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devieuls · 2 years ago

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ˋ Déjà-vu .

Neteyam Sully x Tayrangi Reader ( ONE SHOT )

Synopsis : The Na'vi say that every person is reborn in multiple lives and in each of them, is in a constant search: that of the soul mate. A bond so deep and mysterious that it overcomes the barriers of time and space, uniting two beings destined to meet in each universe. Through the ages and dimensions, kindred souls who seek each other, recognize each other, pushing each other like irresistible magnets. Because the soul mate is the perfect reflection of ourselves, a connection that goes beyond appearances and circumstances. And so, in every life and universe, destiny is intertwined to unite those souls who are destined to be inseparable through the Great Mother.

Warning : None. FLUFF

Recommended Songs : Habits - Genevieve Stokes; Blue - Dreamy, YUP!; Hotline Bling - Billie Eilish; Radio - Lana del Rey; Cinnamon Girl - Lana del Rey

Lenght : 3.6k

NA'VI WORDS : TANHI: Star / Bioluminescent freckles

NETEYAM: 19 y.o / Y/N: 18 y.o

· · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · ·

Hidden among the winding branches of the centuries-old trees, stood the forest of the Omatikaya clan. Its beating heart was a mysterious universe blessed by the Great Mother, a refuge where wild nature manifested itself in all its majesty. The suns, filtering through the thick foliage of the trees, painted golden scales on the moss carpets that stretched between the giant trunks. The air, dense with humidity, smelled of fresh earth and life. Each breath filled your lungs with earthy aromas and floral fragrances, mingling with the sweet singing of birds and Ikran competing for air dominance. Their trills echoed through the bush, dancing with the leaves swinging in the wind like a natural chorus, singing a timeless symphony. The soil, caressed by roots woven like affectionate fingers, housed a myriad of creatures. Invisible to the eyes, the insects buzzed in a concert of whispers, accompanied by the delicate rustle of the leaves that grazed each other. The dewdrops hung from the webs like shining pearls, while the nocturnal creatures found rest in the shade, waiting for their time.

In the midst of this symphony of nature, you were sitting on a rock near the edge of a pond, immersed in the quiet and harmony of the forest. Your gaze reflected the deep connection with the flora that surrounded you, an inner harmony that was reflected in your serene smile as you watched some fish shuffle between your feet in the water. Dressed in clothes with shades of the earth, you seemed a fragment of this landscape, a soul enchanted by the power and beauty of the forest, albeit with details that brought back to the marine flora to which you belonged. You started humming one of the ancient songs of the Tayrangi clan as you stretched your fingers towards the water in front of you, brushing at the fish that lived there quietly, remaining enchanted by that piece of paradise found. You had spent all morning wandering in the forest, and now you were sitting there enjoying the early afternoon making you feel free and weightless, emptying your mind of thoughts and doubts, devoting yourself to solitude. Not far from that almost enchanted place, a second Na'vi was following a small sprawling path to start the hunt, bow in his hand and feline eyes as he sought the perfect spot to start hunting. To distract Neteyam from his main objective was a foreign melody from the forest, which he had never heard before but which seemed so familiar to him. Neteyam’s attentive ears awoke to hear the song, allowing him to pinpoint the direction from which the sound came. < A voice in the forest? > He wondered as intrigued he ventured in the direction of almost hypnotic singing. Curiosity got the better of him as his head peeped out of a tree, watching a young na'vi beauty sitting from behind while humming.

Neteyam could only see the back of the Na'vi, contemplating every inch of your body that seemed to him already so lived, already admired, already touched: your shoulders narrow and thin, slender as your arms, the thread of the top on your back that covered your breasts in front, the small waistline that had around some threads with seashells and sea beads as pendants, and the soft sides leaning on the rock, slightly covered by your loincloth draped at the sides. Your long black hair slightly covered your shoulders with some braids and loose curls, embellished with some shells and sea pearls that went to match the jewel around the waist. His mind was clouded by both your body and your voice, making him feel almost drunk with you, without a real reason, but enjoying your mysterious presence and the melody you created. Neteyam couldn’t decide whether to stay hidden and admire you in silence or approach you, remaining a few minutes to think about what to do, until he made the decision.

Crack < Shit. > Neteyam thought

You turned when you felt a branch break behind you, revealing at your sight a tall male unknown Na'vi who was approaching, and then remained embarrassed by the branch. The Na'vi was particularly attractive and there was something about him that seemed strangely familiar, as if it wasn’t the first time you saw him. Your heart began to accelerate inexplicably and you blushed in embarrassment as you stood, feeling the fresh grass tickling your skin. You opened your mouth, as if to look for meaningful words to start the conversation with, but you felt like you were enchanted by that boy, admiring every single detail in him, losing in your throat all the sentences you were collecting. His eyes, big and honey-colored, sweet but sure, as bright as even Pandora’s suns; around his neck he had a reddish choker beaded, where a strange necklace that you had never seen before landed and you were sure it didn’t belong to Pandora; the toned chest where a cummerbund Omatikaya was tied underneath, revealing that he was a warrior, which you also noticed from the leather armguard and leg guards, as well as the typical Omatikaya knife and armband; your eyes fell for a second on his blue loincloth, observing the songcord that wrapped on one side. His strong natural scent was already recorded in your memory, not understanding how it was possible, and it made you feel strangely good. Your gaze rose again on his face, noticing that like you, he wore feathers on his ear, with colors typical of his clan. Your attention finally fell on the bow in his hand and you thought that he was hunting, and because of yours you had distracted him or scared away the animal he was watching.

"I… well, I thought I was alone," you put your hands forward as an apology, thinking that you had ruined his hunting trip, and then notice that young Na'vi was approaching you in silence, not disturbed by your words of apology before giving you a sweet reassuring smile. "No, don’t stop, please. You sing beautifully," he said. His eyes explored your person, enchanted by your figure: big golden feline eyes, soft lips, two strands of braids fell in front of your face; around your neck you wore some necklaces typical of the Tayrangi clan, the top you were wearing was made of long red and white feathers, just like the ones behind your right ear. "Neteyam of the Omatikaya clan… you are?" < beautiful > he wanted to add, but he just implied that he wanted to know your name. He took his fingers to his forehead and then pointed out to you, as a sign of greeting, a gesture that you then reciprocated. <"Neteyam? I’ve heard this name before…"> you whispered as the boy approached you, and then dug up his name in your memories. "Neteyam the firstborn of the Olo'eyktan and Tsakarem, isn't it?" you asked as you approached him too, not understanding why you felt so safe in his presence, or why your stomach was so upset. "O-oh, forgive me, I didn’t introduce myself. Y/n te Skxumew Ikeyni'ite" you concluded, blushing slightly for your carelessness. "Ikeyni, mh? you… you are the daughter of Ikeyni, the Olo'eykte of the Tayrangi clan?" He asked nicely as he looked at you a little more, breathing in your perfume, getting a little drunk on you again. "Yes, I’m the eldest son of the Sullys. but I know Ikeyni’s daughter, I didn’t remember her so... beautiful" <Smooth, Neteyam, too smooth.> "Oh, I’m Ikeyni’s second daughter, you don’t know me for this. You know my mother from the war council, right? She only bring my big sister Ney'nari, as she will be the next Olo'eykte of the Tayrangi clan. You’ve seen her, you know… tall, beautiful, long braids and kind, it’s hard not to remember. She has a beautiful voice and a good presence, she is a friend of everyone…" you answered him, smiling shyly, and then looking at him and contemplating him for a while longer. "My mother. She… she talked a lot about you to our clan, even my sister did, so I know who your parents are. And that’s why I know who you are, your name lives up to your father’s, you’re admired in all the clans, I won’t be the first to tell you all this… Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m talking way too much" you lowered your eyes slightly swallowing as you laughed slightly embarrassed, not knowing why you suddenly felt so awkward in front of him as your heart pounded in your chest. You were amazed by him, you admired him because of the stories surrounding his name and his greatness despite only nineteen years of life. "It’s a pleasure to meet you… Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan" you tried not to stutter, to the veiled compliment of the boy but the blush on your cheeks betrayed you, just like your tail.

Neteyam put two fingers under your chin, lifting your face, making you meet your eyes again. The heart beating hard enough to risk a heart attack. "The pleasure is all mine, Y/n. Just call me Neteyam, Neteyam is… fine." said, giving you a sweet smile. "And don’t worry about talking too much, as I said I like your voice, it's soft and beautiful. In addition I’m used to my little sister, I’m a great listener… especially for the right voices" His eyes slipped on your lips almost instinctively, feeling in your mouth a strange sweetish taste, as if he had already tasted your lips. "Anyway, what’s a Tayrangi doing in the Omatikaya forests? I don’t remember being warned, especially if the Tayrangi in question belongs to the Olo'eykte family" he asked gently, without taking his hand off your chin, enjoying your soft, warm skin. "To be honest? I ran away from the clan in the middle of the night because I wanted to visit the Omatikaya forest" you took a short break, slightly backing up, biting your lip as you confessed. "You know, my clan has beautiful coasts, beautiful beaches, a lovely sea and small woods but… we don’t have such beautiful forests, such tall trees and so much lovely greenery. My mother doesn’t want me to leave the clan alone because of the sky people, so if I asked for permission she would have denied me… so, you know, I ran. I know it is not something honorable as the daughter of an Olo'eykte, but I am very responsible, I swear…" You smiled slightly, without looking at him. "I’m just curious, and a bit rebellious, yes." You hoped your words had not horrified Neteyam, knowing him by his reputation as a strong warrior with solid principles. Your heart began to beat fast as he laughed at your confession as he passed a hand through the braids.

< He laughed… is good thing, no? > you thought. The excitement in your voice was as evident as the sincere wonder in your eyes, and this warmed the heart of Neteyam, fascinated by your carefree and ruthless sincerity, but especially by that rebellious streak that characterized you. "Are you telling me that you fled in the middle of the night, unbeknownst to your mother who is also Olo'eykte, because you wanted to see the forest and the trees of my clan?" asked him with amazement, looking at you. You nodded enthusiastically as you blushed slightly. < Wonderful. > he thought, even more enchanted by you.

"You are… I have no words to describe you, but there is nothing wrong with wanting to explore the beauty of a place, curiosity makes us alive, but you should not run away in the middle of the night, it could be dangerous" You smiled at his statement, heartened that he did not have the same thought as the elders of your clan. " Aren’t you afraid of getting into trouble?" "Hmm? Oh no, I’m used to getting into trouble. This is a 'trouble' bigger than the others, but certainly smaller than the future ones" you admitted while smiling, shrugging. "Let’s just say I’m lucky I’m not the oldest. Too many expectations, too many burdens, commitments and duties, the perfect daughter who will one day become Olo'eykte. Fortunately Ney'nari is the eldest daughter, and this burden is all hers, and she is fine with it. I am a free spirit, that is. The more you try to slow me down, the faster I run, you know. Life is one, so why follow the rules if I’m not hurting anyone, right?" Neteyam looked at you mesmerized, knowing that you had all that rebellious character that he lacked, and he felt attracted to you like never before. He felt he already knew what your character or thoughts were, and he found you so wildly perfect "I’m sure my mother will yell at me and I’ll have trouble with her, but… look how beautiful this forest is. These trees are beautiful, and the sounds? Ahh lovely! I was just curious, and now I’m fascinated, your clan’s forest is… mesmerizing. It’s the risk to take for a wonderful… experience. Wonderful, isn’t it?" Your voice became sweeter and more excited as you looked around with enchantment, breathing the cool breeze.

