#The Time Traveler’s Soulmate

[lizzieolseniskinda]

TOM RIDDLE - soulmates don’t exist PT. 3

SDE MASTERLIST - x FEM!reader (POC!friendly)

SUMMARY: everything changes for you when snape gives you a certain memory. will you be able to do the task that dumbledore has given you?

WORD COUNT: 4677

GENRE: angst-ish (but not really)

CONTENT WARNING: soulmate (soulbound) & time travel au, english is not my first language, i took names of professor in harry's time (it's easier that way)

You were walking through the Hogwarts courtyard, bundled up in your robes as the wind carried a hint of the colder months that were coming. The sun filtered through the canopy of orange and red; it was a cold day without the sun. As you approached the Gryffindor common room after breakfast, you spotted Lucas—tall, with his messy black curls and easygoing grin—leaning casually against the wall.

“There you are!” he called out, pushing off the wall and strolling over to you. “I’ve been looking for you. Fancy coming with me to Hogsmeade? I’ve got some things to pick up, and I thought you could use a break from all the studying.”

You raised an eyebrow, interested. “And by ‘things,’ you mean what exactly?”

“Important stuff!” Lucas replied with mock seriousness. “Like sweets from Honeydukes and a new quill, since I keep losing mine. And, of course, we have to stop at Zonko’s - can’t leave without some supplies for our next prank on Maeve.”

You let out a laugh, feeling the tension of the past few years slip away. You figured you could use a shopping day - it was a Saturday after all; you could just study after. “Sounds like a plan, though I’m not sure if Maeve would be happy with another one of your ‘masterpieces’.”

“She’ll survive. Besides, I’ve got a new idea that’ll totally blow her mind; just wait and see,” Lucas nudged you playfully.

As you made your way down the long, winding path to Hogsmeade, a sleek black cat caught your eye. It seemed to be lingering just out of reach; you’d seen the cat a few times today, always trailing a few paces behind, watching you with its bright, curious green eyes. It had followed you from the common room to the courtyard, through the grounds, and now it was walking behind you and Lucas as though it belonged with the two of you.

“Look at that,” you murmured, glancing over your shoulder at the cat. “It’s been following me this entire day.”

Lucas turned around, narrowing his eyes slightly at the feline. “Huh, that’s a little weird, don’t you think? Cats don’t usually follow people around for no reason.”

You crouched down and extended a hand toward the cat. To your surprise, it didn’t hesitate. The cat padded forward and nuzzled your palm; its fluffy and soft fur was warm, despite the chill in the air. You smiled, scratching it behind the ears.

“I think it likes me,” you said, looking up at Lucas. “Maybe it's a stray. What do you think?”

Lucas crossed his arms and looked at the cat with a suspicious expression. “It's a little too good to be true, don’t you think? A mysterious black cat following you around Hogwarts. You know there are loads of horror stories about witches using cats as spies, right?”

“You're paranoid,” you rolled your eyes at him, but smiled.

“I’m cautious,” Lucas corrected, though there was a small teasing glint in his eyes. “But if you’re set on keeping it, we should make sure it’s not... I don’t know, an Animagus or something. Better safe than sorry, right?”

“You think someone’s been using this little thing to spy on me?”

Lucas shrugged, but he was already pulling out his wand. “Could be, perhaps. There’s a simple charm to check for such things; it won’t hurt the cat - you have my promise.”

You stood up and took a step back, “Okay, but I’m telling you, it’s just a normal cat.”

Lucas raised his wand, pointing it at the cat as he muttered the incantation under his breath. A faint blue light shimmered from the tip of his wand. It surrounded the cat for a moment before fading away.

You both stared at the cat in silence, holding your breath, waiting for whatever was about to happen. But the cat just blinked up at you, then licked its paw nonchalantly.

Lucas let out a breath, “Phew... what do you know? It’s just a regular old cat.”

“Told you,” you smirked, “looks like you’re now stuck with me and my new pet.”

The cat - as if it sensed your affectionate words - let out a soft purr and wound itself around your legs once more. You knelt down and scratched behind its ears again. A bond was already beginning to form. The only problem was the lice and many more things that were scattered across its fur.

"Alright, alright," Lucas said, laughing. "I suppose it shouldn’t be a problem.”

With the cat in tow, you and Lucas continued down the path to Hogsmeade. The bustling village was already alive with students and locals; shops were gleaming with fresh stock and festive decorations for upcoming festivities. As you entered Honeydukes, the warmth of the shop’s interior enveloped you, along with the sweet scent of sugar and chocolate.

“So, what’s your go-to sweet?” Lucas asked as he grabbed a basket, eyeing the chocolate frogs with heart eyes.

“Maybe the peppermint toads?” you said with a grin, grabbing a small bag from the shelf. “They’re the perfect balance of sweet and refreshing.”

Lucas pulled a face, “You’re a maniac. It’s all about the fizzing whizzbees.”

Both of you wandered through the aisles, piling your basket high with various candies - sugar quills, licorice wands, jelly slugs. At one point, Lucas tried to sneak a handful of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans into your bag, but you caught him just in time.

“You’re not tricking me into eating vomit-flavored beans again!” you narrowed your eyes at him.

Lucas laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I'll save it for someone else.”

After stocking enough sweets to last almost a month, you and Lucas headed to Zonko’s. The shop was just as chaotic as expected, filled with exploding fireworks, laughing gas, and all manner of joke items. Lucas was in his element, darting from one display to the next with an excitement you hadn't seen since your first year at Hogwarts when you'd go shopping with the Weasleys.

It made you wonder if there was a Weasley in this timeline, or a Potter; surely there must—

“I’ve got it,” Lucas broke your trance, holding up a box of nose-biting teacups. “We’ll switch Maeve's regular tea with one of these. Can you imagine the look on her face?”

You shook your head, grinning, “You’re terrible.”

“Hey! You’re the one who agreed to come with me,” he replied, winking. “Makes you an accomplice.”

After spending almost an hour in Zonko’s, you finally dragged Lucas away before he bought the entire store. The two of you made your way back to Hogwarts, the pockets of your robes stuffed with sweets, joke items, and - in your case - also a black cat nestled happily in your arms.

“Already thought of a name?” Lucas asked as you strolled along the path.

You looked down at the cat, who had fallen asleep in your arms, still purring softly. “I’m not so sure yet; maybe something like ‘Shadow’?”

“Shadow,” Lucas mused, “hm, not bad; fits the whole ‘following you everywhere’ thing it’s got going on.”

You laughed, feeling the warmth of the cat’s fur against you. Despite the whirlwind of chaos that had brought you here, there was something so comforting about the small creature that had decided to be your companion.

And as you and Lucas made your way back to the castle, joking and teasing each other, you felt like things were normal, like you were just a regular student at Hogwarts, living in a time untouched by war and dark magic.

You went to sleep that day feeling better already, with the small feline curled up at the end of your bed, purring, its little collar having a little bell that you bought in a shop.

The following morning, you made your way down the main hall, the familiar hum of chatter and clicking of cutlery filling the air. It was officially your second week at Hogwarts, and though you were still getting used to the time period, you started to have a routine.

You reached the Gryffindor table and spotted your friends, already gathering around a platter of toast and eggs; some of them had pancakes. They waved you over and made space as you slipped onto the bench beside them.

“Morning, y/n!” Maeve greeted brightly, pushing a pitcher of pumpkin juice toward you. Her curly hair was a little wild this morning, as if she didn’t care. “Sleep well?”

You poured yourself a glass. “Pretty well, all things considered. I think I’m getting used to these weird ancient beds.”

Alicia snorted, her red hair falling into her eyes as she reached for a stack of pancakes. “Weird ancient beds? Try getting used to the weird ancient ghosts! I had Nearly Headless Nick hovering over my bed last night, telling some kind of story about jousting. I barely slept.”

“Better Nick than Peeves, though. That poltergeist kept chucking ink at me during Charms yesterday,” Maeve giggled, spreading jam on a piece of toast.

You laughed, feeling a warmth in your chest that you weren’t expecting. These girls had made everything feel… lighter. The constant worry in the back of your mind lessened. Here, in the morning sunlight with breakfast laid out before you, you almost forgot the real reason why you were here.

“Mm, speaking of Charms,” Maeve said, glancing at her timetable. “We’ve got it again this morning. Think Professor Flitwick will finally let us practice summoning spells?”

“I certainly hope so,” Lilith spoke as quietly as ever, but her eyes were sparkling with excitement. “Right? I’ve been dying to try action on something bigger. Imagine being able to summon an entire plate of pastries!” Lucas exclaimed.

“As if we need more reasons for you to get distracted during class, Luca,” Alicia rolled her eyes.

They continued to chatter about the day ahead while you found your gaze wandering around. The students were busy with their own conversations; some were studying, others were yawning over cups of tea, while some were also scribbling down last-minute notes for their morning classes. Everything felt so normal.

When your eyes landed on the Slytherin table, the illusion of normalcy shattered. You’d almost forgotten about him.

Tom Riddle. He was sitting at the center, surrounded by his usual group of admirers. He was composed, elegant even, as he buttered a piece of toast, speaking quietly to a blonde male next to him.

You looked away quickly before his group—or him—could notice you staring. “You’re awfully quiet this morning,” Maeve nudged you with her elbow.

“Everything alright?”

You gave a smile, hoping it didn’t look too strained. “Yeah, just thinking about today.”

“Don’t worry about it too much; it’s only the second week,” Lucas smiled. “Besides, you’re part of the group now. We’re in this together.”

“No backing out,” Lilith added, and for a second, you thought you’d melted.

You smiled, relaxing. You felt it reach your eyes; a sense of belonging wandered around in the back of your mind.

Breakfast continued, and so did the conversation to a more light-hearted topic: Alicia’s and Lilith’s excitement about the next Hogsmeade trip, Lucas’s plans for another elaborate prank on their dorm mate, and Maeve’s ongoing battle with Peeves. You listened, laughed, and chimed in the conversation whenever you could.

Maeve slung her bag over her shoulder and stood up. “Come on, y/n. Let’s see if we can make it to Flitwick’s class before Luca drags us to the kitchens for more pastries.”

“I resent that,” Lucas called over his shoulder, “but I do want more pastries.”

You smiled and grabbed your bag as you followed them out of the Great Hall, trying to savour the last few minutes of peace before the day truly began.

⋆｡⋆˙⟡charms class:

When you arrived at the Charms class, it was buzzing with quiet energy as tired students filed in, quills and textbooks clutched in their hands. You took a seat next to Maeve on your left side. Behind another desk with space in between you two sat another girl—Slytherin.

“Good morning, everyone! Today, we will be practicing summoning charms—Accio!” Professor Flitwick said loudly, standing on a stack of books at the front of the class as he clapped his hands to get the attention of all the students.

An exciting murmur passed through the room. You realized how, in their fifth year, they learn about summoning spells in this timeline, while in Harry’s timeline you learned more defensive spells or memory spells. The difference was huge.

Summoning charms were pretty basic, but growing up in times like you did, you almost had no time getting used to a simple spell like Accio while you could easily Obliviate someone or use the Patronus charm.

“Partner up!” Flitwick instructed. You turned to look at Maeve, who was already grinning at you.

“I’ve been practicing this all week,” Maeve said, wiggling her eyebrows. “Let’s see if I can summon a bigger thing than a quill this time.”

“Alright, but if you summon a desk by accident, you’re responsible,” you teased her, setting your wand on your desk.

Maeve pointed her wand at one of the cushions Flitwick had left for practice. “Accio cushion!” she shouted, her wand slicing through the air.

The cushion zoomed toward her, though it wobbled slightly before landing in her arms. “Not bad, right?”

You clapped lightly. “That was impressive!”

Maeve jokingly gave a little bow to you. “Your turn!”

You focused on a cushion that was lying a few feet away, envisioning it flying smoothly into your hands. After a flick of your wand, you called out,

“Accio cushion!”

The cushion shot toward you with more speed than you expected, hitting you on your chest slightly and knocking you back slightly. You laughed, catching it just in time. Maeve burst into giggles beside you.

“Well, at least it's working,” you said with a grin. Putting the cushion down, you glanced around the room and caught sight of Tom. He was practicing at the far end of the classroom. He performed the spell flawlessly, his cushion gliding into his hands with barely a flick of his wrist. His focus was intense, almost unnerving.

You quickly turned towards Maeve again, not wanting to dwell on him.

⋆｡⋆˙⟡potions class:

The potion classroom in the dungeons was dark and cool; the only source of light was flickering. A mushy and earthy scent of ingredients filled the air as you sat down next to Alicia at one of the tables near the back.

“Right,” Alicia said, pulling out her ingredients. “I’ve got a good feeling about today’s potion. We’re supposed to make something simple, so there’s no way I can accidentally melt my cauldron like last week.”

You snickered. “Simple or not, I still think you have a way to make the easiest potions chaotic.”

Before Alicia could respond, Professor Slughorn’s jovial voice boomed across the room. “Today, my dear students, we will be brewing a calming draught. Quite useful for, uh, stressful situations.” He winked at the class. “-“I’m sure none of you feel stressed, though.”

You could feel the irony of the assignment, given how much stress you were actually under without anyone really knowing. You could probably use a calming draught or two just to get through the day.

Slughorn’s face was surrounded with enthusiasm as he demonstrated the first few steps, his eyes darting over the class with interest. You gathered the ingredients you needed and carefully measured out the valerian root, hellebore syrup, and the fluxweed oil.

“So, you think Slughorn’s going to invite you to one of his little parties?” Alicia asked as she ground some peppermint into powder.

You shrugged, keeping your focus on your cauldron as you stirred it clockwise. “Not very likely. I don’t really know what those parties are even about,” you lied. You went to one meeting with Hermione and decided to never go again. Simply a waste of time.

Alicia raised an eyebrow. “Well, Slughorn kinda ‘collects’ talented students. You’re smart, plus you’re new and kind. So, I’d say you're prime Slug Club material.”

You smiled at her. “We’ll see,” you said quietly. “Plus, I think Riddle is in Slug Club,” Alicia whispered.

You almost spilled the peppermint that you were trying to add into your potion. “Sorry, what?” you gaped at her. She scoffed at you and smiled. “Don’t act dumb; I always see you looking at him.”

Your potion turned to a soft blue—that was a good sign. “What??? No, I don’t…” you mumbled and glanced over at Alicia’s cauldron, which was bubbling a little too vigorously.

“Uh, Alicia... are you sure you didn’t add too much oil?” you asked her, eyeing the bubbles. “You’re not getting out of this conversation, Y/N,”Alicia said while she kept adding oil.

“No, no, I’m serious; look at those bubbles.”

“Oh, oops,” Alicia gasped and quickly turned down the heat under her cauldron. “Well, at least it’s not melting this time.”

You laughed softly, helping her adjust the potion before it boiled over. Potions was always a mix of stress and humor with Alicia. Seems like you're not as slick as you thought you were.

⋆｡⋆˙⟡transfiguration class:

Dumbledore’s class, there was a different energy in the air. The room was spacious and bright; high arched windows were letting beams of sunlight in that illuminated against the desks. Dumbledore was standing at the front. “Today,” Dumbledore began, “we will attempt one of the more advanced transfigurations: turning inanimate objects into animals. Quite the leap from last week’s matchsticks to needles, wouldn’t you say?”

Maeve leaned over to you, whispering, “What if we give a four-legged animal six legs by mistake?”

You snickered quietly.

Dumbledore waved his wand, and a stack of stones appeared on each of the students’ desks. “Your task today is to transform this stone into small creatures of your choosing: a mouse, perhaps, or a bird. Be gentle and focus.”

You pointed your wand at the stone, visualising a small bird. With clear focus, you flicked your wand, saying the incantation softly.

To your surprise, the stone started shifting, wings sprouting from its sides as it transformed into a tiny sparrow. It fluttered its wings in confusion before hopping onto your desk.

“Well, aren’t you just the star pupil,” Maeve teased with a grin. She was still poking at her half-transformed stone, which looked more like a stone with some fur on it.

From the front of the class, Dumbledore’s eyes met yours briefly, and he gave a small approving nod. You continued helping Maeve when you caught a glimpse of Tom Riddle a few rows ahead. His magic was perfect—obviously. The stone in front of him had turned into a sleek, black raven that perched on his desk with eerie calm.

You sighed, forcing yourself to focus more on Maeve and her furry rock. There would be plenty of time to think about Tom later, but the time was ticking, and you knew it

Shadow, the cat that you’d taken in, padded silently beside you as you made your way to the library. You smiled down at him; Shadow had proven to be nothing more than a sweet, lovely companion. The cat had followed you everywhere except for classes.

“You like books, don’t you?” you murmured to the cat as you entered the library, earning a few curious glances from other students. Shadow flicked his tail and trotted ahead of you, his sleek form disappearing between two towering bookshelves.

The library was quiet and warm, even after dinner. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment and dust. You loved it in the library; it felt like a sanctuary, a place where time stood still.

Wandering through the shelves, you scanned the spines of the books you passed. Every so often, you’d glance behind you to make sure Shadow was still with you. Reaching a shelf tucked in a quiet corner of the library, you found a book you'd been looking for - The Founder’s Legacy: A History of Hogwarts. It was a book you needed for your Muggle Studies.

You pulled it down and tucked it under your arm, turning to leave the aisle; but when you did, you noticed Shadow was gone. “Shadow?” you called softly, careful not to disturb the other students. The silence of the library seemed to grow louder, your eyes searching for the black fur you had grown accustomed to.

Frowning, you stepped out of the aisle, looking around for any sign of the cat. Only a few students were scattered around the tables, their heads buried in their studies. Then, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted him.

At one of the far tables, seated in his usual spot near the back of the library, was Tom Riddle.

With Shadow.

Your breath caught in your throat. The sleek black cat had made himself comfortable on the edge of Tom’s open book, his paws kneading the pages as he purred contentedly. Tom didn’t seem bothered by the interruption. In fact, he was watching the cat with an odd expression - almost as if he was amused, though his features remained calm and composed as always.

For a second, you just stood there, contemplating all your life’s choices. Seeing Shadow so comfortable made your heart race. Tom Riddle, the person you were meant to change, was casually petting the cat you had taken in, and it made your situation feel even more surreal.

But only you couldn't keep standing there forever, staring at Tom Riddle.

So, you summoned up your courage and slowly walked over to the table, forcing yourself to remain calm even though you could feel your chest preparing for a panic attack.

“Looking for this?” His voice was soft but cold as he gestured to the cat with a slight raise of his hand. Shadow meowed happily and stretched out his paws, pushing against Tom's book as if he had claimed it for himself.

Hearing Tom’s voice changed something in you; a warm feeling spread through you.

“Yes,” you said, your voice steady, trying to ignore all the feelings you were feeling at once. “I didn’t realise he’d wandered off.”

Tom’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, studying you with the same unsettling intensity you’d noticed in class. Then he looked back at the cat, one hand absently touching behind Shadow’s ear. The cat purred louder, pressing into the touch as though he had always belonged there.

“He seems to like me,” Tom observed. You had to hold back a scoff, so you forced a smile. “He’s a friendly one.”

“I can see.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that. You cleared your throat and stepped forward, reaching for Shadow. “Well, I should get him out of your way; he’s probably disturbing your reading. Or studying, or whatever…”

Tom didn’t move at first, and for a brief second, you thought he might not let you take back your cat. But then he pulled his hand back. Shadow, oblivious to the tension, stretched lazily before hopping off the table and rubbing against your leg.

You cradled Shadow in your arms as you tried to steady your nerves.

You felt Tom’s gaze linger on you for a moment longer before he turned his attention back to his book, his expression unreadable. “Be careful,” he said, his voice low. “Not everything that follows you is harmless.”

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in his tone. Was that a warning? Or something more? Before you could reply, Tom had already turned the page of his book, his focus shifting away from you as though the conversation had never happened

A chill ran down your spine as you hugged Shadow closer. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you turned around.

Tom’s cryptic words echoed in your thoughts. You were halfway to the library’s entrance when you spotted Lucas striding toward you, hands tucked in his pockets, that ever-present grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He seemed completely at ease, as though the world was just a big joke waiting to be told.

“There you are!” he called out in a low voice, somewhat mindful of the library’s strict silence policy. He walked right up to you, his sharp blue eyes scanning your face before flicking over to the spot where Tom was sitting. “I saw you over there, chatting with Riddle.”

“Yeah... Shadow wandered over to him,” you smiled slightly, still not fully calmed down, but Lucas’s presence helped a bit.

Lucas smiled. “Look, I’m just gonna say it: I’ve seen you stare at him at times, and you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Whatever he’s said to you—”

“He said something about not everything that follows you is harmless,” you interrupted him, needing to get it off your chest.

“Okay, stop. That’s freakishly creepy,” Lucas gaped, stealing a glance at Tom. “Just... try to ignore him. Riddle’s either got everyone thinking he’s the hottest thing to walk these halls, or they think he’s bloody weird.”

Your curiosity piqued. “And what do you think?”

Lucas paused, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the question. His grin returned. “Both.”

You chuckled at his bluntness. “Both?”

You walked out of the library, your book long forgotten on the table you were supposed to be studying at. “Yeah, he’s good looking. I mean, objectively speaking,” Lucas said. “But there’s something about him that’s off. Like, he’s too good at... well, everything. It's unnatural; people are drawn to him, but they’re also... I don’t know, scared of him. You know? Even if they don't want to admit it.”

You nodded, thinking back to how Tom had looked at you - the way his eyes seemed to see right through you. There was definitely something unnerving about him. “He’s strange. Almost like he’s always one step ahead of everyone.”

