#decided to name this trope heavy bleed lmao

[sulfies]

Fuck…

Fuck. Fuck.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck-"

They would not stop chasing him, It has been hours.

Every turn, dip, jump and drop were followed by the heavy footsteps of the guards. Desmond was exhausted. They never chased this long before.

The Borgia must have updated their training…

Jumping into a roof garden Desmond tried to catch his break.

"He Jumped in!"

 A small rest of less than a minute. 

Desmond jumped out again, running and running, his vision blurred and he did his best to even out his breathing to save energy but he was tired. If he had any stamina left he would have just fought them off but it was too late for that. One punch would take him out at this point.

He crossed the wires between buildings shakily as the ground and the crowd below him wobbled. He jumped across halfway through and rolled onto the opposite roof. 

"Water... I can lose them in water"

He had to... He jumped roof to roof to get to a canal he knew was nearby. 

It was so close, he just had to make this jump.

So he did the jump, he grabbed the windowsill with a clammy hand and reached again with his other to pull himself up.

Then he slipped.

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

Water rushed out of his lungs all at once.

“Bit late to go for a swim Desmond don't you think?”

Coughing up the remainder of water in his lungs, he opened his eyes to find Ezio sitting right next to him leaning over his face just as drenched as he was. Desmond was laid down on the cold stone ground, his wet clothes an uncomfortable weight on him.

”Nah just the right temperature…” he said weakly as his body gave a shiver, now that he has crashed from his adrenaline-filled day all his muscles were catching up with him. He spat onto the ground, mucus filling up his nose and throat from the water. Muscles he didn't even know could hurt were hurting.

 “How come you were here to…” save his ass just as he drowned.

Ezio placed his hands on his knees, his teasing tone taking a serious turn “You were gone more than four hours Desmond. I was, of course, looking for you!” His wet hair partly covered his worried eyes. “You should have been back hours ago and now I-, thank God I did, I find your body cannonballing into the Venice canalé!” Ezio’s hand wiped his face as he leaned over to check Desmond with his worried gaze. “If I wasn't just around the corner…” He shook his head disapprovingly. “What even happened? Are you hurt? It was not a hard mission, why did you take so long…”

God, this guys worried puppy eyes were a weapon on their own. Desmond groaned as he sat up, “They would not stop chasing my tail” Pushing a trembling hand through his short curls he shook the water out of them “I swear they must be high off of something like coke because they chased me the entire day and their stamina is never that good usually”

”…the guards?”

Desmond rubbed his legs as tremors started on the overworked muscle, “Yep… It was insane. I took so many different turns and hid so many times but one of them always found me in minutes and alarms would go off all over again once they did. I was actually planning on losing them in the canal… which I guess kind of worked… not that I planned on adding drowning” He grinned at Ezio “What happened to the guards that were after me? Did you fight em off for me, my prince? or did they leave after laughing at my belly flop to water?”

Ezio chuckled  “No one was here, I took a turn after hearing a giant splash only to find a sopping wet pile of you, passed out face DOWN in the water”

Desmond sighed as he squeezed the ends of his tailed robe, grimacing at the water that was dripping out “Yes yes, thank you for saving my life…” Gathering his legs under him he tried to get up only for them to fail underneath him, trembling and looking as sturdy as jelly instead of bones. “If all it took was water for them to leave me alone I would have done that in hour two, I can't believe they didn't even try to get my supposed dead drowned body after chasing me so long…I am almost hurt” Ezio's open hand appeared in front of him, he clasped it letting himself be pulled up to a sturdy chest he could lean on.

”Yes, how very rude of them, to leave a body such as yours alone and wet…”

Desmond rolled his eyes at that “Let's just go home, I need a warm bath and a bed and get Leo to invent painkillers by tonight”

”Yes Signoré, at once.”

——————

It was happening again.

It had to be the same batch of soldiers and If they did this again… next time Desmond might have to kill them. He refused to believe the Borgia’s suddenly employed every renaissance-crossfitter in the city.

Maybe his drug theory was right because he had been running for close to 3 hours now with the footsteps never-ending behind him. His lungs were starting to hurt and he really didn't want to have to take a dip in the water to lose them again.

”He went to the left!”