Neteyam’s eyes did not come away from you even for a second, enchanted by your being. "Yes, wonderful…" He said breathless, not meaning the forest at that moment. You looked at him and smiled once more as his heart beat and recovered, rushing suddenly, noticing your freckles shining under the lights of the forest. "Yes. The forest is wonderful. Even though I grew up there, I can’t help but agree with you, ma Tanhì…?" Neteyam used that nickname almost naturally "Tanhì?" you asked, approaching him. You weren’t annoyed, you recognized that nickname, you knew it was something that belonged to you, something you were used to, but you weren’t sure about that.

"I’m sorry, it just… I don’t know, it just came naturally to me" Neteyam said embarrassingly, squinting as if to recover himself. The heart beats faster to both, butterflies in the stomach fly wildly and every gesture, every word exchanged, seems full of meaning. "Don’t you feel like you’re…" you interrupted him. "Experiencing something you’ve already experienced?" you completed his sentence, and even this gesture reminded you of phantom memories, as if you were used to doing it. "Yes…" he whispered. "I just feel so.." fu Neteyam to interrupt you now. "at peace with you around." You smiled nodding "Yeah..". You started laughing together because of that innocent harmony of completed sentences and then looking at each other, falling into each other’s eyes. A look that sparked a spark of familiarity in your intimate. Even if you two can’t explain why, you feel a kind of deep connection that seems to go back a long time. Eyes that you had already loved once, souls that were already united in the past, as if you already knew, every single detail. Neteyam could see you all the way, as if your eyes were not a mirror of your soul, but a door he already had the keys to.

"I don’t know why but your eyes are so familiar, and also your voice… and your scent" You started, and then took a deep breath. "Have you been in my clan before, maybe?" Your eyes did not come off even for a second from his, and he did the same. "No, never… that I remember, never. But I don’t know why I feel I’ve been once, maybe for the Day of Atonement we met in some clan… I have vague memories of a forest near a precipice" he said, laughing and then looking for the warmth of your hand. "and it’s as if I’ve already felt your touch on my skin" he concluded "No, no way, on that day I am always in my clan. But I too remember a forest and a precipice… Near the village of my clan there is a similar precipice, overlooking the beach" Your eyes fell on your hand laid on that of Neteyam. "I feel the same." you answered with a thread of voice.

"I’m so sure I’ve seen you before, but I don’t know where…" You started talking, and then you laughed sarcastically, carrying some braids behind your ear. "Maybe in a past life we were connected? Do you think?" Her voice was sweet, and a smile painted on her lips as she watched you hypnotized. "No, I don’t think… I never would have had a partner in my previous life, just like I didn’t want in this life. Remember? free spirit, no bond or…" he interrupted you "Duty? isn’t it? You’re the kind of girl who doesn’t want to be connected because she’s free and rebellious and knows that no one can love or accept this rebellious side of you, and you don’t want to be below anyone because you have a strong temper. It’s you, right?" Neteyam took the words out of your mouth. You swallow with a nod, and then you feel some twinges in your head, like memories that were flocking and unlocking one behind the other with speed never seen. "How do you…" you whispered in disbelief. "I don’t know, I just know" he said. "You and I, we met, if not in this, in another life. I feel it, my heart feels it, my body and my mind. Isn’t it the same for you?" His voice was intrinsic of sweetness, hope and almost dreamet memories. You nodded watching him mesmerized. "Maybe… In another life, it can be. It is said that Eywa always brings his children together, maybe we were friends or family.. or "he looked at you, smiling when you paused. "Lovers?" he completed the sentence for you. You blushed and laughed. The heart that was pushing against your chest, as if to get to Neteyam’s, your stomach shaking, and the breath that was missing, were all feelings you had already experienced in some part of your mind. Your hand still stands on Neteyam’s, finding it comforting, experiencing a great sense of déjà vu experienced by both. "Yes… lovers"

You walked away from him, taking long deep breaths, not fully realizing what you had said. Neteyam’s eyes looked at your back as you turned your back, approached you carefully and then laid a hand on your shoulder. "Hey, it’s not something bad. Maybe we were just two people on the same wavelength, you know, not necessarily lovers. You are a free spirit after all, I doubt that in another life I did not appreciate this character of yours, at least not less than I am appreciating it now" His voice was warm and gentle, almost comfortable as he tried to reassure you. "It’s not that, it’s just… weird. We just met and it seems like we’ve known each other since time immemorial, I’m not used to these things" You admitted, while your stomach was knotted and it was making you little twinges. "Maybe I should… go… I don’t want to take any more time, you were hunting, right?" "Actually I’m not wasting my time, and hunting can wait. You wanted to get to know the Omatikaya forest, didn’t you? I was born and raised in these forests, I could take you to all the places you can’t imagine." He reached out to you, hopeful. You looked at him uncertain. "You’d get in trouble. I escaped from my clan by disobeying my Olo'eykte, besides I’m in the forest of your clan without warning, how many rules am I breaking? And you would be my accomplice." You admitted worried about him, knowing his spotless reputation. "You said yourself that life is one and that the rules should not be followed, we do nothing wrong" He replied looking into your eyes hopeful. "You’re gonna get in trouble, and I’m twice as bad for ruining your reputation, plus it’s gonna be late and your parents are gonna be mad, you’re not gonna be able to hunt, and-" he laughed and grabbed your hand. "Just say yes, and I will work hard to offer you only the best. I will bring the stars down to you if you ask me" This sentence he said sounded so familiar in your head, as if he had already once told you. "Ma Tanhì, just yes." Your hearts were beating at the same pace, on the same wavelength, as you swallowed the knot in your throat that you created when you were looking for excuses not to get him into trouble. " Yes…" you whispered, and then you heard Neteyam’s smile.

The sense of déjà vu grew stronger in the hours you spent together. Neteyam took you to observe the forest with his Ikran, holding on tight to him, as your Ikran was still too tired from the night journey. He showed you the Hallelujah Mountains where there were some free Ikran in the sky and others who rested in their house; he also took you where their Home Tree had previously been. He made you explore the forest as much as possible, enjoying your amazed eyes and excited voice at every unknown thing he showed you, feeling truly free, even in his presence. There was something inside of you that told you it was okay to trust him, that you could be yourself, let yourself go without fear because he had already understood you, he was already seeing you. When the day ended you felt full of joy for having seen all those wonderful places, while Neteyam fell once again first, loving you, reflecting your happiness over something so small that he almost took it for granted

From that day you ran away from home more and more often, taking him to do the same to come to your clan. Every emotion, every laugh, outing, dating, complaint, quarrel, word or kiss that followed in the following months all seemed already experienced, as if you two had already belonged to you once and now found yourself to love you again under the blessing of Eywa.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Notes:

Yes, if you were wondering this is a parallel "déjà-vu" of the story "The Way of Love - Neteyam x Tayrangi Reader". I wanted to write about how Neteyam and Y/n could meet if she remained the rebellious and carefree second daughter, with Ney'nari alive and mated with Tul'pey, Ikeyni more accommodating etc… I love to think that soul mates meet in infinite ways in all universes, and that that sense of "already lived" is caused by all the lives lived together in other places.

I could have written a lot better, but in my mind Neteyam and y/n in one of these universes met and fell in love like this.Y/n rebellious and free, going against everything and everyone, disobeying, and Neteyam the one who keeps her down, who is caring and accompanies her in all her adventures… Influencing each other positively and negatively, falling in love again, again and again with the same eyes and the same things. Complementing each other.

Yes, I like to weave all my stories, always. I hope you enjoyed this niche of sweetness, ma Syulang 🙨 <3

-Mel

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　

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coolbeans32 · 9 months ago

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Echoes of Destiny: The Serpent and the Phoenix

PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader(OC)

SYNOPSIS: Harry, Hermione, and Ron delve into Dumbledore's puzzle, examining the scrapbook and magical texts to locate Genevieve Ariana Dumbledore Grindelwald. Three days pass as they decipher Dumbledore's cryptic messages, tension mounting with each failed attempt. Hermione's discovery of a hidden message sparks hope, leading them to Grindelwald Manor. Despite Ron's skepticism and Hermione's sass, Harry urges focus, emphasizing Genevieve's importance. With renewed determination, they plan to depart for the manor, vowing to protect Genevieve from Voldemort's grasp. As they bid goodnight, Ron reassures Harry, pledging unity against Voldemort. Their minds already brimming with strategies, the trio prepares to confront the challenges ahead in their quest to uncover Dumbledore's secrets and thwart Voldemort's darkness.

WARNINGS: This passage doesn't contain any form of triggers/warnings aside from tension between characters and small bickering arguments.

WORD COUNT: 672 (shorter chapter)

Previous Part| Next Part

Chapter Two

The Name

Harry, Hermione, and Ron sat around a large oak table cluttered with an array of magical texts, worn-out parchment, and the scrapbook itself. It has been three days since they’ve received their respective items, and were trying to figure out Dumbledore’s puzzle, in hopes to find Genevieve. The soft glow of the candlelight illuminates their determined faces as they diligently scour the pages, their fingers tracing over faded photographs and handwritten notes.

Hermione was tracing her finger along the edges of a faded photograph of Albus, Gellert, and Genevieve; her eyebrow furrowed in concentration as she observed the image. “I still can't believe it. Dumbledore had a daughter, and we never knew.”

Ron nodded solemnly, his expression reflecting the gravity of the situation. “Yeah, it's a lot to take in. But at least now we have a name. Genevieve Ariana Dumbledore Grindelwald, doesn't know how that is much help. Honestly, why couldn't Dumbledore give us her location instead of all this,” he remarks as he gestures to piles of books layed out in front of them. “Honestly, it feels like we’re studying for bloody OWLs all over again.”

Hermione replied irritated, “As if you have done any studying in the first place. You haven’t even passed the first page, and we’re not even studying for anything Ronald.”

Ron replied, “But it’s just so much reading ‘Mione! We don’t even know if this will even help us even figure out the first clue.”

"Honestly, Ron, if reading past one page were an Olympic sport, you'd be a gold medalist in giving up," Hermione sassily clapped back.

Harry ran a hand through his unruly hair, his green eyes reflecting a mixture of annoyance and cheekiness . “Guys, this isn’t the time to act like a married couple, we need to find her. She could be our best chance at understanding Dumbledore's past and what he was trying to tell us to do.” Both Hermione and Ron blushed and glanced away from each other.

Hermione agreed and said, “You’re right, but we have to be careful. We can’t let you-know-who find out about her. Especially with their history.”

Ron finished her sentence, his voice tinged with apprehension, “He'll stop at nothing to use her against us…especially if he can get her on his side, they were together before, I wouldn’t put it past him.”

Harry met their gazes with a steely determination, “We won't let that happen. We'll find Genevieve, and we'll protect her, no matter what.” The trio shares a silent moment of solidarity, their resolve strengthened by their shared mission. Suddenly, Hermione's voice breaks the silence, drawing their attention back to the task at hand.

Hermione, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she points to a corner of the page, “Look! I think I found something.” She gestures towards the corner of the page where the edges of a piece of parchment peek out from beneath a photograph. Ron's eyes widen with anticipation as he eagerly reaches over and carefully lifts the corner, revealing the handwritten words "Grindelwald Manor" scrawled in elegant script, underneath the photograph.

“Grindelwald Manor. That's got to be our next destination then,” Ron exclaims.

Harry nodded in agreement, a determined glint in his eyes, “Then let's get ready and pack. We should leave first thing tomorrow morning. The sooner, the better.”