“Exactly,” Lucas agreed. “It’s like he’s playing a game no one else knows the rules to. Trust me, best to keep your distance.”

“I wasn’t planning on making friends with him,” you said, shifting Shadow in your arms. The cat blinked lazily up at you.

“Good, I’ve got enough trouble without having to rescue you from the dark and mysterious Tom Riddle,” Lucas replied, giving you a reassuring smile.

You let out a laugh. “Thanks, Lucas. I’ll be sure to tell you first if I get in over my head.”

Lucas grinned. “I’ll be there, wand at the ready.”

The two of you started to head toward the common room together, the tension that had been knotted in your chest since your encounter with Tom slowly began to ease. Lucas had a way of making things feel lighter, like no matter how complicated the situation got, he’d find a way to make it less scary.

“Anyway,” Lucas said, slinging an arm around your shoulders as you walked, “enough about Riddle. Did you get what you came for? Or are we heading back in for round two of ‘Tom the Cat Whisperer’?”

You smirked, shaking your head. “No more rounds with him for today, thanks. I think I’ve had my fill of mysterious brooding for the time being. But I do think I might’ve left my book in there.”

Lucas laughed again, his voice carrying through the halls. “We’ll get it first thing tomorrow. And if you do like him, just don’t go falling for that whole dark-and-mysterious thing. I won’t judge you.”

You rolled your eyes, nudging him playfully. “Please. You know I prefer my friends a little less brooding and a little more… fun.”

“See? That’s the right attitude.” He gave you a wink, his smile warm and genuine. “Stick with me. I’m way more fun than some dark wizard-in-training.”

You couldn’t help but smile back. As strange and intense as things had become, Lucas was a constant source of light. Maybe, just maybe, he’d help keep you grounded as you navigated the dangerous path ahead.

a/n: posted a bit earlier, but umm, i was thinking of naming the cat crookshanks first - so she has a reminder of hermione, harry and ron. but idk :( alsooooo, i'll probably update on sunday for this serie (loads of homework)

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[khimeaarts]

It's been awhile since I've really done good progress for any personal art 😭 I've been too busy with work aaaa anyhow, I wanted a wallpaper for my laptop so my first thought is ofc my otp and I couldn't find one that's HD so... well I hope I finish rendering this 🫠

Harry: *asleep* *oblivious*

Tom: *internal conflict* *confusion* *feelings are a sign of weakness* *what are you* *you are the bane of my existence* *but someone I can't live without* *my equal* *my soul*

Me: sips drama ☕️

[bitacrytic]

Twinkling Watermelon, Perfect Marriage Revenge & Marry My Husband: Let's send the main character back in time to right a serious wrong... but wait, let's send the love interest too as a "helpmate".

[bonniesfamiliar]

DIMENSION TRAVEL STORY IDEA: Summary: Harriet "Harry" James Potter has travelled to an alternate dimension during a spell gone wrong (Kreacher's actually responsible cuz he cares about Harry since she's the Lady of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black) Harriet knows it's an alternate dimension cuz she finds a newspaper stand and lo and behold, who's on the front cover? Tom. Fucking. Riddle. But not the ugly Voldemort Tom Riddle she killed. No this is young Tom Riddle who grew up FINE AS HELL.

And he's on the front page cuz he's The Minister of Magic and guess what he's talking about.

Dumbledore.

He's talking about Dumbledore.

And not manipulative gramps Dumbledore whose beard is longer than my hair.

No.

We're talking about this one

You know why he's talking about this Dumbledore?

Because Albus. Percival. Fucking. Dumbledore decided to become the epitome of "Be Gay, Do Crime," with Gellert Grindelwald, his husband.

DUMBLEDORE IS A DARK LORD WITH HIS HUBBY

So Harriet is obviously freaking out and does the right thing.

She goes to a pub and drinks her sorrows away in Scottish Whiskey, (Thank you, Minny)

But Harry never makes reasonable decisions so when she finds a quill and paper, guess what she does.

She writes to Misinter Riddle.

But the drama doesn't end there.

Whenever Harriet does anything, whether she writes or talks about Tom Riddle, she doesn't speak in English.

She talks in Pareseltongue.

(Cuz she and tom are the only Parselmouths. I think.)

So Parseltongue.

Harriet writes in parseltongue to the Minister of Fucking Magic on his wrongdoings in her universe.

The letter literally looks like this:

ssss ssss sssssssss ss ssssss s sss ssssssss ssssss sss sss ss ssss ssssssss ssssssss ssss ssssss sssssss ss ss sssssssss and that transcribes to 

"Dear Lord Voldemort, or should I say Minister Riddle, you are an ugly noseless hairless evil snakey bastard in my dimension,"

and cuz she's spiteful, she signs it off with "You-Know-Who"

But the thing is Harriet never mentioned her name or who her parents were.

So when Minister Riddle receives this letter, he freaks out and then does everything he can to find this person.

Not to kill them.

But to woo them.

This kind, thoughtful person has travelled from another dimension just to stop him from becoming evil.

AND THEY'RE A PARSELMOUTH.'

THEY'RE OBVIOUSLY HIS SNAKE MATE. (cuz he killed all of the Gaunts and Riddles so they're not family)

You can bet ur ass he was squealing to Nagini at the thought of having another Parselmouth in the world with him.

He's obsessed.

(He's not tom riddle if he doesn't have possessive issues and his jealousy issues are just as bad.🤭🤭🤭🥰🥰🥰😩😩😩)

Like it's not a want.

It's a need.

He needs the writer of this letter to be with him forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and-

You probably get the idea.

Anyway, 1 year goes by.

Tom Riddle: I MUST FIND THIS PERSON AND MAKE THEM MINE

Harriet Potter: *forgets about even writing the letter* 

Tom is growing more obsessed as the days go by and then he meets a woman at a charity ball held for idk an organisation for potieneers? Potion Masters?

She's chatting up with Lord and Lady Dagworth-Granger cuz she's been working with them cuz they remind her of Hermione and she needed a job.

Anyway, he approaches the couple in hopes of talking to them and Harriet sees Minister Riddle approaching and quickly moves away to head to the drinks table.

And then lets out a breath of relief when she realises he wasn't heading for her.

She schmoozes for a few more minutes before calling it quits and heading out for fresh air.

The party is at the Dagworth-Granger's manor so she goes out to the gardens.

And hears a cry for help.

Her Gryffindor instincts push her to run towards the sound of danger.

But her Slytherin side made her hide behind the wall from where the cry of help had come from.

It was a witch being harassed by two wizards.

One of the wizards was holding her wand, taunting her.

While the other had begun to take off her outfit.

Before it could go any further, she brought the men's attention to her and with a flick of her wrist, Harriet had the men on their knees.

She then walked over to the one holding the witch's wand and grabbed it out of his hand, accidentally snapping his wrist in the process.

She gave the witch her wand back and accepted the shaky hug she received.

Harriet waited until the witch was out of sight before she turned to the men and smiled, watching as their faces fell into horror as they saw the fangs in her mouth.

(I'm in love with the prompt by a post on tumblr where  Basilisk!Harry is hugging Kneazle!Hermione and Dragon!Ron also wants his cuddles. I can't find the person who made it but I've lived by the idea that these would be their animagus forms if they ever performed the spell like James Potter, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew had done to become illegal animagi for Remus Lupin)

Harriet rips into their throats, feeds on them and then turns their bodies into ash with the fiendryfire spell.

She grabbed a mirror from her purse to erase the blood from her face and clothes and began to walk away lest anyone come looking for the wizards.

But, Harriet suddenly slammed into what felt like a wall.

A very warm wall.

Regaining her bearings, Harriet looked up to notice that the "wall" was MINISTER RIDDLE.

AND HE WAS HOLDING HER ARMS.

"Minister Riddle, what are you doing here?" She said pasting a smile on her face.

Shift of POV:

Minister Riddle internally sighed at being stuck in another ball instead of being at home, analysing the letter once again.

He was certain it was a woman who sent it as there was a red lipstick kiss on the paper after it was signed sss-ssss-sss (You-Know-Who)

His thoughts are cut off when Lady Dagworth-Granger asks her husband where Harriet is.

Who is Harriet? he muses but when Lord Dagworth-Granger offers to look in the gardens, Tom leaps at the chance to run away from the party.

He goes into the gardens aimlessly walking around for a few minutes, lost in his thoughts of his mysterious parselmouth when a witch comes out of nowhere and collides with him.

He uprighted her by placing his hands on her arms and looked on curiously as she seemed to freeze in place when she looked up to see that it was he she bumped into.

Tom Riddle is the one to freeze when she speaks.

"Minister Riddle, what are you doing here?" She says an innocent smile on her face as if she had no idea his whole world had just flipped on its axis.

Parseltongue.

She's speaking in parseltongue.

She's his parselmouth.

The one from another dimension.

But he had to clarify so he replies honestly for the first time in his life, in parseltongue, "I've been looking for you," 

"Searching for me? Whatever for?"

A boyish smile widens on his face before he forces it into a polite smile.

"The Lord and Lady Dagworth-Granger have been searching for you, Miss Harriet I believe you are?" He reverts to English to test if she notices the change but she doesn't.

She just replies in English, "Ah, I see. I disappeared for too long with my break from the stuffiness of the ball and yes, I am Harriet."

Harriet, he muses in his mind, no last name to give for me.

She extends her gloved hand for him to shake but Tom riddle reaches for both of her hands and turns them over to kiss them gently and forces himself not to give into the urge of nuzzling into her hands (well not yet at least) and without letting them go, he straightens to his full height to tower over her (giving him a thrill at knowing she was shorter, meaning he could easily pick her up and carry her, be it over his shoulders or bridal style) and replies, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Harriet. No last name?"

(Harriet has been wearing gloves cuz of the 'I must not tell lies' scars that cover her hands.)

Harriet smiles teasingly towards him and his cold heart thaws ever so, "I couldn't decide on a last name and I've decided I like the mysterious aura it gives me,"

Or maybe she couldn't risk using her real last name because she was from a different dimension, Tom muses in his mind, Nevertheless, Harriet Riddle has a lovely ring to it.

Harriet Potter: *staring confused at Tom Riddle as he smiles down at her

Tom Riddle: *Winter would be a lovely time to get married, wouldn't it?

I'm stopping here cuz it's a summary, not a story. Yes, I'm Evil.

Tell me if you like it tho.

I was this close *makes an inch between her fingers* to making this a Soulmate AU story.

Think of the angst that Harriet would go through all her life knowing that her soulmate's words to her are:  I've been looking for you

And it's an alternate hotter version of Tom Riddle, AKA THE BAD GUY WHO MURDERED HER PARENTS 

And think of how Harriet's words had motivated Tom his entire life to do his best to work hard (and cheat death) to live long enough for his soulmate to see him one day at a place be it a library or a gala or a hallway and ask him: Minister Riddle, what are you doing here?

Huh.

Maybe I should make them soulmates.

I need a timeline. fuck.

Um.

Riddle was educated at Hogwarts from 1938 to 1945, and was sorted into Slytherin House, a nod to his ancestor Salazar Slytherin.

Making Tom 34 cuz 1927 is the year Tom was born in if he went to Hogwarts in 1938 which would make him 11 in 1938 and 38-11 is 27 so 1927 is when he was born.

61-27=34 so Harriet is in 1961 but cuz of the time skip tom is 35 years old in 1962

Harriet was born in 1980 

The Second War technically began on 24 June, 1995, though was not officially announced by the Ministry until nearly a year later on 17 June, 1996, and ended on 2 May, 1998, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, after the death of the Dark Lord.

Which made Harriet 18 in 1998, 24 in 2004, 24 in 1961 and 25 in 1962

 but she deserves peace so the year Kreacher sent her back was 2004 which would make her 24 cuz he's horrified that she hasn't attempted to romance anyone since Cedric Diggory.

Tbh, if he was my bf I would never love again.

But then hubby "I would burn the world down for you and rebuild a new one from its ashes" tom riddle is here and I'm like Cedric who?

But none of them compare to (long list of titles, I'll research later.) Harriet James Potter.

[captainmaxatx]

I feel like we are all sleeping on the fan fiction potential given to us from Deadpool and Wolverine using their bodies to make a circuit with matter and anti-matter

Who knows what that could do to a person, you could write a fic where that caused anything your heart could think up.

[podcastwizard]

once again ruined a flirtation because i got too in the weeds about Ghost Rules. you would think i would learn my lesson and hold back but i can never pass up a chance to use the phrase "non-corporeal"

[wardenparker]

Vampire Waltz - ch 11

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 9.5k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* Not many warnings this chapter, just a lot of emotions running high and a fair bit of lying for the sake of keeping secrets. Summary: Your first day in the past with Max is full of emotional moments and surprises, but nothing more surprising than a revelation shared with Eddie and Allison back in your own time. Notes: Hello and welcome to the Gilded Age!! It's been so exciting to see how many of you gleefully jumped into the deep-end with us on this plot twist and I hope you enjoy! This week's Chateau-sur-Mer room on display is Eddie's room 💛

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10

It is Mrs. Taylor who wakes you with a gentle knock on the door the next morning, bearing an arm full of clothing for each of you. Max had been resting with his eyes closed, holding you close while you slept, but his eyes opened immediately at the sound. "Good morning," she greets you both with a nod as she hustles into the room, shutting it behind her. "I brought you some things. To help you to blend in. Mr. Brown has arranged for each of you to be measured and fitted today, if you will be kind enough to go into town just after luncheon. He has sent orders to have wardrobes made that will be fitting for members of his family." It isn't her place to comment on the decision or the certainty with which the word 'family' was used, but she follows her orders to the letter.

Max sits up, shirtless and nods. “Mr. Brown is a gracious host.” He is almost giddy at the prospect of tailored suits, considering it’s so hard to have one made during his time. He’s looking forward to the trip to town. “Would you help my wife dress?” He has no clue how to dress you and he’s not sure if you know either.

"Of course." Mrs. Taylor agrees to the request easily, considering she had already but told to do so, but sets down the clothing on the nearby chaise for a moment while you rise from bed in your odd clothing. "After this morning, Mr. Brown has tasked Miss Annie's maid Renee with seeing to your wife. I hope that is acceptable."

It’s a struggle not to show that he recognizes the name, but he manages. “As long as it does not interfere with her duties to Miss Annie.” He takes the borrowed clothes for him and strides behind the privacy screen. He doesn’t care about you seeing him, but this is a different time and he doesn’t wish to offend Mrs. Taylor.

"Of course not, sir." While this particular morning is outside of her own normal duties, that does not concern her much. The staff of this particular house is far more efficient than any other in the community for their ability to work hard without the need for substantial rest or food. Losing a few minutes to dressing a young lady hardly affects her schedule.

Max dresses quickly, approving of how well his sires' clothes fit him and sets out from around the screen with only his boots left to put on. They are his modern shoes, but no one will notice.

The layers that Mrs. Taylor helps you put on seem endless. Chemise. Corset. Bustle. Petticoats. Corset cover. All these underlayers have to go on before she can even button you into the outer shell of the dress, but once you have the soft green and dark brown dress on in all its complicated glory, it's...oddly comfortable. The corset redistributes the weight of the dress and underlayers so that it isn't too heavy on any part of you, and the layers are all surprisingly thin but so much cotton adds up to a very warm outfit. The chill of the fall weather won't get very far at all, especially not with the wool stockings you have on underneath it all to cushion your feet in the neatly laced leather boots that somehow fit you perfectly. They must be your grandmother's -- that's the only explanation you can come up with, knowing how well some other pieces of her wardrobe fit you in your own time.

“You look….” Max’s eyes are wide, slowly taking in your very prim exterior. He had never expected to have such an attraction to the Victorian style, but he finds that it’s very becoming on you. “Exquisite.” He manages. “It’s as big as a ball gown.”

"Hush." The warmth in your cheeks belies the tone in your voice though, seeing the slow way Max surveys you up and down like some kind of precious gem. "You look very handsome as well." The suit that was brought for him is simple but well-made, and even though you have no idea whether or not it's in fashion, he looks like the romantic lead of a BBC period drama come to life and you are absolutely here for it.

“So you’re allowed to compliment me, but I can’t say how attractive my wife is?” He huffs at you playfully and shakes his head. “That will not be cool at all.”

The term is unfamiliar to Mrs. Taylor but she tactfully does not react at all, simply nodding to you and Max in the doorway. "Breakfast will be served in the dining room in fifteen minutes," she informs you before disappearing again. "You look like Mr. Wickham," you tell Max with a grin, doubtful that he'll get the reference but not really caring. "Dashing and handsome, and a little bit like trouble."

“Mr. Wickham.” He looks at you in utter offense, huffing. “I am no wastrel, I’ll have you know.” He grins back at you to show he’s teasing, and holds out his arm to you. “I’m Darcy, of course.”

"Hmm, maybe you're right." Taking his arm is soothing and grounded, reminding you that no matter how crazy this situation is, he's right here with you. "Alli and Eddie are definitely our Jane and Bingley, after all."

“Yes, they are.” He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Obvious to everyone but them that they were crazy about each other.”

"I think it's sweet." Their enthusiasm for each other has been endearing, and a pang of missing your friends makes your heart ache but you have no choice other than to shake it off. "And it looks like we'll have some very, very interesting stories for them when we get home."

“Yes we will.” The dining room is straight ahead and he reaches over and pats your hand. “Are you ready to get to know her in ways you never imagined?” Max asks, not wanting to say ‘your mother’ in case she has hearing like a vampire.

"I'm nervous," you admit, knowing that this is an enormously big deal for only you. Max has no emotional stakes in this meeting, but you have them in spades. "What...wh-what if she doesn't like me?"

“There’s no way that would ever happen.” Of that, he is confident. You are amazing, even if you don’t see it.

"You're biased." It's bolstering, though. It makes you feel a little bit like you have a champion on your side to help square your shoulders when they start to round down again. "But I hope you're right."

“I know I’m right, babe.” He tells you cockily, sending you an air kiss. “They are both going to love you.”

"I hope so." A soft nod is what you can manage right now, knowing that beyond that doorway are two women who have been completely lost to you for so much of your life. "I really hope so."

“I’m with you.” Max promises. “After this, we will see how you dance in that dress of yours.”

"With really big swishes." That is a welcome thought, though, and you revel in the idea of dancing with him becoming so normal that it can happen pretty much anywhere. It has you smiling again, and visibly relaxing, and you nod to Max before gently squeezing his arm. "Okay. Let's do this." The dining room table has been laid with fine China. There are five places set and five chairs, while the sideboard is filled with piping hot serving pieces full of all manner of breakfast items. Tea and coffee and a third carafe that you have to assume is blood are all set out on the opposite wall where a footman stands at attention waiting to pour.

Max glances at you, wondering if it’s a reprieve that your mother and grandmother aren’t down yet. He hums as he guides you towards the table, deciding that he would set you on the opposite side from the door so you can see them when they come in. “At least there is coffee and tea, right?”

"And more, it looks like." You nod toward the third carafe. "Good morning." The next figure to sweep into the room is your grandfather, and he sets himself down at the head of the table without hesitation. "I trust you had a restful night?"

“She slept through the night.” Max answers with a polite nod. “Thank you for the clothes as well. It will be better to blend in.”

“Indeed.” He nods, not reacting at all when the footman in the room steps forward to fill first his coffee cup and then his drinking glass with blood. “The appointment to make your wardrobes is essential. We are throwing a ball in just a week’s time and you must be properly attired.”

Max winces when the blood is poured into a wine glass and when the footman comes around the table, he covers the glass. “Please pour it into the coffee cup.” He instructs.

The footman says nothing but nods and adjusts the angle of his pour once he is standing beside Max. “Your room is comfortable?” Yayo asks. He knows that his staff works hard but he also knows that humans are particular.

Max looks over at you for the answer. Knowing that you were the one sleeping, although he was comfortable as he laid with you. “My dear?”

“Very comfortable,” you assure him quickly.

“Good.” He nods and gives a pleased smile. “The gold room has a special fondness for me.”

“Oh?” Whatever stories your grandfather is willing to share are wonderfully welcome. Only for a moment do you find yourself distracted by the appearance of the footman, who pours tea for you when you indicate your preference.

“Cookie and I spent nearly a year exploring the far East.” He tells you with a soft sigh as he leans back in the opulent chair. “When she had fallen in love with that bed, we bought it and had it shipped back.”

“It’s very beautiful.” Even before now you had thought so. Even considered asking to have it moved to your bedroom on the second floor. But you had decided that that would be an immense thing to ask for and instead started dreaming of one day having visitors who might use the room.

“Our daughter was conceived in that bed.” He admits with a small smirk and raised brow as he stares at the two of you. As if expecting you to say that you are also expecting a joyous occasion after one night in that bed.

“Is that…so?” It’s a little more than you need to know, considering that’s your mother he’s talking about, but it’s still worth noting. With everything you’ve been finding out about your family and your magic lately, who knows if it means something or not.

Nodding, he’s amused by your reaction. You are not timid, you dress far too boldly for that, but you are slightly embarrassed by the idea. Further cementing the truth that you are his granddaughter in his mind. “My wife and daughter should be downstairs shortly. They are not exactly morning people.”

“No…” A slip of a memory runs through your mind and you smile. Your mother dragging herself downstairs in her robe with a yawn only to find that your father had already made her coffee for her. “No…that seems to be true no matter what the age.”

“Since she was a babe.” He chuckles softly. “A fortuitous arrangement, considering that I do not sleep. So I could be up late into the night with her when she was fussy. My wife and I did not allow a nurse to care for her.”