Heels hot behind him he kept on running, arriving home 5 hours later drenched in sweat and pieces of hay stuck all over him.

———

It happened again, and again then again. It wasn't every time but it was happening enough that Desmond was getting extremely annoyed and tired from it.

It never happened when he was in group patrols or with Ezio so at this point he was getting the feeling they were targeting him specifically. Him having to run a triathlon every other day was getting old fast.

The others were also starting to get worried, and that was most likely why he was face to face with a brooding Ezio in the main room of the hideout at 4 am when he finally came back from the last mission he was sent on.

”You were supposed to be back yesterday…”

Desmond collapsed onto Ezio's chest facefirst and groaned “Hello to you t-”

”Evening… you were expected back yesterday evening.”

2 arms wrapped around his shoulders making him humm tiredly onto Ezio’s heat. 

“Desmond, this can't keep going on…”

He looked up from his place between Ezio. “They are clearly trying some strategy or aiming for you to get hurt with this.” Their eyes focused on one another, and Ezio’s lips formed a flat line.  “No solo missions till this ends.”

Desmond clicked his tongue, putting a palm between the two “I don't need to be babysat Ezio.”  Ezio didn't change his expression as he grabbed his hand and placed a gentle kiss on his gloved fingers. “It's that or you are off duty fully.”

”What! That is not fair!”

”Take it up to the Mentoré if it bothers you, oh wait that's me… such unfair world”

Desmond kept his colourful language to himself, he knew why Ezio was worried. He knew this was their best option and he couldn't keep on doing this but it was annoying to be benched. Why him? What did they gain from stalking him like a prey for hours upon hours… It's not like they ever caught him and their arrows never hit. So why?

He wrapped his free arm around Ezio’s waist,

”I should just kill them next time”

He could feel Ezio’s smirk form on his glove.

”I fear that might be an actual solution Amó”

———————

He hated to admit it… but the babysitting was working.

He had been doing patrols and small paired missions for the last week and hadn't had to apply to the Olympics even once this week. But Ezio’s looks into new juiced guards were coming back empty. From what anyone could find their training had not changed and no guard or soldier was bragging about leaving Desmond near faint at his doorstep every other day.

Surely someone would talk about a new enhancer drug they take supplied by the Borgia’s but no one was taking anything but wine and opium for the unfortunate.

”I almost feel a bit jealous Desmond, they never tried that hard with me” 

Desmond fake laughed from where he was crouched on the roof.

”Oh now it's okay to joke about?”

”Now that your life isn't in danger every tuesday? yea, it is.” Ezio said as his eyes scanned for guards with a big grin on his face, they were to intercept a small message that was supposed to leave with a poor lonely messenger.

He replied with a sigh “Shut up…”

”No you shut up, he is here.”

Both of them looked directly at their target, 2 streets over painted yellow in their sight, walking in hurried steps.

They started stalking him crouched, above the rooftops like two alleycats cornering a sad mouse. The man must have felt a chill in the air because his steps hurried faster.

Ezio sped up keeping to the man's left while Desmond stayed behind him.

He dropped down a level onto a wooden platform just as the unlucky carrier took a left to an empty alley. Desmond took to the floor, feet landing silent, blocking his exit as Ezio's dark figure placed himself to the top just right.

The man went down smoothly, and the pair was exiting the alley with the envelope in hand the next second. Passed out figure was hidden in a nearby haystack as the two of them walked the empty night streets slowly with a smile on their faces.

”Nearly scared him to death there Ezio, poor dude…”

”Nearly is the word you should be focusing on my dear, he will be very grateful to have kept his life once he wakes up.”

Desmond bumped his shoulder teasingly “A whole night in a haystack? death might have been a kinder option”

Ezio opened his mouth to reply but a voice drowned whatever Desmond was about to hear.

”ASSASSINÓ! THIS WAY!”

Someone saw them. 

He could hear a group making their way around the corner.

”This way Ezio!” Desmond grabbed Ezio's hand immediately and yanked, running up to the roofs and pulling him along with him.

”Desmo-“  “Wai-”

Ezio surely knew better than to talk and run for their lives at the same time, Desmond kept on running, letting Ezio follow his steps as he dove into a rooftop garden after a sharp turn.

