Namjoon’s bed, helping you lay down under the covers. “You want me to hold your hand until you fall asleep?” You nodded, feeling calmer. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why….” He kissed you gently when you didn’t continue. “It’s okay. We’ll be okay. Just try and sleep, baby. Cuddle Joon if you feel sad again.” You nodded, closing your eyes. You were tired, and crying always gave you a headache. Maybe sleep was a better choice. You wiggled over so that you were next to Namjoon, squeezing Hobi’s hand. You opened your eyes as light shone brightly through your eyelids. You were in some sort of stone room, cold air greeting you where you had been warm next to Joon just seconds earlier. It felt foreign and familiar at the same time. There were no lights or windows, but the room was mostly lit. You looked at each blank wall, but the only thing that you really noticed was that the walls were the light source, and some other part of your brain was saying that you already knew that. “Nightingale,” A voice called behind you. You froze. “Nurya Cohen.” “You may face me, Archivist.” You slowly turned to her. “Working with that artifact you swore would stay locked up?” She looked to the floor, the glow about her dying down slightly. “Slicha, ani lokeakh et mlo ha’achrayut.” “I still don’t speak Hebrew.” “Sorry, I take full responsibility,” She translated, dipping her head. “But I should hope you know I would not go back on my word unless circumstances called for it.” “As a light priestess, I would hope not.” She turned, gesturing for you to follow. You fell in step with her, out into her sanctuary. Last you had seen her was when her healer friend had, well, healed you after your crash from the top of the building three years ago. She had come to you, so the last time you had been to the sanctuary was when you had dropped the artifact with her. Too big for you to move around, but perfectly hidden in her sanctuary. Which was a temple of light and healing, a place where some astronomy students also conducted their studies. It had surprisingly strong security despite being a pacifist group. “We have a metupal in our infirmary. One of yours, I believe.” She folded her hands in front of her, similar to how an opera singer might. “Actually, we are mostly certain.” “Oh?” You frowned, trying not to get your hopes up that it was Jin. “He keeps rambling about dorchadas and something about an oasis. He also said that the kids were in danger and he had to tell you, Nightingale.” “Dorchadas? Are you certain?” You frowned. “You know what it is?” “It’s Irish. For darkness.” She looked more troubled. “And the oasis mentioned?” You shook your head. “Not sure. Not even sure what kids he could mean. I keep an eye on multiple children’s homes.” “Well, he wouldn’t lay still until I assured him I would pass the message to you. But I also contacted you because of the rumors that we heard just before his arrival. Rumors of a dark organization that works to remove the powers of supers, one that had been disbanded, but are now active again. And that they had found a former patient.” She paused, glancing at you as you froze. “Nightingale?” “The Oasis Initiative,” You breathed. Both of you were silent, but she looked at you as if waiting for further response. “Cursing is a little inappropriate here so you better continue.” “Quid pro quo.” You made a slashing gesture, making a face as you tried to think of how to explain it. “After you finish.” “Very well. One of our watchers got the pictures and information of the patient. It’s Siphon, or Laguz as you know him. However, another group also got the information—” “The Conservatory,” You guessed. Everything made sense now. They probably sent rookies because they thought it would be a basic abduction followed by an explanation that it was for his safety. They probably only heard whispers of a threat and given their penchant for watching out for their own (one of the few points you couldn’t find fault with) went to make sure that the whispers couldn’t be carried out. She nodded. “I know you dislike the place—I don’t blame you—but if this Oasis Initiative is functioning again….” “Then we all need to be ready for the worst. And we’ll need a strong base of operations, like the Conservatory. I trust you to send a representative as well?” She dipped her head. “Of course, Archivist. I will give you the head-start. Be advised, though, you should put distance between yourself and this fight.” Everything was getting blurry and the panic—that was a side effect of the artifact—started rising in your body. “Why? And who’s in the infirmary?” You managed to choke out. Her gaze flit to your midsection before the dream shattered like glass. Strong arms had you pinned down. “Y/n!” You finally opened your eyes, almost throwing up, but somehow managing to choke it down long enough to free yourself and run to the bathroom. Someone pulled your hair back. “Maybe she should see a doctor,” One of them said softly. You sat back, panting a little. “Tae, can you get me my makeup bag?” “Yeah.” “Makeup? Honey, I don’t think that’s—” “You’re right, you don’t think of me having anything else in my makeup bag, but I do. Now, Hoseok, I love you, but get out. Same goes to you, Kook, and you, Yoongi. Nothing to see here.” You got to your feet, reaching to flush the toilet before shakily stepping over to the sink to brush your teeth. You scrunched your nose, frustrated with yourself. “I’m sorry. I just…I need a minute.” “Okay,” Jungkook said. “We’ll keep the food in the other room. Do you want some toast?” You nodded. Tae handed you your bag. You closed the door behind him, taking a couple deep breaths to steady yourself before going to the bottom of your bag and pulling the pregnancy test out. “Please be wrong,” You muttered. You waited the appropriate amount of time, trying to count how long it had been since you had had your last visit from Aunt Flo. This would be the worst timing ever. You didn’t want to be sidelined. Not if the Oasis Initiative was active again. You glanced at the time on whoever’s watch you had found sitting on the counter, then looked at the test.

~~~~~

Part 2. Part 4.

Masterlist. ~ Series Masterpost.

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blankdblank · 5 years

Text

Anaticula Pt 21 b

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3 - Pt 4 - Pt 5 - Pt 6 - Pt 7 - Pt 8 - Pt 9 - Pt 10 - Pt 11 - Pt 12 - Pt 13 - Pt 14 - Pt 15 - Pt 16 - Pt 17 - Pt 18 - Pt 19 - Pt 20 - Pt 21 - Pt 22 - Pt 23 - Pt 24 - Pt 25 - Pt 26 - Pt 27 - Pt 28 - Pt 29 - Pt 30- Pt 31 -

Because somehow i managed to screw this up, here is what was supposed to be pt 22.

...

Barty, “If I was a giant invisible bird, where would I build a nest?! Think like a bird, think like a bird!!!” he muttered to himself making you all chuckle between your ragged breaths while more streaks of lightning lit up the sky between the hail stopping in the hidden onset of snow.

“Oh wow.”

Their heads turned asking, “What, what is it?!”

Barty, “You see them?!”

You pointed at the lake as you skidded to a stop panting while they all eyed the growing cave of ice growing over the surface before a streak of lightning crashed into it parting your lips as you saw the Thunderbird dive through the cave breaking it apart and sending it and another bird into the water. Wetting your lips you saw the pair of birds breaking through the layer of ice on the surface sending water into the air that spread into large frozen pillars and you asked lowly, “Can you see them?”

Collectively they said, “No.”

Nodding your head you watched the pair firing bursts of ice and lightning at one another, “Ok, this is not happening!” your hand twitched and your broom was wrapped in your hand. In a hop you were on it racing towards the storm they all now saw as a giant duo of birds you were soaring towards.

Cedric whispers, “What are you doing?”

Twins, “Winging it.” Making the boys snicker softly to themselves.

Loudly their screeches sounded in your weaving flight to avoid their battle until you managed to get between them and shout out, “Excuse me! But we live here too!”