The trio move to gather their belongings and prepare for the journey ahead, the weight of their mission hangs heavy in the air. But amidst the uncertainty and danger, there is also a glimmer of hope—the hope of finding Genevieve and uncovering the truth about Dumbledore's past.

Ron placed a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder, “We'll find her, mate. I promise.”

Harry returned the gesture with a small, grateful smile, “Thanks, Ron. And we'll defeat Voldemort too. Together.” With renewed determination and a shared sense of purpose, Harry, Hermione, and Ron bid each other goodnight, their minds already racing with plans and strategies for the challenges that lie ahead in their quest to find Genevieve Ariana Dumbledore Grindelwald.

Tom Riddle Masterlist

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x oc #slytherin

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writingsoftarnishedsilver · 12 days ago

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The Estate | Sebastian Sallow x OC #63

Summary: Sebastian and Evangeline infiltrate the Muldoon family manor, and confront them about their manipulation of Evangeline's life. What they learn shocks them both.

Words: ~17,800 (holy shit this is a long chapter sorry)

Tags: Pureblood Politics, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Drama, Idiots in Love

Timeline: Mid September

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

Read on AO3

The Ministry of Magic was quiet at this hour, its vast atrium bathed in the dim glow of enchanted lamps. The faint echo of their footsteps bounced off the polished marble floors as Evangeline and Sebastian made their way toward the lifts. Evangeline’s heart thudded against her ribs, her mind racing as she tried not to think about the possibility that they were too late.

Please still be here, she thought, clutching the strap of her bag tightly. The Records Department would already be winding down for the day. If they missed Genevieve now, the chance to find the Muldoons might slip through their fingers, and the thought of waiting even one more day was unbearable.

Beside her, Sebastian walked with his usual composed stride, his wand held loosely in one hand. “You alright?” he asked, his voice breaking through her spiraling thoughts.

She glanced at him, her expression tight. “I’m fine,” she replied shortly, her nerves betraying her. “I just… we can’t miss her, Sebastian. If she’s already gone—”

“We won’t,” he interrupted, his voice steady. “And if we do, we’ll find another way. Relax, Evie. We’ve got this.”

His confidence grounded her, if only slightly, as they stepped into the lift. The ride felt interminable, each ding of the glowing numbers above the door ratcheting up Evangeline's tension. She fidgeted with the strap of her bag, her thoughts bouncing between the instructions she hoped to get from Genevieve and the potential disaster that awaited them at the Muldoon estate.

When the lift doors finally slid open, Evangeline was the first to step out, her sharp gaze sweeping the hallway ahead. The Records Department was tucked at the end of the corridor, its wide double doors propped open, and she could see faint movement inside.

“Come on,” she said, quickening her pace.

Sebastian followed close behind, his presence a steadying force as they entered the department. The room was dimly lit, most of the desks already cleared for the day, and only a handful of witches and wizards remained, finishing their tasks in silence.

Her eyes scanned the space until they landed on a familiar figure near the back: Genevieve Thorn, her sharp profile illuminated by the glow of a magical lamp. She was meticulously packing a briefcase, her movements efficient and precise as always. Relief flooded Evangeline, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“There,” she whispered, nodding toward Genevieve.

“Just in time,” Sebastian murmured, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Evangeline didn’t wait for him to catch up. She strode across the room, her boots clicking against the floor, her pulse quickening as she approached Genevieve.

“Genevieve? Genevieve Thorn?” she called, her voice firm but not loud enough to disturb the others.

The woman looked up sharply, her gray eyes narrowing in confusion as they landed on Evangeline. “...Miss Sterling?” she said, her tone clipped and cautious. “What are you doing here?”

Evangeline stopped at the edge of the desk, gripping the strap of her bag to steady herself. “I need your help,” she said, her voice resolute. “It’s about the Muldoons.”

Genevieve’s expression flickered, her sharp features tightening with something that might have been apprehension. “The Muldoons?” she repeated slowly, her gaze darting to Sebastian and back.

“Yes,” Evangeline said, leaning slightly forward. “I need to know how to get to their estate.”

Genevieve’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she straightened her posture, her hands hovering protectively over the briefcase. “...That’s not information I can just hand out, Miss Sterling. The Muldoons are a private family, and they don’t take kindly to uninvited guests.”

Evangeline’s chest tightened, but she didn’t back down. “But I am a Muldoon. And this isn’t just about curiosity,” she said, her voice steady but urgent. “Someone has been sending me threats—letters—and I need to put a stop to them. Please, Genevieve. You’re the only one who can help me.”

Genevieve’s sharp gaze flicked to Sebastian again, her wariness deepening. “And... who is this?”

“Sebastian Sallow,” he said smoothly, stepping forward with an easy confidence that belied the tension in the room. "From the Auror Division."

"And your relation to Miss Sterling is…?"

Sebastian’s smirk widened slightly, his dark eyes glinting with mischief as he leaned casually on the desk. “I’m her boyfriend,” he said smoothly, his tone light but carrying an edge of confidence. “And backup, of course. Can’t let her storm off into danger alone, can I?”

Genevieve’s gaze flicked back to Evangeline, her expression unreadable. “What exactly do you plan to do if the Muldoons are behind these threats you speak of?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” Evangeline responded simply. “So tell me where to find them. I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important.”

For a moment, Genevieve said nothing, her gaze flicking between the two of them. Then she sighed, her stern demeanor softening slightly. “The Muldoons are not a family you approach lightly, Miss Sterling. Even as one of their own, you’ll be met with suspicion at best, hostility at worst.”

“I don’t care how hostile they are,” Evangeline said firmly. “If they’re responsible for the threats, I need to confront them. And if they aren’t, then I need to know that too. Sitting around doing nothing isn’t an option.”

Genevieve sighed deeply, rubbing her temple as though Evangeline had given her a headache. “I must be mad to even consider this,” she muttered before opening her briefcase and pulling out a worn leather-bound notebook.

She flipped through the pages, muttering to herself as she skimmed the notes. Finally, she stopped on a page filled with hastily scrawled diagrams and coordinates. “The estate is in Ireland,” she began, her voice brisk. “Hidden deep within the Wicklow Mountains. It’s protected by layers of enchantments designed to keep out unwanted visitors—Muggles, wizards, it doesn’t matter. The wards are indiscriminate.”

Sebastian leaned forward, his expression calm but resolute. “Just give us the coordinates,” he said evenly. “Whatever wards they’ve got, we’ll deal with them.”

Genevieve studied them both for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, with a resigned sigh, she grabbed a blank piece of parchment and began jotting down the coordinates, her quill scratching against the page.

"But just so we’re clear, if anyone asks, this conversation never happened. I’ve broken approximately fifty protocols doing this for you, Miss Sterling," She fixed Evangeline with a pointed glance. "Don’t make me regret this.”

Evangeline nodded, tucking the parchment carefully into her bag. “Understood. I’ll make sure no one finds out. Thank you again.”

Genevieve sighed, her sharp gray eyes softening slightly. “Just… be careful. Now go, before I change my mind and hex you both out of here.”

Quickly thanking Genevieve once more, Evangeline turned toward the door, Sebastian falling into step beside her. The tension between them was palpable as they made their way back through the Ministry’s dim corridors. When they reached the atrium, Sebastian reached out, catching her hand in his.

As they walked, Evangeline studied the hastily scrawled coordinates. The jagged script mapped out a location deep in the Wicklow Mountains of Ireland, but the details raised a troubling question.

“How are we supposed to get there?” she murmured, mostly to herself. “We can’t Apparate to a place we’ve never been, and I doubt the Floo Network connects to a hidden estate.”

Sebastian, holding her hand, glanced over her shoulder at the parchment. “I’ve got an idea,” he said casually, though there was a spark of mischief in his tone.

She folded the parchment carefully and slipped it into her bag, crossing her arms as she gave him a pointed look. “Alright, Sallow. Let’s hear it.”

“We Apparate as close as we can to the general area,” he explained. “And then we travel the rest of the way on broomstick."

Evangeline frowned, the tension in her chest not entirely easing. "Where can we possibly apparate to that's anywhere close by? And what if we accidentally fly straight into one of their wards?"

Sebastian tilted his head, his grin softening into something more reassuring. “Evie, it’s not like we’re flying blind. We have the coordinates. We'll land far enough away to avoid any wards."

Evangeline sighed. “You still haven’t answered my other question though,” she pressed. “We need a specific location to Apparate to, one we can clearly visualize. Ireland isn’t exactly around the corner, and you know how dangerous it is to travel over that kind of distance.”

Sebastian smirked, clearly unfazed by her skepticism. "Details, details. We'll sort that out after." He tugged on her hand, leading her toward a corridor branching off from the main room.

“Where are we going?” she asked, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice as she hurried to keep up with his long strides.

“To the Auror Division,” he replied nonchalantly.

Evangeline’s eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Where else are we going to procure broomsticks at this time of night?" Sebastian countered as they rounded a corner.

Evangeline groaned, the corners of her mouth twitching despite herself. “Sebastian, I don’t think ‘procure’ is the right word for what you’re doing.”

He threw her a devilish grin over his shoulder. "Evie, I work there. They’re my broomsticks. Well, technically, they’re the Ministry’s broomsticks, but let’s not get hung up on details.”

Her lips twitched despite herself. “You mean to tell me that you’re allowed to requisition Ministry equipment for personal use?”

Sebastian shrugged, his grin widening. “Not exactly. But considering this is an off-the-books mission to uncover death threats sent to a young woman—who also happens to be the woman I’m madly in love with—I think we can make an exception.”

Evangeline stumbled slightly, her face heating at the casual way he’d said it. “Sebastian,” she hissed, glancing around to make sure no one had overheard. “You can’t just—”

“ I meant what I said,” he interrupted, coming to a stop in front of a heavy wooden door marked Auror Division—Authorized Personnel Only.

Before she could respond, he'd unlocked the door, ushering her inside. Desks were still scattered with case files and enchanted quills, but the space was empty at this hour.

Sebastian strode confidently toward a set of storage lockers along the far wall, pulling a key from his pocket and unlocking one of the compartments.

Evangeline crossed her arms, watching as he retrieved two sleek broomsticks, their polished handles glinting faintly in the low light. He tossed one over his shoulder and carried the other in his free hand as he returned to her side.

“Ta-da,” he said, presenting the broomsticks with a flourish. “Top-of-the-line Ministry brooms. Fast, durable, and enchantment-resistant. Perfect for a little adventure in the Irish countryside.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And if someone notices they’re missing?”

“They won’t. Besides, it’s for a good cause. And I’ll bring them back in one piece.... probably," he teased, handing her one of the broomsticks. “Now, are you ready to go storm the Muldoon estate?”

Evangeline took the broom, her fingers tightening around the smooth handle as she met his gaze. Despite the absurdity of the situation, she felt a flicker of confidence, bolstered by his unwavering determination.

“Let’s do it,” she said, her voice firm.

Sebastian’s grin softened into something warmer as he reached for her free hand, giving it a brief squeeze. “That’s my girl.”

Her heart skipped at the words, but she didn’t let herself dwell on them. Together, they turned and left the Auror Division, their footsteps echoing in the quiet corridors as they made their way back toward the atrium. The anticipation of what lay ahead buzzed in the air between them, both exhilarating and daunting.

The only question left was where they'd apparate to. Evangeline sighed, mulling it over. She opened her mouth to ask Sebastian for his thoughts, but the words caught in her throat.

An idea, unbidden but suddenly clear, swept over her. She could visualize a place—a place she knew in detail, down to the creaking floorboards and the ivy crawling up its crumbling walls.