”De-“

”Shhhh”

He pulled Ezio in who was taking his sweet time putting one leg over the garden’s fences with no hurry. He listened quietly for the footsteps hearing them slowly get farther. Something told him they hadn't shaken them off yet.

“Desmo-“

”SHHH! They are not gone!”

Sure enough, he heard them again. Coming closer and closer. Desmond jumped out of the garden fast hoping to shock whoever was about to check into where they were hiding.

”This way Ezio!”

They ran for 20 more minutes as Desmond led the way, each time they stopped Desmons would notice a figure coming towards them so they would run more. After 30 more minutes Desmond had a feeling these were the same guards that were torturing his solo missions this past month.  At Least this time Ezio was here.

”I think if we climb there we could lose them on the way down!”

He shouted back to Ezio pointing at the huge tower they could perform a leap from.

”Desmond I don-“

”Less talking more running Ezio, trust me you are gonna need all your energy to outrun these fuckers!”

as his hands grabbed the first stone of the tower Ezio pulled him back by his collar.

”Desmo-”

”What! We need to keep runn-“

”Desmond!”

The hand on his collar turned him around fully. “Desmond, stop for a second please!” Ezio panted at his face, breathing harshly through his nose to catch his breath he looked exhausted with sweat making his hair stick to his skin 

“Listen…” “I don't think they are after us…” 

Desmond did, taking a big gulp of air he focused around them… there weren't any footsteps or shoutings around them anymore. He smiled.

”OhThankGodTheyGaveUp!”

 He slid down the wall of the tower to squat on the ground. “Oh thank whatevers up there…” Wiping the sweat from his forehead he laughed, tension leaving his body now that the coast was clear. “Do you see what I have been dealing with all this time now? oh man, I thought I was going crazy with how long they keep up with me!” 

Ezio looked down at him with a slight worry on his face.

”to think you have been running like this for hours at a time for a full month now…

Desmond laughed again “I know right! Man, I am glad they gave up earlier than usual… I was thinking we would be at it for hours with how much one of them kept popping up every corner.”

Ezio remained standing up where he was looking down at him “So you see them…”

Desmond looked at him one eyebrow up in a question, grin still on his face “Of course I saw them, did you not? Do we need Leo to prepare you glasses, Ezio? They weren’t that far behind…”

Ezio sighed long and loud while looking at the sky, and squatted down to Desmond’s level… his hands moving on top of Desmond's knees kindly.

”I did not see them.”

Desmond scoffed “Really Ezio? I was joking about the glasse-“

”No Desmond, I did not see anyone… the whole time we ran”

Now his brows were crossed because “What do you mean? They were right behind us this whole time, you must have looked behind you at least once!”

Ezio’s thumb rubbed on his knee slowly as he gave a smile that couldn't hide the look of pity on his face.

”Oh I did… multiple times. Even with my sight.” He took a slow breath and gave Desmond a guilty look. “Desmond…. I don't think there ever was anyone”

Desmond’s ears started to ring. “If you are pulling a prank…Because if you are... ”

Hands on his knees moved to his thighs. “I know”

Desmond shook his head “I am not lying!”

”I know…”

”I really did see them” His shoulders started to shake and the hands on his thighs moved to his back as Ezio pulled him in.  “I really did… They were there I swear…”

“I know, carissimó…”

How could he have not realized… No training was changed, and no new performance drugs were taken Desmond was just getting chased by ghosts. Ghosts his own mind was supplying. 

He buried his face into Ezio’s neck as he shook.

”… so fucking unfair…”

Ezio hummed in an answer as his hands rubbed his back. They stood there as Desmond cried into his shoulder staining the white cloth with tears and snot till he calmed himself down enough.

——-

”So I was on the right idea with thinking I was going crazy” 

Ezio snorted at the first sentence Desmond chose to say after his crisis.

”You are not crazy…” then paused “…well…”

”Even you have to admit running from imaginary friends for a whole month for hours is pretty crazy”

Ezio chuckled and squeezed him into a tighter hug between his arms.

”Ehhh yeah Benè, you are pretty crazy... Good thing that I am crazy for you too, vita mia.”