Steadily they flapped their wings eyeing you in your glances between them, in the gusts from their flapping wings your bangs whipped across your face back and forth as you said through the low hum of the Ice Bird in recognizing you. “You need nests, we can help give you the perfect habitat for your eggs. Just, stop tearing ours apart.” At the growth of two pillars of ice they landed looking you over. “That is our nest, we are the eggs. You need to stop fighting or others will come to trap you again. We’ll free you both, but you need to stop fighting!”

Their heads cocked to the side and the storms dropped revealing the stars on the cool chilly night, and you said, “Does it need to be near water?” The Ice Bird nodded his head saying while you saw the guys mounting their brooms as you said, “There’s another lake in the forest, should be enough room for the pair of you.” They took off again and followed after you eyeing you all and the forest below.

Off on the far edge of the Centaurs’ borders you found a cliff side over the side of a river feeding into a small lake fed from a waterfall from above farther down the cliff. All around the lake you saw the birds eyeing the walls as the water frosted over, the Thunderbird eyed a platform above a little farther down the wall with the Ice Bird wanting the spot where it stood. Landing beside you the guys eyed their beaks tapping the walls.

Peering up at Barty you asked, “Do you think we could take the vaults out of the school without it collapsing from some spell?”

Barty chuckled, “Only one way to find out.”

Turning your head again you spotted the Dragon in her path to you holding her own nest in her hand eying the chosen location. All in agreement you inhaled deeply clapped your hands and summoned your draconic magic book from home that flipped to the right spell, slowly you read over the page and eyed each spot with the great birds turning to look at you. Softly they chirped feeling the magic swirling around you all until behind them in their chosen spots their own vaults appeared with doors open for each of them to inspect, including the Dragon, who thanked you for her own vault off to the side from the Ice Bird’s keeping the connecting hall but granting her her own exit as well.

Wetting your lips you asked the Dragon, “I was wondering.”

A grin eased onto her face, “Yes little Phoenix?”

“I have a friend, would you mind, that is, he would love to see you, meet you, all of you. Would you agree to meeting him?”

Looking at each of them they nodded and you grinned in their move to head into their vaults that the doors sat open but sheets of crystal coated strands fell from the sides sealing the entrance allowing them through freely. With a chuckle the Dragon reached up touching one of the crystal patches of scales to inch a loose one free that it handed to you saying, “If you need us, call. You are always welcome here. We hope to hear you sing some time.”

You nodded, “Thank you, and you are always welcome in Hogwarts too. If you change your minds, we can move you back again.”

She chuckled saying, “The woman who opened our door, she is nothing like you. Had you found us, or your mother, we could have found peace. But to open our doors in greed, it festers and spreads through the innocents around us. With the eyes of a wonderer, I apologize for the pain it has caused. There are many doors in your nest, you are in danger from that woman.”

“We know. Do you know where those doors are?”

“No.”

You nodded and smiled at her, “I will let you rest and inform you when my friend can visit.”

She nodded her head turning to her door, “Sleep well little one.”

Barty grinned when you got back to their sides asking, “Comfy cozy out here?”

You nodded, “Yes. They even agreed that we could come visit with Newt.”

The twins chuckled, “Oh he’ll love that.”

Wetting your lips you fidgeted with the ends of your sleeves as you pocketed your crystal scale alongside your feather making Cedric ask, “What else did she say?”

Your eyes met his, “She said if I had opened the door the sickness, it wouldn’t have spread.” Their lips parted in shock, “Said Patricia opened it out of greed. Let out the sickness. If a wonderer had opened it they could have stayed peaceful. But because she wanted something everyone suffered for it. They said there are many doors in the castle, didn’t know where to find them, but they said she’s dangerous.”

Barty nodded and he said, “Perhaps its best we have a chat with Dumbledore then.”

On your brooms again you took a lap around the school seeing the giant hole in the tower Barty easily mended again with a wave of his wand in your circle to head back again to the main courtyard to head through the school to go and inform the Professors all locked in a huddle of what you had seen and done.

A wave of relief washed over them that the creatures were safely moved and content again but the tentative glances still flashed at the reminder that Patricia might just know where these other doors might be. In their move to guide you to the dinner they had prepped for you in the Great Hall, across from the usually empty hall where the Phoenix had moved to for extra space and quiet near the duo, who had used two of the chairs to perch on for the night.

With a giggle as you eyed the trio you turned your head to Professor Kettleburn who asked, “Any clue as to, what might be behind these doors? More importantly, if they are, that large?”

You shook your head, “Sorry. We will try to look into it some more. See what can be dug up.”

He nodded, “If anyone can.” He sighed painfully shuffling his way to his room, “You four can.”

Students moved back, and by noon the very next day flooded copies of the creatures were sent out on your school papers that eagerly Luna had sent off to the Quibbler as a boy named Doyle had sent his copies off to his mother who works in the Daily Prophet. No doubt there was question raised as to what had set the creatures off, and in means of tracing Patricia yourselves and not to raise suspicion her name was left out of it. But the silence past yourselves and the Professors brought up a creeping suspicion from you ringing eerily familiar from the younger trio who had been up to mischief the year before as well.

Things seemed to dip into a new sense of normal while you continued to delve through the library in school and at home in hopes of finding more clues on the vaults. Meanwhile the next Quidditch game was coming up fast. Between your prepping and Luna’s inching closer to you through Neville’s spare time being spent in helping Professor Sprout along with the other Puffs to aid in stocking up on herbal remedies and supplies for any potion necessary. Snape as well used his weekends to his advantage to stock up through the frequent letters from Alastor and Newt as well hoping to schedule a visit as soon as could be managed, to see the creatures you had detailed for himself.

Lunches meant you were nearly all crammed in one another’s house tables, though today at the snapping of Draco’s patience from Luna’s latest conversation with Ginny he gripped the straps of their bags guiding the girls towards your group. Peering up at him you caught Neville’s slight blush and dry swallow as Luna was moved closer to him, all but nudged onto his lap. Through an un-amused tone he plainly stated, “You’re dating now.” Drawing out his wand he shot up a confetti spell making you glance between the blushing pair as the other students did as well wondering what the celebration was for. “There, now everyone knows, yay! I’ll go make the cake and get onto my studies!” Turning around he walked out the hall after setting off another confetti charm, halfway to the door when he waved his wand that set off a rain of crimson heart shaped confetti marked with ‘Neville & Luna Forever!’

A soft giggle left you and Ginny inched closer to your side to sit on Fred’s knee at his gentle pat while Neville made room for Luna to join in on the studies into the school’s secrets. Dozens of artifacts and heirlooms had been uncovered, a good deal of them charmed and cursed that were properly housed or had the curses broken in moving them for display. Yet in all this still no door was found leaving the younger group to wonder just what you were searching for.

In your moving up to the RoR for another study session with the younger years you caught Neville walking bashfully beside Luna, who kept stealing glances up at him beside her. In passing the knight’s portrait Neville swallowed and asked her, “You, you like Quidditch?”

Luna’s head nodded, “It is an interesting sport. I heard Draco is going to be Seeker this year, and is quite eager for the first game against Hufflepuff in December. I supposed that I should join Ginny in cheering on Gryffindor.”

Neville nodded, “Oh, ya. So you’re going with Ginny then. Sounds, sounds like fun.”