“A fairly unusual choice, but I can see why.” Not knowing how much can or cannot be said around the house staff in this time, you just smile and politely add, “She must have been a rare child. And very loved.”

Everyone in this house is aware of what his child is and he nods. “We are free to speak of all issues but yours,” he tells you meaningfully. “The staff are all vampires. Easier than explaining to humans.”

“I see.” Well, that certainly explains how things are the way they are in the future. When your staff never ages or dies, there’s no need to change them. “That certainly does simplify things.”

“Quite.” He agrees. “The coven and social circles provide Cookie with human companionship when she so desires.”

“I know the Newport coven to be full of kind and caring women.” Of course, it might not be entirely true now, you don’t know for sure. But in your time? Those women became your friends as easily as breathing.

“Then the reputation of the coven has endured over the years.” He hums. “There were some turbulent years, but Cookie is not one to deal with much foolishness.”

“It is my understanding that she is very much beloved.” Before you have the chance to say more, you spot two women approaching from the great hall and nearly swallow your tongue. Your mother looks nearly identical to how you remember her, with the biggest difference being just her style. You remember a woman with short hair and a fondness for berry-tone lipstick, who wore dresses only on the most special of occasions. This version of her blends perfectly into the time, with none of her natural features tempered by makeup, her long hair swept up into a complicated style, and the gown on her frame affixed perfectly to make her look as elegant as a flower in soft pink. Memories of your grandmother have been coming back — many as dreams — since the spell that kept them from your mind seemed to break apart. And now that you are in a different time it seems as though the veil over your mind has been lifted entirely. Your abuela looks just as you remember her as well, all dressed up as she liked to be, with a twinkle of mischief in her eye and a perpetual smile tucked into the corner of her mouth. As though she were intending to save it for later.

“John, you didn’t mention we had guests when you came downstairs.” Her tone is apologetic as she sails into the room and to the seat that is at her husband’s elbow. “My apologies for seemingly ignoring your arrival.”

“Not at all, my dear.” He softens measurably when he looks at her, and seems to forget everything else in the room for that moment. “Some family arrived late last night. One of my sons, and his young bride. I insisted they stay on with us.”

“Oh?” Her eyes brighten and she glances back at the two of you with a warm smile. “Then welcome. I must assume that your bride is breathing?” She asks curiously as she tilts her head. The footman brings the coffee over and pours her a cup silently.

“Max’s wife is as you and Annie are,” he informs his own wife and daughter politely. Just because they can speak freely in the house does not mean he will be crude.

“Delightful.” She nods and turns towards you with a smirk on her face. “Perhaps you will be willing to take tea with me this afternoon, then?” She asks. “John has some business to attend to and my daughter is expecting a caller.”

“I would be delighted.” Tea time has become a sacred ritual for you because of Mrs. Taylor and your grandmother. To actually sit down to tea with her is a privilege higher than you can articulate.

“Lovely.” She smiles at you and then looks over at Annie. “This is my daughter, Annie. She’s normally more engaging than this, but she’s not had her cup of coffee yet.”

“I fully sympathize.” And having seen your mother before coffee on many, many occasions, you expected nothing less. Even so, it’s the seeing her again that has you struggling to hide emotion. “And I’m…I’m very glad to meet you, Annie.”

Her smile is polite and tired. “Forgive me.” She begs. “I become more social as the meal continues but I mean no offense.” She takes a sip of her coffee and sighs. “I believe I should have been an owl.”

“There is a certain magic in seeing sunrise at its beginning instead of its end. The nighttime can have magic in its own right.” At least, that’s what you’ve always thought. Hopefully it doesn’t sound cheesy.

She perks up slightly and nods. “Yes, you are right.” You seem so familiar but she cannot place where she knows you from.

“You seem to be two peas in a pod,” Cookie observes, seemingly delighted by that revelation.

“Do you only have the one child?” Max asks, hoping to draw out more information for you to soak up about your family while you are here. “Or is she the youngest of the group?”

“We only have our darling Anne.” Cookie beams at her daughter as the two of them pick up their plates to serve their own breakfast at the side table and you follow suit. “She is our entire world, I am happy to say.”

There needs to be a conversation about how he can reproduce and other vampires cannot. Max hums. “That is good. We thought to have one, maybe two.”

“Children are an infinite blessing.” While the three mortal women are serving themselves breakfast, the man known as Mr. Brown smiles at the son he barely knows. “An unpredictable and bewildering blessing.”

“I’m sure that we will discover that blessing for ourselves sometime in the near future.” Max wonders if the child you and he will have will be more vampiric or more like you.

“Most families like ours are not so blessed.” Cookie smiles at her husband. “But we have been lucky. And you will be too, I think.”

“Hopefully so.” It’s a truthful answer. He had always assumed that he couldn’t have kids since he was technically dead. Since learning that it was possible, he’s been imagining a little girl that looks just like you, but her favorite parent is him.

“I think my husband has hopes he has not yet shared with me.” It's impossible to deny how much you like calling Max that, and you break out into a smile when you come back to the table with your plate. “Not that I mind, of course.”

“Dolly, you know that I am your willing servant.” Max hums dramatically. “If you wish to be childless and not go through the pain, we will have our friends and my vampiric offspring to surround ourselves with.”

“Not at all.” In fact, it warms you straight to the bone that he has even thought of a family with you. The fleeting thought is far more than you’ve allowed yourself, but now the fantasy seems to jump fully formed from his mind to your heart. “I think it’s very sweet.”

Mad smirks and takes a sip of his blood in the tea cup. “That’s me, my dear.” He teases. “Sweet.”

“You certainly seem to be.” Cookie offers with a polite smile. “May I ask how long you have been married?”

“Recent.” Max laughs, picking up your hand and kissing it. “Very recent. Yesterday as a matter of fact.”

“Truly?” Annie perks up at that, returning with her plate to the seat on your other side. “How romantic!”

“Yes, we were suddenly overcome with the need to marry.” Max sighs softly. “Her parents do not approve of me - I was reluctant to share my true nature with them and they found me odd.”

“So you eloped?” This seems to appeal to Annie even more, and she sighs dreamily at the sheer romance of it all. “What utter devotion.”

“I would not spend eternity without the other half of my soul.” Max nods and leans over to kiss your hand.

"Soulmates." It is your grandmother who sighs this time, and for the moment your extended family seems utterly besotted with the idea as you and Max share a sweet smile. "Well," Cookie's expression is wholeheartedly maternal. "You must stay with us as long as you need to settle yourselves and begin this next chapter of your lives. Mr. Brown may be able to help you find a new home, or lend you the ear of our architect if you choose to build."

“That is a very gracious offer.” Max didn’t expect much else, but it’s honestly a relief. He doesn’t know anything about this time and to be around his sire and your family will help him relax. He knows that they will help protect you. “We humbly accept with our thanks.”

"It is very kind of you." There was a lot more tension in your shoulders than you realized, and when they drop it's out of full relief rather than anything else. Since you have no idea how to get home, there is a remote possibility that you're going to have to buck up and make a life here in...whatever year it is.

“Think nothing of it.” Your grandfather assures you. “There is nothing like having family while you are starting out and you are now family.”

******

You find out quickly that the planning you have been doing for the Samhain Masquerade at home pales in comparison to the levels of planning that Cookie has been doing for her own. There is a small ball to be held in two days time -- something your grandmother refers to rather affectionately as a dinner dance but sounds to you to be an enormous undertaking, and then the full-blown Halloween masquerade in a few weeks time. From the look of the menus she is sifting through in the green salon and the sound of the dresses that are being made as well as the decor and band being hired? It's very clear that you have been planning a dinner dance for Samhain and not a full-blown ball. Maybe you ought to be taking notes, as you sit near your grandmother with a book and she bustles through her papers, but all you can do is watch in awe.

“Lobster bisque with a curried quail or roasted prawns and lamb with mint cream?” She asks, looking up as she decides between the two menus that appeal the most. “I don’t think that I care for the tomato custard with beef shank.”

“Prawns and lamb, I think?” Not ever having eaten quail before, you don’t feel safe recommending it over something else. “Or…that is what I would choose. Although, if you are fond of curry, it is delicious with lamb as well.”

“We will have to have a tasting menu, I believe.” She decides, finding your idea intriguing. “We will have both menus and your curried lamb. Do you have a recipe for Mrs. Taylor? Or just use a curry like with the quail?”

“I actually do have a recipe…” It might be a little too intense for Gilded Age palettes, or it might go over like gangbusters. There’s no way to tell. “I can write it out for you, if you like.”

“If you would not mind.” She asks with a smile, tilting her head imploringly.

"Of course not." The recipe had been your mother's, in fact, and now you can't help but wonder if this is how it made its way into your family in the first place. "It would be my pleasure."

“Delightful.” Cookie beams at you and offers a pen and paper. “We will have Mrs. Taylor make the menus for dinner tonight.”

"I hope very much that you will all like it." Writing with this pen is going to be a nightmare, but you valiantly dip the nib in the ink pot that she offers you and begin to write out the recipe as you remember it from cooking with your mother.

“I am sure that it will become a family favorite.” She predicts, watching you scribble. “You have such unique technique with the pen.” Cookie offers. “Do you often write letters?”

Unique technique. You almost snort at the way your grandmother politely calls out the fact that you can barely write with such a common instrument. "I did not have many people to write to," you tell her by way of neatly avoiding the question. It's not like you can explain texting.

“I see.” Her heart aches for you, finding you a wonderfully charming young woman. Reminding her so much of her own daughter that she feels very protective of you. “Well, if you and Max decide to settle elsewhere, I insist that we exchange letters.”

"I truly doubt that we will, but if it ever does happen, I hope to share many letters between us." That box of letters from her is at the forefront of your mind, and the smile on your face ends up slightly bittersweet before you remember that you're here. Here with her and with your mother.

Cookie interprets the slightly sad smile as a remembrance of your family. Perhaps you still mourn their lack of acceptance of your life. “Don’t worry, my dear.” She reaches out and pats your hand. “Family has a way of coming back to you.”

"More than anyone could possibly know." And that brings your smile back to a much brighter place instantly. "Perhaps my life with my husband will have many more surprises in store."

“Men, especially vampires, are always full of surprises.” Cookie trills and shakes her head fondly. “Even when he drives me to wail, there’s no one I would rather spend my life with than John.” She admits and reaches out to take your hand. “Max has explained that he can lengthen your life, correct? A mortal existence is just but a blink of an eye to a vampire.”

"It has not been the subject of a long conversation yet, but I do know of the possibility." You can't tell her that you know about it because of her, but it doesn't matter either way. The fact is that you'll eventually have to talk to Max about it. "But he cannot tell me if it hurts. Or if it has any other...effects."

“There is no pain involved.” Cookie assures you, happy to share the information she possesses with the wife of another vampire so close to her soulmate. “Truly, you only need to drink but a drop of his blood every day. Just a drop. I know that partaking of their…habits, sounds unsettling, but it is masked wonderfully by a cup of coffee.”

"Really?" It hadn't seemed like it should be that simple, and you tilt your head at her with a small laugh. "I expected it to be far more...dramatic. They are terribly dramatic men, after all."

“Lord, they are.” She joins in the laughter, her own bright and vivacious. “John has a flare for it and it seems he chooses others with that same inclination to change.” She huffs. “As far as effect….you will feel stronger, be stronger. I have such horrid eyesight but since I’ve been partaking in my soulmate’s blood, my eyes are perfect.”

"The strength that it lends them...we get some of it as well?" Truth be told, you hadn't considered that before. But it makes perfect sense now that you hear it out loud.

“Most of the favorable attributes we would share with them.” She explains. “However, we will never have their full strength.” She sighs. “But it does have one ill effect.”

"That seems only fair." A nod of your head asks her to go on, willing to hear whatever unsavory side effects this otherwise magical situation.

“You…” Cookie leans in, cupping her hands around her mouth as if she were telling a secret. “Have horrible smelling body functions.”

It's so unexpected that you sort of freeze, feeling like time has slowed to a surreal whirl, right before you burst out in the most unladylike laughter of your life. "Is that all?" You manage, gasping for some semblance of control between guffaws. "Why--we deal with that on a monthly basis anyway. That hardly seems to make a difference at all!"

“I suppose so.” She straightens and wrinkles her nose. “John sometimes cannot be around me, the smell is too much for his sensitive nose.”

"That seems almost useful," you joke, still laughing harder than you can control. "It gives some time alone, doesn't it?"

She stares at you for a moment and then gives a very un-ladylike snort. “I suppose you are correct, Dolly.” She muses, finding your way of thinking refreshingly bright.

"There is nothing wrong with a little solitude now and then." While you would never ask for it from Max, there are plenty of times when he's off doing other things and you fill your time on your own. That's just how life works.

“Individuals need to be free to pursue things that fulfill them.” She agrees. “My coven accepts John, but they also know he will not be there every time. Society does not know about his…nature.”

“You have been very lucky, I think.” With your grandmother’s hand still holding yours, it’s hard not to be overly emotional. There is something in your chest just aching to burst out but as long as you’re here you won’t be able to let it. Knowing even a small part of her story makes you feel oddly like the Grim Reaper in ways you dearly hate, but can’t ever show. “I hope the rest of the life you choose continues to be happy.”

“Even if it’s not, it will be my journey.” She hums softly, squeezing your hands gently. “Every journey, good and bad, teaches us. Helps us learn for the next life.”

“Maybe you’re right.” It’s such a bittersweet thing to hear from someone who has already begun their next life journey, but you offer her a smile and nod. “That is a soothing way to think of it.”

“Isn’t it?” She smiles softly. “The only problem is; I don’t know when John would meet up with me in the next life.” She admits. “Even though he is immortal, and very much older than I, we are joined in this life and every life we will have.”

“Then perhaps it is you who will find your way back to him?” You suggest, hoping it sounds as soothing to her ear as it feels to you. “And not the other way around? I know…whatever comes next…I will do everything I can to find my way back to Max.”

“Your paths have been destined to be intertwined.” Cookie sighs lovingly, her own eyes soft and dreamy. “Every person should find their soulmate and their happiness. Although the two are not mutually exclusive to one another.”

“I think that’s very important to remember.” And bittersweet, considering you know that it will be forgotten along the way. When your mother falls in love with a man who isn’t her soulmate. Well after that man is taken from her.

“Are you feeling peckish?” She asks after a moment. “I feel as if we should have some tea.”

“Tea is always welcome.” The morning seems to be that much longer when breakfast is served sharply at 7:30am, and with more than an hour left before luncheon, a cup of tea sounds perfect. Down the hall you can hear the soft sound of laughter and conversation from the library, and you can’t help but smile. Your mother’s laugh sounds so much more polite in this day and age. Which makes perfect sense, considering how young women were supposed to act. “Do you suppose Annie and her caller would join us? Or would that be imposing?”

“We can see.” She agrees with a small smirk on her face. “If she can drag herself away from Emmanuel long enough to take tea.”

It’s impossible not to stare when the name crosses your grandmother’s lips, realizing that the man your mother has been talking to in the library for more than a half hour (well over the societally-correct fifteen minutes) is her soulmate. The most you can manage is a weak “Oh?” Out of the need to make some sound.

“It seems as if he will be a regular caller.” She continues on, not noticing your reaction. “He is from a nice family and my husband is impressed with his business dealings.”

“So, it is a…a good match?” You remember Yayo speaking of it with fondness. Saying that your mother had loved her soulmate and that was why he had taken such drastic action. This seems like it is the very beginning of that attachment and your heart aches knowing what your mother has yet to go through.

“Very much so.” She nods. “My daughter is a very powerful witch and will take a strong man to stand by her side.”

“And a good one, I hope.” Never having met Emmanuel, you can’t say. But you’ve seen what strength looks like in good and bad men all your life. “Strength in a bad man can break even the strongest of women. Not help her.”

“You are right.” Cookie nods seriously. “It has happened before and it will happen again, I am sorry to say.”

“A tale as old as time, some would say.” Even if you hate yourself for the reference just a tiny bit, it’s too good to resist.

“Oftentimes the best of tales are older than time, just as some of the worst.” Cookie muses with a wry smile on her face. “I have seen time pass far more than most and I believe that to be true.”

“I will trust your word,” you tell her honestly. Your grandmother has seen far more of the world and far more of humanity than you have and you both know that even at face value. “My life has been sheltered until now, for better or for worse.”

“Then we will have to make sure that under the protective shield of your husband, you live the life you wish.” She promises.

“Then I suppose I ought to decide what it is that I wish for.” Whatever it is, it will have Max and it will have dancing. Anything else that life decides for you is still very much up in the air.

“Agreed.” She smirks slightly and her toe presses the button that is discreetly placed near the table leg by her chair. Allowing her to summon Mrs. Taylor.

Mere seconds later the vampire housekeeper arrives in the doorway of the drawing room with her hands folded and an expectant smile. “Ma’am?”

“Please ask Annie and her guest if they would join Dolly and myself for tea?” She asks, smiling at the housekeeper. “And we have a new recipe for you to try.”

“Of course, ma’am.” The recipe is a surprise, but Mrs. Taylor accepts the paper from Cookie with only a slight look of disbelief at the handwriting before she curtsies lightly and turns the corner toward the library.

“Shall we adjourn to the morning room?” She asks with a small smile. “Give the lovers a moment alone to discuss having to be around someone else?”

“It’s always a rude awakening. To have to remember that there are other people in the world when you are in your own little bubble.” That expression probably doesn’t exist here, but it’s probably self-explanatory. Hopefully.

“You have the most charming colloquialisms I have ever heard.” Cookie hums in delight. “It has been so refreshing having you here. I feel as if we will be lifelong friends.”

The best you can do is sigh your relief that she doesn’t call you out on being odd, and instead embraces it. So you smile warmly. “And perhaps those lives will be much longer than other friends could ever hope for.”

“The advantage of being with a vampire.” She laughs. “One of many, although I’m sure you are finding out the others when you retire to your rooms at night.”

“Oh, um…” You really have to wonder how odd it is that you claim to be married to Max but haven’t breached that particular nighttime activity yet. Thank the gods your abuela can’t feel the heat rolling off you as it rises in your cheeks. “I—of course…”

“Do not worry, we are not as uptight as some families might be about that sort of thing.” She assures you, standing up and offering you her arm. “If you wish to talk to another woman about those things, you just come to me anytime.” She is assured that your mother never spoke to you about a wife’s relations with her husband behind closed doors, and she doesn’t wish for you to be ignorant.

“That is most generous of you.” And it is, really, except she can’t possibly understand how awkward it is to have that offer made by your grandmother.

She can sense you won’t but she just pats your hand. “Well, we will talk about something else, shall we?”

Like a merciful saving grace, your mother appears in the doorway a moment later followed by a tall man with masses of wavy, dark brown hair and crystal blue eyes. It’s pretty clear your mother’s physical type is tall and strong, though. If the similarities between Emmanuel and your father are anything to go by. “You sent for us, Mother?”

Your grandmother tuts playfully. “You act as if you have been summoned to a hearing, rather than tea.” She teases. “I was hoping you and Emmanuel would join Dolly and I for tea?”

“Of course.” Even though she says it with all manner and politeness, you recognize the tone from your mother as placating and bite back a smile. She called it her ‘PTA voice’ for when she had to deal with the other moms at your schools when you were growing up. Apparently it had existed long before her involvement in any PTA. “Mr. Aubert was just saying how lovely today would be for a walk,” Annie tells the room as if it was some momentous declaration. “Perhaps you could spare me this afternoon, Mother? To accompany him?”

“I think an afternoon walk after tea would be a very delightful undertaking.” She grins because she knows that her daughter would like to be alone with her beau. “Perhaps Dolly and I will join you.” She has no intention of joining, simply meddling to meddle.

“Oh!” Annie’s head whips back to look at Emmanuel and reminds herself to smile before looking back at her mother. “Of course. If you would like to join us, you are both very welcome.” It’s clear that wasn’t her hope, but she isn’t going to say no. Saying no might have her chance at a walk revoked altogether.

“Although….” She tilts her head towards you. “Dolly and I still have so much to plan for the ball. Since she has volunteered her help.” She reconsiders. “It would be best if we stayed and continued to work, wouldn’t it?”

“There is considerable planning to do.” You manage to pick up on it almost right away, the way abuela Cookie is messing with her daughter, and you even manage not to crack a smile or laugh. “Perhaps it would be best. Will you be terribly disappointed if we are forced to stay behind?”

If your mother could look any happier, she would be crying tears of joy. Bobbling her head quickly, she’s not even looking over at Emmanuel. “That seems like a proper plan, I would hate for our outing to put you behind. Perhaps another time?”

“Yes. Another time.” Cookie’s face shows no trace of teasing or amusement until her daughter looks away and shoots you a sly smile. “What a pity. But I am sure you are more than capable of being a charming companion for Mr. Aubert.”

“So, tea?” Your mother looks around for the tea set eagerly. As if beginning it will get it over with quickly. She is eager to be alone with Emmanuel.

“Yes, miss.” The footman that appears with the tray and sets it on the low table in the center of the room. “Thank you, Franklin. We can manage for ourselves.” Cookie smiles when she dismisses the footman, but it is definitely a dismissal.

“Emmanuel, allow me to fix you a cup of tea.” Annie flirts, smiling winsomely at her caller and moving over to the tea quickly.

