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#a lil vampire au on this thursday morning~
ardberts · 18 days
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wip wednesday
it's actually thursday, but i always love these so thank you for the tag, @myreia!! ♥️ tagging: @lilbittymonster @cloudofdarkness @snotsloth @galpalaven @gatheredfates @aethergazing @birues @iona-xiv @gortash @geth-consensus @dogfromfallout @alannah-corvaine @hartsvale @ishgard @fheythfully
He dreamt of home so often, it almost felt more real than waking.
It was dusk again, as it always was. The last remnants of light cast long shadows over the snow blanketing a forgotten village that existed only in his memories. The cobblestone beneath his feet was worn smooth, and the houses that stood on either side were empty and dark, their windows gaping like eyes, and their doors shut tight against the elements.
It was quiet here; there was no howl of the wind, or the crack and pop from a fireplace, or even the soft crunch of snow beneath his boots. All that remained was a vast and yawning silence, cold as it seeped through the cracks of his former life, whispering in his ears like the cries of ghosts.
His feet carried him through the empty streets with a slow and purposeful stride, the trim of his cloak trailing after him like a shadow, his breath misting in a white haze with every exhale. There was a familiar sense of restlessness gnawing at his chest, urging him forward. He was looking for something — someone, perhaps — but, try as he might, he could never recall just what, or whom.
He came to a halt at the foot of the village square, and the cobble beneath his boots gave rise to the ruins of a great cathedral. A soft grunt stirred his throat, more thought than it was sound, as he tilted his head, squinting up at the structure curiously.
The cathedral was all flying buttresses and sturdy stone, a harsh contrast to the village's wooden homesteads, yet the same sense of abandonment hung about it like an old, unwelcome shroud. Its main entrance was marked by large oak doors, flanked on both sides by Ishgardian saints, worshippers of Halone, their weathered faces carved with expressions of reverence. Stained glass windows lined both walls in an arching row above them, while stone gargoyles kept watch from above.
He recognized the building instantly, having walked past it nearly every day of his life, and oftentimes accompanying the granite beasts in their vigil.
What was it doing here, now, miles away from its home in Ishgard proper, on the outskirts of the city-state in a village that no longer existed?
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omgrachwrites · 10 months
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The Night We Met (Chapter Three)
Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Potter!Reader
Summary: Over the summer you connected with the boy who is quite literally your twin’s mortal enemy. Things start to fall apart in the darkness of the autumn.
Warnings: fluff, swearing, angst, everyone lives au, takes place in 6th year
A/N: Soooo, this is up a lot later than intended so I have made it a lil longer to thank you guys for your patience. Alsoooo thank you so much for all your support on this series, it truly means the world to me! Hope you guys enjoy this part and please let me know if you would like to be tagged. I love you all very much! xxx
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Chapter Three
The Great Hall was especially rowdy one blustery Thursday morning as you went to meet your friends for breakfast, opting to sleep in for an extra ten minutes. The cause of the noise was coming from the first years panicking about their timetables and the older students who were practising their spells for class. Hermione grinned at you when she noticed you, her curly hair in a braid down her back.
“You look especially lovely this morning, Y/N,” she smiled as you sat down.
You flushed at her words, “why, thank you. My mum would say it’s the fresh air, does wonders for the complexion she says.”
Ron, who had been listening to the conversation looked at you with a raised eyebrow, “and, what would you say?” he asked.
You shrugged, “I would say it’s a happy accident.”
Ron snorted into his breakfast at your reply while Hermione shook her head fondly as she poured some milk into your tea, “you are completely ridiculous.”
You laughed, taking the milk from her and pouring it into your bowl of cereal as you looked up at your twin who looked as though he was trying not to fall asleep in his cornflakes.
“What’s up with Harry?” you asked.
Hermione rolled her eyes, “probably too busy poring over that stupid potions book all night instead of sleeping.”
It was in the first potions lesson of the year that Harry had found the mysterious book that had transformed him into a potions expert. Hermione regarded the book as a form of cheating and you weren’t inclined to agree with her until he won the tiny bottle of liquid luck. The former owner of the book called themselves the Half-Blood Prince, and none of you had any clue who it was. Though, you were sure that you had heard the name somewhere but you couldn’t put your finger on it.
Harry seemed to wake up halfway through breakfast, “what have we got first?” he asked, concealing a yawn behind his hand.