Her head tilted and she said, “Though Ginny seems a bit uneasy on teaching me the rules.”

Neville’s eyes lit up, “I could teach you!”

She smiled at him, “Would you?”

He nodded, “I know all about Quidditch. I could have you a master of it fully by December if you’re willing?”

She nodded and he inched closer to her side on the next flight of stairs at her hand folding around his elbow met by another at the top for her to subtly lean against his side in waiting for the enchanted door to open.

…

The match went smoothly, at least you caught sight of the same redhead mingled in the audience parting your lips as you spotted the hexed bludger soaring after Harry. In a race down the steps to the pitch with the twins after you a final blow and crash to the grass had Harry on his back beside Lockhart. His hands folded around the boy’s arm between them a charmed pendant that lit up to a bright red at the raining bits of the bludger Hermione blew up. At once the pendant pulsed and then split in half in Harry’s gasp when his arm went limp.

“Harry, let’s get you to the Hospital Wing.” You said helping him up.

Behind him Terrence climber to his feet peering at you curiously only to flinch away from Lockhart in his approach to pop up flinching at putting weight on his badly dislocated knee, “All good, yup.” His eyes darted over to your back as his broom shot over to him easing his hop onto it to follow after you and Harry on his broom towards the castle. A single dose of Skel-A-Grow and a Hospital bed later found Harry laying up sleeplessly in the Hospital Wing wondering just what had happened today and why you were glaring at that woman seated by an odd gangly looking hook nosed man with sunken cheeks and dark eyes that both seemed to vanish into thin air when he was with you flying to the school.

Harry, “What could have been so bad about those two to set Jaqi off them?”

Ron shook his head in a shrug of his shoulders, “Not a clue.”

Hermione, “She does look familiar.”

Harry nodded, “Yes. She can’t be a Gryffindor.” He said patting his hand on the pile of books holding pictures of each student graduating from Gryffindor each year with pictures to capture each of their years in the house.

Ron, “Well we could easily check the ones from Hufflepuff and I’m sure Ginny could lend us the ones from Ravenclaw.”

Hermione pursed her lips as Harry said, “How would we get into Slytherin though?”

Ron, “Doubt Percy would help. He only helps Jaqi and the twins when it suits him.”

Hermione, “Perhaps there’s another way to find out.” Instantly she gripped their arms guiding them to the library where she was off in search of the proper book while they slumped in their seats and plopped their arms and heads onto the table in front of them while waiting for Hermione.

….

“Serpensortia!” Draco shouted in the now weekly assigned Dueling Club meetings straight at Harry making you grumble from the seating along the wall to wait for your year’s turn to duel so you could leave, a freedom nearly granted to the first years at the near final pairs being called up.

Stepping closer to the snake Harry began to whisper in Parsltongue, the simple urgings to leave Justin alone were answered and at an irritation for the spectacle continuing any longer Snape called out, “Vipera Evanesca” sending the snake back from where it came.

Curiously the first years looked over Harry until the Ravenclaws from your year chuckled at the teasing comments on just having another Parseltongue speaker from your family and you could have dressed like a Runespoor for Halloween. The jokes calming the mood as the youngest students were reminded from upperclassmen that you were Slytherin’s Heir and had found the Chamber of Secrets and Basilisk inside.

One after another you paired off until the final group and you were all released to spend the rest of the day how you wished, fleeing Lockhart’s company before he could force more onto your free hours. For three weeks you continued to tolerate him and his weekend lessons between stolen glances at the out of place cauldron brewing up a polyjuice potion in Myrtle’s bathroom.

The night before your latest trip to Hogsmeade you laid up sleeplessly wondering at the aloof responses to your request for lists from the trio as to what they wanted from Hogsmeade near the end of November. Even on their worst days they were thrilled to get a supply of sweets and prank products and yet they said nothing past a few random bits and bobs. At the foot of your bed you eyed Fred and George with their maps between them saying, “Something’s up.”

Sitting up you tilted your head to eye each corner of the maps they showed, Fred pointing to the boys hurrying into the Slytherin dorm and George pointing out Hermione alone in Myrtle’s bath. “What are they doing?”

Together you gasped, “Polyjuice!” Instantly you three raced barefoot in your pj’s through the common room out to the halls, leaving the boys to their own in full speed for Hermione. Taking each back path you could you finally found the bathroom you raced into calling out, “Hermione?”

Soft sniffling was heard echoing over the sound of Myrtle’s cackling and timidly you walked around the broken glasses you charmed to shift to dirt so none would get hurt from the glass. Around the first corner you spotted the only locked door where you gentle rapped your knuckles, “Hermione.”

“Please, go away.” She sniffled again.

George, “Oh Hermi, come on now.”

Fred, “Only two things could have gone wrong with that potion.”

George, “Either you grabbed animal fur, or,”

Both, “You tore your clothes.”

She sniffled again and you said, “You know the first time Percy tried Polyjuice potion a feather from Errol fell in. Sprouted wings and wouldn’t stop screeching for weeks. We found the potion to reverse it you know. I’m certain even Madame Pomfrey has seen this a time or two.”

George, “Please come out sweety.”

Fred, “No laughter here.”

Sniffling again you could hear her stand up and move to unlock and open the door that shifted back to reveal her coated in fur with cat ears and a tail and bright yellow eyes. Looking her over you asked, “Slytherin robes?”

She nodded and stepped out, “We wanted to see who the woman was.”

“Red hair?” She nodded again and you sighed holding out your hand gesturing her closer out of the stall to guide her to the sinks and you sighed, “Patricia Rakepick. She went to school with me and Harry’s parents in Snape and Professor Tennant’s years. Caused up a stir, Alastor asked us to let him know what she does in her visits to the school.”

Eyeing the mirrors Hermione turned her head saying, “I don’t need to see my reflection. I won’t do it again.”

You chuckled, “That’s not why we’re walking to the sink.” Turning your head you whispered in Parseltongue making her lips part at the sinks separating, in her glance up at you your smirk deepened, “Let’s go get that potion started and then we’ll take you to the Hospital Wing. I’m certain the boys can manage tonight. If not, detention with Lockhart will set the straight.” Making her chuckle as you shifted to Phoenixes and carried her down the tunnel into the Chamber.

At your feet hitting the ground she glanced up seeing the light from the tunnel cut off at it sealing again and she asked, “This is the Chamber of Secrets?”

You nodded and the twins answered, “Quite handy for our workshop till we open our own shop.”

Anxiously her hand folded in yours and you rubbed her arm saying, “No need to be nervous, it’s cozier through here.” Eyeing her stare up at the open mouthed snake statues all around the pathway you were on that calmed at the warm office she gladly settled into the arm chair by the warm fire that lit itself to heat up some tea in your path to your workstation.

Through the book you flipped until you found the right potion you then began to brew up noting the week long process for it to be complete. A noted herb to reverse the fur was found in your supply and passed to Hermione on your way to guide her up to the Hospital Wing. Past the stern gaze and raised brow of Madame Pomfrey you watched as she passed over another potion to help the herb take effect reversing most of the effects, leaving just the eyes, ears and tail which Hermione would have to deal with until your potion had finished brewing.