St. Brigid’s House.

The memory of the weather-worn orphanage on the Irish coast surfaced, vivid and bittersweet. She could still see its stone facade, battered by the salt-laden wind, the overgrown garden that no one had tended in years, and the narrow gravel path leading to the wooden front door. It had been her home before Hogwarts, a secluded corner of the world, tucked away where few cared to look.

“I know where we can go,” she said softly, her voice cutting through the cool night air. "Where we can apparate."

Sebastian stopped, turning to her with a raised eyebrow. “Oh? Where?”

“St. Brigid’s House,” she replied, her tone steady but tinged with a quiet weight. “The orphanage where I grew up. I know it well enough to get us there safely.”

Sebastian’s brow furrowed, his teasing smirk slipping into a more serious expression. “Are you sure? We can't afford to be seen by any muggles."

Evangeline nodded, her grip on the strap of her bag tightening slightly. “There’s an old mill house on the property, just beyond the orphanage grounds. It’s been abandoned for decades—no one will see us there., especially not with the cover of night on our side.”

Sebastian held her gaze for a moment longer before nodding, his expression softening. “Alright. If you’re sure, let’s do it.”

Drawing her wand, Evangeline tightened her grip on his hand. “Hold on."

Closing her eyes, she focused on the image of the mill house—the jagged stone walls overrun with moss, the uneven ground littered with wildflowers, and the faint smell of damp earth and salt.

With a sharp twist, the air around them compressed, the pull of apparition wrenching them from the Ministry and into the ether. The sensation was familiar yet unsettling, a rush of wind and pressure that seemed to stretch eternity into seconds.

When the world righted itself, they landed with a soft pop on uneven ground. Evangeline opened her eyes, and they stood inside the weathered structure, its stone walls half-collapsed and overrun with ivy. Moonlight spilled through the missing roof, illuminating the interior in a faint, silvery glow.

Sebastian released her hand, his gaze sweeping the area with quiet curiosity. “I see what you mean about it being abandoned,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Evangeline barely registered Sebastian’s words as her gaze shifted, drawn toward the orphanage in the distance.

St. Brigid’s House stood quiet and imposing under the moonlight, its weathered stone walls illuminated by the faint glow of lights from within the windows. Her breath hitched at the sight, a strange, bittersweet ache blooming in her chest.

She hadn’t thought of this place for a long time—at least, not like this, not with the weight of all the memories pressing down on her. She could still hear the creak of the floorboards, the way the wind howled through the cracks in the old wooden door, the faint laughter of children echoing in the halls. And yet, despite the faint glow from its windows, it still felt as lonely as ever.

Sebastian, noticing her silence, followed her gaze. His brow furrowed as he studied the building, its silhouette stark against the darkened sky.

He stepped closer, slipping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her gently against him. She stiffened slightly at first, caught off guard, but then relaxed into his warmth, her head resting lightly against his chest.

"It must be strange... being back here," He murmured against her hair.

Evangeline nodded faintly. "It feels… frozen in time. Like nothing’s changed, but everything’s different.”

Sebastian tightened his arm around her, his voice quiet but steady. "I... can’t imagine what it must have been like growing up here."

She let out a soft, humorless laugh. "Lonely. That’s the best word for it. The other kids came and went, but I… I stayed. For years. Always hoping, always waiting, but no one ever came for me."

Her voice wavered, the ache in her chest blooming sharper as she spoke the words aloud. "I hated it here, Sebastian. I hated how small and forgotten it made me feel. But it was all I had. For a long time, it was the only place I belonged."

Sebastian glanced back at the orphanage, its quiet, stoic presence casting a shadow that seemed to stretch far beyond its walls, his brow furrowing. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"As long as I'm around, you'll never be alone again, Evangeline."

She closed her eyes, the warmth of his words wrapping around her like a blanket, the tension in her chest easing just enough to allow her to breathe deeply again. She straightened her shoulders.

"Come on," she murmured against his chest. "The Muldoon estate isn’t going to find itself."

Sebastian broke their embrace gently, his hand sliding down her arm as he stepped back, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment. “Alright, Sterling,” he said softly, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “Lead the way.”

They mounted their brooms, the soft rustle of leaves and the faint roar of distant waves filling the silence around them. With a shared glance, they kicked off, rising smoothly into the night sky. The wind whipped around them as they soared higher, the vast expanse of stars stretching endlessly above.

It was exhilarating, but Evangeline’s stomach churned as a realization hit her like a Bludger. She cursed softly under her breath, gripping the broomstick tighter.

“What is it?” Sebastian called over the rush of the wind, his broom gliding effortlessly beside hers.

Evangeline winced. “I didn’t think about how we’re supposed to navigate to the coordinates,” she admitted, her voice tinged with frustration. “I don’t have a map, and I didn’t plan for—”

“Relax,” Sebastian interrupted, his tone calm and reassuring. “We’ve got the stars.”

She blinked at him. “...The stars?”

He nodded, already pulling the parchment with the coordinates from her bag. “It’s simple. We use the constellations to match the location. I’ll guide us.”

Evangeline stared at him, her brow furrowing in surprise. “Since when do you know how to navigate by the stars? You dropped Astronomy after fifth year.”

Sebastian grinned. “Auror training. They make sure you’re prepared for… well, pretty much anything. Including chasing dark wizards across remote wilderness.”

Evangeline watched as he glanced between the parchment and the sky, his brow furrowed in concentration. The moonlight cast soft shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp curve of his jaw and the determined set of his mouth.

Evangeline’s chest tightened unexpectedly. She knew she should be focused—on the Muldoons, the coordinates, the looming danger—but her thoughts kept slipping. There was something about the way Sebastian carried himself, so steady and sure, his every movement purposeful. He was so good to her, always in her corner, and he looked so effortlessly captivating just being himself—it left her breathless.

Without thinking, she reached out, her fingers brushing his face. He turned toward her, startled, and before he could say anything, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Sebastian froze for a moment, the wind tugging at his hair as he stared at her in stunned silence. Then, a slow, crooked grin spread across his face.

“Well, that’s one way to motivate a navigator,” he teased, his tone light but carrying a warmth that made her chest flutter.

Evangeline let out a soft laugh, her cheeks warming as she pulled back slightly. “You’ve earned it,” she replied, trying to sound nonchalant despite the way her heart raced. “After all, I need you to get us there in one piece.”

Sebastian’s grin widened, his dark eyes glinting with playful affection. “With rewards like that, I’ll make sure we don’t even hit a stray gust of wind.”

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “Just focus on the stars, Sallow.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he turned his attention back to the parchment and the glittering constellations above. His brow furrowed slightly as he matched the coordinates to their celestial markers.

Evangeline adjusted her grip on the broomstick and focused on the horizon. “What’s the verdict? Do you have us pointed in the right direction?”

Sebastian glanced at her, his smirk returning. “Always. Follow me.”

He angled his broom and surged ahead, the starlit sky stretching before them. Evangeline followed, the cool wind cutting through her hair as they flew in tandem.

They flew in companionable silence, the rhythmic rush of air and the occasional call of a distant owl the only sounds to break the quiet. It was peaceful in a way Evangeline hadn’t anticipated, the tension ebbing slightly as they soared through the night.

As time passed, she noticed a subtle shift in the landscape. The rolling fields grew steeper, their shadows deepening as jagged cliffs and dense woods replaced the open expanses. Mountains began to rise in the distance, their silhouettes stark against the starry backdrop.

Her grip on the broom tightened slightly, anticipation coiling in her chest. They were getting close—she could feel it.

Sebastian glanced back at her briefly, his silhouette outlined by the faint glow of moonlight. He gestured downward, and she nodded, adjusting her angle as he began to lead them into a gradual descent.

The air grew cooler as they approached the ground, the scent of damp earth and pine filling her senses. Sebastian guided them with precision, weaving through the thickening trees and avoiding rocky outcroppings with ease. He landed smoothly in a small clearing tucked between towering evergreens, the soft crunch of grass beneath his feet the only sound to mark their arrival.

Evangeline followed. She dismounted and steadied her broom, her eyes flicking to Sebastian as he folded the parchment and tucked it into his pocket

"So," he began, leaning his broomstick up against a tree. "Anymore of those rewards? I did get us here safe and sound."

Evangeline raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “You really don’t miss an opportunity, do you?”

Sebastian leaned casually against his broomstick, his grin widening. “Life’s too short to pass them up.”

She rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her chest betrayed her attempt to act unimpressed. “Let’s make sure we’re in one piece after this before you start demanding any more rewards.”

Sebastian chuckled, pushing off the broomstick and stepping closer. “Fair enough. But I’m keeping a tally.”

“Of course you are,” Evangeline replied dryly, though the affection in her tone softened the words.

She turned her attention to the clearing, her gaze sweeping over the darkened woods surrounding them. The faint hum of magic in the air was unmistakable now, a subtle vibration that prickled at her senses. They were close. She pulled her wand from its holster as her focus sharpened.

Sebastian shifted his stance and drew his wand as well. His earlier playfulness slipped into something more serious as he scanned the area. “Feel that?” he asked quietly.

Evangeline nodded, her voice low. “We’re near their wards."

“Any chance we can just knock politely and hope they’re in a good mood?”

Evangeline gave him a sidelong glance. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

He sighed, his wand steady in his hand. “Well there's only one way to find out. Let’s see if the Muldoons are feeling hospitable tonight.”

Evangeline stepped forward, her wand at the ready, the faint hum of magic growing stronger with each step. The air around them seemed to thicken, charged with an almost tangible energy. It wasn’t oppressive, but it was undeniably there—a constant buzz that made the hairs on her arms stand on end.

Sebastian followed close behind, his footsteps light but deliberate, his eyes scanning their surroundings. The trees around them grew denser, their twisted branches forming a canopy that blocked out much of the starlight. Shadows danced in the faint moonlight that filtered through, casting strange shapes on the ground.

Evangeline’s pace slowed as the magic in the air became sharper, more defined. She could feel it now, like invisible threads pulling at her senses. She held up a hand, signaling for Sebastian to stop.

“There,” she whispered, pointing ahead.

Before them, a faint shimmer rippled through the air like heatwaves on a summer’s day. The ward was nearly invisible, blending seamlessly into the night, but up close, the distortion of light was unmistakable.

Sebastian tilted his head, his brow furrowing as he studied the shimmering boundary. “Subtle,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t have noticed it if you hadn’t pointed it out.”

Evangeline took a cautious step closer, her wand moving in slow, deliberate arcs as she studied the enchantments. The air grew cooler, the magic almost whispering at the edges of her consciousness. The ward was layered—she could feel the complexity of the spells interwoven, each one enhancing the next.

“What do you think?” Sebastian asked, his voice low.

Evangeline frowned, focusing on the faint shimmer. “This outer ward is reactive. It seems to... adapt based on whoever approaches it—probably tailored to the person’s intent or identity.”

Sebastian stepped closer, his wand at his side, though his posture remained tense. “So what does that mean for us? Can you get through?”

Evangeline chewed the inside of her cheek, her mind racing. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “But if it’s tied to identity… maybe having Muldoon blood will let me pass without triggering anything.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical but curious. “And me?"

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Evangeline replied, turning her attention back to the ward. She hesitated, the weight of her decision pressing down on her. If she guessed wrong, the ward could do anything from alerting the Muldoons to locking them out—or worse.

A thought struck her, and she glanced back at Sebastian. “Maybe if we’re in contact, the ward will recognize us both as safe. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth trying.”