“It’s Thursday so it’s Defence Against the Dark Arts,” you replied and Harry’s face fell.
Defence Against the Dark Arts used to be Harry’s favourite lesson but now with Snape teaching the class it was quickly becoming his idea of hell, “great,” he mumbled, taking a sip of his pumpkin juice, “I wonder what fun we’ll have today,” you rolled your eyes, he was so dramatic.
“Just don’t piss him off,” Ron laughed but that was almost impossible because Harry’s mere presence seemed to piss Snape off.
Finally, the bell went and you all traipsed to your lesson, it was pitch black in the classroom, as usual. Snape preferred to teach with all the blinds down on the windows, once again fuelling the rumour that he was a vampire.
“Everyone get in and sit down,” he hissed, there was no time or room for any pleasantries in Snape’s lessons.
When everyone had found their seats in silence Snape started the lesson and you quickly learned it wasn’t exactly a cheery topic that he would be teaching today, “we’ll be covering the cruciatus curse today. You will be required to explain each unforgivable curse in detail along with their characteristics for your NEWT exams next year.”
Your NEWT exams was the focus of all professors this year it seemed. You fidgeted nervously as you tried not to look at the very graphic photograph of a wizard being tortured that was hung on the wall. You missed Remus. Everyone had tried to convince Remus to come back to Hogwarts but he didn’t seem to be interested.
“Now,” Snape continued in a dangerously quiet voice, “what are the characteristics of the cruciatus curse and what is it used for?”
The room was silent, even Hermione didn’t raise her hand although you knew that she knew the answer. She was staring very hard at the blackboard, hardly blinking. A soft voice made everyone jump and you were surprised at who it was that spoke.
“The curse is used to inflict excruciating pain on the victim, though it leaves no physical mark and you have to mean it for the curse to work. It’s like your nerve endings are on fire,” Mattheo stared at his piece of parchment as he spoke before he finally looked up and cleared his throat, “or, that’s what I’ve read anyway.”
Snape nodded at him before turning to write it up on the blackboard, “5 points to Slytherin, Riddle.”
You looked at Mattheo, horror rising in your chest. What he had said didn’t seem to come from someone who had merely read about the curse. Snape lectured for about twenty more minutes before he made you all start an essay on the cruciatus curse in silence. It made for a very depressing lesson.
As soon as the bell rang, signalling the next lesson, Mattheo practically flew from the room without waiting for his friends, and you followed behind him. The hallway was practically empty due to how quick you both left the classroom and you called his name. You had expected him to keep walking but he didn’t. He turned to look at you.
“How did you know all that stuff about the cruciatus curse?”
He laughed humourlessly as he walked closer to you with an anguished look on his handsome face, “how do you think I know it?” the look on his face wasn’t the look of someone who had cast it, but someone who had been on the receiving end of it.
You forced back the gasp that threatened to spill from your mouth, you knew that he wouldn’t exactly appreciate that form of sympathy, “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged, “why the hell do you even care? We agreed to carry on like we don’t know each other.”
“I know that’s what we agreed but Theo, I can’t pretend like I don’t know you. It’s not like I can turn my feelings for you off just like that. Can you?”
Mattheo swallowed as he looked at the floor before he looked back at your face, “it was never that deep for me, Y/N.”
His words hurt you, they were so cold and calculating but before you could muster a reply, you felt someone wrap an arm around your shoulders, “is he bothering you, Y/N?” Harry asked.
Mattheo never took his eyes from yours as he raised an eyebrow. You tore your eyes away from his as you looked at your brother, “no, he’s not. C’mon, Harry, let’s get to potions.”
Harry glared at Theo as he shoved past him, hissing beneath his breath, “stay the fuck away from my sister, Riddle.”
As you joined Ron and Hermione outside the dungeons, Ron narrowed his eyes, “and where were you two?”
“Nowhere, doesn’t matter,” you said quickly before Harry could say anything.
As far as you were concerned your dad was the only one who knew about you and Mattheo, and you weren’t going to start broadcasting it now. Thankfully, Slughorn came out and greeted the class, letting them inside before Harry could contradict your words.
When you walked into the dungeons, you were immediately hit with the smell of fancy French cologne. You knew it was coming from the steaming cauldron on Slughorn’s desk. For the past couple of lessons, you had been learning the theory of Amortentia – the world’s strongest love potion – you didn’t pay too much attention to the scent of the cologne.