“Mr. Emmanuel Aubert, may I present Mrs. Dolly Phillips. Her husband is family to Mr. Brown and they will be staying with us for the foreseeable future.” Ever the gracious hostess, your grandmother makes you sound as grand and important in her introduction as royalty and you nod politely as you have now seen several women in this time period do. Shaking hands seems to be considered something quite intimate so you refrain from offering the gesture like you normally would. Seeing your mother act exactly like a teenager with a crush is sort of sweet, but you don’t comment on it at all for now. Hopefully having the other guest in the room get a bit talkative will take some of the focus off of you. “How long are you in Newport for, Mr. Aubert?”

“Business brought me to Newport for the next three months.” He explains, looking towards Annie again with a smile. “But I think I will be staying longer for personal reasons.”

"That's wonderful to hear." And more than a little heartbreaking, considering Yayo told you what happens to them. But right now your mother is happy. And being able to sit next to her again? See her smile like that? It's everything.

“Quite.” Emmanuel’s gaze at Annie is nothing short of adoring and he’s already sent for the heirloom ring that his grandmother had made him promise would rest on his spouse's finger.

“And…what sort of business are you in? If you don’t mind me asking.” So much curiosity overwhelms you at this other possible direction your mother’s life could have taken. It’s a little maddening but fascinating at the same time.

“Railroads.” Emmanuel answers simply. “My family builds railroad cars. My grandfather is George Pullman.”

“Really?” That’s probably too enthusiastic a reaction to be considered ladylike, but you weren’t expecting such a fascinating answer. “I—that is—how remarkable!”

“Then you have heard of our sleeper cars?” He asks with a proud smile. “Have you traveled in one?”

“I have not been so lucky yet.” Pullman cars being a thing of the past — now that you’re in the past maybe you’ll have a chance. “But I saw a photograph of one printed in a newspaper once.” In the archives at Vanderbilt, there had been loads of old newspapers on microfiche. It had been something of a hobby to go through them for little tidbits, and you ended up finding some fun things there.

“Then we will have to rectify that.” He smiles at you with the excitement of a man being able to show off a favorite toy. “My personal car is at the rail station. Perhaps we can take a small trip to showcase the luxurious ride available?” He clears his throat. “Your husband is welcome to join us, of course. As well as you and your husband, Mrs. Brown.” He adds politely.

“Alas, I think perhaps Mr. Brown and I will be too busy to join you.” Cookie smiles a very knowing — scheming — little grin. “But perhaps Mr. and Mrs. Phillips would be entertained by a train journey? There is time yet before the masquerade, if you choose to go sooner rather than later. A few days away does young people a world of good, without interfering with any of your responsibilities.”

“Would I be able to go?” Annie’s eyes are wide and pleading, wanting to spend as much time as possible with Emmanuel.

The knowing smile on your grandmother’s face is everything, and she nods once in polite agreement to her daughter’s plea. “I think it would be lovely for you and Dolly to make friends,” she hums, pleased with the idea. “As long as your father agrees, you may depart on Sunday as long as you return again before the Astor’s ball next Friday.”

“Mama, thank you!” Rushing forward, she kisses her mother’s cheek happily and nearly buzzes with excitement.

“Mind you behave yourself.” Cookie accepts her daughter’s love with glee, though, before going back to demurely sipping her tea. “Mrs. Phillips shall be my spy while you are away.”

“There will be nothing to report.” Annie promises, nearly giddy and she rushes around to hug you as well. “We will become the best of friends during our tour.”

“Wherever you would like to go.” Hugging your mother again — despite the corsets, despite her not knowing you yet, despite every obstacle — nearly has you in tears and you have to blink them away as fast as lightning so no one notices. “Whatever you would like, Annie.” It doesn’t even matter that using her first name is a foreign concept to bend your mind around. You’re getting to hug your mother again.

She beams and nods, happy that you are willing to be a chaperone so she can spend more time with Emmanuel. “Perhaps tomorrow morning, we can walk through the gardens together?” She asks softly.

“That sounds wonderful.” So wonderful you could damn near cry, but you’ll save that for the privacy of your own room tonight, where you know Max will understand.

“Then we have a date.” She had picked up on some of Max’s unusual phrases at breakfast, liking them immensely. Nodding and letting go of you, she rushes back over to her caller’s side.

“Wisely and slow.” Cookie says, in a moment that would seem rather enigmatic if it didn’t immediately trigger a core memory somewhere in your mind that you hadn’t even given a flicker of recognition to in years. “They stumble that run fast.” Both you and Annie finish the line of Shakespeare in unison, exchanging a look of surprise immediately afterward.

Annie is the first to break, giggling and humming playfully. “Did your mother dole out wisdom from Shakespeare as well?”

“Rather constantly.” And now you know exactly where she got it from. “And took me to the plays, as well.”

“How utterly delightful.” Annie nods. “Mother always makes sure Father secures tickets. Experiencing Shakespeare is a requirement of being a cultured lady.”

“My mother thought so as well.” And how you wish you could just dive across the room and hug her and just never let go. Or just say anything. But you promised Yayo it would be a secret.

“Well, I am glad that you are also well versed.” Your grandmother beams at the two of you. “This is like having two daughters, if only for a while.”

“I’m very glad you think so.” For you, the dream of seeing your family again is very real. It only makes sense that they recognize those traits in you, as well.

She smiles softly and nods, aware that your own parting from your family must be bittersweet for you. “Well, I think that we are going to have a marvelous masquerade this year, don’t you?” She asks you.

“It sounds like it will be wonderful.” If you ever get back to your own time to plan another, the second Samhain Masquerade you plan is going to be a hell of a lot fancier, you know that for damn sure.

“Mother enjoys planning events.” Annie offers with a proud little smirk on her face. “No one would dare turn down an invitation, not even the Astors.”

“I know I can speak for my husband when I say we are both honored to be included.” The morning for Max has been time alone with his sire, and you know that this afternoon when you have to venture into town to get fitted for clothes he’ll be talking your ear off about everything that’s been said.

“You will not regret it. The salmon pâté is probably my most favorite bite of all the buffet.” The other woman practically moans at the prospect.

“Then I dearly look forward to it.” It seems like Mrs. Taylor has always been both cook and housekeeper here and you know her cooking is impeccable. She’s made things for you that you had never imagined trying before and they’ve always been wonderful. “You’re very fortunate to have such a talented chef.”

“Mrs. Taylor has a passion for cuisine that I have never seen before.” Cookie answered honestly. “If she were born a man, she would have been accepted to the top culinary schools.”

“Perhaps she should start a school for women cooks. Share her talent with any who wish to learn and let the pool of talented women become talented, trained women.” Just because you know for a fact that it does not happen between this time and yours, doesn’t mean it never could. And it doesn’t mean it shouldn’t either. Mrs. Taylor would be a wonderful teacher.

“That would be something she would adore.” Mrs. Brown admits. “She cannot have children of her own, so the people she cares for become her children in a way. I know students would be no different.”

“Perhaps one day.” Annie chirps with a smile. She knows that something drastic would have to happen to separate her mother from their housekeeper.

“Perhaps.” Your grandmother hums softly with a smile on her face. “For now, we get to sample her delightful creativity. Why Mrs. Phillips had brought her a new recipe to try.”

“It is nothing. Really.” A bit of bashfulness has you not wanting to have your offering pried into. It all happened by accident anyway.

“Nonsense. Mrs. Taylor was floating around the kitchen with glee.” Even if she hadn’t seen the other woman, she knows how she reacts to new challenges.

“Then I hope the dish turns out to be a popular one. So she may enjoy her triumph.” You offer, and just let the facts settle over you privately and silently, that the reality of time travel is very weird.

“We will find out tonight.” She reminds you with a smile before she takes a bite of her finger sandwich.

******

"I guess they aren't up yet." Allison shrugs her giant cardigan a little closer around her body, overcorrecting for the lack of body heat from Eddie even though her vampire boyfriend is wrapped around her like an ivy vine as they slowly descend the stairs to the dining room for breakfast. There's no sign of you or Max being up or around the house, so the logical conclusion is that you've chosen to sleep in and Max is by your side. "More breakfast for us, then," she looks up at Eddie with a smile. "Or just me? Are you eating with me this morning?"

Eddie smiles down at her, amazed that she is here, that she’s in his arms. He hadn’t even heard Max’s car come home, so apparently he had been completely preoccupied. “I’ll eat with you.” He promises. “I love eating with you.”

"There's an entendre there somewhere," she hums, grinning when he leans down to kiss her halfway down the stairs.

“Didn’t think you’d want Mrs. Taylor to hear what else I love eating.” He teases her softly, grinning against her lips.

“Menace.” She’s giggling though, and pinching Eddie’s side before she starts down the second half of the stairwell. “You’re an absolute menace, Edward Cowper.”

“That’s me.” He never thought he would be classified as a menace, that was thoroughly Max’s area of expertise but Allison brings it out of him. “A menace.”

“Something smells like paradise.” The scent wafting up from the kitchen is rich and fruity and cinnamony at the same time, and Allison groans happily. “I’m getting spoiled being in this house all the time. With the Menace and the best cooking in the whole world.”

“That is nice to hear.” Mrs. Taylor bustles through the door, a distracted frown on her face as she looks at the pair. “Did Max and Dolly indicate that they would be lodging elsewhere last night?” Her question is abrupt, showing none of her usual tact.

“They didn’t come home?” Eddie’s frown matches Mrs. Taylor’s instantly. “I figured Dolly was just still asleep.”

“Max’s car is not in the garage and Renee said the bed was undisturbed.” She tells them, her jaw set in a very unhappy stance.

“They only went to Portsmouth.” The younger vampire’s frown deepens and he pulls out his phone to see if he’s missed a text but there’s nothing there. “There’s no reason they shouldn’t have come home.”

“That is what I am afraid of.” Mrs. Taylor frowns even more, her fangs descending in worry.

“If anything had happened to Dolly, Max would have brought her home instantly,” Allison reasons, though her arm around Eddie’s waist tightens with nerves.

Unless he couldn’t is the unspoken fear that passes between the two vampires in the room. Making the normally calm and collective Eddie ruffle slightly with a shudder.

“If you are wondering after his brother and his soulmate, they won’t be returning for some time.” From the darkened doorway, his voice is quiet but firm

Allison’s eyes widen at the sound of the new voice, unaware that anyone else is there and her head swings around to peer at the voice. “Why?”

“They are traveling.” Is the enigmatic answer, as the master of the house enters the room with one long, sure step.

“Where would they have gone?” Eddie asks, but a look of understanding immediately passes over Mrs. Taylor’s face. “I see.”

“Not far.” His sire assures him, seemingly nonplussed by the concern on Eddie’s face. “But I am afraid it will be some weeks before they return.” His eyes slide over to Mrs. Taylor, who nods. “Allison,” he addresses her without shifting his gaze. “You will take up Dolly’s place in finalizing plans for the ball with the coven. Mrs. Taylor will tend to things in the house. She knows what to do.”

“I- me?” She asks, slightly alarmed by the presence of Cookie’s soulmate. She has not seen the vampire since her funeral.

“Yes, my dear.” He regards her with the warmest expression he’s capable of this morning, knowing what has befallen you last night in those woods. “Cookie taught you how, and I know you have been helping Dolly. You will manage it well and have Mrs. Taylor to keep you moving forward.” His cool hand touches her arm and he nods as if to say it will all be well. “My soulmate regarded you as something of a second granddaughter, you know. I know you will make her proud.”

“I- I don’t know what to say.” Allison says, teary eyed at the beautiful words. “I will make sure that everything is perfect for Dolly and Max’s return.”

“Second granddaughter?” Eddie frowns, not quite understanding and looking to his sire curiously. “I didn’t know Cookie had a first granddaughter.”

The elder vampire smiles enigmatically. “The cat is out of the bag.” He hums and shrugs slightly. “Dolly is our granddaughter.” He reveals as simply as if he was stating the weather outside and not some surprising news.

“I knew something didn’t make sense!” Allison nearly leaps out of her seat but anchors herself by grabbing Eddie’s hand in her eager surprise. “Cookie would never have left this house to some far-flung, unknown relative!”

“You are correct.” The smirk on his face is both slightly sad and proud. “In order to break the spell, my darling Cookie decided to give up her immortal time to allow Dolly to know all of you and myself.” He pauses. “Once she is settled, I will end my existence and find her in my next life.”

The shock of that announcement sucks the air out of the room instantly, leaving even the undead breathless as Eddie’s jaw hangs wide open and Mrs. Taylor grasps the nearest piece of furniture in an uncharacteristic moment of uneasiness. She doesn’t question him, knowing how devoted he had been to his soulmate for hundreds of years, but she clasps her hand over her heart as though it were breaking. “You…” Eddie swallows air he has no need for, the harsh sound echoing in his chest. “You have an entire family here,” he protests, knowing it sounds weak — and maybe it is weak. But there are only so much family he will ever be able to have in his afterlife, and they are all because of his sire.

“I do.” His decision was not made lightly, and Cookie had protested against it, as much as he had protested her decision. “And every one of you is special to me, but she is the other half of my soul.” He reminds Eddie. “The Devil made me walk this earth for over a thousand years before my soulmate was ever born. I cannot walk another thousand without her.” He refuses to, is the real answer, but he is more dramatic than that. “I know that my chosen successor will fill my role fantastically and keep our family together.”

“Then you have already chosen.” Mrs. Taylor nods in understanding and recognition, as solemn as it is.

“All will be revealed when it is time.” He intones seriously. “It will be a joyous occasion amongst my vampiric offspring.”

______

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[kittythelitter]

I've seen Steve goes back in time and befriends Robin early fics. But now I'm thinking about dweeby band geek closeted friendless lesbian Robin Buckley trying to find a way to get King Steve Pre-character-development-concussions Harrington to listen to her and help her keep Barb from dying along with everyone else.

Time travel AU where theyre supposed to get a do-over like they're sent back in time from the end of season 4 to when it all started for them but for whatever reason Robin remembers in like August of 83. And she's like. It's fine I can wait like two months for Steve and Nancy and the kids to be in the loop and then she sees Barb and realizes that depending on what the catalyst is for them to remember it might be too late for Barb. So she decides to try to interfere ahead of time.

She like decides she knows Steve so well and he knows her so well that she's more likely going to be able to wake him up. So she like approaches him and like offers to tutor him and like. Knows too much about him and is a rambler who struggles to lie so she comes off as a stalker. And it's angsty and funny and devastating in turns. And he kind of believes her at some points but doesn't remember. And then she like. Accidentally comes out to him and they bond and become real friends again and then season 1 starts happening and everyone's remembering. But Steve doesn't.

Maybe it was too many blows to the head over the years. Maybe it was because Robin diverted his life so much that he can't remember. But he's still Steve. But he also doesn't remember what everyone else does.

And it's angsty and everyone's like reflecting on their relationships with Steve and how they can regain them when he doesn't remember and they do. And some of them blame Robin but like. Barb's alive and will got rescued early and everyone else remembers so they are way better equipped to go thru this again without as many losses and suffering. But Steve doesn't remember.

Anyway Steve remembers when they win. Or maybe when he gets hit in the head for the first time since they came back and he just managed to go so long without getting hit in the head and it was his trigger. Or he still gets drugged by the Russians and it all comes back in the worst most disorienting way possible. I have a lot of ideas.

[True loves kiss! Eddie version. Platonic cheek kiss Robin version. Joyce or Claudia giving him a motherly kiss on the cheek or the top of his head version. He unthinkingly drops a kiss on the top of one of the kids heads in a fraught moment where he's comforting them and suddenly remembers. There's a lot of love to choose from. ]

It has a happy ending and maybe there's Steddie but it's primarily a platonic soulmates Stobin idea.

But before the happy ending there's a lot of angst and like conflict revolving around all these people having their very specific very close relationships with Steve and he just. Doesn't remember them.

And of course there's a moment where someone says something devastating about how it doesn't really matter if Steve remembers the monsters and upsidedown stuff because it's not like he's ever been useful in the planning stages. He doesn't need to remember to swing a bat. Like really going for calling Steve dumb in a state of distress because they're really upset that Steve doesn't remember them and they're lashing out. I'm thinking Dustin or Mike but really there's a lot of good devastating options that hurt in different ways.

[enemiestolovers4k]

Harry after he won the war and died only to find out he became the Master of Death and he’s being sent him back in time to when Voldemort was in school cause apparently their soulmates:

Harry when Voldemort Tom is a relentless, charming flirt who is very much sane and is intent on seducing him to his side and won’t stop until he’s fully his:

[amimochi]

Fellow Travelers Omegaverse AU (that no one asked for 😂)

On the outside Tim seems like the perfect image of a beta, he's hardworking, religious and plain. But he actually hiding a big secret, not only he's homosexual but he's also an omega both things that can get him fired from the state government in the 50s. His secret was uncovered by Hawk, a war hero alpha whom he met on election night.

More HC below cut! 👇

- Tim was using drug/scent blocker to hide his scent

- Hawk and Tim are a fated pair so the scent blocker doesn't work on Hawk (Thus, Tim's surprised Pikachu face)

- Hawk is arranged to marry Lucy, another Alpha from an influential family in DC

- Lucy became pregnant, and they parted ways in 1957, soon after Tim learns that he's also pregnant with Hawk but he doesn't want to ruin Hawk's family so he keeps quiet

- Tim named him Jackson, while Lucy named her baby girl Kimberly

- In the 1960s, Hawk and Lucy are going through a divorce. Hawk helps Tim and his child hide from the FBI.

- Hawk feels a strange familiarity with Jackson right away but he doesn't figure it out until later, while Jackson realises it within a few days he meets Hawk.

This Omegaverse AU will not leave my mind so I just drew it. I think we need more Omegaverse AU in the fandom, what does everyone say? 👀✨

[lizzieolseniskinda]

TOM RIDDLE - soulmates don’t exist PT. 1

SDE MASTERLIST - x FEM!reader (POC!friendly)

SUMMARY: everything changes for you when snape gives you a certain memory. will you be able to do the task that dumbledore has given you?

WORD COUNT: 2.2K

GENRE: angst-ish (but not really)

CONTENT WARNING: soulmate & time travel au, english is not my first language

IB: people who used to make this wattpad stories, i used to ate those upppp🫣 & i love the tom hughes, tom riddle smmm

The air was thick; it smelled like blood and burning wood everywhere. The echoes of the battle were ringing faintly in the distance. Hidden away from the chaos, Severus Snape lay crumpled on the cold floor, his body slick with blood, life slipping away from him with each passing second.

Voldemort had left him to die, discarded like a broken tool. Nagini’s venom coursed through his veins, its poison cruelly efficient, and yet Snape’s eyes remained sharp. His gaze was fixated on Harry, standing just a few steps away, his face pale with shock and confusion. Snape’s focus wavered as he turned his eyes weakly, finding you—your form trembling as you knelt beside him, your heart shattering at the sight.

You might not have the best bond with a teacher like Snape, but never would you wish death upon someone.

“Take it… you both…” Snape rasped, his voice a whisper and urgent. Deep within his cloak, he pulled out one small vial and one small potion-like bottle. His hands shook as he reached for his own tear-streaked face. Slowly he collected the silvery drops that clung there, memories shimmering with an otherworldly glow.

Harry knelt down beside you now, watching in silence, his confusion giving way to a deeper understanding. Snape’s dark eyes locked into yours as he extended the vial towards you.

“You need to.. know the truth.”

Tears of your own spilled down your cheeks as you took the vial from his trembling hand. “You… were meant to change it all,” he whispered hoarsely.

“You can save him… save everyone. But only if you understand what must be done, the sacrifices you’ll have to make.”

The weight of the vial suddenly felt heavier than before, as you sat beside Snape’s lifeless body, his final words echoing in your mind.

Harry’s face was pale and grief-stricken. His eyes met yours and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“We have to go,” Harry said, his voice hoarse, snapping you out of your daze. He looked down at the vial of silvery liquid in your hand. “The Pensieve. We need to see what he left for us.”

“Yeah,” was the only thing you could mutter out, your throat tight with a mixture of fear and urgency. Without another word, both of you scrambled to your feet.

Fires flickered in the distance, casting eerie shadows across the grounds and hallways as the final battle raged on.

Harry led the way, his steps quick, with you right behind him, clutching the vial so tightly in your hand that you thought it might shatter at any given moment.

“We have to hurry,” he urged over his shoulder. “Whatever’s in these memories, it’s important. Snape wouldn’t have—” his voice caught in his throat.

You only nodded, your mind spinning with Snape's last words. “You can save him… but only if you know what must be done.”

Save who? Harry? Voldemort? Was there a part of Tom Riddle still left inside the monster he had become? And how were you connected to him? Why you in the first place?

You reached the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Harry barely paused to spit out the password.

“Sherbet lemon!”

The gargoyle sprang to life, and the two of you rushed up the spiral staircase, out of breath.

Dumbledore's office had a heavy scent of old parchment and burning candle wax filling the air. You and Harry stood side by side, breathing heavily from the sprint through the castle. The weight of the vial, now emptied, felt almost meaningless in your hands. Your heart pounded in your chest.

Harry held your gaze briefly, his eyes filled with an emotion you couldn't quite place. “Let's do this,” he said, his voice straining slightly. You nodded in return, your throat too tight to speak. Together, you leaned over the Pensieve, letting yourselves be pulled into the swirling memories.

The world around you started shifting, and suddenly, you were in the same office, just a few things placed differently.

Before you could take in your surroundings further, you noticed him—Severus Snape, somewhat younger, his dark hair still hanging around his face. You and Harry exchanged a look. Snape stood rigid before Dumbledore's desk, his expression (as always) unreadable.

“This is madness, Albus,” Snape spat, his voice low and venomous. “You're going to send her back in time, knowing she will not be able to return? She will be trapped there—forever. A time-turner cannot help her.”

