#justice for susana | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

valentineforlemonandcherry · 2 years

Text

Foxtail & Wolfsbane Part 17

Summary: Your lifelong obsession to hunt down the Nine-Tailed Fox has not gone as expected, and seventeen years later, you find yourself coming back to the place where it all started: Hogwarts. However, with Sirius Black’s escape from Azkaban and Headmaster Dumbledore’s hire of a certain Professor R. J. Lupin, you suddenly find yourself intertwined in the fates of those with whom you thought you had parted ways with long ago. [Multi-Post Story] [Rowan Scamander x Reader] [Remus Lupin x Reader] [Young Sirius Black x Reader] [Tristan Graves x Reader] [Severus Snape x Reader] [Warning: Story Contains Explicit Smut.] [Warning: Rough Sex.] [Warning: Light Degradation.] *Note: Rowan Scamander, Tristan Graves, Susana Holmes, Cas Carneirus, Henrietta Weiss, and Thomas Picquery are OC characters. *Please do not repost or copy my work without my permission. Thank You!

☾ Click Here for Foxtail & Wolfsbane Home Page (All Chapter Links) ☾

As soon as you and Tristan walked into Tina’s office, Artemis, who had been sitting on Tina’s desk, leapt into the air and bounded up to you.

“Art! You’re okay!” You bent down and picked her up in your arms. “Thank God you’re okay. I was worried about where you were!”

Artemis gave a low whine and nuzzled your neck with her snout. Clearly, she had been very concerned about you.

“I’m all right.” You soothingly tucked her in against your chest with one arm and patted her little head with your other hand.

Artemis decided that you deserved a soft bite on the shoulder, because of all the worry you’d caused her and because you still smelled… different. Artemis couldn’t quite place it, but for some reason, you had started to smell just the slightest bit more like her. A human nose could never detect the difference, but Artemis certainly could.

“Ow, Art,” you mumbled. However, realizing that her admonishment was a sign of her care for you, you continued to pet her lovingly.

Just then, Tina, who had been talking quietly with Tristan, stood up from her desk. She addressed you. “Mr. Graves tells me that you are possessed by the Nine-Tailed Fox. Is this true?”

You lifted your eyes from the little fox in your arms. Your eyes met Tina’s dark, steady eyes. Strange. Her energy feels so different from her son’s.

“Yes, ma’am,” you replied quietly.

“How did this come to pass?”

Inside of your chest, you felt a flurry of silvery tails flick warningly. Artemis let out a surprised yelp. You clutched onto Artemis a little tighter as you said, nearly in a whisper, “I don’t know, ma’am.”

“What?”

“I don’t know,” you repeated.

Tina’s brow furrowed. “You don’t care to share exactly what happened to you?”

“I can’t,” you said honestly.

“Well, that’s going to be a problem,” Tina spoke matter-of-factly. “No one will ever be comfortable with letting you leave if you can’t even explain what happened to you.”

Then I’ll just have to escape, you thought to yourself. But in that moment, you chose not to say anything.

Walking over to her desk, Tina picked up a long piece of parchment from her desk and held it up to you. “This is a demand from the Aurors that we lock you up.”

You stared at the scroll. It had a long list of signatures running down it.

“Tina, that demand has no legal authority,” Tristan remarked. “Aurors aren’t in charge of deciding who goes to prison.”

“No,” Tina replied quietly, “but I am, and so is Madame Justice Picquery.”

Tina put down the list and she walked back over to you. With a degree of toughness in her voice that you had never heard from anyone before (except perhaps Molly Weasley), she laid out her situation to you very matter-of-factly. “What I need to know is this: If I decide to fight with Madame Justice Picquery on this issue – on keeping you out of jail – will it be worth it?”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. Obviously, you would be a fool to consider saying anything other than “yes.” Yet, just as when you had first met Tristan, here, too, you couldn’t quite understand: Why would Tina Scamander stick up for me?

Tristan glanced over at you, still hugging your fox. Just say yes, he thought to himself. Say yes, so she’ll help you.

However, you responded to Tina stoutly, lifting your chin in the air as you said, “You can try whatever you want with me. I won’t stay in prison, or even in America, for that matter, just because you want to keep me here.”

Tina’s eyes narrowed, but Tristan smirked. Right, she’s not exactly a helpless little thing, is she? Not with that personality, and not when she’s got the full force of a mythical spirit inside of her.

“She’s right,” Tristan said, backing you up. “If you acquiesce to the demand of locking her up, she won’t be the one who gets hurt.”

“What do you mean?” Tina asked, rather skeptically.

Tristan explained, “We already know, Tina, that if we put her in jail, some of the Aurors will come after her and try to kill her. All Aurors are authorized to enter the prisons. But when they try to harm her, the Nine-Tailed Fox possessing her won’t sit still. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the Aurors who ended up dead.”

Tina stood stock still for a moment. You could tell that she was trying to make a decision inside of her head. Finally, with a soft sigh and a shake of her head, Tina murmured grimly to you, “Why did you have to take go aboard an American ship? You should have taken a British ship. Then, you might have been able to go home and avoid this colossal mess.”

You blinked, taken aback by how regretful Tina genuinely seemed for you.

“Why do you say that?” you ventured to ask. “Don’t you want to be sure that I’m not an ally of Voldemort? From your perspective, isn’t it better that I came to you?”

Tina shuddered slightly when you spoke aloud the name ‘Voldemort.’ But she merely replied, “Creatures are not as easily tamed or allied to humans as MACUSA seems to think. It takes a lot to sway creatures to take a side in a human war. I am not as concerned about this Nine-Tailed Fox of yours as the rest of MACUSA is. I imagine that she has lived too long to concern herself with such things.”

Inside of you, you felt a subtle glow in your chest as the Nine-Tailed Fox nodded her assent.

“An Obscurial is a different matter. An Obscurial is a human,” Tina replied. Her voice fell into a deep sadness. “They must be protected at all costs, before they fall into tragedy and take many lives along with theirs.” Her eyes flickered over to Tristan.

For a moment, you looked at Tristan, too, and you swore that you could see a cloud of grey arise in one of his emerald eyes.

A long silence arose. You broke it by asking, rather reluctantly, “Well, what would you have me do?”

Tina shook her head a little, as if waking herself up. “I suppose the only thing you can do is stay under Tristan’s protections for now. I can’t take you under my wing; it would be too open of a defiance against the Aurors and Madame Justice Picquery. But the Aurors can’t move easily against Tristan, and Madame Picquery can’t move easily against me. So, what you can do is to stick besides Tristan. At least, until my husband and my son return.”

“What will change when Newt and Rowan returns?” you inquired. Rowan. It feels funny to say his name now…

“If Newt can confirm that you are not an Obscurial and that, as such, you are not dangerous, then we will have a better chance of convincing everyone that you should be allowed to go free,” Tina explained.

“But in the meantime…?”

“As I said, stay with Tristan,” Tina replied to you, with a note of finality in her voice. “There’s not much else we can do.”

“You can be my Secretary,” Tristan suddenly decided. “That’ll give you an excuse to stay besides me.”

“What?”

“Well, I’m not going to be giving you food and housing and all that for free,” he said bluntly. “And I’ve already got a maid.”

You barely resisted the urge to roll your eyes at him.

“Unless you’d rather be sleeping in the streets,” Tristan goaded you.

“Tristan,” Tina reprimanded him sharply.

You shot Tristan an irritated look before you muttered out grudgingly, “Fine.”

Tristan gave Tina a brief nod, and then he turned away and left the room. He left the door open, clearly indicating that you were to follow him.

Shaking your head, you began to leave as well, when Tina suddenly called out softly, “You’re not what I expected.”

You looked over your shoulder. “Excuse me?”

“When my son wrote to me, asking me for a favor for a girl he fancied, I imagined someone… different. You aren’t at all what I expected.”

You blinked in confusion. What is she talking about?

“Never mind, I’m talking foolishly, aren’t I? Forget what I said. I’m sorry. Go.”

You left rather uncertainty, and you never heard Tina whisper to you, “After how much my son was rooting for you, child, I’m glad you found your fox.”

* * * * * * * * * *

After the meeting ended, you and Tristan left Tina’s office. You expected to leave right away, but Tristan led you back to his office. “Stay here for a moment.”

“Are you going to chain me up?” you asked resentfully, already backing away from him.

Tristan shook his head quickly. “Just sit on the couch and stay there.”

Before you could reply, he was gone.

“Strange man, eh, Art?” you muttered, as you were still carrying her in your arms.

But Artemis was acting strange, too. She pawed at your arms, trying to escape your embrace. Finally, she jumped out of your arms and leapt onto the floor. Putting her nose to the ground, she began to sniff attentively.

“What?” you said confusedly. “What’s got you all in a frenzy?”

Artemis kept sniffing, eventually making her way to Tristan’s bookcase. Then, she pushed her nose at a row of very heavy-looking books.

You got up off of the couch and you went over to the bookcase, too.

“What’s over here that’s got your attention, hm?”

Artemis let out a soft bark as she pawed at one book in particular.

You knelt down and pulled out a thick volume resting on the bottom shelf. You read the title of it: “The Sorcery of Metals.”

“Well,” you remarked, “this looks dull as nails.”

Artemis barked a little louder, offended.

“Sorry, but just look at this.” You opened the book and began to flip through the pages. As you predicted, from the very start, the pages were covered with miniscule, old-fashioned type.

However, after only a handful of pages, the book suddenly opened up to reveal a secret hiding spot. You gasped in surprise. “It’s hollow!”

The volume was deceptively thick in its cover, for the actual contents of the book in terms of writing was only about a hundred pages long. But the book was a container, too, and there lay – your wand.

“Oh my God, my wand. It’s my wand.”

Trembling with happiness at seeing your wand, which you’d been deprived of for so long, you reached out and grasped it again. A burst of silver and blue lights, each shaped like a foxtail fern, blossomed into the air.

Artemis blinked in amazement. Her tail flickered once, and then she was off, rearing up onto her back feet and trying frantically to catch the lights between her paws.

Once the lights faded away, Artemis came back to you, walking very proudly, with her little ears all perked up and her chest puffed out.

You smiled and gave her a good rub all over, making her wiggle in happiness. “Good job, Art! I could never have found this without you. Thank you.”

Artemis barked happily and showed you more of her fuzzy tummy.

You laughed softly. “Guess it was a good thing I let you use my wand as a fox pacifier all these years, huh?”

Artemis nodded, her eyes turning into pleased little crescents.

A few minutes later, you picked up the book again. You started to close it, when you heard a soft clunk inside of it. Reaching back into the secret compartment, you pulled out a small, elegant pocket watch.

“Why does he want to keep this pocket watch hidden, I wonder?” you mused, turning it over in your hand. On the back of the pocket watch, you saw inscribed –

“Isn’t that the Graves insignia?” you wondered aloud in surprise. “It’s inscribed on this bracelet of mine, right here…”

You closed the book. Your eyes traced the title again: The Sorcery of Metals.

“Maybe you’re right, Art.”

Artemis, who was now sitting dutifully besides you, cocked her head up curiously at you when you said her name.

Looking down at her, you admitted, “Maybe the book is more interesting than I thought.”