Again another trip to Hogsmeade was coming up and in the passing on of fact for who you were upset with the name of her accomplice, Dolph had been uncovered by the boys just leaving why Alastor could be looking after the duo and had asked you to do the same. A simple list of treats from poor bored Hermione was carried out of the Hospital Wing as you tried not to giggle at the ridiculous get well card propped up and open on her bedside table she kept hidden from Ron and Harry in their visit that Lockhart had sent her. The outside had his face on it and inside read,

"To Miss Granger, wishing you a speedy recovery,

from your concerned teacher,

Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award."

…

The first weekend in December was upon you soon enough and in the usual blustery blizzarding conditions you sat atop your broomsticks wondering just where Professor Dumbledore had been. He was never one to miss a game and yet his seat sat open and all the Professors seemed uneasy about it. But it wasn’t until you were helping Draco to warm up after your win that your teams both gathered in the separating hall to your locker rooms at Minerva’s place there with a worried expression on her face.

Draco, “Professor?”

Minerva drew in a breath then said, “I wanted to tell you all first since we’ll be making an announcement in the Great Hall over cocoa. Professor Dumbledore has been placed on suspension.”

You all asked, “What? Why?!”

She shifted on her feet then said, “A group of Aurors have convinced the Ministry that until the situation with the Ice Bird and other creatures have been explained fully he should step aside.”

“Who is taking over?”

Minerva, “I will be holding those duties along with my own until they come to their senses.” She motioned her hands, “Now, change and come back to the Great Hall for cocoa.”

Lingering behind a glance from her assured you that two of those Aurors were the two that had arrived the prior week and just why they wanted Albus out of the way, so he couldn’t help you at all.

Cocoa erupted into chaos that was eventually calmed until you split into your own house groups wondering just what the plan was, other than your group that delved once again into the seemingly endless list of books to explore for secrets. But as always Hogsmeade the following day broke through the worry as plans for the trip began to form distracting the great majority.

In the dark of night horns erupted from the forest tearing you from sleep. Blaring through the common rooms Minerva’s voice once again sounded over the intercom, “All students remain in your dormitories all midnight classes are cancelled.”

Upright you sat turning your head to see the trio of boys doing the same, all at once it seemed along with the other students you all hurried into a frenzy to get dressed. Hopping on one foot you eyed Dobby in his spin that stopped with a grin watching you tug on the laces to your boots you then hastily tied, “Mister Draco sent Dobby with a task to inquire what is going on.”

Shaking your head you switched feet lifting your second boot to add, “Um, we’re not exactly certain. Just waiting to hear from the Professors. Just tell them to stay in the common room until told otherwise.”

He nodded and zapped back to Draco as you finished tying the double knot freeing you to lower your foot to move to Fred’s side peering at the map he had opened out on your benches. George across from you said, “Doesn’t look like anyone’s left their beds.”

Cedric, “Just Professors on their rounds.” Curiously he unfolded the flap for the forbidden forest seeing the frantic paths of the centaurs, “What are they doing?”

Softly you mumbled, “Forest Vault.”

The twins gasped and joined you in the race out to the common room where you found the friar on his path to the hall through the entrance, “Friar! ‘Scuse me!”

A grin ease onto your face and he turned to say softly, “Headmaster McGonagall said to remain in the common rooms.”

You nodded and leaned in urging him to do the same, “The second vault, the Forest Vault,” his eyes flinched wider, “The Centaurs are taking frantic paths. They may need help.”

He nodded saying, “Please,”

You four nodded, “Stay here.”

He nodded saying, “I will pass on the message.” Promptly turning to rush his way towards the gathering group of Professors in their night gowns and pajamas wrapped in robes with shoes, slippers and boots alike added hastily over. Anxiously you turned back to the common room seeing the anxious first years as your fingers smoothed over the rubber duck charm around your neck. A grin eased back onto your faces and you led them to the couches where you and the other older students started a round of stories to calm them while a kettle of tea started to brew with biscuits and muffins arrived from a line of House Elves from the kitchens.

Pt 22

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lilacmoon83 · 5 years

Text

Finding You Always

Also on Fanfiction.net and A03

Chapter 156: Decode

Weaver walked along the hall of holding cells until he came to the final one, where Cassidy Gold was being kept. The younger man lay on the cot in the cell, looking bored out of his mind.

"Cassidy Gold," Weaver said, calling his attention. The other man sat up.

"It's about damn time…" he said, as he got up.

"I did what you asked. I stole that kid's car and said all the things I was supposed to and yet you still haven't come through on your part of the deal," Cass responded angrily.

"I'm a busy man, Mr. Gold...but I always come through on my deals," Weaver retorted, as he unlocked the cell.

"You're free to go," he stated.

"And the charges, the arrest...my previous record?" Cass questioned.

"This arrest and all your others are gone...erased from the system. Your record is completely spotless," Weaver replied, as he handed him a bag with his sparse belongings.

"Great...now maybe I can blow this town," he said.

"That's not a part of our deal," Weaver replied.

"What do you mean?" Cass questioned.

"Your record is clean and will stay that way, as long as you stay here in Hyperion Heights and keep your nose clean, of course," Weaver stated. Cass scoffed.

"I should have known this deal would come with more strings than it was worth," he spat.

"Oh, I assure you that this deal is one you want to keep, Mr. Gold," Weaver responded.

"Yeah? And how's that? No one is going to hire me in this stupid neighborhood, which means I'll end up going back to stealing to get by. You cops are all the same, you know," he commented.

"Even if a guy like me tries to clean up his act, it never works, because the cops stack the deck against us," he ranted.

"And if you would close your mouth for two seconds, you might be proven wrong on that," Weaver snapped. Cass scoffed.

"Fine…" he replied, as Weaver took out of roll of cash and Cass' eyes widened in disbelief.

"You're on my payroll now, Cassidy Gold; that is, if you choose to take my job offer," Weaver replied.

"And...what job do you want me to do? You know, that's a lot of money and it's tempting, but I'm not offing someone if that's what this is," Cass said. Weaver smirked.

"It's good that even as a thief there are lines you will not cross," he commented.

"No, there is no killing involved in this job. You're now an informant for me. You'll go where I tell you, do what I tell you, spy on who I tell you to, and anything else I need," Weaver responded.

"That's it? Spying? Watching people?" Cass questioned.

"For now...there may be instances later where your expertise as a thief are needed. But for now, yes...you're my new mole and your new security post job at the Stavros' Ancient Artifact Museum begins tomorrow morning," Weaver said, as he handed a badge of credentials to him, as well as a bag with a uniform in it. Cass looked stunned and a little bewildered.

"Use the money to get yourself a decent apartment too and something to eat. There will be more where that came from if you do your job," Weaver promised, as he turned and walked away with an amused smirk on his face, leaving Cassidy Gold behind.

"Uh...thanks!" he called, still confused on why Weaver would choose him for this. But if it was for this kind of money and stability, then Cass wasn't going to think twice about accepting such an offer.

~*~

The dream, or nightmare rather, started out much the same as it always did. There were flashing lights, like those of a police vehicle and headlights. There was also fire...and smoke? Purple smoke...and blood, along with other vague shapes he could never make out. He didn't know if his mind had blocked out that night and that was why it was always a blur, but tonight was definitely different. Blurry images suddenly had focus. Instinctively, he thought this was memories of the night Margaret died. She had been taken, by one of her colleagues, no less. Margaret was a teacher and a Professor had developed an obsession with her. But she had steadfastly rejected him many times. They had a very loving, happy marriage.