Desmond made a gagging sound in his arms “Oh my god, that was so sweet I want to drown myself again”

”Oh the drama!”

----

After @a-little-buggy s fanfic I had to write one too lmao tho theirs is like a masterpiece this was fun to write

[hissprince]

Writing Ask Games

tagged by @ink-nguyen and I immediately forgot about it

I’m doing this for Coat of Scales 

1. Describe the plot in one sentence.

Elion Veris is a prince forced into exile by his Regent, and he’s not buff enough to take it back by force, so he has to figure out how to talk his way in--and out--of every possible political nightmare scenario.

2. Pick one sight, smell, sound, feel, and taste to describe the aesthetic of your novel.

a silver crown perched on swathes of black and purple velvet

the smell of a forest during a rainstorm

a grandmother singing Slavic lullabies to her grandchild, underscored by the crackle of a fire

being wrapped in a blanket and held in the arms of someone you love

turkish coffee and warm honey-bread

3. Which 3+ songs would make up a playlist for the novel?

Run Boy Run - Woodkid

Stay Frosty, Royal Milk Tea - Fall Out Boy

Two Evils - Bastille

4. What’s the time period and location in which the novel takes place.

I never stuck an exact pin in it, but I’d estimate vaguely 1600s-1700s? I don’t know man I had to make my own calendar system. as far as location goes, the main settings are Apres, Sidra, Krey, and Fille. Apres is sort of Hellenic in feeling and aesthetic, with a heavy emphasis on sea trade and travel. Sidra is very Persian with a bit of Mughal Indian influence. Krey and Fille are inspired by Eastern Europe, especially Russia and Ukraine, although Krey has a distinctly Celtic flavor to some of its customs. 

5. Is this a standalone or a part in a series?

it’s the first in the Kingsnake Trilogy which I’m probably going to have to work on for Many Years

6. Are there any former titles you’ve considered but discarded?

Coat of Scales was actually the original title, but I briefly switched it to something else before deciding I didn’t like it as much LMAO. also, the original file name was “fantasy costco” so there’s that.

7. What’s the first line of your novel?

‘Elion Veris jolted up in bed, his book falling to the floor with a loud thump.’

8. What’s a dialogue you’re particularly proud of?

I actually like a lot of my dialogue tbh so you get Several

Chapter 2:

“Now, now, you may not be particularly handsome, but there’s no need for insult—ow!” Simon yelped as Elion struck him squarely in the forehead with an apricot.

“There are plenty more,” Elion said, tossing an apricot from one hand to the other. “Choose your next words carefully. I see one that’s definitely overripe.”

Simon pursed his lips. “I love you, Elion?”

“No,” Elion deadpanned, punctuated by the distinct sound of splattering fruit and an indignant screech. “Choose more carefully next time.”

Chapter 11

Either he was lucky, or Saturn noticed his discomfort. “You weren’t here earlier, when I came back from the barracks. Where’d you run off to?”

“Janus and Tethys wanted to talk to me.” It was only half a lie. “They told me you have quite the reputation.”

Saturn groaned. “Of course they did. Look, it was years ago. I was young and I was stupid. It was a temporary thing, I’m not—like that anymore.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“You think me a whore?” Saturn said, mocking offense. “Shame on you! I’m a reformed whore!”

“Re-whore-med, then, is it?” Elion replied. Saturn threw a piece of radish at him.

“You’re not funny,” Saturn huffed, but his tightly-pursed lips said otherwise. There was a warmth in his eyes that had been missing before. Elion was almost bold enough to call it trust.

Chapter 14: (wow a sneak peek)

"You’re not going to do it, are you?” she said in Fillesian. 

“What do you mean?”

“Kill Saturn.” Phyrra’s voice was emotionless. “You’re not going to do it.”

Elion narrowed his eyes. When he responded, it was in Apresian. “Why would you think that?”

“You’re becoming fond of him.”

“I have not.” He switched to Fillesian. “He touches me constantly. I hate it.”

“But you don’t panic when he does it.”

“You don’t know that!” Elion snapped, his voice turning into a sharp hiss. “You think I can lose control every time I’m afraid? You think I can get away with that? I’m not putting myself at risk by fighting back!”