“And it seems that our friend Tristan Graves is not as straightforward as he seems. I always knew he was good at magic. He does wandless magic with more ease than I’ve seen anyone else do it. And the way he held off four Aurors at once…”

You paused, and the silence of the room seemed to buzz around you.

“Where do you think he’s gone off to?” you wondered. “It sounded like he was only going to be a moment. He didn’t even bother to chain me up, thank Godric.”

Curiosity began to bubble up inside of you. You tried very hard to stay still. But a moment later –

“Let’s go see where he’s gone to. It’s his own fault, isn’t it, Art, for not chaining me up? He can’t except anything other than disobedience me by this point, or I’ve sorely overestimated his intelligence.”

With that, you left the room, your confidence surging now that you had your wand back, and you started to peek around corners with Artemis, searching for Tristan.

* * * * * * * * * *

As it turned out, Tristan hadn’t gone very far.

You’d hardly peeked around a few corners when you glimpsed him in the hallway, speaking lowly yet fervently to someone. It took you a second before you recognized who he was speaking to – Cas, the young woman with short, boyish red hair, who was also an Auror.

They seemed to be arguing. You pressed yourself up against the wall and tried to listen.

“… thought you said you weren’t ready to love anyone yet, that you were afraid of being with someone after what happened to your mother and father - ”

“ - It’s true, Cas. I didn’t lie to you - ”

“ - And then I hear you making love to some girl you barely even know!”

“Cas, I don’t love her.”

“Oh, is that supposed to make everything better?”

“No. But I am asking you to be patient.”

“Patient? For what? For a man who doesn’t even know if he’s capable of loving someone?”

Tristan drew in a harsh, short breath.

“Listen,” Cas said furiously, “I could have captured her so many times by now. That time when she escaped in the alleyway, I had my wand on her the entire time. I’ve been holding back from dragging her back to MACUSA because I trusted you. See, I thought you had a reason for protecting her. But if this is just some strange, twisted thing, where you want to keep her for your own pleasure - ”

“God damn it, Cas, stop deliberately misunderstanding me.”

“You think this is deliberate? You think I want to be in pain?”

“You’re in pain?” Tristan suddenly sounded very uncertain of himself, which was quite rare.

“How can I not be?” Cas replied.

You couldn’t see Cas, but you could hear the tears sparkling in her eyes, as she continued accusingly, “First, you told me you couldn’t be with me because you didn’t know if you had it in you to love someone. Then, you told me you couldn’t be with me because you thought that my associating with you would hinder my career.”

“You know that I’m right about that. People would think I gave you a heads up, and you would never get the credit you deserve.”

“But now, I have to hold back because of you! Just the other day, Gregory asked me if I was losing my touch! He said I had never taken so long to capture a fugitive. Then, I realize that you’re off making love with this woman! You don’t think that hurts me?”

“Cas…” Tristan sounded quite sad. It took you a moment to place your finger on the exact emotion, for Tristan had never showed that kind-of vulnerability to you.

He doesn’t even sound like himself, you thought. And you felt a strange kind-of pity for Tristan Graves, not in the least because he was being misunderstood on account of helping you out.

Tristan finally said, “Perhaps it’s foolish to think that we could ever be together.”

Cas remained silent for a long beat. But then, you heard her turn on her heel and walk away.

You let out a long, low breath. Wow, that was intense.

Suddenly, Artemis, who had been trailing after you, sank her teeth into the bottom of your jeans and began to tug harshly.

“Hm?”

You looked down at her.

She blinked furiously up at you, signaling, He’s coming! Coming now!

“Oh, Merlin,” you muttered, abruptly returning to your senses.

Hearing Tristan’s footsteps coming towards the corner, you grabbed Artemis rather unceremoniously, picking her up and shoving her under your arm. Then, you booked it all the way back to Tristan’s office. When you managed to race into his office, you hurriedly slammed the door shut behind yourself.

Only a minute later, you heard the knob on the door behind you turning. You threw yourself into Tristan’s office chair with enough force that Artemis yelped as her snout accidentally bumped up against your chest.

“Sorry,” you whispered to her, as Tristan opened the door and walked in just then. When Tristan saw that the couch was empty, he frowned. Then, turning to his desk, he saw you, sitting impertinently at his desk, with one leg casually thrown over the other.

You tried very hard to keep your breathing down.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Tristan asked you in a clipped voice. “You better not have been looking through my documents.”

You silently took a deep breath before you retorted, with sarcasm dripping in your voice, “Oh yes, that’s exactly what I was doing. Because, you know, I just can’t wait to be your Secretary.”

You felt a sharp burn in your chest as you forced yourself not to gasp for breath.

Tristan merely shook his head at you. Then, he said, “Come on. Let’s go home.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Tristan Apparated home, bringing you along with Side-Along Apparation.

When Tristan opened the front door of his grand house, you stopped at the doorway. You stiffened, and Artemis tensed, too, her tail going very still. Seeing the hallway made a sudden, unsettling spurt of apprehension burst in your stomach, as you half-consciously remembered a series of rather frantic, dark memories.

I can dimly remember someone choking me. And that someone was -

You gasped, as Susana suddenly appeared in the hallway. She was totally silent, appearing rather as a ghost instead of a human. What was more, she looked gaunt and haggard, as if she had not slept or eaten for several days.

Artemis blinked worriedly, and her ears went flat on her head. You started to slip your hand inside of your sweater, for you had smuggled away your wand right at your hip, where the band of your pants helped to keep the wand in place.

“Susana?” The worry was clear in Tristan’s voice, too, as he greeted his maid.

“…Master,” she croaked.

Her voice… You shivered. You felt a low rumble sound out in your chest. Apparently, the Nine-Tailed Fox did not like this woman, either.

“Susana, what is it? Are you ill?” Tristan asked, with impressive calm.

“Someone… Someone cast the Imperius Curse on me,” Susana whispered. “I know it. I can – can feel it in me. And it’s – it’s pushing me to DO THIS!”

With a feral scream, Susana suddenly pointed her wand right at you. “Cruc -!”

You drew your wand in front of you. “Prot - !”

“NO!” Tristan roared. Without even pulling out his wand, Tristan ran straight towards Susana. Grabbing her wrist in his hand, he managed to point the wand tip up towards the ceiling just in time to redirection the spell into nothingness.

Tristan barreled into Susana with enough force to push both of them backwards onto the floor. “You’re not yourself! Resist the Imperius Curse!” Tristan yelled. “Susana, hear my voice!”

But Susana continued to struggle against him most ferociously. You were stunned at how physically powerful this old lady was.

With an unwilling growl, Tristan finally slapped Susana – not hard, just hard enough to ‘wake her up.’

Susana went limp for a moment, but you kept your wand pointed directly at her. With your other arm, you were still holding onto Artemis, ready to protect her from whatever ghastly thing was unfolding here.

Thankfully, Susana seemed to return to herself, as she whispered hoarsely, “Master, forgive me…”

Tristan immediately helped Susana up. “Are you all right?”

Susana was shaking all over. “No. It’s the – the indignity of it all. I cannot forgive myself.”

Tristan shook his head firmly. “It’s not your fault, Susana. You mustn’t blame yourself.”

“Master, you know I cannot let this go.”

Tristan’s gaze tightened, as if he realized he was facing something inevitable. But for the moment, he simply asked, “Tell me. How did this happen?”

Susana’s eyes darkened fearsomely. She whispered through bloodless lips, and in a tight, tense voice, “It was him. The absolute scum of the earth.”

“Who?” Tristan urged. “And when?”

“During the fight, he took advantage of the chaos to cast an Imperius Curse on me. Then, he made me choke her.” Susana looked up at you.

You were still standing beside the door, wand out before you, shivering slightly in your hand.

Susana continued to recount her story. “I heard his voice in my mind, pushing me to capture her, to knock her unconscious, and to bring her to Voldemort.”

When you heard the name “Voldemort,” you felt an intense tremor run through your body. Voldemort. That was who I was fighting against when I was a part of the Order, you thought, mind whirling. But what in the world would Voldemort want with the likes of me?

Your heart was pounding quite heavily. In fact, your fox ears had popped out, though you didn’t realize it.

“Susana.” Tristan leaned forward and he grasped Susana’s shoulders in his hands. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you. But you have to tell me – who cast the Imperius Curse on you?”

Susana growled fearsomely between gritted teeth, “Theodore Fontaine.”

An image of one of the Aurors who ambushed you and Tristan just yesterday (though it felt like ages ago) popped up in your mind. If you weren’t mistaken, Theodore Fontaine was the young man with caramel locks and handsome black robes.

With surprising vigor for such an elderly woman, Susana reached out and gripped Tristan’s jacket collar tightly in her hands. “You must let me go after him.”

Tristan hesitated. “Is this really what you want?”

“I must, Master. Or else I will lose control. I already feel it seeping out of me. If this goes too far, I will not recognize even your call.”

Tristan gazed into Susana’s eyes, searching for something – what, exactly, you didn’t know. Finally, he decided, “Very well. But you understand, don’t you, that you’re to come straight back to me afterwards?”

Susana whispered, in a voice full of emotion, “Yes.”

Then, the most amazing thing happened. Susana lifted her hand, showing a simple metal ring bearing the Graves insignia. At the same time, Tristan pulled out his necklace, bearing the silver lock on a dark silver, almost black chain. The lock also bore the Graves insignia in its metal.

Tristan touched his necklace to Susana’s ring.

From the moment the two metals met, Susana began to transform. Her wrinkles started to smooth out. Her white hair deepened to a fair blonde. Her posture changed and she literally seemed to grow taller, with her bones and muscles seeming to strengthen before your very eyes.

Your mouth dropped open in total astonishment as Susana Holmes, Tristan’s elderly maid, was revealed to be a young, dignified, and rather harsh-looking woman.

When she spoke again, her voice was much lighter than before, but there was a quality of biting iron to it that nearly made you shiver. “I will take care of Theodore Fontaine,” she stated, as matter-of-factly as though she were pronouncing a death sentence on an already captured man.

Tristan only said, in a careful, muted tone: “Remember your restraint.”

Susana whirled around lithely. She made for the door, which you were standing in front of. You and Artemis were both stunned. Neither of you seemed to remember how to move.

“Miss, if you would…” Susana gently shouldered you out of the way.

It wasn’t until Susana - or some likeness of Susana, you weren’t sure anymore - left the house, closing the door behind her, that you breathed out, rather underwhelmingly, “Merlin.”

At this, Tristan chuckled, though the sound was quite weary and rather dark, “I think the more appropriate exclamation here is ‘Morgana.’”

“But she – Is she -?”

“Yes, that’s her true form.”

“But how? And why?”

“The how – I suppose I could explain it to you, but I don’t care to. After all, it took me several years to re-discover the secrets of my family’s magic. Why should I lay it out so easily to you? Especially when that bracelet of yours is the only thing keeping you here, seeing as you’ve somehow gotten your wand back.”

Tristan gave you a reprimanding look as he eyed the wand in your hand. You flushed, having forgotten that you were still clutching onto your wand in plain view before Tristan.

Tristan continued smoothly, “As for the ‘why,’ well, that’s her story, and only she can decide whether or not she wishes to reveal that.”

“I think she owes me an explanation, seeing as she’s nearly killed me twice,” you said bluntly.

“Perhaps.” Tucking away the necklace underneath his waistcoat necklace, Tristan beckoned to you. “Come. We should get you to bed, or else you’ll be begging for me to make love with you again.”