The Police were no help, until the man had gone too far and forced his beloved into his car at gunpoint. The police had given chase and he remembered arriving at the scene.

That was how he met Weaver. The insane man had driven the car off a cliff with his sweet, beautiful Margaret inside with him, shattering him.

"I'm sorry Mr. Nolan...but we were unable to recover the bodies," Weaver said, looking at him with sympathy. That was a detail he had never remembered until now. No body to bury...just an empty coffin and a headstone. Was that right? How had he forgotten a detail like that? As he stood there that night, the scenery changed around him. There was still fire and purple smoke. Weaver was still there too, but he looked different and was dressed in strange leather clothes. And Iris was there...along with Bobby? How was that possible?

"Mom! Dad!" they were both calling. But that wasn't right...Bobby wasn't his son. And then he realized he was holding someone and when he looked down, expecting it to be Margaret, he was shocked to find that it was Mary in his arms. And Iris was calling her Mom...but that couldn't be right. The lights were still flashing, but this time, they weren't headlights or siren lights. They appeared to be flashes of other kinds of light. Blue sparks, fireballs, and white energy. There was a blonde woman with two other youths and they appeared to creating the lights from their hands...like magic? Then strangely enough, there was Ivy, which made even less sense.

The smoke was so thick that it was blinding and he heard Mary whimper softly in his arms.

"Charming…" she cried. Then he heard his own voice.

"I'll find you...I will always find you, Snow," he promised her. Snow...why was he calling her by the name of Mary's alter?

"Not this time...if I have anything to say about it," a voice hissed, as he looked through the smoke, only to see Clayton Stavros standing there with his usual smug grin. Then the smoke swallowed them up and he jolted upright in bed. He breathed heavily, taking in air to his starved lungs. What the hell was all that? None of it made any sense...what had started out as a realistic memory of the night he lost his beloved Margaret turned into a fantastical world where it was Mary in his arms...or was it Snow?

He put his head in his hands, wondering why his dream of losing Margaret was suddenly about Mary. He clutched the sheets in frustration. Why was it that every time he tried to think of his beloved Margaret that all he could see was Mary? It made no sense. He knew there would be no going back to sleep, so he got up and padded into the kitchen, shirtless and just in his sleep pants. He got a drink of water and noticed Bobby's book laying on the coffee table. Curiously, he went over and opened it, before he began leafing through it with interest. He was captivated by a couple that was holding each other, very similar to how he and Mary were holding each other in his dream. The man was blonde like him and the woman was raven haired, like Mary. And they went by Snow and Charming. He closed the book at that...it was crazy and none of it made any sense at all. But Bobby's words from earlier stuck in his head, as he had overheard him telling Iris about his book; that there was a curse that made everyone forget and brought them to this place. He sighed and put the book down, chiding himself for even entertaining such fantastical nonsense.

Margaret was dead; killed by a psychopath doctor that had been obsessed with her. The fact that there was never a body didn't mean anything, for it had been too difficult to recover anything from the harsh ocean waters. Iris was his daughter, but Bobby was not his son. And Mary...she was not Margaret. It was absolutely impossible, despite the incredible pull he felt toward her. When Margaret died, he thought that was it for him. He could never love another woman the way he loved her. Their love was incredibly special and he wasn't the type that could move on from something like that. Margaret wasn't just his wife, but his soul mate and now he felt guilty for even entertaining the possibility of moving on with someone else. It wasn't like he hadn't been propositioned for dates in the years since Margaret's passing. But he had never had any interest in any of those women. So why was Mary so different? Why was she in his head so deeply that he couldn't even think about his late wife anymore. Why was she haunting his every waking moment and now his dreams? He picked up the book again and kept leafing through it. This couldn't be where his answers were, but he found he couldn't stop himself from searching through it anyway.

~*~

Storybrooke Year - 2021

"Henry...you're back!" Ella exclaimed, as he emerged from the forest.

"We were getting ready to mount a rescue. How did you escape Tremaine?" Tiana questioned. He smirked, as a group of people followed him into the camp.

"My family…" he answered.

"They've come to help us…" Henry said.

"If you'll have us," Snow added. Tiana smiled.

"We'd never turn down help, especially from anyone who's done this before," she agreed.

"You must be Tiana...and you must be Ella," Snow said, as she stepped forward. Ella was a bit surprised, but smiled shyly.

"You must be Snow White," Ella replied, as she put her hand out. But Snow simply smiled and hugged her. Once Ella's surprise wore off, she found herself hugging back. This was a bit new to her and she hadn't had this since she lost her parents. It was nice...even if she wasn't sure she could trust it.

After Snow's immediate acceptance of Ella, introductions proceeded and then Tiana showed them to the tent they were using as a makeshift war room, welcoming any help and expertise these newcomers could provide.

~*~

Hyperion Heights

Later that morning, as they got ready for the day and ate breakfast, David could barely take his eyes off Mary. If she noticed, she didn't let on. He couldn't get those images out of his head though. The memory of holding her so close...so intimately was seared into his mind and soul. As much as he wanted to deny all of it...he couldn't shake it. He couldn't shake her and the fact that she was the reason he couldn't even remember his own wife. And as crazy as it sounded, he was starting to think that it was because she was his wife. It was insane and he was also debating on getting his head checked, but he couldn't get the contents of that book out of his head. Could it really be true? Was Bobby right about everything? He wasn't ready to entertain the idea of fairy tales being real yet...but Clayton Stavros was in his dream too, which led him to believe that whatever this was...he was behind it. He wasn't going to say anything to Mary yet and today, he was going to begin his investigation into her...brother. Brother...yes, he was doubtful on the truth of that relationship too.

~*~

After breakfast, the kids got their stuff for school and prepared to head off.

"Bye Mary…" Iris said, as they shared a meaningful smile.

"Have a good day, Iris," Snow said, fighting the urge to hug her.

"Bye Daddy," Iris said, as she hugged him. He hugged her back and cradled her head for a moment.

"Have a good day, peanut," he said, as he watched her go and then watched Mary with her son, as she tried to brush some of his raven hair away from his eyes.

"Do you have your permission slip for your field trip to the zoo?" she asked. He nodded and held it up.

"Okay...have a good day. I love you," she called, as he left to catch the bus.

"Bye Mom...bye David," Bobby called.

"See you buddy," David called, as he watched him go.

"He's a great kid," he mentioned. Mary smiled.

"So is Iris," she agreed. He smiled and nodded, as a thick silence settled between them.

"I guess...I better get to the station," he said.

"Um...I was actually going to go in early and help Roni. Would you mind giving me a ride?" she asked.

"Not at all," he replied, as they gathered their things they needed for the day and left as well.

~*~

Jacinda smiled, as she read Lucy's note, while leaning against the well in the Community garden.

"Well...skipping work again?" an unwelcome voice interjected. She frowned and looked up to find her step-mother there.

"No...I'm on my lunch break and I like coming here. It's Lucy's favorite place," Jacinda answered.