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, a quill in his hand as he gazed at Snape with a somber, almost mournful expression. “I understand your anger, Severus, but there is no other way.”

You took note of how Snape looked younger but not that much younger. You saw the gash in his leg and guessed this would've taken place during first year.

“She doesn't know, does she?” Snape's voice cut off your train of thought. “No, she does not,” Albus replied softly. “And it is better that way, for now.”

'She'—that was you. This memory was about you. You felt your heart skip a beat.

“You're asking her to do the impossible—to change him. Tom Riddle cannot be saved. He was already lost when you met him in the orphanage.”

“Perhaps,” Dumbledore replied. “But she must try. If there is even the smallest chance to alter the course of his soul, it is through her.”

Snape gave a slight scoff. “If she is to succeed, she must know everything!” You never realized how much he cared for you and your friends.

“But you told her nothing of this?”

Dumbledore's eyes flickered towards the parchment in front of him. “When the time is right, she shall know what to do.” Dumbledore sighed, rising from his chair. “And do not worry, she will know, Severus, but not before the right time.”

Snape's face twisted in frustration. “And if she fails? What then?”

“Her connection to Tom Riddle is delicate, and should she go back into the past with full knowledge, it could endanger everything. The balance between them is fragile,” Dumbledore explained.

Harry's hand clenched beside you, his breath quickening. “Go back in time?” he whispered, echoing the questions that were swirling in your own mind. Snape turned sharply, “You're asking too much of her,” he said through gritted teeth. “Sending her back in time, to Tom Riddle's fifth year... If she doesn't succeed in making him—”

“—experience love,” Dumbledore finished. “Love is the key, Severus.” You felt as though the ground had dropped out from beneath you. Tom Riddle—love? That would be impossible. Is this what Dumbledore had planned for you all along? To go back into the past, to love a young Tom Riddle before he became Lord Voldemort?

“How... how could anyone make Riddle love someone?” you whispered to Harry.

“You are condemning her to live out her days in a time that's not her own! She won't even be able to return! You've bound her to the past,” Snape stressed.

The headmaster's gaze grew sharper, though there was still that calm weight behind it. “She is connected to Tom Riddle in ways we cannot fully understand. If there is hope for him, it lies in her hands—her influence. But no, Severus, she cannot come back. The magic involved in sending her back is... irreversible.”

“You will send her to a monster! To a boy who will grow to become the Dark Lord,” Snape sneered. "What happens if she doesn't succeed in her task?”

Dumbledore's eyes closed for a moment. “If she cannot reach him... if his heart remains as closed as it is now, then yes, Voldemort will rise like he did. And our fate is sealed.”

Snape looked up at him. “You truly believe she can save him?”

Dumbledore's eyes glinted, the faintest trace of hope dancing behind them. “I believe she is the only one who can.” His voice dropped to a whisper, “She will remain in that time. She will live there, bound to the past...”

After the sensation finally stopped, you and Harry found yourselves back in the present. The glow of the Pensieve slowly faded, leaving only the silence of the room.

You stood frozen for a moment, trying to process what you had just witnessed — the conversation between Snape and Dumbledore. The weight of it hung heavy in the air, pressing down on you both.

“If you go, you can't come back,” Harry whispered, almost to himself, as though saying it out loud would make it reality. His face was pale. “Once you go back into Riddle's time... you're stuck there. Forever.”

“And if I fail...” your voice shook as the truth finally settled in. “If I can't change him, you'll have to battle him. Harry, you'll die.”

His eyes snapped to yours, and for a moment, he seemed as lost as you were. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing in front of Dumbledore's desk. “I don't understand, Dumbledore... Snape... they planned all of this—” he stopped, turning to face you. “How are you supposed to change Tom Riddle?”

You shook your head. “I don't know, Harry. I don't know how I'm supposed to make him love or... stop him from becoming Voldemort. What if I can't even do it?”

Harry stepped toward you, his expression softening, though his own fear was palpable. “You've faced worse, right? You've fought Death Eaters. You survived this war with us. If anyone can do it, it's you,” Harry finished saying. “But I hate that it has to be you.”

The weight of his words hung between the two of you.

“I don't—Dumbledore said we were connected somehow, that we're soul-bound, basically... but what if that's not enough?”

Harry's jaw tightened, frustration breaking through his calm. “It's unfair! It's always unfair with him!” Harry raised his arms. “He expects too much. First me, now you! He's always asking us to make these impossible choices.”

You nodded, and your heart ached at Harry's raw emotion. “I can't let you die, Harry,” you stated softly. “I can't stand by and watch that happen.”

He shook his head fiercely, stepping closer so his hands gripped your shoulders. “And I can't let you go back in time, knowing you'll never come home.”

For a moment, the two of you stood like that, caught between the devastating choice laid before you. You could feel the pull of what needed to be done.

“If this is the only way, then we'll find a way to make it work. We'll figure out how to change him, how to make him love. We'll do it together,” Harry nodded, sure of his plan.

You smiled through tears. “Harry, once I go, I'll be alone.”

His grip tightened on your shoulders. “You won't be alone. You've never been alone in this. You'll have everything we've ever fought for — the memories. And more than that... you'll have hope.”

Tears were threatening to leave your eyes, but you swallowed them back. You nodded at Harry.

Harry took the small potion out of his jacket pocket. The liquid inside was an ethereal, shimmering gold, glowing faintly in the dim of the room. The potion, the one that would send you back in time — and trap you there.

Your hands shook as you took the potion from Harry. The glass felt cold in your palm. The moment had come, and it was terrifying. Once you drank it, you knew there would be no turning back, no returning to the world and people you once knew. No more friends, no more future. Only the past, which would become your future.

Harry shifted beside you. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice low. There was a plea in his words, though he wasn't trying to stop you. He couldn’t. He knew as well as you did that this was the only way.

“I don't have a choice,” you whispered back, your voice shaking. You gave him a small nod, though your heart still pounded in your chest. You uncorked the bottle. The faint scent of something sweet filled the air. The liquid seemed almost alive, swirling around.

You took one last look at Harry, locking in the image of his face — strong, determined, your best friend. This might be the last time you'd ever see him.

“I'll miss you,” you whispered, barely able to say the words. Harry's eyes glistened, but he gave a small, resolute nod. “I'll miss you too.”

With a final breath, you raised the vial to your lips. The liquid was warm, surprisingly smooth as it slid down your throat. At first, it didn't feel like anything was happening, but then the warmth began to spread, starting in your chest and slowly moving through your body.

The world around you started to blur, and a dizzying sensation took over. Harry's voice was distant now, “It's happening.”

Your vision blurred, and you could feel time itself shifting, bending, pulling you away from the present and hurling you backward into the past.

It was overwhelming, as though your existence was being unraveled and re-made on a different planet. You feared you might lose yourself entirely.

And then, everything came to a hurtling stop. The warm feeling of the potion faded, replaced by a cool, crisp breeze against your skin. You opened your eyes, heart still pounding, and took in your surroundings.

It felt so familiar, yet completely different. Hogwarts stood tall, the grounds more pristine, untouched by the war, by the battles you had grown so accustomed to. The castle's windows shimmered, and the air smelled fresh.

At last, you found yourself in the past.

[efrancois]

imagine having to explain what tomarry is out-loud to someone who has only watched the movies and never opened ao3 in their life

[blumenflowergelb]

Love and Soulmates (1/2)

• Well, this day is as good as any other to be a ten name days old, Yn thought. He was sitting on his bed, staring and wondering what he had done to get this. If he was honest with himself, it was theoretically a good thing. However reality was often disappointing. He was in his ten years old body but with his seventeen years old mind. Of course, his actual age does not seem a lot but he was through a lot of shit; from escaping to Bravos to fighting while the Second Long Night to seeing the First Dawn. A journey which he did not wish to relive again. But as always the gods did not care about what a mere human thought. And Yn was sure that the Gods were behind it; even if he didn’t know which one.

• He didn’t know how long he spent lamenting about his life but a knocking on his door brought him out of his slump. It was his sweet sister, Margeary Tyrell. She came inside and begann to talk and talk, her voice cutting through Yn thoughts. She endlessly chatted mostly with herself, however she was not bothered. It was expected from the simpleton. Yes, Yn was a quit strange. He was always different from his siblings, he truly did not like anybody touching him, loud voices and things that were not in order. His fascination with reptiles outright creeped people out; even his oldest brother Willas. But after he fell down a tree and hit his head, he became worse. Loud voices, spinning around or tunes that were monotone left him feel weird. This feeling became so bad that he saw spots and often passed out. Obviously this was something which left him cut out of the better part of society. He did not have friends and even his brothers did not engage with him. Although it was probably because he despised fighting and horses. Fighting made his head spin and horses stank and their fur made him itchy. Nevertheless Margaery adored him. When they were younger Yn allowed her to changed him into women clothes and play tea party. As they got older they did not do this anymore but Margaery still spent a lot of time with Yn.

• The never ending chat of Margaery was a thing that Yn inwardly enjoyed. This was something that he had missed. After years the hurt of losing his family became manageable but it never truly disappeared. And seeing her alive and well was something that left Yn a bitter taste on his tounge. He was happy but he wasn’t. It was hard to explain; Yn was overjoyed to have a chance to change everything but on the other side he had lost people he cared about. Sansa with her fiery hair and face made out of ice, Arya and Rickon, the true wolf out of the Starks, and obviously Jon. Yn loved him. His red eyes and white hair did not make him afraid; only intimated. Yn loved the days where they sat next to each other, listening to the people around them talk and sing and boast. The Free Folk has never lost their hearts even after losing so many. They were the strongest, no matter what the others thought. Even the Long Night did not make the people of Westeros nice to them. Most still sneered and spat on them. But in Yn minds they were wrong. The Free Folk was the first place where the people didn’t care if he talked until he did his share of hunting and doing his chores. And he always did. Especially because of Jon. After Yn came back hunting he always smiled at Yn like he brought him the stars. The memory which always made him slightly blush and smile, now made him frown and his heart ache. Jon didn’t know him. Nobody did.

• This did not escape Margaerys‘ sight. However she interpreted the long face of Yn as a fear of what was going to happen. She was excited, especially because her brother was seen as an outsider. This was his chance to find the one who would love and take care of him for ever. She hoped that the woman was going to be very beautiful and very very good-hearted. She crawled closer to Yn and slowly caressed his cheeks. Whenever she looked at him she felt an overwhelming love. She truly loved her brother.

• Before Yn could blink he was spirited to his grandmother. Usually she was sitting outside with his mother and ten other girls. They all talked and Olenna crooked out her offensive opinions. Well usually. Today however was not usual. She sat still, facing the beautiful garden of Highgarden but only her son was there. As Yn arrived he only heard snippets of ‘money’, ‘cost’ and weirdly ‘fated’. Once he was standing before them, his grandmother shut his father up with a quick wave and smiled at Yn. He was not stupid, he knew that there was something wrong. His grandmother never smiled at him; she tried to conserve with him as little as she could. He was held in a higher regard than his cousins but it was clear that he was her least favourite. Nonetheless now she was smiling at him. Not only she was looking kind but she even ordered his favourite food, lemon cakes. At this Sansa flashed in Yn‘s mind. They shared a love for lemon cakes and every time they fought over the last piece. But his grandmother’s speech left his memory quickly fade away and fear replaced it. She talked about his ten and one nameday next day and a fated mark, the Will of the Seven, soulmates, the cost of his wedding and which people are going to be invited. Mace tried to talk but whenever he opened his mouth Olenna hushed him. Once she was done she stood up, kissed Yn‘s cheek and ordered her twin guards to her. But before she left Yn and Mace alone she turned around and sent a glare towards her son, telling him that it was time. This left Yn dreading whatever was coming.

• The awkward silence was not broken until Mace sighed, took a lemon cake and begann to eat. After some humming he was done and leaned back on his chair, hand folded over his stomach. He begann to humm some more and sighed again. Once Yn heard the famous sentence ‘ You know son, there are things which a man must tell their son.’ he knew he was done. But before he could stand up his father took an other lemon cake, quickly ate that and looked deeply in Yn‘s eyes. The conservation which followed was one of the most mortifying thing Yn has ever experienced. Not even seeing hundreds of dead people could make him as sick as this. His father talked and talked about girls and boys and their differences down there. Than he went over talking about babies, which then led him to gush about how damm cute all his children were. This was followed by him talking about weddings and ceremonien and the most important: bedding. At this point Yn has given up. He was less than a day in this world and he was given The Talk. And he couldn’t even tell his father that he knew! Well not much about women but more about men. And well not men but about Jon. He was the first and last person Yn has ever been intimate with. This confirmed Yn that he was a indeed a pillow bitter but he could hardly tell his father about that.

• One thing that was new to Yn were the soulmates. He was sure that they didn’t have that. After thinking long about what it meant, Yn decided that he was not in the same world in which he spent majority of his life. And that soulmates were cool. Almost everybody had them, from the lowest to the highest person on earth. Only men and women without a mark could become a maester, septon/ septa or priest. The marks were seen as godly and everybody had to obey to them. Breaking apart a bond like that was seen as a grave mistake and death was the punishment for who tried to break it apart. The good thing about the soulmark was the way it appeared. There were marks that displayed a picture of all kinds, some were words; some sentences. They were marks that only appeared when the soulmates touched or looked at each other. Some lost the colour of their sights and could only seen any kind of colour once they looked in each other’s eyes. Some had compasses that showed where their other was located, some had quotes that matched, others had half their hair the colour of their soulmate’s. This manifested once they had their ten and one nameday. And Yn had his the next day.

• He didn’t care about his birthday. It passed in a frenzy and once he was sent to his chambers to wait and sleep, he was in ecstasy. He wanted to stay up the whole night but the maester told him that he had to sleep so that the Will of the Gods would fulfill in secret. No human was allowed to see the manifestation. Still Yn could barely sleep. He was trembling with fear and excitement. He wanted a soulmate but was affraid to get one. The idea of not having one left him feeling devastated so he didn’t think about it. He wanted Jon but was affraid of who he was now. He wanted and wanted but was affraid of so many things until he fell asleep. Dawn was barely coming when Yn felt a horrible burning on his left wrist. It left him gasping and crying but the manifestation was done. He got a compass pointing towards the North. It was golden but elegant and had a quote around the compass saying, ‘Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle’. And if you looked closely there were six direwolf, each different, running around and playfighting. It was perfect, Yn whispered to himself with tears escaping his eyes.

• The second he left his room he was jumped on by Margaery. She led him to the dinning room to break their fast while talking and talking. One minute she wanted to see the mark, the next minute she didn’t until they were with the whole family. They quickly arrived and his family was immediately on Yn. Once they saw the compass and closely inspected it, they all fell silent until Margaery laughed. Better said she cried while laughing and gave a big hug to Yn. While they hugged, Mace begann to plan a letter for Ned Stark. Even for him was clear that his son was meant for one of wolf blood.

• Olenna slowly fanned herself. It was hot for her age; she was not as young and agile as she once was. Undertaking such a big journey to Winterfell from Highgarden had affected her health negatively. Regardless, she was sure that she would crawl to Winterfell if it must be. She would never pass such an opportunity. And she was needed to talk to his grandsons future father-in-law. She was throughly thinking about all the possibilities that their journey could mean and what she had to do for the better of her house. Such an union between great houses was not seen since decades, especially between a fourth son and a bastard. Olenna was sure that it was the bastard that was the soulmate of her simpleton but kind hearted grandson. If not then why did Lady Catelyn not boast about one of her children being the soulmate of a Tyrell? She was after all a Tully, a very proud house, Olenna thought. The marriage could mean a lot for the Tyrells. A lot of good and bad. Olenna could only hope that if the bastard was the one then her little spies were not wrong about his father’s affection. Nobody needed an alliance with a bastard that held no power. She even entertained the idea of overthrowing the bastard brother‘s but quickly desposed of it. The Starks were too loyal. And the compass showed enough. Six direwolfs playing. This could only mean one thing. Her inner discussion was stoped once a loud knock was heard. She opened the side pannel and looked at one of her twin guards. She burrowed her eyebrows after she heard her foolish grandson riding out to meet his future beloved.

• Winterfell was as big as ever, Yn decided. It certainly looked better than the last time he saw it. It was huge and dark. But it was warm; and that is what mattered. He knew that the walls were warm with spring water and that the halls were always kept warm. He couldn’t wait to bath and bask in the memory of Winterfell and their occupants. And to see Jon again. As excited he was, he was as fearful. He was sure that Jon and him were meant to be together, but still. It was weird and new and they were so young. Jon was not older than ten and three, an age which Yn has never seen him. The worst thing was the people he traveled with. Lord Stark has invited hundred of people of the North and South and thousands came. The North wanted to see House Stark marry as a rich House as the Tyrells and the South wished to see House Stark and the North. This journey and wedding meant a lot of new alliances and weddings for the Realm. Even the King has journeyed to the North, but Yn was sure that he wasn’t there for the wedding. Not truly. It was Ned he was there for. Saddly Jon Arryn was not able to attend since he did not want to leave the rest of the Realm behind. What surprised Yn was that the Martells sent Oberyn Martell and his paramour as guests. It meant that they were planning something. Or they were simply affraid that the Reach allied with the North that can give them enough timber for a new war.

• Yn felt butterflies fighting in his stomach. He was so nervous that even Garlan commented on his suddenly disappearing horse riding abilities. To this Renly begann to joke around about riding what else and instead of shutting him down Garlan laughed with him. If Yn wasn’t as nervous he would have told them already off. Shortly before they arrived Willas slowed them down and talked about whom Yn had to greet firstly and what to do. Even the common courtesies flew over Yn’s head. He hoped that he would not make a fool of himself because if he did he would die. Maybe the rumour of him being a simpleton would minder the embarrassment but Yn did not want to make a fool out of Jon. While Yn was deep in his thoughts they arrived at the gates. Everybody sat straighter and rode inside the castle.

• Yn was sure that he was going to die. His compass was going crazy, the pointer spinning around, meaning that his soulmate was very close. And he was. The first thing he saw was Jon and the first thing he did was blushing. He felt his face light on fire and he was sure that everybody saw that. He was so embarrassed that he didn’t even look at the Starks. The worst was when he almost feel down his horse and if not for Loras he would have facepalmed the earth. He saw Loras trying to hide his chuckle but as always he couldn’t. This made Yn face more redder, his ears were so hot that he wanted to just jump in the next snow pile. And than he had to walk to the Starks and greet each of them. Ned Stark was an imposing man, and even bigger when you were only ten and two namedays old. His eyes hid a certain amusement and he kindly greeted Yn. Lady Catelyn was even kinder and hoped that their visit went well. The next person was Robb. He was cute but Yn understood why he was made King so early on. He looked like his ladymother but his eyes shone like his fathers. However the next person took Yn‘s breath away. He went redder than he thought to be possible and shyly held out his right hand. There was hope in Jon‘s beautiful dark grey eyes, but it was replaced with uncertainty once they touched each other hands. It was clear that he expected something more from the contact but was greatly disappointed. Yn moved on, after he saw this, and greated the girls and Bran with enthusiasm. Rickon was not there, but Yn knew that it must be because he was still a babe. After they were done with the greetings and talking, Lady Catelyn sent servant go show each if them a room, while excusing the lack of grand food. She told them that they expected them to arrive the next day and could only offer them a humble feast. Yn obviously had to make himself more foolish and told the lady that they came early because he was excited. At this even Willas had a hard time not laughing and while they walked away Yn had to hit him with his elbow to shut up. Once they were out of hearing range, his brothers recreated everything and Renly instead of helping, laughed with them. Yn was mortified enough to not even say goodbye to them and he just shut his door. His chamber was very big and beautifully filled with furs and other animal skins but Yn couldn’t appreciate it. Without a second he jumped on his bed and hid his face in a soft pillow. He was so flustered, especially seeing Jon‘s face fall, that he decided to never move again. Well until a servant brought him warm water. After he cleaned himself and spent an embarrassingly long time to decide what to wear, he went out to look for his brothers and Renly. Then they went to the feast. After Yn saw what was set in the table he thought that if this was not seen by Lady Catelyn as grand than what was grandiose? For being in the North, where every grain mattered, it was rich. He knew that for Renly and even Loras, as vain and proud they were, this would not seem to be anything big;but for Yn it was. He saw firsthandedly what people ate in the Winter.

• The food was good, the conservation was firstly awkward but the Garlan and Renly begann to talk and it was good again. Yn didn’t speak but nobody seemed to mind. Robb openly stared at him, even when Jon discreetly poked him, and Arya and Bran were so captured by Garlan telling them stories of his training that they barely ate. Sansa spent her time looking at Loras and Renly. Willas was entertaining Lady Catelyn and Lord Stark listened to everything and only said something if it was necessary. Jon sometimes looked up from his food only go meet Yn‘s eyes, who then averted his gaze and once even let his fork fall. Everybody was kind enough to not say anything but Yn only became more flustered. After they were done Yn felt Jon‘s gaze follow him and he thanked the Gods for not making him trip. They did not converse on the way to their rooms and Yn again thanked the Gods for not making his brothers make fun of him. After that he quickly readied himself for bed and after Willas came in to say good night he walked around his new room. They were bear and elk furs and Yn was sure that the skin belonged to a boar. The tapestries were beautifully done and Yn could not marvel enough. While he tried to remember from whom he the story of the tapestry knew, Jon came in his room. Yn turned around and greeted him only for Jon to not move. Yn did not move either, so they looked at each other, assessing everything about the other. Yn felt his knees getting weaker the longer he spent looking at Jon. He was truly beautiful and breathtaking. After some more silence Jon moved towards Yn and held his right hand out. Yn held his hand out too and once they touched Jon frowned, but did not ask. He left his hand fall in disappointment but before he could speak Yn touched his arm with his left. The burn was strong but once it ebbed away both felt an overwhelming sensation of love and adoration. Yn cradled their hand together and pulled Jon to himself. Jon slowly caressed Yn‘s face, as if he was something valuable and then leaned to his face. The small kiss they shared made Yn‘s heart fly higher than a bird and left him feeling like he could burst to flames. It was perfect and even after Jon left, Yn couldn’t help but replay their kiss again and again.