For once,  Phyrra hesitated. She dropped her gaze to the floor, breathing out slowly as her shoulders relaxed. “Oh, Elion,” she sighed. “They’ve made you into something terrible.”

9. Which line from the novel most represents it as a whole?

“He took everything from me,” Elion spat, the words like venom on his tongue. “Everything I had, and everyone I loved. He killed my mother and Mana and left Simon to bleed out like a dog in the public square, and he looked me in the eyes and laughed.” His body trembled, but his voice was steady, and he stared Jastra down with iron in his mouth. “This was never about the kingdom.”

10. Who are your character faceclaims?

I’m going to be completely honest, the only faceclaim I could find for Elion is Keira Knightley. Saturn and Phyrra are borderline impossible to pin down so I haven’t found anyone for them yet. Janus is definitely Adonis Bosso, and Tethys is a young Riz Ahmed.

11. Sort your characters into Harry Potter houses!

Elion - Slytherin

Saturn - Gryffindor

Phyrra - Ravenclaw

Tethys - Hufflepuff

Janus - Ravenclaw

Simon - Hufflepuff

12. Which character’s name do you like the most?

Elion is a personal fave but I’m a huge fan of Saturn, Janus, and Tethys bc all the Vaerion are named after the planet Saturn’s moons. look how clever I am.

13. Describe each character’s daily outfit.

Elion - white linen shirts with intricate botanical embroidery around the neck and cuffs, a vest in either dark purple or black with silver embroidery around the collar, a jacket in colors and embroidery patterns to coordinate with the vest, and either a long black and silver coat for court functions or a black cloak. tight black riding pants and tall black boots. a goth icon.

Saturn - in the summer, usually a white chiton with red embroidery on the hem, his cloak, and sandals. the rest of the year, loose dark linen pants and a light cotton shirt in various shades of red or ivory-white, plus low leather boots. he wears his leather armor if he’s needed at the barracks. he has to be forced to wear shirts.

Phyrra - while in Apres, she wears long chitons with blue floral embroidery and a ton of bracelets. she actually goes barefoot whenever possible, but she’ll wear either sandals or embroidered slippers if she has to.

Janus and Tethys - dark linen pants and various shades of cotton shirts, with dark wool cloaks and mid-length leather boots. they share literally their entire wardrobe so I count them as one fashion entity. 

14. Do any characters have distinctive birthmarks/scars?

Elion has some scarring on his lower back, and the veins in his arms have a silver tint which I’m counting as a birthmark. Saturn has a scar across his lips that he earned in a knife fight when he was 14. 

15. Which character most fits a character trope?

Simon has a very “best friend and sidekick” sort of aura, but there’s a lot more going on with him than just that

16. Which character is the best writer? Worst?

Elion is a fantastic writer, since he realized from a young age that he’d need to be good with words to keep himself at the top of the pack, but Saturn is an incredibly close second—after all, he’s a poet. Simon is The Worst without question or competition.

17. Which character is the best liar? Worst?

Elion is definitely the best, since he’s had 19 years of practice. Saturn is the worst liar; his expression always gives him away bc he feels guilty about it.

18. Which character swears the most? Least?

I think so far Elion is actually the one who swears the most by stats, but in terms of Big Swear Energy it’s probably Janus. Jastra swears the least because she’s the Empress and she has a hell of a reputation to uphold, but I don’t think Simon has sworn at all. #letSimonsayfuck

19. Which character has the best handwriting? Worst?

Tethys has gorgeous handwriting, even if he doesn’t do a whole lot of writing most of the time. the prize for worst is tied between Janus and Phyrra; Janus bc he’s a doctor and it’s become illegible over time, and Phyrra just because she does not fucking care

20. Which character is most like you? Least like you?

I’m probably most like Elion and Phyrra tbh. Elion, because I’m very politically-minded and prefer to do things in underhanded ways, and Phyrra because I take no shit and tend to be more knife than person. I’m definitely the least like Janus because he has his shit together and I do Not.

21. Which character would you most like to be?

probably the king of Krey bc he has a castle and like 8 dogs and a really cool spouse and comparatively fewer past traumas 

I tag @poetatertot @satyr-syd and any of my other writer friends who want in on this!! if you don’t it’s cool bc this deadass took me over an hour LMAO

[katsitting]

Tomarry for 68 + 97 would be lovely!