“What?”

“Your fox ears have appeared again.”

“They have?”

“Yes. Hard not to notice, actually.”

“Well, it’s no surprise, is it? I thought Susana was going to kill me.”

“It was Theodore Fontaine who was trying to kill you. He had Susana under the Imperius Curse,” Tristan explained. “If anything, Susana saved your life.”

“Oh, sure, I’ll believe everything you say, especially after discovering that the woman who lives in your house is actually a completely different person than who I thought she was,” you said dryly.

“Your sarcasm knows no bounds,” Tristan said flippantly, as he led the way down the long, dark hallway. “Is it a British thing?”

“No, it’s a common sense thing,” you pushed back.

“Well, as I said, common sense would be putting you to bed. Else, you’ll keep me up all night, and I’d prefer to rest tonight.”

You scowled brilliantly at him. “Just know that if it wasn’t for the Fox inside of me, I would never give you the time of day, Tristan Graves.”

Inside of you, the Fox laughed enchantingly. Oh, little one, you must learn to keep that temper of yours under control. It’s so very cute.

Tristan, already fed up with your indignation towards him, merely said, “Yes, yes, I know. Now, go.” He pushed you none-too-gently down the rest of the hallway, all the way to the last room (the guest room) where your bed was.

* * * * * * * * * *

You couldn’t sleep that night. Of course, by now, you knew that the more tired you became, the more the Fox would need to be satiated. However, sleep was simply impossible tonight, for the image of Susana’s form changing from to a charming-looking elderly woman to a rather sharp-looking young lady overflowed your mental capacity, keeping your thoughts buzzing and your consciousness very much awake.

Is nothing as it seems? you wondered to yourself, staring up at the faintly moonlit ceiling. Is the world of magic beyond just spells and potions – but truly one of myth and legend? I mean, I always suspected that it was. That was why I believed in the Nine-Tailed Fox. But I thought the Nine-Tailed Fox was an exception. But what if she’s not? What if it’s the norm?

The Nine-Tailed Fox’s ears twitched in irritation. I am not the norm.

You ignored her.

Sleep, little one, the Fox reminded you, or else we’ll need to feast on that young man’s soul again.

You dutifully closed your eyes and tried to sleep. Still, once again, you found yourself wondering whether Susana had found Theodore Fontaine yet. Your eyes flashed open once more.

The Fox teased you, Well, then, perhaps you rather fancy this Graves, do you? Seeing as you don’t seem to want to go to sleep.

No, you replied to her in your mind, I do not fancy him.

Oh, child, of course you do, the Fox responded easily. I can feel how willing you are to give yourself to him when the two of you are making love.

That’s not true!

The Fox smirked in your head. There, there. It’s not entirely your fault that you got carried away, after all.

Of course it’s not! You shouted back in your head. This is all your fault! Your stupid magic, enhancing all of the – the…

- Pleasure –

- Strange feelings – you corrected her at once. Anyhow, what would you know of my true feelings? you retorted, not without a twinge of bitterness.

You are my gateway to the physical world, to the human world, the Fox reminded you. If you had not had any attraction to Graves at all, then I wouldn’t have been able to call to him. But I can. That means something, and the meaning is of a kind that I can only exploit, but not create.

You’re making that up, you said, suddenly very annoyed.

The Fox smirked. We’ll see whether or not you like him tomorrow, then, when he’s making love to you yet again.

He won’t be.

Well, he’ll have to, seeing as you’re not sleeping.

You scoffed.

But just then, the Fox suggested slyly, this time, let him take you fully. It will last me longer, you know.

Fully…? you thought nervously.

Let him finish inside of you.

What? No.

It’s the highest point of the experience, the Fox admonished you. It’s when you truly forget your restraints. It’s when you can truly share something between the two of you. Him, taking you. You, letting him take you like that.

Not with Tristan Graves, you said, scowling in disgust. There will be no ‘taking.’ There will be no ‘letting.’

Well, well, we’ll see, the Fox said, highly amused. She rather enjoyed taunting you like this, playing funny little games with you. A human’s mind is truly so simplistic, isn’t it?

Hey, I can hear you…

Well, yes, I said it out loud. The Fox laughed again. It was meant for you to hear, little one.

Irritated, you grabbed your pillow and shoved it over your head, trying to block out the voices and thoughts pestering you in your very own mind.

But only a moment later, you peeked out again, lifting the pillow just enough to be able to see past your bed, to the chair besides it. You scooted over a tiny bit and you reached out. You managed to slip your hand into your jeans pocket, and you pulled out the pocket watch you had found in that secret book today.

Why did Tristan hide this? And what was that book about, anyways, ‘The Secret of Metals’?

So many mythologies, you thought again, thinking of Tristan’s lock, Susana’s true physical form, and of the Nine-Tailed Fox swishing her tails inside of your soul. And then, there was that mystery that haunted you every single day of your life, the mystery of the Grim, that huge, black, spectral hound that Sirius Black turned into every month…

I guess Rowan was right, you thought sleepily, there are other types of magical creatures out there, too. And the really strange, inexplicable ones… Well, I would name them… Hm… I would name them…

The Fox’s silvery voice melded into yours, as you whispered together, Humans.

* * * * * * * * * *

Ripping, tearing, shredding…

“Lovely… Lovely, please, look away!”

“Remus! Remus, no, please! Don’t push me away! Let me help!”

Broken glass everywhere, torn wood pieces scraping gratingly against cement walls, and the sound of a deep, dark growl…

“Go! I can’t – I can’t be with you anymore…”

“Remus!”

Darkness… Followed by a white haze…

“Remus… Remus…”

The haze grew thicker, until it became clear that it was fast-falling snow.

Inside of you, the Nine-Tailed Fox sighed as she gently laid her tails atop your fractured soul. Rest, child. Be at peace. No matter how much you’re hurting, you have to learn to let go. Whether mythical or real, time is cruel, and requires you to move along with it… Else you will become lost in this white forest of mine, where time truly stops.

* * * * * * * * * *

Damn it. I told her to sleep. But now, here I am, unable to sleep myself.

Tristan sighed. He sat up in his bed. He brushed his dark hair out of his face before he slipped his robe around himself. As he stood up, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. In the dark, his eyes caught that silver streak in his hair and the dull grey cloud in his left eye.

He grimaced. He hated it, all of it – who he was. He wanted to break it into pieces.

He remembered what he had told you. “My soul is broken. It has been for years.”

He only wished he had splintered that much more, until he could just forget his own identity.

Perhaps that’s why she’s so alluring to me. Her silver hair, the snowy mist that she invites me into, that silver haze of dream-like pleasure… Having her, and focusing on her, it lets me experience a different version of the world. Once where silver is not the color of haunting, but of healing.

Before he knew it, Tristan was walking down the hallway. He knocked gently on your door. But there was no response.

Tristan sighed. Please don’t tell me that letting her keep her wand was all a big mistake. Please don’t tell me she’s tried to escape again.

With these prayers in his head, Tristan carefully opened the door and peeked into your room.

Tristan could make out your silhouette in the bed, a soft curve under the covers. But just as he poked his head into your room, you twitched and rolled over, facing him.

Tristan, wondering if he had woken you up, stepped into the room. “Hey.”

But you didn’t respond.

Oh, so she is sleeping, after all. Tristan made to turn away from you, but the moonlight bounced off of something in your head.

Tristan paused. Did I just see… what I think I did?

He slowly turned back and stepped quietly over to you. Your hand was half-underneath the sheets.

Holding his breath, Tristan waved his hand in the air. The sheets gently turned over at the top, only to reveal…

Of course she took the pocket watch. Damn it. So she really did find the wand properly.

Shaking his head at you, Tristan flexed two fingers and then bent them towards his palm. The pocket watch gently slid out of your grasp and hovered in the air, slowly floating towards Tristan.

Tristan gave you a little glare, despite the fact that you were asleep. He had never had his hands quite so full as he had with you. To put it another way, he had never been as annoyed by anyone as he was with you.

Tristan started to turn away from you again.

However, you moaned softly, almost as though you were in pain. Your now-empty hand shot out and you grabbed the sleeve of Tristan’s robe.

“No…” you begged. “Don’t make me leave… Don’t…”

Tristan paused. She’s having a bad dream. But of what? What’s she dreaming about?

“…mus…”

Tristan’s brow furrowed as he tried to catch what you were saying, but it was impossible.

Tristan slowly slid his sleeve out of your grasp. He took your hand with his other hand and gently slid it back under the covers. He gazed down at you for a moment. It’s hard to remember, when everything seems so vague and high-stakes, but seeing her like this, I realize that she’s just a young woman…

Tristan watched a tear slowly fall down from your closed eyes, and streak down the side of your face. For some reason, in that moment, Tristan heard Cas’ voice in his head, speaking the words that had hurt him deeply today.

“You’re in pain?”

“How can I not be?”

Tristan had always had a soft spot for Cas. He’d never met someone so unapologetic of themselves, yet lacking arrogance. Tristan felt that he was opposite of Cas – all arrogance and no confidence.

Tristan looked down at you again. Slowly, he reached down and wiped away the tear line from your cheek. I don’t know much about you, after all. I don’t know if your stubbornness is backed up by confidence. But I suspect it’s not. I suspect you’re just as lost as I am. Maybe that’s why I feel like I have to help you. Maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to you. Because I do want you, and it goes beyond the magic that the Nine-Tailed Fox casts over me.

Yes… Tristan gently traced the side of your face with his fingertips. There’s something about you that I feel sympathetic for, little one. Maybe it’s that I understand how your stubbornness is a front for the hurt deep in your soul. You’re just as lost as me, aren’t you?

Tristan hesitated. His fingers came to rest gently atop your eyes, with his fingertips feeling as cool as snow against your skin. Because that was when he realized: I wonder if that’s how the Nine-Tailed Fox got into her soul in the first place – by occupying the lost part of her soul.

* * * * * * * * * *

As soon as you woke up the next morning, you raced down to the main room, but it was empty. There was the sound of glass clinking in the dining room, so you went in there.

Tristan was sitting at the dining table, sipping a cup of coffee. Without looking up from his newspaper, he greeted you, “Up early, for once.”

“How are you so blasé?” you asked him, genuinely amazed. “You just found out that one of your Aurors might be a Death Eater. Aren’t you concerned at all?”

Tristan folded the newspaper and tossed it down casually on the table. All he said in reply was, “Susana will take care of it.”

“So, you’re not worried at all?”

“No, I’m not.”

“But it doesn’t look like you’re planning to go to work today. Are you waiting for Susana to come back?”

Tristan frowned, displeased with you for noticing this fact. “What?” he said, scowling at you, as he tried to get you to shut up. “Are you that eager to become a Secretary?”

At this point, you dropped the matter. Because, as Tristan very well knew, you hated the thought of being his Secretary.

However, when Tristan stood up, and taking his now empty cup, walked towards the kitchen, you followed him in.

“Seriously, how are you so sure?” you pressed.

When Tristan saw you tagging after him, he sighed. “I said, ‘don’t worry about it.’”

“All right, but tell me why I shouldn’t worry.”

Tristan folded his arms over his chest as he regarded you. “Listen. That morning that you jumped out of the library window to escape, didn’t you wonder why with all of the defensive barriers placed around my home, you were still able to escape?”