[the-artificem]

the fuck you mean chloe isnt part of max's life anymore???? after max literally sacrificed a whole as town and travelled across the multiverse just to come back to her chloe????!!! miss me with that bullshit

[xx-thedarklord-xx]

Poll for Advent Month!

Six days until my Advent Month and I'm so excited! I thought it would be a fun idea to let y'all pick which story gets told first!

[wardenparker]

Vampire Waltz - Epilogue

Max Phillips x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

A mysterious inheritance, sprawling mansion, eccentric roommates, friendly bat, and coven of New England witches are the newest chapter of your life after being unceremoniously dumped and kicked out by your boyfriend. For Max, the biggest change in his life is you, and what exactly he's going to do about the fact that he is stuck living with you as long as his sire continues to punish him for that incident at his last office...

Rating: Mature, but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 13.9k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: deceased parents, cursing, food, blood and blood drinking, depictions and references to abusive relationships. Anxiety and trauma responses. Self-worth issues.* Pregnancy. Some healing of generational trauma, reconciliation, regret, past pain. But mostly fluff. Summary: In the time after returning to your original timeline, life seems to have many more surprises left for you and Max. Notes: Editing this chapter has been a good old fashioned cry at my laptop, I will admit that entirely. This little family has given us such a wild ride, and we are so grateful to each one of you for reading along for every twist and turn. Please join us for Hummingbird Has Landed, starting next week!

Ch 1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15 ~ Ch 16 ~ Ch 17

Six months fly by in the blink of an eye, and before you know it the day of the wedding has arrived. Seacliff has been thrown open for the occasion, decorated top to bottom in roses accented with spring wildflowers and with every curtain thrown open to let the sunlight in. At the end of your second trimester, you tend to get tired earlier in the night so you and Max had opted for an afternoon wedding with sort of an high tea theme for the food. The music is all perfect for dancing to, of course, and everyone from the dance studios you now frequent to the girls from the coven to your extended vampiric family has been invited. He’s even made a few friends at the firm where he now works, opting to go into real estate this time around. After spending a hundred years building different houses, he knows a thing or two about it.

Allison and Eddie will be the ones to stand up for you today, of course, as Allison learns each day a little bit more of what it means to be a vampire who has kept her humanity through every step of the change. You and Max had stood up with them at City Hall a few months ago and helped throw their more laid-back wedding reception at Chateau-sur-Mer. Now everything is set up for today’s success as well. All that’s left, really, is for Max’s surprise to arrive.

Max hovers, a habit that he’s developed even more as your stomach has grown. In love with the slow heartbeat of his child in your stomach and the sweet smell of your blood. He craves you more than you know, but he’s refused to drink from you since finding out that you are carrying his child. Not willing to risk anything, even after decades of taking your blood.

“Everything’s fine, love.” He’s always been a doting partner but for the last few months it’s increased exponentially and somehow you’re even more in love with him for it. “We’ve had weddings before. Everything will be just fine.”

“I know.” He does know that, but for some reason, this is the one that is making him nervous. “I’m excited.” He admits quietly. “This one is us. Our original timeline.” He pushes away the pang of sadness that seems to be creeping up every time the baby moves, or he thinks about being a father. The loss of his family is more poignant in this time because there’s no good reason they are not here.

“That’s why this one is exactly what we wanted. Good music, good food, not too fancy but not too casual.” You reach out and squeeze his hand, rubbing gently along his arm. “It’s the Goldilocks of weddings.”

“Are you comfortable?” He asks, shaking away his disappointment that parents who don’t care about him aren’t sitting on the groom’s side and focuses on you. “You should sit before the ceremony.” After so many years together and so many weddings, it seems ridiculous to observe the ‘no seeing the bride before the ceremony’ tradition. “The baby was really active last night; I know your sleep wasn’t the best.”

“The baby’s excited.” Over your second trimester you’ve started to get the feeling that your little witch-vampire pup can sense your emotions, and he knows you’re excited for today. “And Tracy brewed me a little potion for today. Energy without caffeine so I won’t get too tired and I can enjoy the day.”

He eyes you, but he doesn’t say anything. Always wary about portions because he’s paranoid, not because he doesn’t trust the witches that make up your very supportive coven. “Do you want a little massage before we start?” He offers, knowing how much you enjoy the back and foot massages he’s gotten pretty good at.

“It’s perfectly safe,” you assure him, but you’re already sitting back in your favourite chair with bare feet ready for rubbing. This is not going to be a day for silk stockings or anything delicate like that. “It’s one of Lina’s recipes. Tracy is having fun going through her grimoire.”

Max chuckles at how quickly you move when you are offered a massage. It’s cute how much you enjoy being pampered and he loves to remind you that you are the absolute love of his life. “Honestly? I trust them. I’m just worrying to worry.” He tells you as he sits down on the little foot stool. “Have I told you how fucking gorgeous you are today?”

"Hmmm, only once." Max starts in on your swollen, achy feet right away and you hum happily, sinking back into your chair and letting your hands cradle the large bump that threatens to take over your entire torso. Max Phillips makes big babies, apparently. "The grey suit is one of my favourites, by the way," you hum, referencing the three-piece heather grey suit he chose for today with dark red accents that match your bouquet of roses and Allison's red bridesmaid dress. "You look like a dream."

“Not nearly as dreamy as my pregnant, gorgeous, glowing wife-to-be.” He teases, winking at you. Since the beginning of the week, he’s called you his fiancée or wife-to-be. The new ring on your finger would never replace the original that has so much meaning for the both of you, but he has always given you new rings for every wedding. “But I have to try to look my best when I will be by your side.”

"I hope you don't mind." Holding up your other hand, you show him the original engagement ring he gave you in 1885 sitting on your finger, like a family heirloom accenting the beautiful sapphire ring he chose for you in this timeline. Your something blue, he had told you with a grin. "I felt like this time was the time to wear both."

“Whatever you want.” He promises with a grin. “Eventually we will have enough rings you can wear a different one every day.”

"I'll have a very full jewelry box for our son to pick from when he eventually proposes to his soulmate." Finding out you're carrying a little boy had had both of you crying in the doctor's office, overwhelmed and emotional about the next generation of your family to come.

“Very true.” He presses his thumb to the arch of your foot and he grins when you groan.

"I'm so glad I decided not to wear heels today," you huff, laughing slightly as your head falls back on your chair.

“Me too.” Max snorts. The sparkly white shoes you have chosen are cute and practical. “Although I still like the barefoot and pregnant wedding idea.” He teases with a wink.

"Maybe next time." That draws a deep laugh from you, and you lean back even more. "We'll have that one in summer, when being barefoot doesn't mean stepping on cold floors."

“Next time.” He agrees, although he doesn’t know if there would be a next time. All that matters is your comfort. “We still have an hour and a half before the ceremony.” He chuckles. “Maybe we’ve become too efficient at getting ready for these things.”

"Probably. Sixth time's the charm, I guess." You both laugh, enjoying the quiet and the comfort of being together upstairs in your bedroom. The Taylors, Renee, and Mr. Finchley were all invited to come today as guests but they had balked at the idea of not helping to put together today's event. As a result you've had twice the staff in getting the house ready today and everything is ready ahead of schedule. "Although..." you glance up at the clock and realize it's almost time. "I did plan a sort of...surprise for you today."

“Sweetheart…” he tilts his head and pouts at you adorably. “I thought we said that we were going to keep it low key?” He huffs. “Now my surprise is just going to be a normal wedding gift exchange.”

"I know what we said, and your wedding present is entirely separate." The photo album isn't technically complete anyway, since it has photographs of your first five wedding days already set in it but has left plenty of room for your sixth. "This is just for you."

“Is it something kinky?” He asks with a wicked grin on his face. “I can get behind that. Unless you want to get behind me???” He jokes.

"Not until this little pup comes out to greet us," you laugh, knowing your maneuverability isn't great these days.

“I don’t know, you were pretty kinky last night.” He reminds you. “Or was that someone else that wanted to ride my cock while I gave her tits all the attention?”

"Oh no, that was the horny pregnant woman you're marrying today." And damn last night was a good night.

“I know, and I love her.” He laughs and looks around. “So tell me about this surprise?”

As if on cue, there is a knock at your bedroom door and your own housekeeper clears her throat gently on the other side. "Mrs. Phillips? It's time."

"Thank you, Mrs. Moreau. We'll be down directly." Thankfully your shoes are nearby, and you flash Max a small smile. "Ready, love?" You ask, knowing that he has no idea what's waiting for him downstairs.

“Sure.” He shoots you a suspicious look but quickly applies himself to putting your shoes on. “You’re lucky you don’t have stinky feet.” He teases and pats your knee when he puts your foot down, both of them now wearing comfortable shoes.

The result of about three months' worth of phone calls is waiting downstairs, and you take Max's hand to walk downstairs together. There's a chance he'll be upset with you. Angry, even. But you've known him for long enough now that you don't think he will be – or at least you hope that he will see the gesture for what it is. A loving attempt at bringing him the happiness that you know he's been missing from his life.

He’s curious when he sees that the formal parlor is where you are guiding him. Wondering what you’ve had delivered and he stops dead when he hears a voice he has not heard for a lifetime. He wouldn’t recognize it for the fact that it was permanently attached to a thousand different childhood memories.

"I reached out about three months ago," you explain, feeling him stop dead beside you in the hall. "I told them that we were getting married and that we're expecting, and honey...they miss you so much."

“They— you called them?” He asked dumbly. “That’s— that’s my parents in there?” He asks, feeling like he’s in a dream even though he’s not dreamed since he’s been changed.

"I'll let them tell you everything." He isn't shouting or refusing to see them, so you're taking his quiet wonder as a very good sign. "But...I obviously left out the whole time travel, magic, and vampirism part of our story. I did tell them we're Wiccan, though. So they wouldn't be confused by the handfasting today."

He nods but he doesn’t say anything. Still process the fact that his parents are beyond those doors. People who had abandoned him when he needed them most. Part of him wants to run away, to refuse to see them, but you are squeezing his hand and looking so hopeful when he finally looks at you.

“If you don’t want to, it’s okay.” They’ll be disappointed, and so will you a little, but you’ll all understand. “I just knew that if I asked you about having them over, you would refuse on principle.”

“No.” He chokes out, shaking his head and for a horrible moment, he thinks he might cry. “I just can’t believe they came.”

“Well…” When you look up at him again, you offer him the softest, gentlest smile possible. “They wanted to apologize in person.”

“What did you say to them?” He asks, unable to believe the people who had disowned him, told him they never wanted to see him again, want to apologize.

“I actually did very little of the talking.” You nod to the door and squeeze his hand again, ready with a handkerchief if he ends up needing it. “Do you want to go in?”

“Um, sure.” With his free hand, he meticulously straightens his vest and his hair before he moves. He’s nervous and honestly a little afraid his parents want to ruin today for him.

When the door opens there are two people standing by the windows, looking down the lawn where your wedding ceremony will be and out to the sparkling ocean. Jeff and Maria Phillips stand together in a moment of awe before Maria is rushing forward and stops still in front of Max with one arm outstretched. “Max.” Her instinct is to call him honey, but she doesn’t know just how much he would hate that. “You—we tried everything we could think of to find you and we’re—” She chokes up almost instantly, The regret painted on her face as obviously as daylight.

“We’re so sorry, son.” Jeff has come up behind his wife and put his hands on her shoulders. “We should have taken you at your word when everything happened and we didn’t. That’s—we can’t undo it, Max. But we’ve regretted it every day.”

“Why?” That is the question that plagued him for years. The thing that had broken his heart and confused him. His parents weren’t the warmest people, but he had thought they had loved him enough to believe him. “You told me I was a disgrace to the Phillips name, that you wished I had never been born.” He reminds them. “Why?” His hand lets go of yours and rests on your stomach protectively. “I can never imagine telling my son something so cruel.”

“We received a phone call from the young man who…who accused you.” Usually quite a proud man, Jeff Phillips flounders in explaining himself to his son — a fully grown and obviously proud man in his own respect. “And from the Dean of your college, as well. We were told the proof was irrefutable and we knew you were ambitious, it all just…” he stops, shaking his head and letting it hang in a moment of shame. “Your great-grandfather, my grandfather, had done a lot of very unfortunate, mostly illegal things to get ahead in his lifetime. I tried to raise you as far away from that kind of life as I possibly could, and it—it was a lie that hit too close to home. And I thought I’d failed you. Instead of taking responsibility for that, I lashed out. And I don’t expect you to ever forgive me for it. But your soulmate reached out to us and said you were getting married, so we wanted to at least tell you that we love you on your wedding day.” The gift they had brought was out on the table in the foyer with a few others that had been mailed — an heirloom for the baby with a long letter of explanation and apology. That way even if Max didn’t want to see them, they could at least leave him with words of love in another way. The Phillips family crib and baby blankets made by Max’s grandmother belonged with him now.

Max swallows harshly, knowing that before you, before his time in the past, he would have sent them away for the pure pleasure of watching them hurt the way they had hurt him. To lash out and make them feel the rejection and heartache he had lived with for years. Except, he had to watch history repeat itself in a sense. Knowing the path that was before a headstrong daughter and equally stubborn parents. Watching the silent heartbreak and pain when their daughter distanced themselves from them. Knowing the further heartache that was awaiting them. He had sworn that he would be better than his parents and if he sends them away, what does that teach his son? His parents only have a small amount of time left, should he deny himself that time out of some childish need for punishment? Over the centuries, Max would like to believe he’s matured.

He frowns, looking at the table that has the gifts on them and then looks back at his parents. “Are you staying?” He asks, unsure if they wanted to stay or if they just wanted to make peace.

“We’d like to,” his mother offers, eyes flickering once over to you and then back to her son. She knows the decision isn’t theirs or yours. “But only if you want us to.”

“What made you look for me? Do you think that I’m telling the truth? Or—” Max has to know, he has to know what changed their minds.

“We tried to look for you just a couple of weeks after everything happened.” Maria takes a small step forward, so deeply hopeful that Max will forgive them. “The school said they couldn’t tell us anything besides the fact that your transcripts had been forwarded to another university, and there wasn’t a Find My Phone or anything like that, that we could use to try to find you.” Her voice wavers, obviously emotional, and she sniffles softly. “We realized that the son we’d raised…you didn’t deserve to be shunned even if you had made a mistake. We’d just been so shocked that we reacted on instinct.” Another small shake of her head comes with a few small tears that Maria quickly wipes away. “We should have believed what you told us over anything else. Over any other fear or story. The more times we talked through it, the more we realized…cheating was never the shortcut you were going to take. You always worked too hard for that. And we’d pushed you away for nothing.”

“I had to go to Romania to find a school that would accept me.” Max tells them, biting his lip and closing his eyes as he wrestles with himself. “You lost the son you knew there.”

Your hand slips gently over his, holding it in yours and wondering if this was a mistake. You know how much Max misses his parents, but some hurts are just too deep. It would be truly unfortunate if this was one of them.

“It’s obvious you’ve become a good man even without us.” His father acknowledges, nodding sadly. He knows he failed his son in so many ways, and he really doesn’t have anyone to blame but himself. Maria had fought him in the beginning and brought him around to the truth in time. “But if you’d let us, we’d like to get to know the man you are now.”

“There’s something you need to know before you make that decision.” Max opens his eyes and looks at the older man who is so much like him, even though he has his mother’s ears. Then over to his mother who looks like she is about to break down sobbing. “I’ve wanted you in my life for years, but I won’t let you back in only for you to run away when you find out.”

“Whatever you want to share with us, we want to hear.” It’s a promise, and Jeff Phillips doesn’t take that lightly after all this time.

“Technically….” Max squeezes your hand gently. “Your son, I— died in Romania.” He admits quietly. “I was turned into a vampire.”

The quiet in the room could be cut by a knife, and you hold Max’s hand tightly while his parents process what he’s just said. It’s confusion — deep confusion — more than anything else, but after a seemingly interminable few minutes, Maria nods. “Are you happy?” She asks, aware that her husband must be looking at her like she has three heads right now.

“I am.” Max nods. “I have my soulmate and our child. I’ve done things you would never believe. And now, I am seeing you again.” He gives her a small smile. “After I— was changed, I came back. I saw you from a distance.”

“The world gave you a witch so you would have someone to understand you.” Maria observes, nodding solemnly. You had explained the pertinent parts of being Wiccan to his father over the phone months ago but hadn’t had that conversation directly with his mother so you hadn’t heard her reaction personally. “When did you come to see us, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. It’s a term he hasn’t heard from his mother in over ten years in this timeline and it makes him bite his lip. “August 14th, 2013.” He gives a small shrug. “Your birthday.”

It’s heartwarming, and unexpected, to know that he had missed them too. Just because you had said so in your call — it did not mean it ran deeply. But Max and his mother had always shared a mutual fondness for birthdays. “I wish you had come inside,” his mother admits, although she smiles in a sort of lopsided way. “Although…could you have? If we had not invited you? You’ll have to tell us what is real and what is legend.”

It’s curious that his mother automatically believes him, and he wonders if they think this is some kind of test. He’s testing to see they will believe him and chosen the most outrageous thing. “I don’t have to be invited in.” He laughs.

“Do you remember Vera?” His mother asks, seeing skepticism in her son’s eyes before looking back at her husband too. “The woman who lived next door and would babysit for us when Max was little?” To you she explains, “He would get off the school bus and go to our next-door neighbor’s house for a few hours until Jeff or I got out of work. Whichever one of us got home first would go next door and tell him we were home.”

“Yes?” Jeff frowns slightly, wondering why his wife would bring up a neighbor that was long moved away.

“When Max was a baby, and I would go over to her house during the day for a little change of scenery?” She pauses and looks back over at you with a smile. “Maternity leave can make you feel like your mind is melting sometimes. Find a safe place to get out of your own house. Even if it’s just someone else’s house.” The advice to you seems decent enough, and you barely have time to smile in acknowledgment before she’s looking back to her husband and son again. “Vera used to tell me stories from home,” Maria explains. “And…folktales are always founded in a little bit of truth, aren’t they?”

“She was Romanian.” Max remembers suddenly. “She told you about vampires, didn’t she?”

“She did.” Maria nods, but ends up shrugging reluctantly. “I thought she was an eccentric old lady, but I was grateful for the company. Now…I wish I had taken notes.” Stepping forward one more time, Maria takes a chance and reaches out for Max’s free hand. “We already lost you once, sweetheart. If this means we’ll never lose you again? That your soulmate and your son will never lose you? Then it’s a blessing.”

“I just— I didn’t want you to find out and throw me away again.” Max murmurs quietly. “I had planned on honoring your wishes, to never see you again. But— I— I’m glad you’re here.”

"We never should have said those things." Jeff was the one who said most of it, and he's been humbled enough by regret over the last decade to just...accept whatever it is that life puts out in front of him and his family. He may not understand it, but better to be confused and follow his wife's good example than to risk losing everything all over again. "We missed you, son."

Even though he doesn’t need to breathe, Max exhales loudly, trying to keep from crying. The whole in his heart that he’s refused to acknowledge since the day they had disowned him, finally starting to heal. “I’ve missed you too, Dad.”

The hesitation is cut from the room as Max's parents lurch forward to throw their arms around him and hold on to him tightly. As much as he hates to let go of your hand, he does, needing to basically catch his parents as they hug him. Closing his eyes and trying not to bawl like a baby as he inhales the scent of the people he had never imagined being close to again.

Maria is the one who cries, being dainty about it because she doesn't want her makeup to run or to stain her son's immaculate suit, but she can't help herself. It was not so long ago that she thought she would never get to even see Max again, let alone hug him.

The embrace goes on for longer than he had ever imagined until they break apart and Max turns his head towards you to find you crying quietly into a handkerchief. “Dolly, come here, my love.”

"I'm sorry," you murmur, laughing at yourself a little as you dab at your eyes. This is the reason you hadn't done your eye makeup yet. "Pregnancy hormones."

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” As soon as you are close, you are bundled into his arms and he is pressing his lips to yours. “I love you. I can’t believe you did this for me.”

"I'd do anything for you." And as many times as you've said it, the meaning always holds true. You would turn the world upside down for him – and you even have the power to do it after a hundred years spent honing your magic. "I love you so much."

“I love you too.” He promises gently. Kissing you once more before he turns to his parents. “Let me properly introduce you.” He offers. “Even though you’ve spoken on the phone.”

"We want to know everything." Max's father has handed his wife his handkerchief and is obviously stifling his own emotional reaction – and doing a very poor job of it.

Max pulls you closer to his side and his other hand is proudly protective on your stomach. “This is Dolly.” He does mention your real name, but wants them to know that you prefer your nickname. “My soulmate. The most wonderful woman in the world and the woman I will waltz through eternity with.”

Maria moves to embrace you without hesitation, but Jeff’s head tilts in obvious confusion and curiosity. “Waltz?”

Right. He had never really danced when he was with them. It was picked up in Romania. "I started ballroom dancing." He explains. "An elective in Romania. Dolly also ballroom danced competitively. My favorite thing to do is to waltz with this beautiful lady." He admits proudly.