Heroic Sacrifice + Time Travel. Oh boy, these two tropes are definitely Tomarry lmao. Hope you don’t mind the direction this went.

Warnings: childbirth and character death.

Harry needed to go back. It didn’t matter that things ended terribly for those that messed with time. None of that did. 

As far as he knew, if he ceased to exist--if he was unmade by the decisions he took this afternoon, wedged between Ginny and his mattress, it was fine by him. He couldn’t stomach the aftermath of this war. Every life weighed heavily on his shoulders--his guilt at failing to save everyone--in failing to prevent Fred from taking his last breaths, from failing to save Snape, from preventing the Longbottoms from going insane, from failing to stop Voldemort from ever killing his parents, from failing to save Sirius Dobby, and Cedric...

Harry had to go back, and it was with a twist in his stomach that he shifted in bed to press a chaste kiss on Ginny’s cheek--in apology or goodbye, he wasn’t sure now--and left. Her warmth and the familiarity of her breaths the last thing he knew before he dressed and twisted the ancient time turner to the time Tom Marvolo Riddle was to be born.

And then, he was flying. 

Harry didn’t know where he was when he appeared in an older, decrepit world. Everything was tinged in greys, the sky darkened with the promise of heavy snowstorms and hail. He knew when he was, carefully twisting the metal until his soul--broken, mangled, abused, he didn’t know--unfurled, alerting him that this would be the time. That this would be it. He would end things before they even began--

Riddle would die as he should have in his mother’s womb, a product of deceit and rape. A terrible fate for a baby to be born to.

He set a path through the ice, his feet crunching through the snow and his breaths heavy with smoke as he turned through alleyways and depilated buildings in search of the one where Merope Gaunt would go through, swollen with Tom Riddle and death.

At the sound of a pained scream, Harry was moving. It had been the scream of a woman, terrible and enthralling as terror often was. He turned a corner, running now, following the screams that went for what felt like an eternity.

It was when he was turning through the final alley, past a butcher shop and an apothecary that he stopped, catching sight of the woman he’d been looking for.

Merope Gaunt was curled into herself, in total disarray. Her dress was dirty and torn, her hair was knotted and long, winding about her throat and neck like live serpents strangled their prey.

Harry stepped towards her after being certain that this was who he saught, noticing the hideous features of her face--the way her nose protruded and her cheeks hollowed out--high and all wrong on her round face. She looked malnourished from his vantage point--weak and brittle. It was easy to see how she would die in child labor--how this would be the first death attributed to Tom Riddle’s name.

At the sound of his feet crunching on snow, Merope swiveled her head in his direction, her dark and wide eyes fixed on his. Harry tried not to cringe, to lose his nerve at what it was he planned to do. He would be taking this boy’s life--snuffing it out before it ever was. Stealing the only thing this woman had left from her noxious relationship with a muggle.

“Plea-please, help me.” Her voice broke, and Harry approached her, growing more and more unnerved by the tears streaming down her cheeks. She had been through years of abuse--he’d read her history. His heart twisted at what he planned, fingers forcing their way into his pockets to grasp at his wand.

The wood tingled within his grasp, pulsing in time with the beat of his heart--ready to do as his master bid. If only Harry wasn’t going to do this. If only he wasn’t going to take some woman’s life to--

“M-my baby. Sir, please help me. He’s all I have left,” the woman’s voice broke, and Harry did too. He’d never murdered someone before--even when they had deserved it. Not even his Crucio, when Bellatrix had snuffed Sirius’s life out, had amounted to anything. He had no malice--no desire to kill. 

But he had to stop this all. He needed to do this, not just for him, but for the world waiting for him several decades into the future. 

Harry pulled his wand and pointed it at the woman. ANd it was at that moment that she realized what he intended, that he was no mere muggle, but something more. Something dangerous, not only to her life, but to her baby.

And it was in that moment that Merope, weak and brittle, Merope transformed before his eyes. Her eyes hardened and she was on her feet, vaulting forward to protect what was nestled in her womb.