"Well...I'm afraid she'll have to find a new place," Victoria retorted. Jacinda's brow furrowed.

"What are you talking about?" she questioned, as she saw construction workers piling in behind her step-mother.

"This is where my new tower is going to be. This pitiful little garden is to be swept away," Victoria stated.

"But Lucy loves this place! She'll be devastated!" Jacinda cried.

"Lucy is a child and she'll get over it rather quickly, I suspect. Now if you'll excuse me, these gentlemen have work to do and I have other places to be," she said.

"I'll stop you," Jacinda warned. Victoria smirked.

"You'll try...and fail miserably, like you do at everything," she retorted. Jacinda hurried off to Roni's and burst into the bar.

"Hey...what's the matter?" Roni asked, as she took inventory, while Mary did some cleaning.

"My step-mother," Jacinda replied.

"Well...that woman is hell on high heels, so maybe you could be more specific," Roni said.

"She's demolishing the community garden to put up a tower," Jacinda told them.

"The place where all those beautiful snow drops are growing?" Mary asked curiously. Jacinda nodded.

"And the Hyacinths," she confirmed.

"Bobby loves that place," she mentioned.

"So does Lucy...and I have no idea how to stop Victoria," Jacinda lamented. Roni thought for a moment.

"Well...it's a long shot, but if you were to get as many signatures from people in the community on a petition to stop the tower from going up, you'd be able to file an injunction that the garden is indeed viable to the community," Roni stated.

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Mary said.

"Do you think it will work?" Jacinda asked.

"Only one way to find out and you've got your first two signatures right here," Roni replied. Jacinda smiled and set off with a plan to stop her step-mother.

~*~

Bobby walked with his class, as they toured the zoo that afternoon. Everything was going fine, until he felt someone tug on his backpack.

"Hey Blanchard...read any good fairy tales lately?" a kid named Mark asked derisively. He was bigger than Bobby and a bully. And it didn't help that everyone thought he was the weird kid that carried a book of fairy tales around. It was never like this for him in Storybrooke. He had always been accepted, for the most part, because everyone else was like him too.

"Leave me alone," Bobby requested, as he kept walking.

"Oh come...tell us all about those crazy tales," he said snidely.

"Come on man, leave the kid alone," his friend Jeremy said. But Mark wasn't letting it go.

"The kid thinks fairy tales are real, Jeremy...and his Mom is a head case at the mental hospital," Mark said, as the boys chuckled. Bobby fumed and turned to glare at them.

"You got something to say, short stuff?" Mark asked. But Bobby shook his head and stalked off. He knew if he started a fight that he would get blamed and then if Clayton got wind of it, he would try to use it against his Mom. It had happened before. He had tried to keep Bobby from visiting her the last time he got into a fight by claiming that his mother was too unstable for him.

He sneaked away from the rest of the class and came to a fence. Thinking nothing of it really, he hopped it and went about exploring. But when he realized he was suddenly in the tiger pen, he cursed himself. Back home, he thought nothing of walking around among the animals. His brother ran the reserve and all the animals knew who he was. But Hyperion Heights was a different story. He gulped, as one of the tigers took notice of him and casually started toward him. He started to slowly back away and knew if he ran, the tiger might pounce. But if he didn't run...he might anyway. Luckily for him, before he made a decision, someone called out to him.

"Hey kid...what are you doing in here?" the familiar voice asked. His breath caught and he looked up to find his big brother there, dressed in a uniform that the employees all wore. He watched him put a hand on the tiger's back and it lost interest in Bobby, before walking away.

"I'm sorry...some kids were being mean and I was just trying to get away," Bobby said.

"Okay...no harm done. Let's get you back to your class," he said, as he escorted the boy out of the pen.

"Thanks...my name is Bobby No...Blanchard," he said, catching himself. He still had trouble with almost slipping and using his real last name of Nolan. The young man smiled.

"I'm Luke Hunter," he said. Bobby was really stoked to finally have found another of his older siblings. He couldn't wait to tell Mom.

"That was really cool what you did with that tiger back there...how did you do it?" Bobby asked. Luke shrugged.

"I just kind of always had a way with animals. Guess that's why I work here. Stay out of trouble, kid," he replied, as he went back to work. Bobby frowned. He would have to see if Mom could bring him back here soon. Maybe she could help jog his memory. Bobby pulled out his cell phone and texted Iris.

"I found Leo! He works that the Hyperion Heights zoo!" Bobby typed, before hitting send. It was only seconds later that his sister texted.

"That's amazing!" she typed back.

"His name is Luke Hunter here. I'm gonna see if Mom can bring me back this weekend," Bobby typed. He waited a few seconds, as the three dots appeared, indicating that Iris was typing back.

"I have a better idea...maybe we can convince Mom and Dad to both bring us there this weekend," she suggested. He smiled

"That's great...see you later," he typed. He felt hope swell inside him. He had been so alone the last two years and now everything was finally changing.

"We're going to do it...we're going to break the curse," he said, as he hurried to catch up with his class. He had found Leo and now only needed to find Emma and Eva.

~*~

David and Rogers sat in his car, watching Stavros' museum that afternoon.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Rogers asked.

"I'm not sure...but this guy is dirty. I know it," David replied.

"I don't disagree there, but perhaps this has become a bit personal for you, eh mate?" Rogers questioned.

"I appreciate your candor, Rogers and yes it's probably a little personal. Doesn't mean we shouldn't be doing it," David responded, as they saw none other than Victoria Belfry walking toward the museum. She didn't go to public entrance though and instead kept looking around her, as she entered through a private side door.

"Let's go…" David said.

"We don't have anything yet," Rogers replied.

"We don't need it. We're just two guys going in the public entrance of a public museum," David retorted, as his partner followed him inside.

Victoria made her way through the corridors in the museum and found Clayton in his office, enjoying a drink.

"Mr. Stavros," Victoria called.

"Ah...Ms. Belfry. Would you care for a drink?" he asked, as he poured another glass of expensive scotch.

"No thank you...this is not a social visit," she replied sternly.

"Pity...then it must be business. What can you do for you?" he questioned.

"You can start by seeing that your sister is locked up again!" Victoria snapped.

"Relax...I'm working on convincing a judge to revoke the order that freed her. But it's not easy...Weaver has a lot of power too. Somehow...not even the curse was able to take that away," he commented.

"She has already caused irreparable damage! She's already moved in with him," Victoria hissed.

"I'm aware," he snapped back.

"Detective Nolan is getting too nosy. The mole we have at the station says he has overheard whispers that Nolan and his new partner are sniffing around where they shouldn't be, off the record," she informed.

"Then we'll have to persuade them to back off. Believe me, I have handled David Nolan before. There are very exploitable ways to make him behave, so to speak," Clayton responded.

"I hope you're right...or this entire thing could unravel around us. And I don't think either of want that happening," she said. He smirked.

"There are fail safes in place to make sure that doesn't happen this time. My sister may have most of her memories, but she doesn't yet recall everything from that night. Trust me, even if those two idiots get all their memories back, they'll be reluctant to ever want this curse to be broken. The consequences of that this time would be devastating for them," he responded. Victoria didn't recall why that was either, but she reluctantly trusted his word on it.