“We choreographed our first dance,” you tell them proudly, as soft as ever at Max’s side. “You’ll see. He’s an exceptional dancer.”

Maria bites her lip, aware of missing so much time with her son because of their foolish mistake and she nods. "He is exceptional." She reaches out for one of his hands and squeezes it gently. "And you seem so happy." That's all that matters to her.

“We are.” If anything, that is the thing you can promise them. That you’re happy and living the very best, most fulfilling life you possibly can be. “Max is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

"And...his being a vampire is what caused you to meet?" Jeff asks, curious to how the two of you met and trying to wrap his head around the whole situation.

“My grandfather was one of Max’s professors in Romania.” This is the part that is going to get careful explanation, as you hadn’t gone into it over the phone. “He is also Max’s sire. That is…the vampire that turned him. My grandfather took Max under his wing, and even brought him to live with my grandmother here in Newport before she died. I met Max when I moved into that house, as well.”

"I see." There's obviously more to the story, but he won't pry. Right now, he is just glad the boy is talking to him. He knows that Max inherited his stubborn streak, and he could have been rightfully turned away with an expletive and he would have deserved it.

“You’ll meet him today, if you stay for the wedding.” There are still a few more months on Yayo’s ticking clock to join his wife and daughter in the afterlife, but he is waiting until your son is born to leave this world. He had smiled when the decision was made, telling you that wanted to bring good news to Cookie and Annie in the next life. “My grandfather is…a little dramatic,” you smile, stifling a laugh. “I’m afraid it’s a family trait.”

Max chuckles. "And since he is a vampire as well, he looks younger than you, Dad." He warns the other man. "However, Dolly's grandfather is the first vampire. The oldest in existence and has walked the earth for thousands of years."

“It’s a bit of a long story.” The expressions on both of his parents’ faces are something like an undergrad trying to work out a complex math problem, and you shake your head while running a soothing hand over your belly. “Can I offer you a tour of the house?” That, at least, is semi normal. Even if your house was built in 1888 and is still a functional Gilded Age mansion.

“It is beautiful.” Maria nods instantly and Jeff shakes his head. “Do you mind if I speak to Max privately?” He asks you before looking at his son. “Would you, son?”

You look to Max for his confirmation, and when he nods and leans over to kiss you, you offer him an encouraging smile. “I’ll show your mother the library first.”

Max nods, his eyes following you out of the room and he wants to follow you, but he is curious to what his father wants to say privately. Only when he can't see you anymore, do his eyes turn towards Jeff and he arches a brow.

“She’s quite a girl.” He says after the door closes, gesturing to where you have escorted his mother from the room with grace and surety.

"Yes she is." Max will always agree with that. His proud little smile on the corner of his mouth shows his happiness at being matched with you. "She's been through a lot and is still the kindest woman I've ever known."

"When she called us the first time, your mother thought she was an angel." Jeff smiles at that, his wife always has been the gentler out of the two of them. Just like with you and Max.

"In a lot of ways, she is." Max nods. "I normally call her Queenie, as another nickname." He tells his father. "And she is amazingly graceful, carrying a half vampiric child."

"And her..." his father clears his throat. "Her grandfather is...also a vampire?" He's not willing to go against a single second of this, his son is too precious to him after all this time, but he wants to at least make sure that he has everything he's being told straight.

"Yes." Max looks at his father. "I would have met her at Vanderbilt. Discovered that we were soulmates there. I actually had a blind date with her the day I was kicked out." He reveals. "But that didn't happen and luckily her grandfather recognized her birthmark on my arm and changed me." He slides his hands into his pockets, a defense against the hurt that is still there but slowly lessening. Ever more so now that his parents want to be in his life. "He arranged for us to have the meeting we should have had nearly fourteen years ago."

"Jesus..." If his wife was in the room, Maria would scold him for taking the Lord's name in vain, but Jeff just shakes his head. "I..." Jeff blows out a breath. "I know saying that I'm sorry will never be enough. But I really...I'll never stop saying it, if that's what it takes for you to believe how much we regret what happened."

"I believe you." Max has become closely acquainted with actions taken in anger and regretted later. He believes that your mother would have eventually broken the magic binding if she had lived. "Dolly and I talked about reaching out, but for a long time, I was so hurt, I wouldn't have come to you for anything." He sighs softly. "My wife doesn't have much family left. Her parents are gone, and I know she wants as much love for our son as possible. It doesn't surprise me that she contacted you."

"She said she lost her parents, and that you shouldn't have to lose yours as well." It's sweet, Jeff thinks, that his son already refers to his soulmate as his wife on the morning of their wedding day, but he doesn't say anything. It seems like your lives are complicated and he doesn't want to judge. On that, he has learned his lesson. "Max, you should...you should know..." He clears his throat again and casts an eye around the room. "I never actually changed my will. By the time I came out of the fog enough to even talk to our lawyer, I realized the mistake I had made. But it was already too late to find you."

Max frowns slightly, wondering why that would matter to him. Why he would be concerned with his father's will, but then it clicks. His father wants to talk to him about some kind of inheritance. He tilts his head curiously. "I see...."

"Obviously you don't...you don't need my help." The house his son lives in now is a literal mansion. It's far bigger and better than anything that he and Maria were able to give Max growing up. But there is a matter of principle and pride in making sure that they leave what they can to their son when they leave this world. "I had a cousin. A distant cousin, I mean. Who died two years ago. And the guy left behind a big plot of land as well as some assets. Combined with what your mother and I had planned to leave you...it's pretty substantial." He shrugs his shoulders a little, hands in his pockets in a posture that mirrors his son's. "Do whatever you like with it. It's yours. Or maybe your boy's, who knows?"

"Dad...I appreciate that." He promises, meaning it. He had long written off the idea of anything from his parents. "More than you know."

"Maye we can all take a trip together sometime?" He's lost so much time with Max that even being called Dad again has him close to tears, but he shakes it off for now. The day is already emotional. "I guess my mother's side of the family had some money, so it's a nice piece of land in upstate New York. Tuxedo Park. 'Pullman House', I think it's called. Can you imagine having enough money that your house has a name?" He chuckles at the idea, not realizing that his son’s current home most definitely has a name, and shaking his head.

Max freezes for a moment, his eyes widening slightly and he has to take a moment. "Pullman House?" He asks, remembering visiting the house, the last time being a very somber affair. "I— are you serious?"

"Yeah." Jeff nods, taking out his phone to pull up the pictures of the house and grounds that the estate lawyer had sent over. "Have you heard of it?"

"I— I didn't know we were related to the Pullman's." He admits, never looking into his family tree when he was back in time with you. He hadn't wanted to. "How?"

"My grandmother was a Pullman." He doesn't quite see why it matters, but Max seems to recognize the family name so he hands over his phone with photographs of the sprawling mansion. "They made train cars, I think? Back after the Civil War. Must have made quite a bit of money at it, to have a house like that, but it's not in the best shape now. We, uh...your mother and I thought, we could invest a little in it now to fix it up and rent the house out while we're alive. And once we're gone it's yours to do whatever you want with."

"I've been there before." Max tells him with a nod, "I mean, in the area. Tuxedo Park. It's gorgeous from what I remember." He lifts a brow and decides that maybe he should put forth an idea of his own. "It could be something we do together?" He offers. "Dolly and I love historical architecture. Obviously." He chuckles as he glances around the room. "We can start the restoration and see what happens?"

Jeff obviously hadn’t expected that kind of enthusiasm, and when he nods he put his hand out to his son to shake. “I’d like the chance to get to know the man my son has become,” he agrees, on the verge of being choked up again. “And I’ll never say no to getting to see my grandson. It sounds pretty perfect.”

Max looks at the offered hand and reaches out to shake it firmly. "That sounds good." He tells him. "But first, I need to make sure that my soulmate officially carries the Phillips last name." He jokes.

“Why don’t we catch up with our soulmates before they start making plans of their own?” His father suggests with a chuckle, knowing that Maria’s sweet disposition means it could very well happen.

"I'm glad you came." Max admits softly, frowning slightly even though he's completely happy. He's frowning so he doesn't cry, but there's a certain mistiness to his eyes.

“I’m glad, too.” On instinct, Jeff tugs gently on Max’s hand and gratefully holds onto his son once more in a strong hug. They’re both emotional, but if there was ever a time for it in their lives — this seems as appropriate a time as any to shed a few tears in each other’s presence. “I love you, Max. I’m sorry it’s not something you heard often when you were growing up.”

"Always thought I had done something wrong." Max confesses. "If I made the team, you'd love me. If I graduated with honors, you'd love me." He flashes an amused, self-deprecating grin. "If I was a ladies’ man, you'd – at least be proud of me." He snorts. "Always wondered why it was never quite enough. If I was just that much of a disappointment. So instead of talking about it, I decided being a cocky shit and show that I didn't really care what people thought of me."

“I pushed you hard because I knew you were going to do something incredible one day.” They’re both teary, standing together in that room, but it’s okay. It’s always been okay to show his son what he feels, he just didn’t know that. “Your Mom, um…she’s had me doing work on myself. I mean, we’ve been doing it together, but it’s mostly for…” He huffs, rolling his eyes at himself. “She comes to therapy with me a lot. Got plenty of shit to work out and I don’t want it to affect you anymore. And I really don’t want it to affect my grandson. So I’m…I’m working on me. I just really hope it helps. Because you were always enough, Bud. And I always loved you. I just didn’t know how to tell you that.”

"I understand." Max nods. "I've done my own bit of therapy." He doesn't mention it was back before therapy was a thing and it had been with his sire. "Dolly has insisted on it, because of her own issues and it's a good thing. To be the best version of ourselves for each other and our son."

“Do you have any names yet?” Motioning to the door, Jeff means to walk and talk if they can, trying to make the most of every second he has with Max. Of course there’s probably things to finalize before the wedding starts, but they at least have time to catch up to their soulmates.

"We were thinking Johnathan, for Dolly's grandfather and my sire." He smiles slightly. "Johnathan Jeffery Phillips." He watches his father, wondering how he would react to the middle name.

It’s instant, the way Jeff tears up all over again, and this time two thick tears escape his eyes before he can stop them. “Really?” He has to ask, wondering if his son had forgiven him long enough ago to have considered naming his son after the father who had made such an enormous mistake.

"We had long talks about it." Many hours spent talking while you laid in his arms and later when he was stroking the rounded stomach that houses his child even now. "If my son couldn't have his grandfather in his life, at least he would carry a piece of him with him." It was how you had phrased it and Max had nearly cried then too.

“Well goddamn.” Gobsmacked, Jeff wipes his hands down his face and then claps Max on the back with a sigh. “I don’t even know what to say. Except thank you.”

There's nothing else to say at the moment, so Max just nods as you and his mother come into view. "There they are." He hums, smiling at the sight of you absently stroking your stomach as you chat with Maria.

“Hey, my love.” In your wedding dress, all ready for the day, you have been telling your mother-in-law a little about the history of the house and showing her some of the older books in the library. Seeing Max’s softened expression though, you reach out to him immediately. “Everything alright?”

“It’s fine.” He loves that you worry about him, it makes him feel loved. “I was telling my dad about the name we’ve picked out for the baby.”

“Ah,” you hum, leaning over the bump between you to kiss him softly. “Hence the tears?”

“A little emotional.” Max admits shamelessly, enjoying the bump of his heart as he presses his lips to yours.

“That’s good.” You tilt your head to kiss his nose as well and wink. “It’s our wedding day after all.”

"You are amazing, you know that?" He asks softly, kissing you again. "I can't believe you did this. Thank you, my love."

“You deserve to be happy.” The gentle reminder comes with a smile, and you squeeze his hand. “And I know you missed them.”

"You know me too well." He smirks. "Almost like you've lived with me forever."

“Hmm.” Humming a little, you end up giggling instead. “Almost like.”

There’s an inside joke there somewhere, making Jeff and Maria smile awkwardly as the two of you share a moment. “Did you tell Mom?” He asks you, wanting to make sure everyone was aware of the name.

“Not yet.” You look back at his parents but shake your head. “I thought you would want to tell them.”

He flashes you a grin, knowing you are aware that he still has a love of attention, but this is truly special. “Our son is going to be named Johnathan Jeffery Phillips.” He tells Maria, rubbing your belly gently.

“Sweetheart.” His mother is nearly in tears all over again, reaching for Max with overwhelming affection just as earnestly as her other hand goes to her husband. “Is it…” her hands are occupied, but her eyes move to you. “Was Johnathan your father’s name?” She asks as gently as she can.

“It’s my grandfather’s,” you tell her, touched that she would think to ask. “We think we’ll call him JJ for short, but we wanted him to have family names.” JJ is also a sort of family name; in a way you can’t really explain. Lina’s youngest son — little JJ Astor — was sort of your spiritual godson after he wanted to start learning his magic as a young man. You mourned him as dearly as the rest of his family did after the Titanic went down, even though you knew it was coming. That didn’t stop you from missing him.

“I— it’s a beautiful name.” Maria assures you. “JJ is a proper little boy’s name and then he can decide if he wants to keep it or go by Johnathan.” She is so touched that Max would include them in the naming of his child, despite the troubles from before. It will be one of the greatest regrets of her life.

“No matter what, he’ll always be loved.” Your hand smooths the underside of your belly as JJ himself makes an appearance in the conversation, kicking happily to show his approval — or at least his enthusiasm.

Max chuckles proudly. “He’s always so active. Giving mom his opinions on everything. He seems to like his name.” He tells his parents.

“I hate to interrupt, sir. Madam.” The petite figure of your housekeeper appears in the open library doorway. Mrs. Moreau has been with you since the house was finished in 1888, a determined and intelligent middle-aged woman-turned-vampire from Louisiana that prided herself on her skills as a caretaker. “But the other guests have begun to arrive. Mr. And Mrs. Perez are asking for you.”

“Of course.” Max nods and looks towards his parents. “I would like you to stay.” He tells them. “Please? We can talk and if you haven’t booked a hotel, you are welcomed to stay here.” He glances at you for confirmation, but he’s well aware that you’ve probably already planned for such an event.

“I already asked Mrs. Moreau to make up a guest room.” Obviously you had been hopeful that this reunion would go well, but you had really asked your housekeeper to make sure a few guest rooms were ready just in case anyone over indulged at the wedding. Safety first.

“Oh, well – are you sure?” The last thing they want to do is intrude on their son on his wedding night, but they also aren’t ready to let him out of their sight for too long as well. They hadn’t booked a hotel in case he refused to see them; the heartbreak would have been too much.

“We insist.” This is the outcome you were hoping for, after all, and you’re glad to see that Max and his parents are going to be able to patch things up. However slowly it happens, the work has begun. And that’s what matters most. “We aren’t leaving for our honeymoon for another week. And we’d like very much if you stayed.” The little train ride down to Washington DC will be welcome, and you had planned to take in museums and eat good food for a week or two before coming home again and making sure you have everything you need for the baby.

Maria bites her lip and looks at Jeff, wanting this more than anything. She’s missed her son, her only baby and now she’s being given another chance. “We accept.” She tells you with a happy grin. “As long as we can help in some small way. However we can.”

“I’m sure we’ll think of something.” You assure her, but for now you link your fingers through Max’s and smile. “We’re going to go finish getting ready. Please have a drink if you’d like and enjoy looking around a little before you take your seats in the garden. Mrs. Moreau will help you get settled.” There’s something to be said for having come into your own as a woman and a hostess in the Gilded Age, and with the help of women like your grandmother, Mrs. Astor, and Mrs. Vanderbilt. It has made you gracious and thoughtful, and very well prepared.

“Thank you again.” Jeff nods, looking at both of you as he compares the boy he had last known and the man and father-to-be that stands in front of him. “We will speak later.”

“We shouldn’t keep Eddie and Allison waiting.” A squeeze of his hand reminds Max to walk with you, and you hurry upstairs quickly to avoid being spotted by your newly arriving guests.

“Any other surprises that I need to be aware of?” Max asks with a smirk as he keeps his hand on your back, just in case.

“I talked my grandfather into cutting his toast in half.” The grin on your face is unrepentant. At the first of your weddings, Yayo’s reception toast was early forty minutes long. “Surprise.”

Laughing, Max shakes his head. “Yeah but now, we might have to have a speech from my father.”

“I’m rather looking forward to it.” At the top of the stairs, you can hear your brother and sister-in-law in your bedroom, humming over flowers and such. “I love you, Max. Forever. And I take that promise very literally.”

“I love you too.” Max stops you and cups your cheek. “You continue to surprise me, and I will never take you for granted one day during our existence.”

******

There are things about returning to Tuxedo Park that make you very nostalgic in a way that you cannot express to anyone besides Max. You came here together for Emmanuel’s funeral, supporting your grieving mother as her friends. It had been his parents’ wish to bury him here on the property, and now a large weeping beech tree oversees a small family plot on one end of the acreage. The distant cousin Max hadn’t known was buried here also, and had stored generations of family heirlooms inside the many rooms of Pullman House.

Going through these rooms is a lot of organizational work, but thankfully you can do quite a bit of it sitting at the dining room table with JJ in his Grow-With-Me chair beside you, kicking at musical keys and playing with the knobs, soft toys, and multicolored rings that the stationary play station has for his little mind to engage with. He seems to like the house well enough – although he did not like the drive here – and is currently staring and babbling happily at the far corner of the room while you look through old staff records and maintenance books kept by the superintendent.

“Hey love.” Max breezes into the room, taking on the role of handyman seriously, complete with walking about the house in flannel shirts with the sleeves rolled up and a tool belt around his hips. Not that he was really using it right now, but you seem to enjoy the view.

“Hey Daddy.” You stretch your neck to invite a kiss and he leans over obligingly as your six-month-old gurgles happily a foot away. “Are your parents back from town yet?”

“Just pulled in.” He grins and presses his lips to yours several times. “How’s my favorite girl. And my little biter?”

“He’s got a favorite spot on the wall to babble at and I’m reading through staffing records. Apparently the house got hit hard by Spanish flu and lost a few people.” You bite your lip, almost hating to say his name, but you have to. “Emmanuel’s nieces both died, and a few members of staff.”

Max sighs softly. “It feels like he should walk through the door.” He admits quietly. “Asking if we have time to check a design he had built and give our opinions.”

“Is it weird that I’ve always wished I could introduce him to my father?” The two men your mother had loved definitely had had more in common than not. Which makes sense, of course, in that your mother had a type. “I just know they would have been friends.”

“It’s not strange.” Max shakes his head. “Just like you shouldn’t feel bad for loving Emmanuel like we did. I think they would have loved each other.”

“I don’t feel bad. I mean it took some adjusting to…to realize that I miss him as my friend and he very well could have been my father.” You shrug slightly, reaching out your fingers to adjust one of JJ’s toys in his chair. “Being here just brings it all back. I’m sure if we were in the house I grew up in, I’d be thinking about my Dad instead.”

“Of course you would.” Max nods seriously. “Have you thought about my offer?” He asks softly.

“I’ve been thinking about it a lot, actually.” Ever since reuniting with his parents and the birth of his son, Max has been fully family oriented. He’s been endlessly helpful in every aspect of adjusting the way you live to make way for more family, and that included a very generous suggestion a week ago. “I think I’d like it very much, honestly. Bringing Mom and Dad back to Newport seems…it seems right. The family plot at Island Cemetery has plenty of room and it would be nice to not feel so disconnected from them.”

“You would be able to visit her whenever you want.” Max agrees. You’ve visited your parents’ graves a few times, but it’s too far to travel now that JJ is here. “I will have all the arrangements made.”

“Thank you, love.” A half-smile graces your lips, which grows when JJ babbles at the corner again happily. “And when we’re here, we can visit Emmanuel.”

“What is he babbling at?” Max wonders, looking over at his son with a curious pride. “It’s like he’s talking to someone.”

“I don’t know, he’s been at it the whole time I’ve—” But turning your head to actually look at the area where your son is focused makes you almost swallow your tongue. “Oh gods…”

“What?” Max’s fangs descend in a flash and he’s speeding over to JJ to whisk him into his arms. He might be a little overprotective, but this is his son.

"Emmanuel?" The ghostly figure in the corner is unmistakable, his tousled hair and immaculate clothing exactly the way he looked in life, if significantly more transparent and...somewhat more sad.

“What?” This time Max’s eyes are wide, not fearful or protective, but confused. “What do you see?” He demands again, staring at the spot where JJ has been babbling.

"I see Emmanuel," you repeat again, more carefully, seeing the figure of your old friend looking back at you. "That...that is you, isn't it?" The fact that Max can't see him makes you think it must be your and JJ's witch's blood at work, and you stand up from your chair carefully. "Can you see me, too?"

"Oh..." The shadowy memory of Emmanuel sighs quietly. "I can see you. And hear you. It's...I didn't know you could see me," he admits.

“What’s he saying? Is he talking back?” Max asks, looking back and forth between the corner and you.

"He didn't know that we could see him," you explain to Max, tears brimming in your eyes to see your old friend again. "But I—I don't understand." When you look back to the corner, Emmanuel has taken a step forward. "How long have you been here? I had no idea someone who had been a vampire could become a ghost."

Max tilts his head as you seemingly talk to thin air, but Emmanuel has to be there if you say he is. “Since I was destroyed.” He admits quietly, eyes darting back and forth between you and Max. “But you are here and— Annie? She’s your mother?”