You hesitated. I did think it was strange, but I wasn’t going to take it for granted.

Tristan nodded. “It’s because those magical barriers weren’t constructed to keep intruders out. It’s to keep Susana in.”

You paused. What? To keep Susana in?

“Anyways, we should wait,” Tristan said, glancing out the window. “It wouldn’t do to get in her way.”

“Besides,” Tristan continued, and the marked change in his voice, which now contained a strong bent of sternness in it, made you turn your head and look at him with your full attention, “I’ve another thing to speak with you about.”

You hesitated. “Yes…?”

Tristan reached into his robe pocket. “Care to explain how this made its way to you?”

“Oh.” You swallowed nervously. “It… Er… I happened upon it.”

Tristan snorted. “Happened upon it.” He walked towards you quietly, pinning you against the wall in no time at all. “You didn’t happen upon anything, you little thief, unless you mean that you snooped again my office, went into my private books, and stole my family heirloom for yourself.”

Rather startled by how suddenly you founded yourself cornered, you shifted and fidgeted, trying to slip away, but not quite sure how to. Your hands met Tristan’s chest, whether to push him away, or use him to steady yourself, you honestly weren’t sure.

Tristan reached up and easily gathered both of your slender wrists in one hand. Holding onto you rather tightly, he growled, “Where are you going so hastily, little fox? If you keep following me around like this, you think I’ll just let you slip away whenever you want?”

You struggled against him for a brief second. But quickly realizing that you were not going to win this fight with brawn, you instead glared up at him and retorted snappishly, “I’m going away. Far away from you.”

“Is that so?”

“Of course. You knew that, so don’t act so surprised,” you said impatiently, now deciding to press your hands on Tristan’s chest.

Tristan stiffened, but he only said, “I did know that. But perhaps I underestimated you.”

“Well, that’s your own fault,” you told him. Then, flashing him a brilliant grin, you eagerly dug all ten of your nails into his chest.

“Ow! For fuck’s sake!”

As soon as Tristan dropped your hands, you made a run for it. You high-tailed out of the kitchen. You started to run for the guest bedroom, but deciding that that was too obvious of a place to run to, you suddenly turned right and went up a flight of stairs – up into the attic.

* * * * * * * * * *

Half an hour later, when Tristan couldn’t find you in your bedroom or in the library, he started to grow concerned.

Did she leave?

At that moment, Artemis, who had been dozing on the rug in a little patch of weak sunlight (the best she could find in this gloomy house), got to her feet, yawning.

No, Tristan decided, she would never leave her fox behind.

At that moment, Artemis stretched. Then, putting her nose to the ground, she began to sniff. She went right out of the room and out into the hallway. She sniffed several times in front of the guest bedroom, where you had slept last night, but then Artemis passed right on, continuing down the hallway, with her soft paws padding along the rug.

She’s looking for her master, Tristan realized.

So, that was how Tristan ended up resorting to stealthily, if not a bit ridiculously, following your fox, in the hopes that he might figure out where you were.

Never thought I’d be tracking a non-magical fox, Tristan thought. He sighed and shook his head. This is so undignified.

Artemis sniffed her way all the way down the hallway and up the stairs…

Tristan stayed just outside the attic trapdoor, keeping himself out of view.

Sure enough, a second later, he heard you call out in welcome, “Art!”

Tristan meant to storm up there immediately, but your next words stopped him.

“Art, did you ever think we’d be all the way out here in America… ? Hiding away like this… What are we even doing?”

Tristan heard you sigh.

“We’re so very far away from home, aren’t we?”

There was a pause. Then, you murmured, so softly that Tristan thought he might have imagined it, “How’d we end up here, huh?”

Tristan found himself hesitating. He wasn’t sure why, but all of a sudden, he felt ashamed to approach you. It took him a few minutes to steady himself against this unexpected bout of hesitation.

By the time Tristan opened the trapdoor and made his way up to you, you had gotten yourself into a comfortable position with Artemis. You were leaning against some antique rugs, all rolled-up and stacked on the floor behind you, and Artemis was curled up in your lap. Your eyes slipped shut as you lazily and lovingly stroked Artemis. It all seemed so peaceful.

Tristan decided to break into your serene little world, stating with false impressiveness, “From thief to hideaway, you’re moving up in the world.”

Your eyes opened in surprise. “Graves? How the hell did you find me?”

“Your little fox pawprints led all the way here.”

You paused, realizing that Tristan had followed Artemis up here. You gave him a resentful look. “Can’t you give me a moment’s rest?”

But Tristan retorted firmly, “Can’t you? You know I’m trying to help you, and yet, you make it so difficult to protect you.”

You sighed. Sitting in this small, dusty attic, old memories were revisiting you, and you felt more tired than usual. Instead of snapping back at Tristan, you finally opted for the truth. “You may not understand this, Tristan, but for me, freedom means infinitely more than protection. It always has…”

Tristan stayed silent for a moment, studying you as he recognized this rare moment of vulnerability. Then, he walked over to you and knelt before you.

Startled, Artemis suddenly sat up and inhaled. But with her sensitive fox nose, that was immediately followed by what could only be described as a fox sneeze. The tiniest little “achoo” left her snout.

You couldn’t help it – you laughed. Artemis looked up at you, a bit affronted. Her ears twitched in displeasure. Then, she got up, shook herself free of imaginary dust, and then trotted from your lap out the trapdoor and back down the stairs.

Your eyes followed Artemis out the trapdoor, and so, at first, you didn’t notice that Tristan had reached up to grasp the silver lock on his necklace. Then, Tristan reached down and grasped your wrist in his hand.

“What are you doing?” you asked, but in a hushed voice, as you already knew what he was doing, only you couldn’t fathom why.

Sure enough, just as Tristan had touched his lock to Susana’s ring to free her from her physical restraints, Tristan now touched his lock to the bracelet on your wrist, the bracelet with the Graves insignia that he had placed on you when the two of you had first met.

You watched with wide eyes as the bracelet unlocked on its own and then fell to the floor.

“Graves?” you whispered in surprise.

Tristan grimaced at you, as he let go of your wrist. “I told you not to call me by my last name.”

“What do you mean by this?” You held up your bare wrist.

Tristan merely looked at you, as though you had asked the most boring and obvious question ever, as he replied simply, “You’re free. You can go.”

“But why?”

Tristan lifted his eyebrow at you. “Do you really want to question my decision now?”

“Er…”

“I thought not. Take the opportunity while you can, and go,” Tristan said matter-of-factly. “You have your wand. You can protect yourself. And Cas won’t hurt you, despite what she said.”

You paused.

“Yes,” Tristan remarked shortly, “I know you were in the hallway yesterday.”

“Oh…”

“At this point, I think it might actually kill you for you to stay put,” Tristan said wryly.

You bit down on your tongue, trying to stop yourself from asking the question you’d wanted to know the answer to since yesterday. But a moment later, it burst out of you anyways. “Do you love her?”

Tristan looked rather alarmed at your question. “What?”

“Cas. Do you love her?”

Tristan’s hand, now resting atop his knee, slowly gripped into a fist. But Tristan maintained his calm, controlled voice, as he told you, “It’s none of your business.”

“Tristan.”

“You know what? I don’t think I like it when you use my first name, either. In fact, just don’t call for me at all.”

You reached out and you gently placed your open hand over his fist. “I’m sorry if I got in the way. If it helps, you can tell her the truth once I leave.”

Tristan’s fist cautiously opened underneath your hand.

It was curiously slow, how it all came about, with Tristan’s hand opening like a shy blossom, and then Tristan turned his open hand over, so that, a long moment later, your hand was in Tristan’s. The two of you weren’t holding hands, just resting your hands together, palm-to-palm.

“Tristan,” you said softly.

Tristan didn’t reply, but you knew he was listening.

“The Nine-Tailed Fox said that… Well, she said that if there truly wasn’t any attraction between us, then she couldn’t work her magic for us. Do you – Do you think there’s any truth in that?”

“Do you?” Tristan asked you.

“No,” you answered quickly. “I don’t like you.”

“Likewise.”

“Good.”

Tristan lifted his eyes to yours, and he lifted an eyebrow, as if to say, Well, then…

“Then go,” he said brusquely. “You’re free now. If you don’t have any reason to stay by me, then you should go.”

You meant to reply at once, “I’ll get right on that.”

But in those haunting emerald eyes of his, you were momentarily distracted. Before you knew it, you found yourself murmuring aloud something that you had always noticed about Tristan: “There’s a cloud in your gaze.”

A flash of deep pain ran through Tristan’s eyes. But he didn’t look away from you. In that moment, you confirmed that Tristan had told you the truth when he said that his soul was strong. You marveled at the fact that he could hurt so deeply, and still hold your gaze like that. It was more impressive than the stoic, cold version of him that you had first met.

A moment later, Tristan sighed. Then, he replied to you, in a soft, hovering voice, “I know. It obscures everything.”

At that moment, a single snowflake streaked across your vision, fluttering past Tristan’s face. You hesitated, surprised. “Tristan - ”

Just then, the sound of a door opening below rang out, and Susana’s voice followed, ringing out clearly despite the distance between the attic and the front door. “Master.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Instead of going down to the front door, Tristan headed to his study. Susana somehow knew to meet him there. You weren’t technically invited, but you tagged Tristan into his study anyways.

“It has been done, Master,” Susana said. She stood proudly, with not a hair out of place.

“Good,” Tristan said. “And you are not hurt?”

“No. As if.”

“I had to ask.” Tristan looked up at Susana from his desk with a stern expression as he said, “And did you manage to find out how this came about?”

Susana’s brow furrowed. “No. I attempted to use Legilimency to see into his mind, but he had already fallen unconscious. However, I did notice a strange marking inside of his arm. It was a skull, with a snake coming out its jaw…”

“That’s the mark that Death Eaters have.” The words fell out of your lips knowingly.

Susana and Tristan turned to you.

“You have to pledge allegiance directly before Voldemort to gain that mark. It’s not enough to simply be an ally,” you explained.

Tristan was quiet for a long moment. Then, he said, “Susana, you didn’t leave any traces.” He spoke with certainty, making it a statement rather than a question.

Susana gave a grim smile. “Of course not.”

“Where did you leave him?”

“Strung up in his own home. He’s still alive, just unconscious. And he might find that pieces of his mind have been… carved out.”

You shivered as you realized that Susana was talking about what she had done to Theodore.

“MACUSA will just think that it’s the Death Eaters that came after him,” Tristan calculated quickly. “I’ll report this to Tina, then.”

Susana walked over to Tristan, with a look of determination on her face.

Tristan looked at her with a quite serious, almost chiding expression. “You don’t have to do this, you know. I don’t mind helping you, but I think you should give yourself some more credit, Susana. You should feel confident in trusting yourself.”

But Susana gently pulled the necklace from under Tristan’s shirt. Then, she touched it to her ring again. A sheen of energy seemed to shiver through her body – and then she was back to how she had been when you first met her: a charming, elderly lady.

* * * * * * * * * *

You knew you ought to give Susana her space. After all, what right did you have to ask her about herself?