Sebastian’s lips quirked in a faint grin. “So you’re saying you want to hold my hand?”

Evangeline rolled her eyes, but without hesitation, Sebastian reached out, his larger hand enveloping hers in a firm yet reassuring grip.

“...Ready?” he asked.

She nodded, and with a deep breath, Evangeline stepped forward, her wand steady as she moved closer to the shimmering boundary. The hum of magic grew louder, a low vibration that thrummed in her ears. She half-expected the ward to reject her the moment she approached, but instead, it shifted. The ripple of light stilled, the tension in the air loosening slightly.

Encouraged, she tightened her grip on Sebastian’s hand and took another step. The ward seemed to part for her, the shimmering light thinning and folding back like a curtain drawn aside. Her heart leapt in relief, but she didn’t know if Sebastian would pass through as easily.

She tugged him gently forward, holding her breath as he crossed the threshold with her. For a moment, the ward resisted, the shimmering barrier rippling around his figure. But then it stilled, the magic softening and retreating as if recognizing their shared intent.

Sebastian exhaled, his eyes widening slightly as he looked back at the now-quiet ward behind them. “Well, that was... smoother than I expected.”

Evangeline’s shoulders sagged in relief, though she quickly straightened, her focus returning to the task at hand. “Let’s not get too comfortable. There’s no telling what else they’ve set up between here and the estate.”

As they pressed forward, the magic in the air shifted again, and a thick fog began to roll in around them. At first, it was subtle—a faint mist curling at their feet—but within moments, it grew dense and impenetrable, swallowing the trees and the path ahead. The faint glow of the stars overhead vanished, leaving them in a dark and oppressive void.

Evangeline slowed, her free hand gripping her wand tightly as she peered into the fog. “This isn’t natural,” she murmured, her voice barely carrying in the eerie stillness.

Sebastian’s hand tightened around hers, his own wand held ready in his other hand. “Another ward,” he said grimly, his voice low. “Probably designed to disorient. Keep intruders wandering in circles until they give up or…” His words trailed off, leaving the unspoken possibilities hanging in the air.

“Or worse,” Evangeline finished quietly.

Sebastian raised his wand, the tip flaring to life with a soft glow. “Lumos.”

The light flickered weakly, sputtered, and then died, swallowed whole by the fog. He frowned, trying again with the same result.

“Of course,” he muttered under his breath.

Evangeline bit her lip, her pulse quickening as she scanned their surroundings. The fog was thick, almost tactile, curling around them in silent, shifting waves. She reached out experimentally with her wand, muttering a diagnostic spell, but the magic fizzled out before it could take shape.

She frowned. "It's... it’s like the ward was designed to counter traditional spellcasting."

Sebastian’s thumb brushed against the back of her hand, a small, grounding gesture. “Well, you’re the expert here, Miss Cursebreaker,” he said, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. “What do you think? Is there something you can do—any magic stronger than what the ward can suppress?”

She frowned, her mind darting between possibilities. “Stronger… That’s the issue. Anything traditional or conventional won’t work.”

“Then why not use something unconventional?” Sebastian suggested casually.

Evangeline blinked. “What do you mean?”

He tilted his head, the furrow of his eyebrows visible even in the gloom. “You know what I mean. Ancient magic. Hell, you’ve flattened entire camps of poachers with it. Why not a little fog?”

Evangeline hesitated, the weight of his suggestion settling over her. “I... maybe you're right."

Closing her eyes, Evangeline focused inward, seeking the familiar spark of ancient magic buried deep within her. It stirred in response, a warm, humming pulse that spread through her veins like liquid light. She exhaled slowly, raising her hand and willing the magic to rise.

The air around her shimmered faintly, a soft glow emanating from her skin. The fog reacted immediately, pulling back in swirling tendrils as if repelled by the energy. Encouraged, Evangeline pushed harder, channeling the magic outward in a slow, deliberate wave.

The fog dissipated further, peeling away in curling wisps until the path ahead became clear. Tall trees framed the trail, their gnarled branches twisting skyward, and in the distance, a faint glow marked the edges of another barrier.

She opened her eyes. The oppressive silence had lifted, replaced by the rustle of leaves in a gentle breeze. The clarity felt like a breath of fresh air.

Sebastian let out a low whistle, his gaze sweeping over the now-visible path. “You’ve outdone yourself, Evie."

Evangeline turned to him, her breath still evening out. “I wouldn’t have thought of it if you hadn’t said something. You’re brilliant, you know that?”

Sebastian’s grin widened. “I’ll add it to my list,” he added, leaning in slightly, “Since I believe this earns me another reward.”

Evangeline raised an eyebrow, but she couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “You’re really not going to let that go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” he replied smoothly, his tone light but his expression warm. “A man’s got to take credit where it’s due.”

She shook her head, the warmth in her chest spreading. "Fine. You're right, you deserve it. Now come on, I think there's only one ward left to go."

They pressed forward, and the next barrier came into clear view. Unlike the shimmering fog, this ward was visible—an intricate lattice of golden threads woven tightly together; it stretched high above them, reaching into the treetops and forming a dome-like barrier.

Sebastian slowed to a stop beside her, his gaze fixed on the glowing threads. “This one looks... less welcoming,” he muttered, his grip tightening slightly on his wand.

Evangeline nodded, studying the barrier intently. The magic here was different—sharper, more deliberate. It didn’t hum like the fog had; it thrummed, the vibrations deep and commanding.

Her wand moved in slow, precise motions as she examined the magic. "It’s not reactive like the first one,” she said, tilting her head. “This feels like a test. A puzzle.”

Sebastian watched her work, his expression thoughtful. “Alright, so what do we do? Pick the right thread to pull? Cut the wrong one and we get blown to bits?”

Evangeline nodded, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Something like that,” she murmured, her wand tracing slow arcs through the air as she examined the glowing lattice. “But it’s not about pulling the threads. We need to find the weak point—a flaw in the weave. All wards have one. You just have to know where to look.”

Sebastian tilted his head, watching her with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. “So, this is what they’re teaching you at the Ministry, huh? Spending your days unraveling magical traps?”

She shot him a quick look, one corner of her mouth twitching upward despite the tension. “If only it were that exciting. Half the time, it’s combing through records and old manuscripts, trying to figure out why some ancient wizard decided to curse their favorite cauldron.”

"Almost as exciting as all the case reports I get to read in the Auror Division," he quipped, his smirk widening.

Evangeline smirked, her gaze flicking toward Sebastian. “One day, they’ll let us do the fun stuff. Until then, we’ll just have to make our own adventures.” She paused, raising an eyebrow at him. “Aren’t you glad I let you come along for this one?”

Sebastian chuckled, leaning casually on his wand. “Oh, absolutely. Nothing like a midnight stroll through cursed woods with you to keep things interesting.”

She chuckled, her focus shifting back to the golden lattice as she studied its intricate weave. Her wand moved in slow, deliberate arcs, tracing the faint pulses of magic that radiated from the barrier. The threads thrummed softly, their vibrations resonating in her chest as she walked.

“It’s woven so tightly,” she murmured after a moment, half to herself. “The threads are layered, overlapping..."

Sebastian stepped closer, his brow furrowed. “Can you still break through it?”

Evangeline nodded, her lips pressing into a determined line. “I just need to find the right angle..."

She continued her circuit around the barrier, her wand tip glowing faintly as she used a diagnostic spell. The golden threads rippled in response, their light dimming briefly before returning to their steady glow. Sebastian followed silently, his eyes scanning the forest around them as she worked.

After a few minutes, Evangeline stopped, her gaze locking onto a section of the lattice where the threads seemed to shimmer unevenly. She tilted her head, her wand moving in small, precise circles as she examined the anomaly.

“Here,” she said, tilting her head to give Sebastian a better view. “Do you see how the light flickers slightly, like it’s out of sync with the rest of the ward?”

Sebastian squinted, leaning closer, but the golden threads looked as impenetrable as ever to him. “Honestly? No. It all looks the same to me.”

She huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “It’s subtle—really subtle. The imbalance is almost imperceptible, but it’s there. The magic here isn’t flowing as smoothly as it should. That’s the weak point.”

Sebastian straightened, his expression a mix of admiration and disbelief. “I’d never have spotted that in a million years. Good thing I’m not a cursebreaker.”

Evangeline rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched into a small smile. “You could do anything you want, Sebastian. You’d just need to practice—like I’ve been doing for months.”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “That’s sweet of you to say, Evie, but I think I’ll leave the ancient magical puzzles to you. I’ll stick with chasing down dark wizards.”

“Suit yourself,” she teased, her tone light despite the tension in the air. Turning her attention back to the lattice, she studied it for another moment before speaking again. “I think we need to apply force—immense force—right here at this spot. The ward’s designed to absorb energy across its entire structure, but if we focus everything on the weak point, it’ll collapse.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “When you say ‘immense force,’ are we talking spellwork or…?”

Evangeline gave him a pointed look. “We’re not battering it with a stick, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He chuckled softly, leaning back against his wand. “Just checking.”

She hummed, her tone shifting to something more serious. "I think you need to cast something like Bombarda or Expulso at it."

"...Me?"

Evangeline nodded, tilting her head toward the weak point in the ward. “Yes, you. You’ve always been better at explosive charms and curses than I am; they pack twice the punch mine do.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but Evangeline held up a hand, a sly smirk tugging at her lips. “Before you even think about arguing, let me make one thing clear—I’d still wipe the floor with you in a duel.”

Sebastian’s jaw dropped slightly, and he looked at her, mock-offended. “Evie—”

“But,” she continued, her tone matter-of-fact, “I know your strengths, and raw destructive power is one of them.”

Sebastian tilted his head, considering her words, and his grin softened into something warmer. “You know, I think that’s the nicest backhanded compliment I’ve ever received.”

Evangeline rolled her eyes, though her smile lingered. “Call it what you want, but we only have one shot to get this right. If you don’t focus everything on that weak point, the ward will absorb it, and we’ll have announced our arrival to everyone on the estate."

Sebastian’s gaze flicked to the lattice, his playful demeanor giving way to a more serious expression. He nodded, rolling his shoulders as he adjusted his grip on his wand. “Alright. Expulso it is. But you'll need to show me exactly where it needs to land, Evie. I can't see the weak spot myself."

Evangeline nodded, stepping forward and raising her wand. She murmured a quick incantation, and a faint, glowing circle appeared around the weak point. The golden threads shimmered faintly as the marker charm took hold, clearly outlining the precise spot.

“There,” she said, stepping back and lowering her wand. “You can’t miss it now. Just focus everything you’ve got right in the center of that circle.”

Sebastian studied the glowing marker, his brow furrowing in concentration. “Got it,” he said, adjusting his stance as he raised his wand. He glanced over at her. “Alright. Ready?”

“Ready,” she replied, her voice steady.

Sebastian nodded, his dark eyes narrowing on the glowing marker.

“Expulso!”

The spell erupted from his wand, a brilliant streak of blue light tearing through the air and colliding with the ward. The impact was instantaneous—light flared, brighter than the sun, as the lattice trembled and groaned under the force. For a moment, it seemed to hold, the lattice rippling and distorting like a stretched web.

Then, with a deafening crack, the barrier shattered. The golden threads disintegrated in a cascade of sparks, the magical energy dissipating into the air. The ground beneath their feet trembled slightly, and a gust of warm air rushed past them, ruffling their hair.

Evangeline stepped forward cautiously, her heart pounding in her chest as she surveyed the path ahead. The ward was gone, leaving nothing but faint wisps of residual magic hanging in the air.