“I suppose there’s…a bit to explain.” You glance back at Max where he is holding JJ close to his chest and bouncing your son gently in his arms. “This is when we are originally from. One of my powers is the ability to time travel, and I brought us back to your time by accident. But…yes. Annie was my mother. And the Browns were actually my grandparents.” You smile softly, almost laughing in disbelief. “And this is our son, JJ. Who apparently could see you all day today and simply couldn’t tell me.”

Emmanuel bites his lip as he stares at you. “I— I thought I was doing the right thing.” He tells you, having had decades to reflect on his mistakes.

“So did my grandfather.” Although you nod, regret sticks in your throat as though you were somehow complicit in the decision to sire your mother’s soulmate purely because you didn’t stop it. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“Is that what happened?” Emmanuel asks softly, frowning fiercely as he tries to remember those last moments. There was just a fog, a hunger he had never felt before and then seeing Annie’s eyes filled with regret and pain. Realizing she had staked him. “I— I could never hurt her. She is my world.”

“I know.” Magic isn’t merciful enough to let you touch him — hug him — to offer him comfort, but at least you can give your friend some kind of reassurance. “And Mom knew that, too. That it wasn’t you, when it happened.” Maybe that’s how he ended up a ghost, instead of moving on? You can’t be sure. “No one who ever saw you together could ever doubt how much you loved each other.”

“I— oh god.” He closes his eyes, pain etched across his face. “I hurt her. I— I just wanted to live through eternity with her. To give her the world. I would have never…” Regret laces his words, fills his tone and he wishes once again, that he had never changed.

“Emmanuel…” Cutting him off softly, you find yourself reaching out a hand to him even though you know you can’t touch him. It’s just instinct. “It’s—it’s done with. And…even if you had lived on? It’s…Annie died in a car accident when I was eighteen. She was still mortal, Emmanuel. Despite having such a long life. There’s just… there’s nothing that any of us can do sometimes to prevent tragedy. I know that might not be the most comforting thing in the world, but please don’t torture yourself thinking that she’s still walking the earth in pain.”

“She’s— Annie is gone?” He chokes out, the pain of knowing his soulmate no longer exists, blooming. He had thought he couldn’t feel the crushing pain of loss as a ghost after so many years of haunting Pullman House, but apparently he could. “Dolly— I— she’s gone?”

“I’m sorry.” Maybe you should have eased into the news a little, but you had honestly thought it would be comforting to know she wasn’t in pain anymore. “It’s been almost fifteen years now.”

“Why am I still here?” Emmanuel asks, unable to ask the question to anyone else since he has shown up here to haunt the halls.

“I don’t know.” You tell him honestly. “I’ve…you’re the first ghost I’ve ever met.”

He nods and his eyes slide over to Max and JJ. “Is he—?” He asks, eyes longing as they look at the child. The child that in his mind, should be his grandchild. “Are you happy?”

It almost feels rude to tell him just how happy you really are, but there is such a small chance that knowing your family is happy and healthy might actually help him somehow — and you cannot lie to your friend. Not anymore. You’ve already kept so much from him. “Yes,” you nod, knowing that Max is right behind you with JJ in his arms and that every moment your family has together is not to be taken for granted. “We’re still very happy.”

“Good.” Emmanuel smiles and looks back at the baby again. “Your son?” He asks. “He’s bright. He saw me right away.”

“He’s six months old today.” You can’t help the immensely proud way you beam when talking about your son. JJ is your pride and joy and you absolutely will talk about him from dawn until dusk. “Seeing you is…it’s the first sign of magic he’s shown. And I’m so very glad.”

“Does he...need blood?” He asks curiously.

“Some.” And you’re grateful you had been prepared for that, otherwise it would have been a very rude awakening. “But according to Cookie, Annie stopped needing blood after she stopped growing.”

“And you?” He asks, curious as to what you experienced as a child. “Did you need blood?”

“Not that I remember.” It isn’t impossible that you were given it as a baby and simply don’t remember, but even with your memory as clear as it is you don’t recall any sippy cups of blood in your childhood. “But I do take some of Max’s now. To prolong my life.”

“That is good.” Emmanuel nods. “You deserve a long life. You were always so kind to me. Even if you obviously knew what my fate was.”

“You loved my mother.” It’s as simple as that, to you at least, and again you just desperately wish you could hug him. “And you were a wonderful friend to Max and to me. You deserve as much kindness as every other good person in the world. I’m just…I’m very glad that I could be one of the people you find it in.”

“I am sorry.” Emmanuel murmurs softly. “For all the pain I cause your mother.” He’s had plenty of time to regret his change and now that he knows that he had hurt her, he is even more so.

“I wish it didn’t torture you the way it does.” It’s a sort of vain hope…or least a far-fetched one, but it is honest. “We are all of us only human, after all. Even witches and even vampires. We still make all the same mistakes and have all the same feelings.”

“I just hope that she was happy.” Emmanuel confesses. “After my time with her had ended.”

“In my memories of her, she was very happy.” It would be cruel to harp on the fact that your father was a good man and a good partner for her, and you won’t mention him at all, but you do smile reflexively. “Life when I was growing up was simple, and quiet, and happy. I can promise you that.”

“Good.” He smiles, nodding at the imagery you are producing. “That is all I can ask for.”

“You should know.” Stepping away from the topic of your mother or his regret for a moment is the gentlest thing you can think of in this moment. “Max and I…we’re helping his parents restore this house. They own it now. So we’ll be here, in and out, from now on.”

“Truly?” His eyes light up, delighted to maybe have company at some points during his existence as a ghost. “Would you— perhaps we could talk more? Not always, but some moments when you have time?”

“Of course we can talk more. And as JJ gets older, he’ll be able to talk to you, too.” His joy makes your heart ache, just like the very idea that you might not want to talk to him is absurd. “We’ve missed you, Emmanuel. Very much.”

“I’ve missed you too.” He promises with a small, sardonic smirk. “Although it’s amusing that Max cannot see me.”

“We’ll have to talk about him while he’s in the room,” you tease, throwing a grin back at your soulmate. “It will drive him crazy.”

“Don’t you dare talk about me.” Max huffs, frowning fiercely at the idea.

"Love you, babe." A grin over your shoulder tells him you're only teasing.

Max huffs and rolls his eyes. “Keep it up and I’ll start calling you ‘Manny’.” He threatens his old friend, not meaning a word of it.

“You’ll do that anyway,” Emmanuel replies, knowing his friend can’t hear him but enjoying the comfort that you can. You’re the first person to ever see him and actually hear what he says and it’s more comforting than he can possibly say.

“He says you’ll do that anyway,” you pass the message along with a grin.

Max tries to look innocent but fails miserably when he grins. “True.” He snorts and steps closer to the corner with the baby in his arms. “I can’t see you, but I’m glad that you’re— not gone.” He settles for that and shrugs. “I don’t know what to call it, but I’ve missed our billiards games.”

“It’s hard to play billiards without a body,” Emmanuel chuckles. “But maybe your wife will be kind enough to help us play chess.”

“He says I should help you play chess.” Translating between them makes you smile. Something you never expected but it warms your heart. “And I happily agree.”

“We will have to do it.” Max nods and gives a small chuckle. “No cheating though. I know you.”

That makes you snicker, but you hold up both hands in innocence. “I promise I won’t help him cheat,” you vow, wiggling your fingers in his direction. “Now, can I hold our son, please?”

“Sure.” Now that there’s no danger, Max has no problem handing over JJ to you. The boy goes easily, babbling happily and pointing at the corner.

"Sweetheart, I want you to meet somebody." Cooing to your son, you press a kiss to JJ's forehead and carry him a little closer to where Emmanuel is standing, past the table and past the chairs you had been sitting on all day. "This is Uncle Emmanuel." How much of what you're telling him is actually sinking into his curious little mind, you can't be sure. At six months old, he's definitely not piecing together a family tree in his mind. "He lives here, so we're going to be very nice to his house, okay Bud?" Picking up his little hand in yours, you grin when your son giggles approvingly. "Wave hi, Bud! Hi Uncle Emmanuel!"

JJ has learned to wave and he throws his entire body into it. Babbling and gurgling with a giant grin on his face as he damn near wiggles out of your arms.

If Emmanuel could still cry, he would have tears in his eyes. But as it is, the emotion sticking in his throat gives him away. “He is a blessing.” He manages to say, regarding the little boy in your arms.

“Yes.” You will agree to that every time, and never contest it for even a moment. “He absolutely is.”

******

Despite it being over 100 years of you sleeping beside him while he stays awake, Max doesn’t leave the bed. Too content to hold you as your breathing is nice and slow. Unless JJ is fussy and then he leaves you sleeping to handle the baby. He slips out of the bed as you groan and turn over to hug his pillow.

Your dreams have gotten slightly stranger since starting to take Max’s blood — the strangest were during pregnancy, but thank the gods that’s over — but it wouldn’t be uncommon to dream of magic or anthropomorphic anything or even create entire other universes in your mind. That makes this dream, as Max slips out of bed to rock your fussy son in his arms, all the more remarkable for being normal. Just a dream of your grandparents and parents sitting around a table playing cards like nothing had ever happened between them.

Your grandfather is the first to notice you, turning and smiling at you, just like he had your entire childhood when he visited you in your dreams. “Muñeca, you have come.” He stands and waves you over to the group.

“Yayo?” It isn’t the first time you’ve dreamt of your grandfather since he left this life, but it feels so much more real. “Am I late?”

He shakes his head and moves to gather you into a hug. “You are just on time. Come. There are others who have waited so long to see you again.”

You can see your family in the room, but at your grandfather’s bidding it’s like a veil lifts and you step further into the dining room at Chateau-sur-Mer to see your parents beaming at you as your abuela starts to deal you into their card game.

“Come sit with us.” Cookie hums in delight. “It has been so long since I have talked to you, my darling.”

“Are you…” Aware of your grandfather’s power, you don’t hesitate to go to the table, but you do look back at him before reaching out to hug your grandmother. “Are you all really here?” You ask, already choked up at the idea of it.

“After death, hard feelings are not nearly as important as family.” Annie admits, reaching out and taking your hand when you sit down. “I have so much to apologize for, sweetheart. So much.”

“You did what you thought was right, Mom.” Being able to see her again — touch her — call her Mom instead of Annie? It’s such a gift. It’s more than you ever dared to ask for, even knowing what is possible in the world. On her other side, though, you fly out of your chair to go to your father. It’s been the longest since you saw him, let alone spoke to him, because talking to the photos on your vanity at home don’t count as much.

“Hey pumpkin.” The fact that you are grown makes no difference as your father folds you into his arms and pulls you onto his lap for a hug like you are still six years old. “I have missed you so much. Been watching over you.”

“I miss you, Dad.” Such easy words to say, even as they shake through you, and you cling to him for a hug. “I miss all of you, but…gods I’m so sorry I didn’t come to see you when I was in the past. I was terrified of changing the timeline.”

“Honey, we understand.” Your father reassures you, kissing your forehead like he would have when comforting you from a bad dream. “I am just glad you got to see your mother. Your grandparents.” He pulls back and smiles at you. “Now you get to see me.”

“I wish you could’ve met Max.” Looking up and casting your eyes around the table, you soften again. “And JJ. Yayo is the only one who got to meet JJ, and you would all love him so much.”

“We’ve met JJ.” Your father admits with a smile. “Dreams, just like now, with you.”

“You can…with JJ?” It shouldn’t surprise you, not after last week’s revelation that your six-month-old can already see ghosts, but you smile in relief. “Good. I’m glad he’ll get to dream of his family.”

“We won’t monopolize his dreams.” Cookie promises. “Just drop in from time to time.”

“How are you still able to visit us?” This question is for Yayo, who is quietly looking through his hand off cards with a small smile. “If you…passed on? How do you still have your powers?”

“We are waiting.” Yayo tells you simply. “For Emmanuel.”

“Then I think you might be waiting for a while,” you tell him, guilt creeping into your voice as you look around the table. “He’s…he didn’t cross over. We’re at Pullman House right now. And he’s still here.”

“He has to forgive himself first.” Annie murmurs, looking sadly over at your father and then at you. “But he will. And then we will all be together.”

"He's heartbroken that he hurt you." It's so important for your mother to know this. To completely wrap her head around it, even if you understand that she probably forgave him long ago. "He barely even remembers when it happened. We've...talked through it. Extensively." Call it Ghost Therapy, but you had been hoping that trying to remember might somehow help him move on.

“Tell him that I— we— are waiting for him.” Annie requests, looking over at her husband, your father, and smiling. “Your father is looking forward to knowing the man that I loved before him. That I still love.”

“I…always thought you would be such good friends if you could meet.” It feels odd to admit it to your father, but it’s honest. It’s how you’ve felt since very early on after meeting Emmanuel.

“I know we would be.” Your father chuckles and looks at Annie lovingly. “She has told me about her soulmate.”

“Did they…tell you about Max, too?” It might be selfish, to wonder if they’ve talked about you and your happiness — but this is your family. Your parents and grandparents. In your heart your hope they’re at least happy for you.

“Absolutely.” He assures you with a proud smile. “I’ve watched how he cares for you, loves you.” He bites his lip. “He’s the kind of man I always hoped you would be with.”

“I wish you could visit him, too.” You admit, smiling softly. “But he doesn’t dream. Or sleep, really.”

“Yes, he’s too busy watching over his family.” Your grandmother hums in approval.

“You made a good choice, Yayo.” Of that, you can assure him. “Eddie and Allison are doing so well.”

“They are, aren’t they?” He smiles the satisfied little smirk of contentment before he picks up Cookie’s hand and kisses the back of it. “They are made for it, so I have cashed in one last favor from the devil.”

“Oh?” To hear that he had any left at all is a surprise, and you sit up at the table.

“Yes.” He hums, arching his brow and letting the moment sit just a touch longer for the dramatic effect. “They will walk the earth for eternity as soulmates.”

“Yayo.” The well of tears behind your eyes is instant, tears spilling over onto your cheeks as you think of how much that will mean to them. “You—they’ll be ecstatic,” you sniffle, wiping away the dripping tears.

“I thought they would like my last gift to them.” He nods, and holds up a finger. “But tell them that they should still treat every day as if they have just discovered each other.”

“I promise I’ll tell them.” Is it possible they don’t know yet? That it hasn’t happened? You’re certain that Allison would have called if she and Eddie had suddenly gained each other’s marks on any random afternoon. “And…” you look to your mother but have to wipe tears away all over again. “I’ll talk to Emmanuel. To tell him it’s time to finally forgive himself. Because you forgave him a long time ago.”

“I wish for him to enjoy this eternity with us.” Annie adds, nodding happily that you understand and there seems to be no hard feelings.

“I’ll tell him,” you promise again. For all the lifetimes that you knew your mother — whether she was your mother or your friend Annie — you have been able to love her through all of them. It’s oddly gratifying that you’ll be able to send her soulmate to her now. So that she can be loved all the more.

“Thank you, love.” Annie beams at you. “I am so grateful that you came back to visit during my youth. That I know you as the woman you are as well as my baby girl.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t tell you while we were there.” It would have been too much. Too complicated and too risky. But at least you had been able to know your mother for many more years.

“Oh sweetheart, I understand.” Your mother shakes her head and gives you a sad smile. “It would have changed things if I had known. And while I wish that I had not made mistakes, I did. I just hope you can forgive me for them.”

“I don’t think there’s a single person at this table who hasn’t tried a little too hard to protect the people they love.” Too much pressure, spellbinding, and accidental time travel all seem to be varying levels of the same misguided leaps into protection. It seems to be a family trait. “I understand why you did it. I’d do anything to protect JJ, too.”

“Just don’t repeat the mistakes we have made.” Yayo cautions you wisely. “Learn from our follies so you can make all new mistakes.”

You can’t help but laugh at that. The idea of all new mistakes being both daunting and very realistic. “I’m sure we will. That’s parenthood, isn’t it?”

“Of course it is.” All of the adults chuckle, well aware of their own parental mistakes and your father strokes your back gently. “You are a good mother. You will be for all the children to come.”

“I hope it will be several,” you admit with a grin. “I’m really enjoying motherhood.”

“It will be.” Yayo confirms with a knowing smirk. He has his ways of knowing that his family will be happy and healthy for generations to come.

******

The sun rises right into your bedroom window at Pullman House, bringing you out of your dream gently but without question. The baby monitor is gone from the nightstand on your side of the bed and your husband is nowhere in sight, so he must have gotten up with JJ in the night to make sure you could sleep. Sometimes he’s fussy for blood and sometimes for a bottle, but either way Max is able to take care of him.

They’re sitting together, father and son, at the table in the breakfast room when you come downstairs in your favourite old t-shirt and jeans after taking a steaming hot shower. Any chance to actually take a lengthy shower and feel human again is not something to be undervalued as a new mom, you have found.

JJ squeals happily at the sight of you and you sweep into the room to scoop him up out of his seat. “Hey Bud,” you croon, kissing his little forehead before leaning over to kiss Max as well. “Were you good for Daddy this morning?”

“Say ‘of course I was, Mommy’.” Max answers for him. “Nothing short of perfect, my son.” He winks at you playfully. “Takes after his father.”

“Mmhmm.” Even if you smirk skeptically, it’s full of nothing but love. “So that means he wanted blood last night, then?”

“So much that I’ve been thinking of creating a ‘Little Biters’ line of baby products.” He snorts jokingly. “The mascot of the line will be Cutie.”

“Mommy’s little menace,” you tease, placing another kiss on JJ’s head before moving around the kitchen to pour yourself a bowl of cereal. “I…had a dream last night.” Looking back over your shoulder, you shoot Max a meaningful look. “A family dream.”

“Really?” Max straightens up and his brow furrows slightly. He’s curious at the timing, especially since Emmanuel’s appearance. “What was it about?”

“Yayo had some messages to deliver.” Your grandfather’s mastery of the dramatic never ends. “I played cards with my grandparents and my parents and we talked.”

“Bridge?” Max asks, having spent many hours playing with your mother and grandmother back in the day.

“Of course.” The smirk on your face is because you got very good at the game over the decades. To the point where you were almost better than your abuela. “Dad and I switched out. Apparently he never quite mastered it the way you did.”

“Was this….a visit? Or a dream?” He asks seriously, knowing that stranger things are possible. He’s currently feeding one of them.

“It was a visit.” The distinct, you grant him, is important. “Apparently Yayo still has a little pull where it matters. Don’t I think this will be the last one.”

Max chuckles and shakes his head affectionately. “Of course the old bastard does.” He huffs.

“They told me they’re waiting.” The reality of it feels heavy, weighing on your shoulders like Atlas balancing the world. “They haven’t crossed over yet because they don’t want to leave Emmanuel behind.”

“That’s…sweet.” Max admits, his expression soft and yearning. He has been a little put out that he can’t see his old friend, but you have been enjoying talking to him. “Very sweet.”

"You know the old chestnut about ghosts having unfinished business?" With a bowl of cereal now in hand and enough milk to satisfy you, you sit down at the table with Max and set JJ back down in his own seat. "Mom says Emmanuel has to forgive himself so he can move on."

“Yeah?” Max shakes his head. “How are you going to convince him to do that?” He asks. “Although, telling him that Annie is waiting for him is a good start.”

"Hopefully being able to tell him directly from Mom that she has already forgiven him will give him the permission he feels like he needs to forgive himself." It's your best theory, anyway, and the fact that your friend has been so tortured over what happened for more than a century grieves you in a way you didn't know what possible. "Dad wants to meet him. Wants to wait for him, too. It’s...actually incredibly sweet."

“I told you it was.” He huffs at you playfully, reaching out and taking your hand. “Were you happy to see all of them together? Especially your dad? Since you didn’t get more time with him?”

"It was really nice to see Dad." To see him, to hug him, even if it was only in your dream. Dreams in your family have always been a little more intense anyway – but visitations are step above and beyond. "I think..." You glance up at your soulmate with a little grin. "Maybe we name the next little boy after him?"

“Next little boy?” Max perks up, considering you haven’t really talked about having more kids, and you had cursed him blue while in labor with JJ.

"I'm not saying giving birth was my favorite leisure day or anything." You snort at the idea, letting yourself enjoy a bite of your breakfast while you chuckle silently over the very idea. "But Yayo heavily implied a little insight into the timeline, and the fact that JJ will have at least a couple of siblings at some point."

“Can we start making them now?” Max asks, waggling his brows at you suggestively.

Shoving Max's arm playfully at the table, you make a soft if slightly non-committal noise at him and have another bite of your breakfast. You haven't been intimate since JJ was born and that's the longest you've gone in your entire relationship, but the doctor had been adamant that you needed time to heal and Max had agreed to follow medical advice without hesitation. "Let's see what the doc says when we get back to Newport," you tell him, that beaming grin overtaking your face again. "It took a hundred years to get JJ. Who knows how long we'll have to wait for the next?"

“That’s a hell of an age gap.” Max snorts, imagining JJ as a grandfather and becoming a big brother at the same time.

"It would be," you agree, laughing almost to yourself in silent little huffs. "Hopefully it won't take as long next time."

“Whenever you’re ready.” Max insists. He had even suggested wearing condoms when you were ready to have sex again.

"I love you." As many children as you many or may not have, as many different houses as you may live in, and as many decades or centuries as will ever pass between you -- this is the thing that holds it all together. The fuel that keeps your life going is right here at this table. And you can't help but be caught up in it a little when he slides his hand into yours and smiles. "Come on," you urge, pushing your cereal bowl away and nodding toward the belly of the house. "Come dance with me." It wouldn't be the first time he's twirled you around the dance floor at eight in the morning and you're sure it won't be the last, because the two of you never seem to tire of the waltz.

______

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