But you couldn’t help it. Your curiosity had always defined you. You often thought it was because of your overwhelming curiosity that you’d been put into Ravenclaw. You had never cared for school, and you didn’t see the point in gathering useless facts in your brain at all. But when you were curious about something…years could go by and you’d still be thinking about it and searching for the answer.

That was the case now. You tried to keep away, but finally, you not-so-subtly meandered over to the library, where Susana was dusting the shelves, as if today was the same as every other day in her life…

“Well, don’t just stand there, dearie, come in.”

“Oh…” You slipped into the room and closed the door behind you.

Susana flicked her wand, and the feather duster that had been going down the shelves disappeared. Turning around to face you, Susana gave you a cheeky smile. “I’ve never seen you so quiet. You’re usually up for a good fight with Master Tristan.”

“Yes, well, he’s…” you mumbled uncertainly.

“He’s a good man, though he’s got some sharp edges to his personality. He’s still sorting things out, I’ve afraid. But I wouldn’t be surprised if he carried his demons all the way through to the end of his life. No one could blame him.”

“What do you mean?”

Susana paused. “What do you know about him?”

“Nothing much, except that he’s the Head of the Aurors.”

“His father was before him, you know.”

“Oh, yes…” you said, vaguely remembering. “Tristan once told me off for calling me Mr. Graves. He said that that was what his father was called.”

Susana nodded. “Mr. Percival Graves was the Head of Aurors when Tristan was very young. Now, at that time, there was another Dark Wizard on the rise. I’m sure you’ve heard of him – Gellert… Grindelwald.” The name fell rather oddly from her lips.

“Yes, of course,” you agreed. I’ll bet there’s not a soul in the Wizarding World alive today who doesn’t know that name.

“Grindelwald was very clever. He attempted to use a young boy, an Obscurial - ”

“Wait,” you stopped her. “What’s an Obscurial? The term keeps cropping up, but I don’t know what it means.”

Susana’s eyes darkened. “Our history is not the same as yours, I’m afraid. In America, No-Mags were aware of witches and wizards – unfortunately, they feared us. So, you see, we didn’t grow up peacefully along the No-Mag community. Instead, they openly persecuted us.”

You frowned, not understanding where this story was going.

“Because of the persecution, sometimes a young witch or wizard would try to suppress their magic instead of embrace it. If that happened too often, if that child tried to deny who and what they were, a dark parasitical magical force, called an Obscurus, would grow inside them. The young witch or wizard would then be what we might call - ”

“- An Obscurial,” you finished for her.

“Precisely.”

“But why does MACUSA fear Obscurials so much? If it’s just a child, I mean.”

“No, it’s much more than a child,” Susana corrected you. “Imagine years and years of suppressed magic bursting out of your body uncontrollably – it kills the host, the child, and damages everything in its path until it dissolves.”

Your mouth fell open. Suddenly, you felt sick. “It… kills the child?”

“In most cases, yes,” Susana answered grimly. “But there was one case where it didn’t kill the child. The child grew to be eighteen years old. But the Obscurus within him grew in proportion. Yet, the child did not die. The child’s name was Credence Barebone.

“As you might imagine,” Susana continued, “Gellert Grindelwald did everything in his power to turn the boy to his side, since having the power of an Obscurus by his side would be incredibly frightening and useful. At the time, every Auror opted to kill him on sight should he appear. Grindelwald knew this, and he wanted this to happen, because he realized that would trigger Credence’s full potential. However, there were three Aurors who thought differently, who wanted to try to save the boy.”

“Who?”

“Percival Graves and his wife, Mary Graves, priorly known as Mary Jauncey. They were Tristan’s parents. The third Auror was Tina Scamander, then Tina Goldstein.”

“What happened? Did they manage to save the boy?”

Slowly, Susana shook her head. “No. Even though they were three of our best Aurors, they couldn’t stand up against an entire crowd of Aurors. At first, Mary tried to defend against all of the spells that the other Aurors were throwing at Credence, but it was impossible. So, Mary stopped trying to block the Spells, and instead, she turned to Credence to try to calm the boy. She knew that she was giving up her own life, but she still chose to do it. However…”

“However?”

“Tristan, who was only four years old at the time, had been brought to the scene for his own safety.”

“What? Why?”

“Percival believed that either Grindelwald or the Aurors would target Tristan if they were to leave him behind.”

“So Tristan was there, at the scene with the Obscurial?”

“Yes,” Susana said somberly. “And when liittle Tristan saw that his mother was about to be hit with many life-threatening spells, he tried to save her. Before anyone could stop him, he raced forward to save his mother. Grindelwald appeared just the. He had been hiding in the shadows, making the Aurors do all the dirty work, but he couldn’t help except to take the opportunity to kill Percival and Mary’s most precious thing - their son. Percival saw Grindelwald, however, and Percival, threw himself in front of Tristan to shield him. Percival died, not only from taking Grindelwald’s Killing Curse head-on, but also from simultaneously being hit by numerous misfired Spells from the Aurors. Meanwhile, Credence became overwhelmed and the Obscurus within him exploded once and for all. Mary Graves, who was standing right in front of Credence, died immediately from the explosion of the Obscurus within him. But Tristan, young Tristan, standing in-between his mother and father, lived. But he saw everything, of course. At the age of four, he had witnessed the loss of both of his parents.

You stared at Susana wide eyes, not daring to even breathe, as this tragic story slowly entered your mind.

“Tina took Tristan in. Even when Tina married Newt and had her own boy, Rowan just a few months later, Tina continued to raise Tristan. The two boys, Tristan and Rowan, grew up together until Tristan went to Ilvermony. Newt, however, preferred his alma mater, Hogwarts, and Tina agreed to send Rowan there.”

“Yes,” you whispered numbly, “I know.”

“At Ilvermony, Tristan quickly revealed himself to be a prodigy. He was already an intern for the Aurors while he was taking final exams at school. As you know, he rose remarkably quickly to his position now, as the Head of the Aurors.”

Susana paused here, as if deciding whether or not she should go on. Finally, she continued, “I happen to know that on the very first day that he sworn in as the Head, a pivotal case came before him.”

You listened intently, wondering where the story was about to go, where the story could go after such a horrific beginning.

“The Aurors caught Grindelwald’s hidden child,” Susana recited.

“What?” you said, stunned. “Grindelwald had a child? I’ve never heard of this.”

“Yes. Apparently, Gellert Grindewald had fathered a daughter, who had been in hiding all these long years. The Aurors discovered her, captured her, and dragged her forward. She was to have her fate decided by Tristan Graves. Of course, MACUSA has its Supreme Court, but everyone knew that the Courts would defer to Tristan, short of any true miscarriage of justice. Perhaps the only person with more of a moral right to decide Grindelwald’s child’s fate was Albus Dumbledore, and he refused to step into American politics.

“Anyways, that day, the courtroom was lined up with what seemed like everyone from MACUSA and even many citizens from the public. They brought the girl forward and the crowd began to chant in anticipation, eager of seeing the last of Grindelwald’s filthy bloodline purged.”

Susana’s voice rose in tempo and volume, dramatizing the scene so beautifully, as if she had been there herself. “The crowd cried, ‘Off with her head! Off with her head!’

Susana’s eyes turned hard. “Then, Tristan Graves looked down at her, at Grindelwald’s child, the blood child of the man who had taken everything from him… and Tristan decided to save her life.”

“What?” you blurted out, shocked.

“Yes.” Susana nodded solemnly. “As you might imagine, the crowd was in an absolute uproar. But no one could turn an innocent verdict, only a guilty one. However, the crowd fast became a mob. Tristan helped the girl to escape with her life, though just barely. Afterwards, the girl came and found Tristan and asked for his help. She admitted that it was true, that she was predisposed to Dark Magic, because that was all she had ever been trained to do. She said that she had tried to stop using magic for years now, because she was so afraid of her own identity. Tristan said that he would do what he could to help. He taught her cleaning magic. He put up defensive barriers around the house to keep her in, to keep her safe from herself. And he gave her a ring…”

Susana slowly lifted her ring up into the air. “…To change her appearance and to hide her from the world…”

Your mouth fell open. You quickly became paralyzed with complete disbelief. No… It couldn’t be… Susana is Grindelwald’s long-lost daughter? And Tristan lets her stay here and helps her to control her Dark Magic…?

“It’s absurd,” you heard yourself say. “Absolutely absurd. It can’t be.”

Susana stepped closer to you.

You drew back from her, but Susana merely reached out, slowly, until her fingertips touched your chest. Softly, she whispered, “Is it as absurd as housing a Nine-Tailed Fox within yourself?”

* * * * * * * * * *

You were sitting numbly in the library, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of new discoveries spinning around in your mind.

“Ah. There you are.” Tristan briskly walked in. Snapping his fingers at you, with his hands clothed in his black leather gloves, he said, “Come on. We have to go.”

“Where?” you asked blanky.

“To MACUSA. Didn’t you hear what I told Susana? I have to report this to Tina.”

“Oh… Okay.”

Tristan frowned. “I don’t know what’s going through that strange little head of yours, but you need to snap to. You’re my Secretary, remember?”

“…Yes.” You got to your feet, by which time Tristan was already striding out the door again. You watched his back for a moment, recalling Susana’s words.

“He taught her cleaning magic. He put up defensive barriers around the house to keep her in, to keep her safe from herself. And he gave her a ring to change her appearance and to hide her from the world…”

Absurd, you thought to yourself again, and the thought only became more pronounced, growing into a ‘truly and perfectly absurd’ situation in your mind, as you followed Tristan all the way to MACUSA.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Well, I’d prefer if my Secretary looked more professional.” Tristan remarked, after giving you an unimpressed once-over.

You were dressed in MACUSA wear, but your face, which had a cloud looming over your brow, and dark bags under your eyes to match, was a sight that made Tristan tired just by looking at you.

“But if it’s you, I suppose it can’t be helped,” Tristan finished with a sigh.

“I’m British, remember?” you retorted. “Of course I don’t feel comfortable in this ridiculous garb.”

“Oh, yes,” Tristan snorted condescendingly. “Because it’s the fact that your nationality is stamped across your forehead that makes you look unfit to be Secretary.”

“Glad you understand,” you replied cheekily.

You tried to resume your normal tongue-in-cheek manner of speaking with Tristan, but as soon as he had turned his back on you to walk over to his desk, you found yourself eyeing him with a bit of newfound respect… and a colossal mountain of doubt.

And yet, you could not deny the story entirely, for you had seen and heard for yourself what Susana really was. You’d seen Susana transform before your very eyes. What was more, this morning, Tina had confirmed everything that Susana had said – that Theodore Fontaine had been found strung up in his own home, disorientated, and bearing the Dark Mark on his arm.

Just then, Tristan flicked his wand and a pile of papers were magically shoved into your arms.

You sputtered in surprise.

“Get to it,” Tristan told you briskly. “Find all the signature forms and mark them for me.”

You scowled at him. Maybe, just maybe, Tristan Graves is an extremely honorable man, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s an arrogant prat.

* * * * * * * * * *

Two hours later, Tristan looked up from his desk, stating, “When you’re done with that, you - ”

He fell quiet, however, when he caught you unmistakably passed out on your pile of forms.

Tristan rose from his table and he strode over to you, only to confirm that yes, you were dead asleep. Irritated, he said, “Excuse me, Secretary.”

You blearily opened your eyes and peered up at him. “Yes?” Your voice cracked magnificently in the space of that one syllable.