"You better hope so and I hope your men will be delivering that item we discussed over the phone earlier?" she questioned. He smirked and finished his drink.

"They are excavating it as we speak. You should have it by the end of the day," he promised.

"Excellent...good day, Mr. Stavros," she said, as she walked out. Clayton was about to pour another drink when he got a call.

"Stavros," he answered.

"The detectives you warned us about are here poking around the museum atrium," a guard warned.

"I'll be right out," he said, as he put the glass down.

"Damn these two…" he cursed, as he walked out of his office and headed for the atrium. Once he was gone, Tilly, having slipped past security, tiptoed into his office. As instructed by Detective Nolan, she took a tissue and snatched his glass, before putting it in the plastic bag he had given her. She concealed the item in her coat and slipped back out.

~*~

"Detectives...what can I do for you?" Clayton questioned, as he emerged from the lower levels of his beloved museum.

"Oh...we were just browsing. You have quite a unique collection of ancient artifacts," David mentioned. Clayton gave him a steely gaze.

"My family has collected unique items for many centuries," Clayton responded.

"It's impressive...I mean most of this stuff you'd expect to see in places like the Smithsonian or in their home countries," David commented. The Collector narrowed his eyes. He was positive that David wasn't awake yet, but his questions were a bit unsettling. If he remembered the truth that most of Clayton's collection and how it was acquired, he could try to make trouble for him in the professional world that he had managed to interject himself into.

"Why are you really here, Detective? Don't you have actual criminals to be investigating?" Clayton questioned bluntly. David smirked.

"Oh, I assure you that I am investigating real criminals, Mr. Stavros and once I have the proof I need...those people will be going to jail," he responded, before turning and walking away. Rogers started to follow when Clayton called him back.

"Detective Rogers...I hear that you have newly acquired your detective shield, so let me give you some friendly advice," Clayton said, as Rogers looked at him.

"Don't let your foolish partner rope you into his wild goose chases and faulty investigations. He may be Weaver's favorite for now, but if he gets involved with the wrong people, things could go sour for him," Clayton stated.

"Are you threatening my partner?" Rogers asked. Clayton smirked smugly.

"Not at all...I'm an upstanding member of this community, Detective Rogers and my only goal is to make sure you don't get pulled down by Detective Nolan's witch hunt," he responded.

"If Detective Nolan is investigating something...or someone, then I assure you it's worth looking into. He's the best on the force," Rogers responded, as he walked away and caught up with David.

"You certainly ruffled his feathers," Rogers commented. David smirked.

"Oh, I did more than that," the blonde replied, as they walked back to the car and found Tilly waiting inside it.

"What...is she doing here?" Rogers asked, as they got in.

"Did you get it?" he asked. She smiled and nodded, as she handed him the evidence bag with the glass inside.

"Will this really help Mary?" she asked.

"Yes…" David replied, as he started the engine.

"Let's go get you that sandwich," he said. Tilly smiled and buckled up, as Rogers still looked confused.

"You used Tilly in this?" Rogers asked.

"No...I asked for her help. Trust me, I'd never put her in danger," David replied.

"Whose glass is that?" he asked.

"Clayton Stavros and once I have the lab run a DNA test against Mary's, I know it will prove exactly what I suspect to be true," David answered.

"And that is?" Rogers prompted.

"That's he's in no way related to her at all. Then I can make sure his power of attorney he supposedly has over her is negated and he can never hurt her or her son again," David stated.

"You really are going to help Mary then," Tilly said. David nodded.

"I am...and I'm going to help you too, Tilly. Once we take down Clayton Stavros, then Victoria Belfry is next, along with Dr. Samdi," David said.

"That's ambitious...you realize that you just put a target on your back, right?" Rogers asked. David nodded.

"I know...if you want to be reassigned, I'll understand," he replied. Rogers thought for a moment and if he was being truthful, these kinds of investigations, regardless of the potential dangers, were why he wanted to be a detective. He didn't want to be on some crooked business person's payroll. He wanted to fight the injustices for regular people like him and give a voice to those who had none, much like Mary Blanchard and young Tilly. This was why he went to the Academy.

"No...I'm all in," Rogers confirmed.

~*~

After school, Bobby hurried into Roni's and spotted his Mom taking an order. He noticed his Grandpa Xander nursing a drink at the bar too and planted himself next to him. He wasn't the grandpa he knew, for Xander hadn't taken even one drink in Bobby's entire life before the curse. It made him sad.

"Hi," he said to him. Robert glanced at him through bleary eyes.

"This is no place for kids...what are you doing here, boy?" he questioned.

"He's my son...come on honey," Mary interjected, as she took his hand and he hopped off the seat.

"Mom...I have to tell you something. It's really important," he said. Roni smiled.

"Go ahead and take your break, Mary. He looks like he's going to burst," she said in amusement.

"Thanks Roni," she said.

"I'll have a cocoa ready when you get back, champ," she called.

"Thanks Roni!" Bobby called, as they went outside.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Snow asked.

"I found Leo today," Bobby announced. Her breath caught in her throat and her half heart fluttered.

"Really?" she asked. He nodded.

"He works at the zoo in Hyperion Heights! He goes by Luke Hunter here!" Bobby exclaimed. Snow smiled and hugged him tightly.

"I'm so proud of you, sweetie," she gushed.

"Can we go this weekend? Maybe with Dad and Summer...I mean Iris?" he asked. She smiled.

"That sounds like a plan and I'm sure Iris will sell it to David too," she said, as she hugged him again.

"Now let's get you that well deserved cocoa," she added, as they went back inside the bar...

#Snowing #SnowxCharming #Charming family #OC Charmings #Snowing centric season 7 #Hyperion Heights #Roni #Weaver #Rogers #glass believer #AU #romance #adventure #finding you always #the epic continues #ouat fanfiction

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lake-ilinalta · 6 years

Text

Scoldings

Mondays, 11:45 pm, Sun's Dusk

Her delicate fingers combed gently through his blonde hair. He had moved from his sister's home in Riverwood so he may take up shield closer to Y/N's home. Much too close to his king for his taste, with only a wall between them and the Palace of the Kings.

It took weeks, few moons even to rid Windhelm of it's murderer, it's serial killer no longer walked the streets selecting women. At the thought of his four victims he'd taken before she could stop him, her stomach would twist in knots. Had she acted sooner, had she rode North sooner... Had I not put the wrong man in irons.. No. Those thoughts took her into the deepest recesses and darkest corners of her tormented mind. It's where the worst of her memories festered, undesturbed. The dreaded one to make her more tense than life slumbered there, he had witnessed it by her side. Through many close calls, many stories of how she'd gotten the scars across her skin. She'd never been that helpless, victimized girl. And never will be again.

My face thrown down onto the chopping block, already slick against my cheek from the blood of the man before me. He'd done nothing wrong but fight for the country and the king he believed in. It could have been Rolaf's blood. He woke me gently in the carriage, asked me to pray for my soul, for the imperials would not. The beating in her chest grew mildly more rapid knowing one second sooner it may have been her lovers head in the basket before them all. My gaze forcibly lowered closer down due to the leather and steel boot between my town up shoulder blades.