Sebastian let out a slow breath, lowering his wand. He turned to her, his smirk returning in full force. “And that, dear Evangeline, is how it’s done.”

She huffed a laugh, shaking her head as the tension eased from her shoulders. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”

“Not bad?” he repeated, feigning offense. “I just dismantled an ancient ward with a single spell, and all I get is ‘not bad’?”

Evangeline shrugged, though the warmth in her smile betrayed her amusement. “Alright, fine. You did great. Now let’s see what other surprises the Muldoons have waiting for us.”

Sebastian fell into step beside Evangeline as they continued forward.

“Alright, but I think it’s only fair to add another reward to my tally after that,” Sebastian pressed, his tone light and teasing,

Evangeline glanced at him, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, do you now?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, his grin wide. “At this rate, you’ll owe me your first born child, Evie.”

Evangeline’s steps faltered at Sebastian’s quip, her breath hitching in her chest. It was a joke—of course it was—but it wasn’t really. Not when he’d been making comments like that more and more lately. In fact, Sebastian spoke about their future together as if it were an inevitability, a thought that made Evangeline weak in the knees.

Her mind betrayed her then, conjuring an image she hadn’t let herself truly consider before: a child with Sebastian’s mischievous grin, his unruly dark hair, and her hazel eyes. The thought hit her like a bolt of lightning, equal parts warmth and panic flooding her chest.

Her cheeks flushed hot, and she quickly forced herself to shake it off. Not the time, Evie. Focus.

Sebastian must have noticed her hesitation because he slowed, glancing at her with a curious tilt of his head. “What’s that look for? Did I say something scandalous?”

Evangeline cleared her throat, her voice coming out sharper than she intended. “You’re always saying something scandalous. Now, come on—we’ve got an estate to infiltrate, remember?”

Sebastian chuckled, falling back into step beside her. “Fine, fine. But I’m adding that reaction to my tally, too.”

Evangeline didn’t respond, her mind still racing. She gripped her wand tighter, forcing herself to focus on the darkened path ahead. There was no room for distractions now. They were stepping into the unknown, and the stakes were too high to let her thoughts wander. For now, she had to face the Muldoons—and whatever else lay ahead—with her head held high and her heart steady.

As they walked, the trees around them finally began to thin, their gnarled branches giving way to an open expanse of land. In the distance, a dark silhouette rose against the starry sky.

The Muldoon Manor.

The structure loomed, its tall, angular silhouette both imposing and elegant. The stone walls were dark, ivy creeping up the sides and clinging to the windows like skeletal fingers. A wrought-iron gate marked the entrance to the grounds, flanked by stone pillars etched with runes that glowed faintly in the darkness.

For the first time that night, a flicker of fear, real fear, wound its way into Evangeline’s chest.

Her steps slowed, uncertainty creeping into her mind. Anne’s voice echoed in her ears, the warnings she’d given before they left Feldcroft—No reckless heroics, Evie. Just come back. Both of you. Ominis’s sharp tone followed, laden with frustration and concern: If you don’t come back in one piece—

She clenched her jaw, trying to push the voices away. But the truth was undeniable: she had no idea what waited beyond that gate. The Muldoons were infamous for their secrecy, their power, their ruthlessness. Every step closer felt like venturing further into a trap she wasn’t sure she could escape.

Am I in over my head? The thought came unbidden, a small crack in her resolve. Her grip on her wand tightened. She couldn’t afford hesitation, not now. She’d come this far, and she had to see this through. The threats, the letters—she needed to put an end to it.

Evangeline’s gaze shifted to Sebastian as they neared the wrought-iron gates.

The playful glint in his eyes from earlier was gone, replaced with a sharp, lethal focus that made her chest tighten—and not entirely from fear. The Sebastian beside her now wasn’t the one who had just been teasing her about rewards and keeping tally; this was the Auror-in-training, every inch the professional. And damn if that wasn’t distracting.

Evangeline forced herself to focus, tamping down the unbidden rush of admiration that threatened to overtake her. This wasn’t the time to marvel at the way he moved with such confidence, the quiet authority in his voice, or the way he looked so effortlessly composed even under pressure. They had a mission to complete, and her attraction to him could wait.

In the past, they’d gotten into trouble together more times than Evangeline could count—reckless, impulsive, and daring. She’d taken down Ranrok and his rebellion, wielded ancient magic against impossible odds. But back then, they’d been kids. They’d acted on instinct, driven by desperation and adrenaline.

Now? Now, things were different. In the months since they’d left Hogwarts, Sebastian had been training, honing his skills, becoming someone who could handle situations like this with precision and expertise.

Her pride in him swelled, mingling with the faint ache of her own inadequacy. This wasn’t her world anymore—not like it was his. She’d trained for a different kind of challenge, studied curses and wards, ancient magic and artifacts. But tactical strategy? Conflict resolution? That was Sebastian’s domain.

And it wasn’t just impressive—it was infuriatingly attractive. She bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to breathe evenly. Focus. You can melt over him later.

She slowed to a stop just a few paces from the gate and reached out, her fingers brushing his arm. She cleared her throat. “Um. Sebastian?”

He turned to her, his gaze sharp but not unkind. “What is it?”

She met his gaze. “You’re the one with the training now. Tell me how we’re going to do this.”

For a moment, surprise flickered across his face, but it was quickly replaced by something softer. His features relaxed just enough to remind her that he was still Sebastian—her Sebastian—beneath the sharp edges of his Auror focus.

“They don’t know we’re here yet,” he said quietly, his tone calm but firm. “If they did, someone—or something—would’ve come for us already. Those wards weren’t just for show. They clearly don’t want visitors, which means we have to assume hostility until proven otherwise.”

Evangeline nodded, her grip tightening on her wand. “So what’s the plan?”

Sebastian’s eyes flicked back to the gate and then to the surrounding grounds, calculating. “We sneak our way to the front door,” he said decisively. “If we can get inside without alerting anyone, we’ll have the advantage. They won’t be expecting us, and that element of surprise might give us the edge we need.”

Evangeline glanced toward the manor, its dark silhouette looming like a sleeping giant. “And once we’re inside?”

Sebastian’s lips pressed into a thin line, his expression unreadable. “We take it one step at a time. Find whoever’s in charge—or whoever’s been sending those letters—and handle it.”

The simplicity of his words belied the weight of the task ahead, but Evangeline trusted him.

“Alright,” she said, her voice steady despite the nerves twisting in her chest. “Lead the way.”

Sebastian nodded once, his confidence reassuring. He moved to the gate, his movements quiet and deliberate, and gestured for her to follow. With a quick spell, he unlocked the wrought-iron gates, the faint click almost imperceptible in the still night.

They slipped onto the estate grounds, the cool grass damp beneath their feet. The air felt heavier here, charged with the residual magic of the wards they’d dismantled. Evangeline stayed close to Sebastian, her wand at the ready, her senses heightened as they moved through the shadows.

Sebastian came to a stop near the base of the manor’s stone steps, his hand raised to signal her to pause.

“The door might be warded too,” he said. “Let me check it first. If it’s clear, we’ll go in.”

Evangeline nodded, watching as he approached the heavy wooden door with practiced precision. His wand moved in slow, deliberate arcs, his focus unshakable. She felt a swell of pride as she watched him work, the boy she’d grown up with transformed into someone so capable, so sure of himself.

After a few tense moments, Sebastian straightened, stepping back from the door. “It’s clear,” he said softly. “No traps, no alarms. Let’s move.”

The door creaked faintly as Sebastian pushed it open, revealing the interior of the Muldoon manor. Evangeline stepped inside behind Sebastian, her wand gripped tightly in her hand, her heart pounding in her chest. But as her eyes adjusted to the light, what she saw stopped her in her tracks.

The entryway was breathtaking. High vaulted ceilings loomed above them, adorned with intricate carvings of stars and constellations that shimmered faintly in the low light of enchanted chandeliers. The walls were lined with rich mahogany paneling, accented by tapestries depicting scenes of lush Irish landscapes and ancient magical rituals. Plush rugs covered the polished stone floors, and the faint scent of cedar and firewood hung in the air.

It was opulent, yes, but not in the cold, uninviting way she had expected. There was a warmth to it—a sense of history and care, as though the house was not merely a monument to the Muldoons’ wealth and power, but a home.

Evangeline blinked, momentarily disarmed. This wasn’t what she’d imagined at all.

The faint sound of conversation drifted toward them, soft and indistinct, but unmistakably human. Evangeline stiffened, her senses sharpening as she exchanged a glance with Sebastian.

“That way,” he mouthed, nodding toward an arched doorway on their left.

Evangeline nodded as they moved silently across the entryway. The closer they got, the clearer the voices became—a low hum of casual conversation, punctuated by the occasional laugh.

She frowned, her mind racing. This wasn’t the tense, guarded atmosphere she’d expected. Whoever was in the sitting room wasn’t alarmed. They weren’t preparing for an intrusion or bracing for conflict. They were… relaxed. At ease.

Sebastian stopped just short of the doorway, his back pressed against the wall as he angled his head slightly to listen. Evangeline followed suit, her heart thundering in her chest as she strained to make out the words.

“…absolutely not going to happen,” a woman’s voice said, firm but laced with humor. “Do you have any idea how much trouble we’d be in?”

A man chuckled in response, his tone light. “You’re too cautious. Nobody would ever find out you stole a single chocolate.”

Evangeline glanced at Sebastian, her confusion mirrored in his expression. These weren’t the voices of people plotting sinister deeds or issuing threats. They sounded… normal.

Sebastian tilted his head toward the doorway, signaling for her to follow his lead. Together, they edged closer, the soft glow of firelight spilling into the hallway as they approached.

When they reached the threshold, Sebastian paused, his wand at the ready. He glanced at Evangeline, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp. She nodded, taking a steadying breath.

And then, in one fluid motion, Sebastian stepped into the doorway, his presence commanding as he leveled his wand at the room’s occupants. “Nobody move!” he barked, his voice cutting through the low murmur of conversation like a knife.

Evangeline followed, her wand raised, her gaze sweeping the room.

A man seated in an elaborate armchair near the fire slowly lowered the glass of amber liquid he’d been holding, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. Two other men, one perched on the arm of a sofa and the other standing by the mantel, looked equally startled, their expressions shifting from confusion to wariness. Two women, who Evangeline assumed to be their wives, were seated nearby, exchanging wide-eyed glances, one of them clutching at her pearl necklace as if it could protect her. A third woman, her hair streaked with gray but her features no less striking, rose slowly from her seat, her gaze darting between Sebastian and Evangeline.

The two house-elves in the corner, both clad in pristine white linens embroidered with the Muldoon crest, let out startled squeaks, one dropping the tray of teacups it was holding. The delicate porcelain shattered against the polished floor, the sound unnervingly loud in the heavy silence that followed.

Evangeline’s wand remained steady, though her heart was pounding in her chest. Her gaze swept over the room, cataloging every face, every movement—and then she froze. Her breath caught as her eyes locked onto the man in the chair.

It was his jawline that struck her first, so similar to the one she saw in her own reflection. His cheekbones, the slope of his nose—they were eerily familiar. Her gaze flicked to the men near the hearth, and the similarities were undeniable. The same hazel undertones in their eyes. The dark hair. Even the subtle curve of their brows mirrored her own.

The realization hit her like a physical blow. They look like me.

“Who in Merlin’s name—” the man in the chair began, his voice deep and commanding, but he trailed off abruptly as his sharp gaze landed on Evangeline.