Tristan glanced down at the stack of papers he’d given you to see that you had marked all of…

“One. One slip.” Tristan’s eyes narrowed into a glare. “That’s all the work you’ve done in the space of two hours.”

You merely stared up at him. Really? He’s the one that did all those brave things, who saved Susana in such a noble and self-sacrificing fashion?

As if to fuel the doubt inside of your mind, Tristan reached down and gently knocked his fingers against the side of your head. “Are you sure you’re possessed by a Nine-Tailed Fox and not, let’s say, a sloth?”

No, Susana must have been lying, you said to yourself. Right? I mean, just look at his arrogant, pompous, condescending man before me.

“What are you doing?” Tristan asked, uneasy, as you suddenly, but very slowly, put your hands down on the small desk in front of you. Leaning forward, towards, Tristan, you rose from your seat.

“What?” Tristan asked suspiciously. “Is the Fox within you calling for strength again?”

But even though his words were borderline taunting, there was genuine concern in his eyes. And you knew, without having to ask, that if you said, “yes,” Tristan would try to help you again, whether that was by making love or in some other way.

You hesitated. Well, I suppose it’s true that Tristan has gone out of his way to protect me, all this time. It might have been because he was friends with Rowan, and maybe Rowan mentioned me to him once. It might have been because he was less doubtful that the Nine-Tailed Fox really could exist, and so he decided I deserved a chance. Or it may just be that he saw that I was scared and completely alone in a foreign country, and he didn’t want to see me harmed before I’d even realized what was going on…

Your eyes searched Tristan’s for a long moment, before you gently shook your head back and forth. You remained silent for the rest of the day, and even when you followed him home.

* * * * * * * * * *

“What are you doing back up here? Set your heart on being a hideaway, have you, little thief?”

You started. With every intention of avoiding Tristan that evening, you had headed back up to the attic instead of your bedroom. You had always liked these smaller, cozier rooms, where you could sit and gather yourself and your thoughts.

Tristan crossed his arms over his chest. “I supply you with a perfectly fine bedroom, and you prefer this?”

“And besides that,” Tristan said matter-of-factly, “didn’t I free you? Why are you still in my house at all?”

For some reason, you found yourself bristling at this last comment by Tristan. I’m trying to figure you out, you numbskull, and you won’t even give me a moment of peace to think well of you.

“Fine. I’ll leave, then,” you said shortly and unexpectedly. You got to your feet, and walked out of the room, brushing right past Tristan.

However, you only made it to the foot of the staircase leading up the attic, when your feet tripped to a stop.

You turned around and looked back up at the attic trapdoor. I didn’t mean to say that, you thought tiredly. Damn it. Damn it. With a sigh, you began to climb back up the stairs.

You slowly entered the room again, closing the trapdoor quietly behind you.

Tristan was still standing in the middle of the room, right where you had left him.

Seeing you again, he said quietly, “I thought you left.”

“I know. I thought I was going to, too,” you said honestly.

“If it’s because you can’t find Artemis, she’s in the library, sleeping in front of the fireplace,” Tristan informed you.

You paused. “You know where Artemis is?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you didn’t care about my fox.”

“I don’t want to,” Tristan replied gruffly. “But if I’m not careful, I’m afraid I’ll step on the stupid thing and she’ll get hurt and you’ll be upset about it - ”

You walked forward until you came right in front of Tristan. Then, grabbing the front of his robe, you buried your head against his chest.

But Tristan reached out and grasped your face firmly in his hands. “What?” he demanded, forcing you to lift your face up to look at him. “Are you not well? Tell me.”

And this time, you could so clearly see that despite his gruffness and his arrogance, his words were laced with care: “Are you not well? Tell me.”

“Tristan,” you whispered. “You don’t like when I call you Graves. You once said it was because it reminded you of your father.”

“Yes.”

“Why don’t you want to be associated with your father?”

Tristan’s eyes turned cold. “Because he could have been someone great, and he threw it all away for the sake of one helpless person. I don’t want to give myself away like that. I have to be better than him. I have to do the things he couldn’t.”

Tristan’s brooding gaze was so dark that you wanted to look away from him. But when you swallowed down that feeling and you continued to study him, you glimpsed a glimmer of tears in Tristan’s eyes.

Your voice dropped to a whisper, as you asked what you knew could only be an intensely painful question. “Tristan, you say that you don’t want to be like your father, throwing away all chance of greatness to save one helpless person. But when you say, ‘helpless person,’ do you mean… Are you referring to yourself? Are you referring to the fact that your father died to save you?”

Tristan’s eyes flashed. His entire body went completely stiff.

“Tristan,” you breathed out in shock. “How could you…? How could you regret that your father saved you?”

“Because,” Tristan said finally, and his voice sounded not at all like him, “I haven’t been able to find myself since. Everyone says I’m the spitting image of my father, that I’m the reason he can live on. But how can that be, when he’s gone because of me?” His voice cracked, as he tried to carry on, “I can’t see myself clearly. I have never been able to. I believe, in some form or anything, that the remnants of the Obscurial lives inside my left eye… The anger and hate I feel for myself in having killed both my parents - ”

“ – you didn’t - ” you interrupted.

But Tristan kept speaking, “ – lives in this eye, where I keep my feelings suppressed. But I’m afraid that one day, it will eat me alive, and those I love most – Cas, for example, will be hurt by it. At least with Susana, I know that if this Obscurial ever gets out of hand, she has the power to kill me. And you – you’ll leave at first chance. So, I’m not afraid for the two of you. But with Cas… I don’t know. I don’t want to give up. But nothing’s clear. Like I said, everything’s obscured.”

“Well…” The voice of the Nine-Tailed Fox suddenly blended beautifully into your voice, but in this moment, you welcomed it and were grateful for it. “While truth erodes in obscurity, experience gains significance. In the obscurity, you can heal, if you so choose. In obscurity, you can forget your own pains for a little while. You can re-invent yourself, until you’re strong enough to face the light of day again.”

“Is that what you offer me?” Tristan asked, almost pleadingly. In his mind, he was thinking desperately, almost begging, let me lose myself in you again. Lead me to the place where the mist surrounds me, so that I forget who I’m expected to be, and can just… breathe.

* * * * * * * * * *

It wasn’t clear who reached for who first. Perhaps it was Tristan, suddenly pushing you down against the rugs. Or perhaps it was you, leaning forward to press your lips against his, only to feel him grasp your waist in his broad, strong hands, and push you down.

But we can argue over who started all this later, you thought blurrily, as you tangled your fingers in his sleek, black hair. Although, more likely, I will never see him again after today, so we will never get to argue again at all. With that thought weighing heavily in your mind, you encouraged Tristan to kiss you deeper, pulling him closer to you while opening your own mouth a little wider.

Oh God, I want to taste him, you realized, almost in surprise.

A moment later, when Tristan gave you what you wanted and kissed you deeper, even slipping his tongue into your mouth for a moment, to taste you, you closed your eyes and moaned softly into his mouth in gratitude.

Your legs naturally parted, and Tristan’s hips sank down atop yours.

Feeling Tristan’s warm and strong body settling down on top of your smaller frame, your hands fumbled down his body, touching him all over. You meant to undress him entirely, but with your fingers slipping clumsily over all the front of his robe, you finally decided to give up on finding the actual robe belt and you simply and ungraciously pulled the front of his robe open entirely.

You felt Tristan’s lips curve up a little against yours. “Finally learning how to get what you want?”

“S’long as it doesn’t have any buttons on it, I’m a pro,” you murmured back, relieved and pleased to see Tristan returning to his usual sense of humor.

“Let me return the favor,” Tristan whispered. He smirked as he yanked open the front of your white robe, so that the sides of the robes fell to either side of your body, revealing your beautiful curves to Tristan. Then, with another quick tug, Tristan ripped your panties right off of your hips.

You growled at him. “Tristan, at least be civilized.”

“Says the fox girl,” he retorted quickly. As he spoke, Tristan’s fingers quickly found your waiting little cunt, and he slipped his fine fingers past your pussy lips, quickly catching your clit between his index and middle fingers. He played with your clit softly, making you breathe a little harder and your heart beat a little faster.

Meanwhile, your hand had traveled down Tristan’s sculpted abs and traced over his hips and then fell even lower to his cock. Your fingers rubbed up against the tip of his shaft for a moment before your hand slid around him, gripping it just hard enough to let him feel the warm, soft, and blurry friction of your hand on him.

Still trading kisses, and with Tristan’s other hand tangled in your hair, and your other hand gripping the shoulder of his black silk robe, the two of you touched each other slowly, yet sensually. Your little fist started to grip his cock a little tighter, while his fingers moved lower and lower towards your little hole.

Finally, you whispered fervently, “Tristan...”

Sliding your hands inside of his black robe and grasping both of his hips, you shifted yourself up a little and then, spreading your legs open wider, you slowly started to rub your wet cunt against his length.

Tristan stiffened. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of you pressing up against the base of his cock and then sliding up, leaving a sleek little line of wetness down the underside of his shaft. At one point, the tip of his cock briefly slipped just over your pussyhole, and you both moaned softly.

Tristan put both his hands up onto the pile of rugs behind you, which you were resting your back against, so that his hands were on either side of your head. When he lifted his hands up like that, his shoulders also naturally lifted, and his silk black robe suddenly draped beautifully down his body. As he was now leaning over you, his robe covered you, too. If someone were to look into the room at this precise moment, they would see his black silk robe covering you both from view, while your open white silk robe pooled out from your body, down the rugs, and onto the floor around you both.

What was more, in this dim attic, the only light that came in was the faint, golden light from a crescent-shaped window above, and so a half-halo of shimmer light rested upon your bodies, carving out his shoulders and the left side of your body, illuminating your curves, and then curving back in on the floor just underneath both of your feet. In that crescent shape of hesitant, morning light, the two of you were a strange play of silhouettes, just as you had been the first night you had come to find each other in that library.

It looked as though the two of you were on your own island, with white sands and shrouded in a dark mist, where a parallel sense of time and space existed for just the two of you. For both of you carried a strange emptiness that breathed hollowness into your very beings. Knowing that, feeling that within you and recognizing it clearly in Tristan now, you found that it all led right back to that initial moment, where you had asked Tristan to simply let you die – and he hadn’t. Stranger though he was to you then, he hadn’t let you go.

Tristan, who had been kissing you slowly, but quite deeply, all this time, finally opened his eyes and gazed down into your eyes. Leaning down to press his forehead against yours, he whispered, “May I…?”

You nodded, your forehead slipping just a little against his. You reached down and slid your hands under the back of your thighs, and you lifted yourself off of the floor a little, to present to him your wet little cunt. You looked up at Tristan, no longer hiding from the fact that you wanted him. You wanted him inside you. You needed him inside of you.

The Nine-Tailed Fox began to dance her beautiful and mythical dance inside of your soul so that, despite the gloomy atmosphere of that dark, gothic house, and the abandoned feeling in that strangely lit attic, the Fox’s mythical, healing snow began to fall around you both, until it affected even the lighting of the room. All at once, everything seemed brighter, livelier, and sweeter.