Never had she seen twenty five winters before being drawn back to the warmth in Hjerim. Rolaf's head lay in her lap and his thumb rubbed thoughtful circles against her side. It was skin against nothing but skin after the nights they often shared together. His breathing was shallow and he slowly opened his eyes noticing her fingers were motionless in the long strands of hair at the nape of his neck. She was quick to continue as soon as she'd been found out. Rolaf had a way of knowing what was in her mind. The girl's thumb and forefinger rolled the small braid that lay against his cheek.

"Each time I see you, you've gained a new bruise or wound, recently sewn shut." It's just above a whisper from low in his throat. His gentle fingers traced the outline of a reddened scar on her side.

"You worry too much over my safety. I'm not so easy to kill as you may clearly think."

He groaned against your thigh. It wasn't the first failed attempt to make her understand. But to an extent she could see the termoil her travels caused as though physically pushing him into a corner. Neither had ever felt this before. So intense a concern for another person, a need far beyond want that buried itself as deeply inside their chests as possible. It tugged on loose strands every chance it got.

"Rolaf?"

He let out a frustrated breath as his only response that he would hear her out.

"You know what I've accomplished. Vampire Lords, the World Eater, Thalmor, the Daedric princes. Each of them-ive lived through each and every one of them." Her tense and bare back remained to the wall but finger tips now tread lightly over his muscular shoulder blades. "You see their tributes hanging upon my walls. How can you worry about me?"

"How old are you, love?"

It's a rhetorical question but she patiently took the bait anyway. "Twenty four. Twenty four winters, twenty five summers. You know this, why do you ask?"

"At twenty four, how much do you know of the world?" His arms wrap tighter around the hips he knew every detail to.

"Were I to die the way you fear, I would die knowing far too much. So much darkness, so little light. Though when you find a thin ray it's all you can see. " Thoughtful eyes seek his out and capture the blue orbs when he looks up. "I know I worry for you."

"Well, I know I love you. I couldn't let any harm befall you, even if you hurt me. Pierced me deeply, taken what little hope I have left." Rolaf pulles himself up onto his elbow.

Y/N smiled softly. Love is a rare exchange between just the two of them, late at night with no one around to overhear. Her brightened smile grew dim and sink down beside him in bed.

"I go to the capital for trade. My thoughts race, so many soldiers, so many imperials. I can never focus when each and every one of them wanting your head cut from your body. Still."

"I know." His arm stretches out and his calloused fingers caress her soft cheek. She turned a cheek into his warm touch.

"You don't."

"I do, my love. When we met, even then I knew. Your temple was bleeding while you were knocked out in the carriage. My brother in arms and I watched over it. It was our only indication you were still alive."His fingers brush her silky hair from her temple. It was barely long enough to brush her shoulders. Practical for warfare. "It seemed... Like hours before you woke. I felt it so early as I explained where we were, what happened to you. When I heard your voice for the first time it held such venom. I knew then why they would rather you be unconscious." Planting light kisses across her skin he breathed in the smell of her neck. "I thought maybe you'd kill them all if you weren't bound at the wrist. Yet, when they'd dragged you to the block you seemed defeated. I do know the terror of it."

"You-" she began with tears glossed over her bright eyes. It was a sight he'd seen often of late. Stress and despair having built up to unbearable strength. But he had never to that day witnessed any tears fall. The pain and sorrow would channel itself into anger before they had the chance. Still he could feel it radiate off her body.

There was a soft knock on the door putting their conversation to an untimely end. Three other souls slept in the house. The housecarl who knew better than to interrupt, the ill behaved dawnguard dog, and the young boy who adopted him. Y/N threw her short legs over the side of the bed and quickly dressed. An instant passed before she threw Rolaf's breeches to him while on the way to the door. He was dressed and sat at the table in the both of their chamber before the door opened to her adopted son. The day she brought the boy to Hjerim from Dawnstar, clothed him, fed him, allowed him to call her mother though a sister would be more likely. It made the stormcloak grin. She was indescribably dangerous and easy to anger, but truly wanted to save everyone.

Kneeling in the doorway before the child who's face was streaked with tears.

"Alesan? Love, what's wrong?" Obvious worry flashed across your soft features.

His chest heaved a few times out of breath. The young redguard had attempted a stoic expression but it was far from believable.

"I dreamt it again."

She'd learned early on that his mind was prone to nightmares of when the people in Dawnstar were allowed no sleep. He'd envisioned the priests of Varmina and the Skull of Corruption when no adult in the hold could. For that reason alone she never brought daedric artifacts through the door, in fear of making his nightmares worse. It was almost as if he could feel how tainted and evil they were. As if he would shatter just from contact.

"Alesan, when I lifted that curse upon the townspeople, do you know what I did?"

He shook his head while she dried his cheeks with the palms of her sleeves.

"The tower was an evil place. There's only one thing to do to evil, do you understand? You purify it. Make sure it cannot hurt anyone again. There's far too much evil in this world and I will always-" she tilted his chin up. "Always, keep it away from you."

Across the room Rolaf pours a goblet of wine while watching the exchange. The child's eyes meet his for confirmation. It brings a grin to his lips.

"Alesan, you better believe her. Your mother scares the twilight's out of evil."

Her boys both worried each time she left,every time the bag was packed and their white and black dog allowed his harness strapped. Though her son had far less understanding of what she did beyond the city gates, the danger she placed herself in each day. Only to trust that she would leave to help people.

He threw his arms around Y/Ns neck tightly.

"I'm always coming back." She whispered to him and kissed his cheek refusing to rush his embrase to an end. Her curiosity grew. "Alesan, where's Sceolang?"

Rolaf smirked knowing all too well what the boy's answer would be. She had fought them both on the topic from the moment the husky stepped foot inside the home.

"Er...in bed downstairs."

Lips tighten into a hard line. After her long evening with Rolaf there was no energy left to argue about the dog stealing her son's bed. Taking up more room than is warranted for an animal of his size.

"Tonight only, love. Are you better now?" He nodded in answer to the question. "Sceolang will watch over you as you sleep. No harm will come."

Moments later the boy nodded on his way out. He turned looking back to his mother's green yes. "And Rolaf will take care of you?"

Before she could comment, she heared Rolaf respond for her with to wide shiteating smirk.

"I'll take very good care of your mother." His suggestive tone moved straight over Alesan's head but she narrowed her disapproving eyes and dropped her jaw.

The boys said their goodnights and the door was closed heavily. The scowl Rolaf knew well made him nearly choke but that blighted smirk never shifted. She so calmly set down the goblet in his hand. Those archers reflexes let her grab a pillow and slap him with it before he could block.

"He's still innocect! " she hissed low enough to go undetected. The light blush on her cheeks giving way to false rage.

Rolaf laughed softly and pulled her face to him capturing her lips with his. They were interrupted yet again by the far too enthusiastic guard dog barking while the girl-woman's son slipped back into his room down below them. They could easily hear Alesan panicking to quiet him.

"That dog." She grumbled moments before Rolaf pulled hed into his lap smiling too cheekily. Their tense conversation forgotten for another night.

#rolaf x reader #skyrim x reader #tes #tes skyrim #skyrim oneshot #one shot #skyrim fanfiction

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