Your mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of Mattheo, you really wished you could just get over him. Maybe you should start dating, though unfortunately you knew that most of the male population at Hogwarts were complete idiots.
Slughorn grinned at everyone as he ushered them all inside, “welcome, welcome. Please take your seats,” it was a vast difference from Snape.
Slughorn started the lesson about five minutes late as he waited for everyone to make it down to the dungeons from their previous lessons. When everyone had taken their seats, Slughorn clapped his pudgy hands together, “right, as you all know for the past couple of days we have been learning about Amortentia. Some of you may have realised that this,” he tapped the cauldron with his wand, “is full of Amortentia. Now, who would like to tell the class what they smell?”
When nobody volunteered, Slughorn looked at you with a smile on his face, “how about you, Miss Potter?”
A couple of your classmates snickered while Mattheo looked at you, the expression on his face was very guarded. You bit your lip as you looked back at Slughorn, shaking your head, “I’d rather not if that’s okay, Professor.”
“Of course, I know it’s no small thing that I ask,” he said kindly and your body flooded with relief. Slughorn turned his attention to Mattheo, “how about you, Mr Riddle?”
To your surprise, Mattheo nodded, “yes, Sir,” he walked to the front of the classroom and took a deep breath as he drank in the scent of the steaming potion. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he did so, “I don’t smell anything, Sir.”
Slughorn looked hugely disappointed, “nothing at all?”
“No, Sir.”
Although Slughorn looked disappointed he didn’t look surprised, “very well, please take your seat, Mr Riddle.”
Mattheo found his seat and he looked up, his eyes meeting yours. There was nothing in his eyes, they were stone cold and the realisation hit you like a ton of bricks. He wasn’t lying, he really couldn’t smell anything. But what did that mean? The lesson passed in a blur and you didn’t exactly listen as your mind was elsewhere, you did feel bad but you knew that you could easily catch up with the notes at a later date.
At dinner that evening the thought was still bothering you so you decided to ask Hermione, “why couldn’t Riddle smell anything in the Amortentia?”
Hermione looked at you in surprise, “have you not heard the rumour?”
“What rumour?”
“There’s a rumour that Voldemort was conceived because of a love potion,” Harry replied, butting into the conversation.
“So?” you asked wondering what his point was.
“People who are conceived because of love potions are incapable of feeling love, and if it runs through Voldemort’s veins then it runs in Riddle’s too,” Hermione explained.
You looked up at the handsome boy who was laughing with his friends on the other side of The Great Hall. You didn’t know who his mother was but you knew that he wasn’t conceived from love, presumably Voldemort was desperate from an heir.
“So, he can’t love either,” you said to yourself.
It was like some sort of Greek tragedy, having feelings for someone who was incapable of returning them.
“Why are you so bothered?” Ron asked.
“I’m not,” you lied, missing the way Hermione looked at you with suspicion.
A couple of days later, Hermione cornered you in the changing rooms when you had showered after Quidditch practice. She was slightly breathless and her cheeks were pink, it looked as though she had practically ran to get to you.
“What are you doing here?”
She shook her head, “I was racking my brain, trying to figure out why you were so bothered that Riddle couldn’t smell anything in potions. Then it came to me, he’s the boy you met over the summer isn’t he? Please don’t lie to me.”
You sighed, “yes,” you whispered, waiting for the judgemental look or the burst of outrage but she simply took your hand and waited for you to continue, “we got to know each other over the summer and I thought he was a dick at first, but when I really got to know him, I realised he’s different than the front he puts up at school.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she whispered, looking hurt.
“I didn’t want you judging me.”
“Y/N! I wouldn’t have judged you, I would have been there for you through it all, through the break-up. In fact, I will be there for you, it’s clear that you still have feelings for him.”
“Why would you do that for me?” Theo’s dad was the cruellest wizard that had ever lived, he’d been especially cruel to people like Hermione. She should hate you, but she didn’t.
“Because you’re my best friend, silly girl,” she laughed as she pulled you into a hug.
You hugged her back tightly, “please don’t tell anyone, especially not Harry.”
Hermione laughed into your hair, “I don’t want you to get murdered, of course I won’t tell Harry,” you smiled at her response, relieved that at least someone knew your secret.
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