In that softer, yet brighter, lighting, Tristan took a moment just to admire you, holding your legs up like that, showing him your sweet little cunt. He could see the way your fingers were gently pushing into the softness that was the back your thighs. And if he simply looked up a little, he could appreciate the loveliness of your soft breasts, too. Then, there was your pretty face, with your fox-like eyes, looking up at him with silver lights now dancing around your irises once more, as alluring as a woman’s gaze could ever be.

You can never truly have me, you seemed to be saying. But for now, I’ll let you pretend. If you make love to me, I’ll let you pretend that I’m yours, just for the moment.

That was all Tristan wanted in this moment, too – to feel like you were his. Tristan guided himself to you. Then, he pushed his hips forward, pushing into you slowly, but without pausing, as he spread you open, going deeper and deeper down your soft, silky pussy walls until finally -

“Ah!” you cried out softly, and your hands shot out and pressed themselves against his abs.

Tristan huffed out a tense breath. Always so tight, this girl.

“W-Wait,” you whispered just then, thighs shivering sweetly.

Tristan nodded understandingly, and he stopped, giving you time to adjust. He felt your little pussy throbbing already on his cock, because of how tight you were. It must have been throbbing in time to your quickening heartbeat, Tristan thought, because at that moment, Tristan saw your soft, white, fluffy fox ears pop out of the top of your head.

Once again, you didn’t seem to notice, for you had closed your eyes and were focused on finding your breath.

Tristan watched as your ears twitched nervously, as you did your best to relax so that you could take Tristan deeper. Examining your fox ears, Tristan found himself wondering, did you come find me in the same way that Artemis finds you? As a little fox, using her instincts to run towards whatever will offer her shelter and protection?

Your eyes suddenly opened, wide with surprise. Tristan abruptly realized that he had accidentally asked that question aloud.

You cocked your head gently to the side, regarding Tristan with a curiosity that Tristan had never quite seen before. Suddenly, Tristan understood how, with your spirit, you could have found the Nine-Tailed Fox.

It’s this curiosity of hers, he realized. It’s how she discovered the Nine-Tailed Fox, when the rest of wizardkind only thought of the Nine-Tailed Fox as a mythical creature. It’s also why, I suspect, she stays besides me, even if she doesn’t trust me. Because she’s curious.

Seeing the way you blinked your bright eyes up at him, Tristan felt himself feeling quite protective over you. She’s just a curious little thing. Everything else is a front she puts up. She pretends to act all tough whenever she gets caught, but in truth, she really is just like a little fox, poking her nose in all the things she shouldn’t.

As Tristan was so patiently waiting for you to adjust to his stiffness and his size, you truly did begin to relax in his arms. You ran your hands up and down his chest, pausing for a moment to touch the silver lock resting around his neck. It burned ever so slightly for you to touch it, and you knew why now – because, it, too, was a form of ancient magic. The Nine-Tailed Fox within you was responding to it, intrigued to recognize old magic from her times, and yet, wary because she wasn’t quite sure what it was.

Tristan watched you for a moment, gently toying with the silver lock around his neck.

“I think you’re all right now,” Tristan murmured, a moment later.

“Hm?”

“You’re all soft and puffy inside your warm little cunt. I think you can take me now.”

“Yes,” you said softly. “Yes, take me.”

In truth, in so easily giving yourself to him, you were forgetting yourself, and forgetting what you had started to learn about how Tristan made love, which was that no matter how soft he seemed with you, you were submitting to him when you agreed to let him take you. For, as in everything else he did, Tristan was careful and focused. He never seemed to lose control of himself. Thus, when he started to make love to you, to push his hips against you, it didn’t feel overwhelming at all. It felt lovely, and rhythmic, to be taken this way, to have Tristan begin to thrust softly inside of you.

“Ah…” you breathed out. “Ah, ah, ah…”

At the very same moment that you fell back against the rugs, your hair changed, cascading back into the silvery hue that made you look more like an illusion than any real lover.

“A-Ah…” Your breath hitched slightly, as you were beginning to feel the friction build up inside of you. The Fox purred happily inside of you. But she was purring not only because of the pleasure she was feeling through you, but because she sensed the intensity that was coming - that is, the intense love-making Tristan was about to lavish on your little shape.

For this was the deceptive thing about Tristan: Because he was so in control, he was never too rough, never sloppy with you, but he was relentless. So, when the friction started to flare up all right between your legs, there was no way to soothe it, or stop it. It kept growing, like a train you could see coming, when you were still tried to the tracks.

Yes, by the time he had your hips thudding softly against the rugs, it was too late.

“Tristan, nngh, T-Tristan,” you moaned out, your voice dipping into a rather pitiful moan. There was so much tension building steadily inside of your little tummy. You needed release. You – Ah, your mind gasped softly before it broke into a series of soft breaths.

You used to think of breath as a physical thing – oxygen to carbon dioxide, breath by breath by breath. But the conditional space of breath was not physical, but spiritual. To breathe, in any significant way, to have the effect of condensation (of turning air into liquid and have the droplet trickle down the glass that separated you from everything you once held dear), you had to have the space within your soul to breathe in and out. To constrict, but then to release – that was an exercise of the soul, as much as anything. And certain things in one’s life, including parting from a loved one, trauma from a difficult past, the feeling of humiliation from being misunderstood, they all made that space a little smaller, so that it now cost you something to breathe.

Tristan could see it in you now, how it cost you to pant for him. You reached out for him just then, whimpering slightly, and Tristan realized that you wanted him, not just inside of you, but to hold you, to anchor you somehow. When your fingertips shivered, stopping just shy of his chest, you let out a soft, desperate gasp. You couldn’t quite lift yourself up enough from the rugs to close that distance, because Tristan kept pushing your hips back down, pushing you down on the ground in his rhythmic, deep-hitting strokes. Not quite able to touch him, but wanting more than anything to be touched, you whimpered his name in a soft huff of breath, “Tristan…”

Tristan reached out to you and he gently grasped both your wrists, almost pulling you up just a little, until your arms were straining in the air because of how he was holding you up to fuck your tight little cunt. Tristan noticed the way your soft tummy buckled in more with each thrust now, because of how he was holding you up a little.

Trembling, you wrapped your legs around his waist to gain a sense of balance. But all that did was let Tristan rock into you harder and deeper. You cried out, shivering more intensely because of the strain it was putting on you to be held up in this position. Yet, now that you were being touched, being held by Tristan, you couldn’t deny that you were losing yourself entirely to him, and that felt good; more than good – it felt intense. Before you knew it, you had bowed your head down, and Tristan saw your fox ears curling up again at their silver tips.

“Nngh, huff, mmm…!” Tight little sounds came from your lips, as you had pressed them together. Now that you were almost sitting up, your ass rocked back and forth on the floor, shifting in time to Tristan taking you as his woman.

A moment later, you held your breath, trying to fight that feeling of desperate need that was rising quickly in your body. But Tristan stuck to his rhythm, not letting up at all. If anything, he was pushing his hips into you just a little more, because your pussy got so deliciously tight right as you were about to cum.

“U-Uh,” you whimpered softly, almost sounding like you were about to cry. “I’m – ‘M gonna – Ah!”

With a loud gasp, you came in a sudden burst, a sudden release of tension.

Even Tristan paused, because your cum was so warm, and it was everywhere.

Tristan looked down, only to see – “Knew it. Knew you were a squirter.”

“Mm – Mmm!” you moaned loudly, trying to protest however you could, as Tristan smirked at you.

Tristan continued to tease you meanly, “I knew it from the second I first touched you, and you came from just two fingers. You’ve got such a wet little pussy, don’t you, baby?”

Right as Tristan mentioned your “wet little pussy,” he pushed two of his fingers inside of your heaving cunt, and he jerked his hand back and forth, making sure you heard your own wetness, still deep in your pussy, despite having drenched your thighs already.

You barely heard Tristan teasing you this time. Instead, you’d sprawled back on the rugs again, breasts heaving as you fought to get your breath back.

“Answer me,” Tristan whispered. Reaching down, he slapped his hand lightly against your pussy, and the wet sounds that sounded out were undeniable.

You flushed and lifted your head. When you looked at the mess you made, you quickly looked away, embarrassed.

“Mhm, I thought so,” Tristan teased you. “Squirting from your pussy like that. You are a little slut, aren’t you?”

“But… But usually only for good men,” you retorted feebly, as Tristan continued to touch your little pussyhole, petting you and massaging your wetness all over your sweet little pussy.

“What are you implying?”

“That you’re bad,” you mumbled out, still looking away from Tristan. “And mean.”

“Really? But then why does that Fox inside of you take to me so well, hm? Didn’t you say it’s because there is some type of attraction between us?”

“She’s wrong,” you said, shaking your head. “You make me feel so… so b-bad… Nngh…”

Tristan smiled deviously at you, as his fingers continued to work at your beautiful cunt. “You sound like you mean to say something else, something different…”

“No, you’re j-just bad,” you repeated stubbornly. “End of story.”

“How long can you fight it?” Tristan whispered to you. “How long are you going to deny that the Fox was right, and that you are attracted to me – as yourself?”

“N-Never,” you told him, but even you had to admit that your denial would have been a lot more convincing if it wasn’t followed by a series of soft, needy, “ah, ah, ah!”s as Tristan gently stuffed his fingers into your cunt again, pumping them into you softly.

You turned your head away, to the side, as much as you could, not wanting Tristan to see how clearly mindless you were becoming under his touch – with your glazed eyes and pretty, panting mouth.

However, Tristan took advantage of the fact that you were looking away to surprise you. He suddenly hoisted your ass up in the air a little higher. Then, he plunged his cock deep – fucking deep – into you wet, wet cunt.

“Ah!” you gasped so loudly that the end of your sudden gasp was slightly hoarse.

Tristan growled, and he pounded into you hard – not fast, but in tight, controlled thrusts that hit all the way up against your center. “You’re the bad girl, all messy and like. You’re so wet I have to clean up after you to finish making love to you. I have to pet your little pussy again until you’re all ready to take cock again, don’t I? I have to fucking spoil you, little one, just to make you take my cock. Isn’t that right?”

“Ah – yes!” you cried out nonsensically, not even realizing the words spilling out of your mouth. “Yes, yes, yes! Mmmm!”

“How does it feel?” Tristan asked, his rich, elegant voice growing quite dominant as he said the filthiest things to you. “How does it feel to have my cock pounding into this wet, wet little hole of yours, huh?”

“Good!” you babbled out, whimpering. Your hands scrabbled at Tristan’s shoulders, until his robe finally came off. It gathered on his waist for a moment before slipping off of his body and falling onto your tummy.

You clutched at it as though it were a lifeline. And thank God you did, because at that moment, Tristan reached down and pushed his fingers against the bottom of your clit, stimulating you even as he had filled you up all the way with his thick cock.

“P-Please!” you cried out loud, blinking furiously as tears appeared in your eyes. Your hands gripped tightly at the robe, squeezing the silk as hard as you could in your fingers. “I – I – Ah! Ah, ah, ah! F-Fuck!”

Tristan groaned heavily, “You’re going to cum again, aren’t you?”

“N-No!” You abruptly yanked the robe to your mouth, and you bit down on it hard, trying to stop yourself from losing control entirely.

“You are,” Tristan growled, feeling your pussy walls spasming and fluttering all around his shaft. “You can’t help it. You can’t help but cum for me, my little slut.”