“No!” Merope screamed, and Harry stumbled back when she swiped at his wand, her fingers clasping around it to pull it back. “You won’t hurt my son!”

Harry grasped her by the shoulder, struggling to force her off, but she was merciless. Her fingers twisted, and his wand snapped in half beneath her grip. 

Her mouth, hot and thick with the smell of her oncoming death, fanned over his face, and Harry, trying to twist away, felt her teeth dig into his neck--

Harry kicked, and it was only when he heard the sound of a loud crack in the silence that he realized what it was that he’d done. Merope fell slack in his arms, a pained wheeze leaving her even when her fingers still dug into his arms.

No, this wasn’t how things were supposed to go. He was supposed to let her go quietly, her and Tom. 

But there was blood everywhere--staining the snow. It dribbled on him--hot and sickening. His stomach turned, but still, Harry could only watch as Merope slipped down against him.

She crushed him beneath her weight, the movements of her chest the only evidence that she was still alive after he’d harmed her. He didn’t know where it was that she was bleeding, he didn’t know a kick could do so much damage in the first place--

“Mon-monster.”

The words were a slap to the face. 

“Mons-ster.”

Merope did not stop repeating them. Harry should have shoved her off, but he couldn’t. All he could hear were those words, the same words he’d called Voldemort all those years ago, in his head.

No.

“You killed him. You killed him!” Merope was screaming now, hitting weakly at his chest until that too stopped. Her arms fell slack, as if she’d been suspended in time.

Terror seized him, and he was rolling her to the side, turning to see for himself that no, he couldn’t have done this. No, this was all wrong. He didn’t mean for it to end this way--to do this--

“Tom--” a weak, broken sound escaped Merope’s blue-tinged lips, and then, nothing. Her chest ceased moving, and Harry scrambled to get her to move, to get her to say something.

She didn’t. Her eyes were staring unseeingly at him, accusing. 

No, no, no, no--

Then, a cry. A loud ominous sound thundered through the silence.

It was a baby’s cry. It was unmistakable. He had to listen to Teddy cry in the evenings, learning just what particular cry meant. 

He was scrambling now, unable to stop himself from digging through Merope’s dress, to see for himself that he hadn’t killed Riddle, that he hadn’t murdered a baby in cold blood when, in fact, he had planned to do this in the first place. He had come to murder Tom Riddle before he ever was, and now--

His fingers came away red, parting through the rivulets to find that in her last exhalation, Tom Riddle had emerged. The gush, the wetness that stained his robes, had been Merope’s water breaking, her last act as a mother before an assailant. 

Harry’s fingers shook when instead of the cold and dead body of Tom Riddle, before him was the partial birth of a boy, his head and his arms curling around, reaching for something he could not see. The boy was crying, and Harry forced himself to move, to dig further in to force what little remained of the newborn from out of his mother’s body.

It should have disgusted him. He should have done everything in his power to make sure that the boy never lived, but here he was, cradling the baby in his arms, drenched with blood.

The boy was crying endlessly, until that too stopped. There was the sound of soft breathing, of a low noise that made Harry pull the baby away from his chest, to look at the newborn that would later grow up to hurt innocent people.

But instead of the face of a murderer, instead of dark eyes thick with hunger and hatred, he saw the face of an innocent.

His eyes were wide, staring at his face as if it were trying to memorize Harry. But that was impossible, newborns couldn’t see, not so early on. Not so--

The baby curled into him, desperate for his warmth, and Harry broke, pressing the boy closer, tears streaming down his cheeks. He couldn’t kill him. He couldn’t do it, not with a broken wand. 

This wasn’t a murderer, Harry thought, rising from his place on the ground. He wasn’t a monster, no. He was only a child.

How could he hurt this child? How could he when this boy, laying in his arms, hadn’t done anything wrong. It wasn’t fair to vindicate someone for actions they had yet to commit, for actions that could still be prevented, that could be changed with love. 

It was there, in the cold winter, the sky grey and thick with unrest, that Harry decided not to kill him. He refused to be a monster, to be called the very thing Harry had refused to become. 

It wasn’t too late for Riddle. Because maybe, and perhaps he was crazy for this, maybe if he showed Tom Riddle love, if he gave him everything that he never had while growing up, the future could still be saved.