His expression shifted, the wariness melting into something else entirely: recognition. One of the men standing by the hearth—the one with a slight scar cutting through his left eyebrow—took a step forward, his eyes wide as he stared at her.

“You’re….” he murmured, almost to himself. “You’re Rowena’s daughter.”

The room seemed to hold its breath. The older woman gasped softly, one hand flying to her mouth. The others exchanged looks of shock and confusion, their collective attention snapping back to Evangeline.

The man in the chair rose slowly, his movements deliberate as he set his glass aside. He studied her intently, gaze raking over her features as though searching for confirmation of what he already knew.

“You look just like her,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, filled with something between wonder and regret. “There’s no mistaking it."

Sebastian, still holding his wand at the ready, shot Evangeline a sidelong glance. “Evie?”

She didn’t answer, too stunned to speak as her mind reeled. The faces around her blurred together, each one a strange reflection of her own features, a living puzzle piece that she hadn’t realized was missing.

The heavy silence lingered for a moment, the room tense with disbelief and recognition. Finally, the man from the chair straightened fully, his presence commanding as his gaze remained locked on Evangeline.

“My name is Percival Muldoon,” he said carefully, as though every word carried immense weight. “Your mother, Rowena, was my older sister. I’m your uncle.”

The words hit her like a tidal wave. Uncle. Family.

The man by the hearth—with the slight scar cutting through his brow—stepped forward cautiously, his expression a mixture of curiosity and sympathy. “Cassian Muldoon,” he offered, inclining his head slightly. “I’m the eldest. Rowena was my baby sister.”

“And I’m Benedict,second oldest,” the third man interjected, his tone warm but tentative. He gestured to one of the younger women. “This is Astrid, my wife.”

The oldest woman stood then, her Scandinavian accent unmistakable as she spoke. “I am Freya, Cassian's wife,” she said softly, her striking features kind but guarded. She gestured to the other woman, who had remained seated. “This is Anja, Percival's wife.”

Evangeline’s gaze darted between the faces, the names. The voices. Each one landed like a piece of a puzzle she hadn’t realized she was holding. She swallowed hard, her voice finally finding its way out.

"I—I'm Evangeline."

Cassian who stepped forward slightly. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. To what do we owe the pleasure, Evangeline?”

She hesitated for a moment, her gaze flicking toward Sebastian. He reached out and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. Drawing a deep breath, Evangeline stepped closer to him, her wand still held firmly aloft.

“I’m here,” she started, her voice firm despite the tension in her chest, “to discuss your meddling in my life—and to put an end to it.”

The room erupted into murmurs, the family exchanging confused glances. Astrid looked taken aback, her brow furrowing. “Meddling?” she repeated, glancing at her husband. “What is she talking about, Benedict?”

Freya and Anja exchanged puzzled looks, while Benedict’s expression darkened slightly, his mouth pressing into a thin line. “Evangeline,” he began, his voice careful, “I assure you, we’ve done no such thing.”

Evangeline’s eyes narrowed, her grip on Sebastian’s hand tightening. “Don’t lie to me,” she said coldly. “I’ve been receiving threatening letters signed with the Muldoon name. Don’t tell me you’ve had nothing to do with it.”

Percival’s brows furrowed deeply, genuine confusion flickering across his face. “Threatening letters?” he echoed, his tone sharp with disbelief. “They're certainly not from us.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Cassian said firmly, his voice tinged with indignation. “Why would we send threats to our own niece? We’ve only just met you!”

Sebastian’s gaze swept over the family, his wand still loosely at his side. “It’s easy for you to say that,” he said evenly, though his voice held a sharp edge. “But you have to understand how this looks. A family of your power, your reputation—how can we be sure you’re telling the truth?”

The room tensed again, the Muldoons bristling slightly at Sebastian’s words, but it was Benedict who stepped forward, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. “Let’s not escalate this,” he said, his voice calm. “Evangeline,” he said, turning to her, “can you show us these letters?”

Evangeline’s jaw tightened, her instincts warring with the sincerity in their voices. After a beat, she nodded slowly. Releasing Sebastian’s hand, she reached into her bag and pulled out the envelope containing both letters, her fingers tightening around them as she extended them toward Percival.

The youngest brother accepted them carefully, his expression darkening as he glanced down at the parchment.

Evangeline’s eyes tracked his every movement, searching for any sign of deceit—a twitch of the jaw, a shift in his tone. But his expression remained drawn and serious as he began to leaf through the envelope.

“Let’s see what we’re dealing with,” Percival muttered, stepping closer to the hearth where the light was better. Cassian and Benedict joined him, their expressions grim as they peered over his shoulder.

As Percival reached to pull the first letter from the envelope with his bare hand, something in Evangeline’s chest tightened. The memory of the ink flashed through her mind, sharp and visceral.

“Stop!” she snapped, her voice cutting through the quiet room.

Percival froze, his brow furrowing as he glanced at her. “What?”

“Don’t touch it with your hands,” she said quickly, stepping closer. “The ink is toxic... you should use your wand.”

“Poisoned?” Percival echoed, his voice sharp with disbelief. He turned the envelope slightly, examining it with renewed caution. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, I found out the hard way." She paused, swallowing hard. "Though... I suppose if you’d sent those letters, you’d know that already.”

Sebastian nodded, his hand finding hers again. “She’s not exaggerating,” he added, his voice hard. “The ink is potent."

Percival’s gaze flicked between them, his jaw tightening. He drew his wand and gently levitated the letter out of the envelope, suspending it in the air as he inspected it.

“This…” Percival said slowly, his voice edged with anger as he studied the words. “This isn’t from us. Not in tone, not in intent. And if someone went to the trouble of using poisoned ink—” He broke off, his gaze hardening as he turned to Cassian and Benedict. “We have an enemy.”

Cassian’s mouth pressed into a thin line as he examined the letter over Percival’s shoulder. “It doesn’t make sense,” he muttered. “Who would go to such lengths to threaten our niece in our name? And why?”

Sebastian and Evangeline exchanged a glance, the unspoken question hanging heavily between them: Do we believe them?

The lack of knowledge about the toxic ink certainly seemed genuine, a strong point in their favor. But as Evangeline’s mind churned with doubt, she caught the subtle tightening of Sebastian’s jaw. He wasn’t convinced—not yet.

Sebastian took a small step forward, his wand still loosely at his side. “If these letters weren’t sent by you, prove it,” he said sharply. “I want to see your stationery—the paper, the ink, the seals you use. Bring everything.”

Benedict frowned at the demand, his gaze flicking to Percival, who gave a small nod of assent. Benedict turned to one of the house-elves hovering nervously near the corner of the room.

“Lysie,” he said firmly, gesturing toward the door. “Fetch the stationery from the office. All of it—every parchment, quill, and bottle of ink. And be quick.”

The house-elf bobbed her head in a rapid bow, her voice squeaking out, “Yes, Master Benedict,” before she disappeared with a faint pop.

The room fell into a tense silence as they waited. Evangeline could feel the weight of every pair of eyes on her, but it was Sebastian’s steady presence at her side that kept her grounded. He gave her hand another reassuring squeeze.

“I understand your skepticism,” Percival said after a moment, his tone calmer now, though it carried an edge of frustration. “But you must realize how absurd this accusation seems from our perspective. Why would we send threats to our own niece? It’s completely illogical.”

"Illogical?" Evangeline scoffed, her voice sharp as she stepped forward, the tension in her chest building. "Surely you can understand my perspective?"

The Muldoons exchanged uneasy glances, but none of them interrupted as she continued.

"I grew up in a Muggle orphanage," she said, her tone steady but laced with frustration. "No one ever told me where I came from, who I was. Then, at fifteen, my magic shows up—late, unexpected, and with ancient abilities no less. I defeat Ranrok, and only then does my notorious pure-blood family suddenly appear in the picture. Why? Because the Ministry just so happened to find out I was connected to you? Because I was proving to be more than just an orphan with a late magical start?"

Freya opened her mouth, but Evangeline cut her off. “The Ministry swears me to secrecy about my connection to the Muldoon name, but somehow, somehow, during the social season, it comes out. I don't get any direct communication from my so-called family, and yet I’m suddenly labeled the most eligible debutante of the year, paraded around by the press like some rare, exotic bird, with article after article speculating about what you expect of me. What alliances I’m supposed to forge.”

Her voice cracked slightly, but she pressed on, her frustration spilling over. "So yes, it seems reasonable to me that this is all a game for your reputation. You’re a powerful pure-blood family—this is what you do. Is it not?"

The room fell silent for a moment, her words hanging heavy in the air.

Percival exhaled slowly, his expression grave as he stepped forward. “Evangeline,” he began, his voice quieter now, “I... see how it looks to you, and I won’t deny that we could’ve handled this better. But I need you to understand—we didn’t reveal your name to anyone. We wanted it to stay secret, to protect you. That was the whole point.”

Cassian nodded, his face serious as he added, “We knew about you, yes, but we didn’t reach out because we wanted the choice to be yours. Whether you wanted to meet us, whether you wanted anything to do with the Muldoons—that was always your decision.”

“But you must understand,” Benedict interjected, his voice gentler now, “our world and yours… they’ve been so far apart. Yes, we’ve lived here, in Ireland, but we never interfered in British society—not intentionally. We had no idea about this... social season nonsense.”

“What do you mean, ‘no idea’?” Sebastian asked sharply, his brow furrowing.

Freya stepped forward, her Scandinavian accent lilting as she spoke. “The Muldoons have always been part of Oslo’s social season. That’s where the family historically determines alliances, where eligible bachelors and debutantes meet. It’s been that way for centuries.”

Evangeline’s mouth parted slightly, her train of thought derailed by their explanation. The Muldoons truly didn’t seem connected to British wizarding society at all. It made sense the more she thought about it. They sent their children to Durmstrang, not Hogwarts—a choice that already set them apart from most other prominent families in the Isles. She couldn’t recall any of the Sacred Twenty-Four ever boasting of forming alliances with the Muldoons. In fact, no alliances at all came to mind. The Muldoons clearly kept themselves separate.

The more she turned their words over in her mind, the more their explanation began to hold water. Even Ominis had said as much when he’d spoken of how the Muldoons had no interest in pure-blood politics.

Now that she was standing in their home, speaking to them directly, it was as if puzzle pieces she hadn’t even realized were scattered began clicking into place. It wasn’t the Muldoons pulling the strings of her social season. It had never been. The machinations that had thrust her into the spotlight, branding her the “most eligible debutante” and slandering Sebastian, weren’t born of Muldoon design. They were someone else’s scheme entirely.

Percival’s expression softened. “If someone used our name to manipulate you, Evangeline, then that is a betrayal not just to you, but to us. And I promise you, we will find out who’s behind it.”

Evangeline glanced at Sebastian, whose gaze was fixed on the Muldoons with unwavering scrutiny. “What do you think?” she murmured.

Sebastian’s jaw tightened slightly, his lips parting as if he were about to respond, when the sound of a soft pop interrupted him. The house-elf reappeared, arms laden with an assortment of parchment, ink bottles, and wax seals stacked precariously high. Despite the load, her movements were swift and practiced as she approached Benedict.

“Master Benedict,” the house-elf squeaked, bowing low as she placed the items on the nearby table. “Everything from the office, sir, just as you asked.”

“Thank you, Lysie,” Benedict said with a small nod. The house-elf bowed again before stepping back, her wide eyes flicking nervously between the humans.

Sebastian exchanged a quick glance with Evangeline before stepping forward. He eyed the items on the table, his sharp gaze flicking between the parchment and ink bottles. “Alright,” he said, his tone brisk. “Let’s see if anything here matches.”