“Nngh!” you moaned through gritted teeth, mouth stuffed with black silk, as Tristan rammed his cock back into your little hole.

You couldn’t hold on for much longer. He was right. You were going to – You were going to – to cum -

“Uhnnn!” Your tummy jolted. You suddenly drew in a sharp intake of air. The silk robe fell from your mouth. Then –

“Mmm, good girl,” Tristan praised you, his own voice become quite husky and low. “You feel so fucking good when you cum like that, little one. Squirting from your little pussy, and still so tight. Fuck, you’re such a good slut. Such a dream come true to fuck.”

You whimpered. You blearily felt around to hold onto the robe again, but it was gone. Finally, you had to give up and draw your hands back onto your own soft tummy. You placed your hands on the lower part of the tummy, where the burn was strongest.

“Say it again,” Tristan demanded. “Tell me how it feels. Tell me what it feels like to squirt all over me.”

“G-Good,” you finally confessed, in a defeated moan, as you pressed softly down on yourself. “Hah… Ah… Feels s-so fucking good.”

Tristan smirked, watching the way you were holding your tummy, as if to soothe yourself from how deeply you’d been fucked and how hard you’d just cum. He bet that little tummy of yours was already worn out. Shaking his head, he chided you, “Should’ve just been honest in the first place.”

“W-What?” you murmured blearily, finally opening your eyes, only to see snowflakes twirling down from a glorious white winter sky.

“Because you’re all spent, but I haven’t finished with you yet,” Tristan whispered, his voice seemingly neutral, but with a satisfied smirk ever so slightly appearing on his handsome face.

True to his word, Tristan kept fucking you, kept plunging his cock into your cunt.

“Oh God,” you moaned out. Your hands slipped off of your tummy and onto the rugs on either side of you. Your legs slowly fell apart from being crossed around his waist, and Tristan had to hold up your thighs to keep your pussy right where he wanted.

It did feel incredible, to have his cock stuffing you full like this over and over again, but it was just… just too much. You started to go limp in his arms, and your little feet flopped softly in the air as your hips jerked back and forth, tugged this way and that by Tristan mercilessly plunging his cock into your perfect pussy.

“Tristan, I c-can’t take it… Too much, ah…!” you blurted out.

“Almost there. Just a little longer, love. I’m so close,” Tristan whispered fervently. There was a clear change in tone, as he was no longer teasing you, but he was being genuinely warm with you, even pleading with you.

“Can you do that for me?” he asked you in a feverish, low whisper, asking you if you were okay, if you really could take it.

A warm glow spread inside of your chest, as a silvery voice said sweetly, Yes, she can. The Nine-Tailed Fox nodded her head at you. We can, can’t we, little one? You know what he’s about to do. What he’ll give you, but only you ask for it. So, ask for it.

You shook your head at her, unable to form a coherent sentence even in the sanctity of your own mind. You started to slip down the rugs.

Tristan reached up. Grasping your wrists in his hands, he firmly pinned you down against the rugs, holding you up. “Little one,” he whispered.

You were panting furiously, and your whole body felt alight, all feverish and tingling. But you managed to moan out, “If you’re c-close, then k-keep going.”

Having heard your permission, Tristan did not hesitate as he pushed into you again. You moaned out lowly.

Glancing down at you, Tristan saw how bright pink your cheeks were, and how your little mouth had dropped open as you fought for breath. Wanting to support you, Tristan leaned forward and pressed down into you. That way, even though he was still pinning your wrists down, you could at least press up against him and lean on him.

But Tristan didn’t quite realize that he had effectively cornered you, so that all you could see and feel was him. As his chest pressed lightly into yours, the silver lock touched your chest, and you shivered at the sudden sensation of the cold. You tried to draw back, away from the cold metal, but there was nowhere you could go. With Tristan both holding you up and pressing into you, there was no escape – nothing but him.

Relax, the Nine-Tailed Fox whispered to you soothingly, he’s not going to hurt you, child. You know that.

You meant to respond, but just then, Tristan growled as he slammed his cock into you.

“Ah!” you cried out, shutting your eyes tightly. Then, a low moan left your lips unintentionally, “Uhhhnnn…”

Tristan moaned, too, and leaning down, he buried his face against your neck for a moment, biting and kissing your throat. “Fuck,” he choked out, “fuck, I’m so close.”

The Nine-Tailed Fox whined softly, and she fanned out her eight tails behind her, signaling every way she could that this was your opportunity, this was the moment -

“Tristan,” you whimpered, “p-please.” The words fell out of your lips without much thought, but as soon as you heard yourself plead aloud like that, you knew that you meant it. You were finally letting him know how much you desired him.

Give it to me, give it to me, you begged in your head. I want to feel you finish inside of me. I want to know that my little cunt’s filled with your cum. I want it. I want it, want it, want it - please!

Tristan, too, even without you explaining exactly what you meant, knew what you were asking for. And in that moment, he became a gentleman for you. He didn’t take advantage of this golden opportunity to tease you. Instead, he simply gave you what you wanted. He thrust hard, sheathing himself in your tight little cunt, making you moan out loud for him – and then he gave it to you – his thick, hot, white cum, as deep as he could possibly give it to you in your tummy.

“Ah…!”

It wasn’t just because of how deep inside of you he was, although that was certainly part of it. But feeling Tristan cum in you like this, recognizing the way his hands curled protectively, daresay possessively, around your wrists, and taking in the sensation of his harsh, last pants against your now marked-up neck, you melted, too.

You breathed with him, intuitively matching your own pants with his. In that moment, you were no longer alone. Suddenly, you weren’t afraid anymore.

When, after a long moment, Tristan breathed out to you huskily, “Show me. Open your legs,” you returned the favor, and you did just as he requested. You leaned back and very slowly opened your legs for him.

Tristan breathed out slowly, finding it almost difficult to breathe, as not only was the very act of you opening up your legs for him so sensual, but taking in the gorgeous sight of your pink little pussy stuffed absolutely full of him gave him a sense of power and pleasure that he had never known before. Your thighs were still trembling softly, adding a lovely blurriness to a vision that Tristan knew he wouldn’t be forgetting anytime soon.

Tristan couldn’t help himself. He reached out and using his index and middle finger, he spread your pussy lips out, and he glimpsed what he wanted to see - his cum throbbing inside of you Fuck, that’s perfect. She’s perfect. Mmm…

At that moment, his cum started to drip out from your cunt. At first, he pushed it back in for you. But then, taking your hand in his, Tristan guided your hand and, holding onto your wrist, he made you finger fuck his cum back inside of you. You watched in a sort-of awe as you saw your own hand go up and down, slowly but surely, making sure you kept his warmth inside of you for as long as you could.

With an exhausted breath, Tristan finally fell to the side of you, now also leaning against the rugs. He let out a long, low breath.

You turned to your side, closing your legs and wrapping your silk white robe back around yourself as you did so.

You gazed at Tristan. He had closed his eyes and was breathing softly now. As you watched him, you saw, as clearly as you saw anything else, soft piles of pure, crystalline snow piling up on his chest.

“Tristan,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, “it’s snowing. For us, that is.”

Tristan didn’t open his eyes. He merely replied, “I know. It always is, with you.”

You blinked in surprise. “You see it, too?”

Tristan nodded. “Yes, but it’s a false world, isn’t it? It’s like we’re trapped inside a glass world, and it’s only snowing for us. It’s the Nine-Tailed Fox’s magic, right?”

“Well, it is and it isn’t,” you replied, only just making sense of it yourself now.

“What do you mean?”

“It is the Nine-Tailed Fox’s magic, but her magic is manifesting because – well, but don’t you see? This is the only place that the likes of you and I can heal, Tristan. Our souls know how to survive, but something deep inside of us is fragile and fractured, Tristan. And this is the only place where we can…”

“Breathe,” Tristan completed your thought for you.

You nodded. “Yes, exactly.”

Tristan still kept his eyes shut, but he reached out and gently pulled you to him, so that you were pressed against his side. He kept his arm around you, with his hand curling up softly on the dip between your hip and your waist.

“I suppose this means the Nine-Tailed Fox was right,” you finally admitted. “It’s because we had something in common, some understanding of each other that we shared, that she could manifest her magic between us.”

“So,” Tristan said, a bit playfully, “does this mean that you need to take back everything you said about my being a bad man?”

“No,” you whispered, smiling, “you’re still a bad man. But I like that about you.” You shut your eyes, too, and you snuggled closer to Tristan, slipping your left hand onto his chest and resting your head on his shoulder. In that moment, you felt like you had found a partner – not to love, not to share your life with – but to rest and grow old and die with, by never moving from this spot, until the snow piled above you both and then froze, preserving you both as ice sculptures, a mere figment of myth that no one would ever understand or even speak about again…

Tristan found that he rather liked having you there, at his side, too. He knew he would come to miss you when you left – and you would, he knew, because, as you had told him so honestly, you valued freedom above all else. Though he would never admit it, Tristan was glad to have met you, despite all the trouble you’d caused him. Because the truth was, even with his eyes shut, he could see the snowy world that you were talking about, and he found that you were right – that he could heal here. You, and your mischievous Nine-Tailed Fox, had been the ones to guide him here, and he would be forever grateful for that.

“Go,” Tristan said softly, even though he was still holding you. He heard your silk robe rustling, and he felt you lifting your head to look at him.

Tristan finally opened his eyes. He looked over at you, with his black fringe falling to the side of his face, which revealed how truly young he was again. “You should go,” he whispered. “You said you want to be free.”

You smiled wistfully, almost regretfully at him. Reaching out slowly, you gently traced the left side of his face, just beside where his eye contained that cloud, that strange mark of his past, of his survival. You asked the Nine-Tailed Fox within you to bless that mark, so that it could heal. You felt her swish her tails powerfully inside of you.

A moment later, Tristan suddenly breathed in, as he felt a haze of coldness suddenly spread from your fingers to his face.

Wait a second. Tristan blinked in shock, as your lovely face came into clear view. I can – I can see clearly again!

“Tristan.” You whispered his name so very softly.

Tristan stared at you in awe. Her gaze is so tender, even with those alluring, fox eyes. Has she always looked at me this way?

Amazingly, you didn’t even acknowledge the miracle that you, with the Nine-Tailed Fox’s power, had just given him. Instead, you reminded him gently, “You and I, in our own ways, we need to come alive again. You have to be strong for Cas, Susana, Rowan, and all of those Aurors who look up to you.”

Tristan nodded, accepting your words and the responsibility that came with them. Then, he asked you, “And who do you have to go back to? Who do you have to be strong for?”

Your eyes fell slightly, but you stayed strong. “Nobody,” you answered honestly. “I don’t have anybody. Well, I suppose I had a home… once. But I know now that the loneliness I live in is the price I pay for wanting to be free.”

Tristan nodded again, though more slowly this time, as he felt your pain. Reaching out, he caressed your cheek lovingly. “You take care now, little fox,” he murmured. “I’ll remember you.”

“You will?” you said wonderingly.

“Yes, I will,” Tristan reassured you, reaching up to gently trace your fox ears one last time. “By the shape of your little pawprints.”

Tagged User: @areomalfoy

#fanfic #fanfiction #marauders #marauders era #Harry Potter smut #Harry Potter imagine #Tristan Graves #tristan graves x reader #foxtail and wolfsbane

11 notes · View notes