Evangeline joined him, her wand still in hand as she leaned over the assortment of items. Her heart was pounding, a mixture of anticipation and nerves as she began to examine the materials.

The parchment was thick and high-quality, its texture smooth under her fingertips. She turned over one sheet, noting the faint watermark of the Muldoon family crest embedded in the fibers. The ink bottles were ornate, labeled in what appeared to be Norwegian, and the wax seals bore intricate designs that matched the crest as well.

Sebastian picked up a sheet of parchment, holding it up to the light as he scrutinized it. “This... doesn’t match the letters,” he muttered, his tone thoughtful. “The texture is different. The grain is finer on the letters you received.”

Evangeline nodded, picking up one of the ink bottles and uncorking it carefully. She dipped her wand tip into the ink, swirling it gently before pulling it back. The liquid shimmered faintly, its color rich and vibrant. “The ink doesn’t match either,” she said.

Cassian, who had unfolded the second letter from the set Evangeline had brought, skimmed the text, his expression darkening.

“This letter,” he said slowly, his voice heavy with thought. “It mentions a ‘Gaunt boy and his companion.’” He looked up, his gaze settling on Evangeline. “The name Gaunt sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t place it. Who is this boy they speak of?”

Sebastian cleared his throat, his tone cold when he spoke. “Ominis Gaunt. He’s a very close friend of ours and an honorable man. His family, however, is a different story.”

Cassian’s brow arched. “Go on.”

Evangeline sighed. “Ominis comes from the Gaunt family—an old pure-blood line infamous for their obsession with blood purity and their connection to Salazar Slytherin. His father, Lord Noctivus Gaunt, is... well, he’s as vile as they come.”

“And what does this Noctivus Gaunt have to do with you?” Cassian asked, his tone edged with curiosity but laced with caution.

Evangeline hesitated before answering, her voice steady but tinged with frustration. “Ominis has been courting Anne Sallow—Sebastian’s sister. Noctivus disapproves of the match, of course, because Anne isn’t from a "sacred" pure-blood family.”

Cassian’s lips pressed into a thin line, his expression unreadable as he absorbed the information.

Sebastian crossed his arms, his voice sharper now. “Noctivus didn’t just disapprove. He actively interfered. Used every dirty trick in the book to try to end the courtship.”

Evangeline nodded, her gaze fixed on the letter in Cassian’s hands. “It reached a breaking point,” she admitted. “And... I used the Muldoon name to force Noctivus’s hand.”

That caught the attention of everyone in the room. Percival’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Benedict tilted his head, his expression intrigued. Freya and Anja exchanged quick glances but said nothing.

“You used our name?” Percival asked, his voice calm but carrying an edge of incredulity.

Evangeline met his gaze directly, her tone firm. “I didn’t have a choice. I... I confronted Noctivus as if I had your full backing. I told him the Muldoons would view his interference as a blemish on the Gaunt family’s honor, and that there would be consequences if he didn’t leave Anne and Ominis alone.”

Cassian leaned back slightly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And did it work?”

“It did,” Evangeline replied, though her voice was quieter now. “Noctivus backed down. He stopped meddling, and Ominis was free to continue his courtship with Anne. But clearly... not anymore.”

Percival studied her for a long moment, his gaze calculating. Finally, he sighed and shook his head. “You took a gamble, and a bold one at that. I can’t say I approve of you using our name without permission, but... your intentions were admirable.”

Sebastian’s frown deepened. “All social season, the Prophet has been driving q specific... narrative. Articles about Evangeline being the ‘most eligible debutante,’ about the Muldoon family’s lofty expectations for her. They’ve painted me as… unsuitable.” His voice grew tight, the frustration clear in every syllable. “And now, knowing it wasn’t you—knowing the real Muldoons had nothing to do with it—then who started it?”

Benedict hummed in agreement, though his expression remained serious. “We need to consider who would benefit from this, benefit from trying to make it look as though we’ve betrayed you.”

"It's someone who doesn't want us to be together," Evangeline reasoned quietly, "Or equally, someone who doesn't want Anne and Ominis together."

Cassian’s nodded. “Indeed. And clearly we’ve been made scapegoats,” he said grimly. “If someone leaked your connection to us and then manufactured our supposed disapproval, they’ve crafted a perfect storm.”

Percival rubbed his chin, his gaze sharp as it flicked between Evangeline and Sebastian. “But Benedict is right... who would gain from this? What’s their endgame?”

“Control,” Freya interjected. “If someone manipulated Evangeline's name into British high society, they’re using her to push their own agenda... whatever it is.”

“And if you refused to play along?” Anja added quietly, her piercing gaze landing on Evangeline. “Then they isolate you and force you into submission.”

Sebastian’s hands curled into fists, his jaw clenching. “That explains the letters.”

Evangeline exhaled slowly, her gaze dropping to the parchment on the table. “But how did they know I was a Muldoon in the first place?” she murmured. “The Ministry made me swear to keep it a secret.”

Percival straightened, his expression darkening. "And all these threats you've received... they've never come directly from a person?"

Evangeline opened her mouth to confirm, but a memory flickered through her mind like a flash of lightning—the so-called "Muldoon representative" who had cornered her.

“There was… one person. At the charity auction. They claimed to be a representative of the Muldoon family.”

The room went still, all eyes snapping to her.

“They didn’t threaten me outright,"" Evangeline continued. "They just... approached me. Said I wasn’t meeting the family’s ‘expectations.’ That I was tarnishing the Muldoon name by associating with certain people.” Her gaze flicked to Sebastian, her heart sinking as his expression hardened. “And when I asked for their name, they refused to give one.”

Percival’s face darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line. “No one here sent anyone to a charity auction. I can promise you that.”

Cassian leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable. “They refused to give a name,” he said slowly. “But did they give you anything else? A hint, a detail—anything we can use to track them down?”

Evangeline shook her head, her frustration palpable. “No, nothing. They were careful—calculated. I can’t think of anything specific that would help identify them.”

The tension in the room was thick, the Muldoons exchanging uneasy glances as they tried to make sense of the situation. Then Freya cleared her throat, her brow furrowed in thought.

“What about the poison?” she asked, her voice calm but cutting through the haze of uncertainty. “If the ink is toxic, it might be traceable. The ingredients, the method—it could lead us to the source.”

Sebastian’s eyes lit up with sudden realization, and he turned to Evangeline. “She's right. Poison like that doesn’t just come out of nowhere. Someone with access to it could be traced.”

Evangeline opened her mouth to agree, but the words caught in her throat as a chilling realization began to form. Her breath hitched, and her mind raced, connecting dots she hadn’t thought to examine before.

The ink. The poison. The manipulation. Someone invested in Ominis and Anne’s relationship. Someone who hated that she was a Muldoon. Someone who had poisoned her in the past.

Her blood ran cold.

“Noctivus,” she whispered, the name barely audible but heavy with dread.

Sebastian’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“It makes sense now,” she said, her voice gaining strength as the pieces clicked into place. “It’s Noctivus Gaunt. It has to be. He’s the only one who fits. He knows I’m a Muldoon. He knows about Anne and Ominis. And he’s already poisoned me before."

Sebastian nodded slowly, his expression darkening. “That's why he was forcing the ultimatum. If he can’t get what he wants—Anne and Ominis breaking up—then he’ll make sure you don’t get what you want, either..."

"Exactly," Evangeline nodded. "Us."

Percival’s expression hardened, his sharp features etched with a grim understanding. “And if you had secured what he considered an 'advantageous match,' Evangeline,” he said, his voice cool but edged with steel, “then his son would be further protected by association with you. That would cement Ominis’s position and safeguard the Gaunt family’s dwindling influence.”

Cassian let out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair with an incredulous expression. “He’s playing a long game, isn’t he? Trying to manipulate every possible outcome to his favor. And using our name to do it.”

The realization settled heavily over the room, an almost palpable weight hanging in the air as the truth began to crystallize. Noctivus Gaunt—his schemes, his poison, his obsessive desire for control—it all fit too perfectly. Silence followed as everyone processed the implications, the crackling of the hearth the only sound cutting through the tension.

Evangeline’s mind raced, questions piling on top of one another with dizzying speed. This revelation answered so much, yet it left so much unresolved. Noctivus’s motives were clear now, but how were they supposed to face him? How could they force his hand to stop? The idea of confronting Noctivus again made her stomach churn.

And yet her thoughts spiraled further. The Muldoons had explained their detachment from British society and its pureblood politics, but they still participated in the Oslo social season. That meant matchmaking and alliances still mattered to them, didn’t it? Would they approve of Sebastian if their traditions aligned with those of other pureblood families? And even if they didn’t care about blood purity to the same extent, why were they being so kind to her—a half-blood—thus far?

The questions twisted her thoughts into a tangled knot, leaving her too distracted to notice the faint sound of approaching footsteps.

The door to the sitting room creaked open, and a young woman stepped inside. She was strikingly beautiful, with long, sleek dark hair that shimmered in the firelight and hazel eyes that mirrored Evangeline’s own. Her gown was an elegant emerald green, its delicate embroidery catching the light as she moved.

She stopped short, her gaze sweeping over the room with a mix of confusion and curiosity. “What on earth is going on in here?”

Pervical straightened, his expression softening as he gestured toward the newcomer. “Annalise,” he said warmly, “come in.”

Annalise. Of course. This had to be Evangeline's cousin—Percival Muldoon’s only daughter. The realization hit her like a lightning bolt, the pieces clicking into place.

Annalise’s gaze landed on Evangeline, her head tilting slightly as a smile flickered across her lips. “Oh, so you must be her,” she said, her voice carrying an almost playful lilt. “The long-lost cousin everyone’s been whispering about for months.”

Evangeline blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “I... suppose I am."

Annalise stepped further into the room, her hands clasped loosely in front of her. “You look just like Aunt Rowena,” she said matter-of-factly, though her gaze lingered on Evangeline with an intensity that felt almost probing. “Well, except for the height,” she added with a small, teasing smile. "Rowena was quite tall."

Evangeline forced a small smile of her own, her tone cautious but not unfriendly. “Yes well... it's nice to meet you... cousin."

Annalise’s smile widened slightly at Evangeline’s words, though there was a flicker of something unreadable in her hazel eyes. “Cousin,” she echoed, almost tasting the word. “I suppose that’s what we are. It’s strange, isn’t it? Meeting family you didn’t even know existed.”

Percival cleared his throat, his tone gentle but firm. “Annalise, we were in the middle of a discussion—”

“Oh, I can see that,” Annalise interrupted lightly, her gaze sweeping over the table laden with parchment and ink bottles before settling on Sebastian. Her eyes narrowed just slightly, her curiosity piqued. “And... you are?"

Sebastian met Annalise’s gaze evenly, his shoulders straightening. “Sebastian Sallow,” he said, his voice steady but with an edge of wariness.

Annalise raised an eyebrow, her expression intrigued. “Ah, Sebastian,” she repeated, her tone lilting with curiosity. “I've heard of you... Something about forbidden romance and dramatic headlines.” Her smile turned slightly mischievous, her gaze flicking back to Evangeline. “You do know how to make an entrance, don’t you?”

“Annalise,” Anja interrupted gently but firmly, stepping forward to place a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “This is a serious matter, not one for idle gossip.”

“It’s not gossip if it’s about our family,” Annalise countered smoothly, slipping out from under her mother’s hand with practiced ease. “And isn’t this a family matter? It’s not every day your long-lost cousin appears out of nowhere.”

“This discussion doesn’t concern you,” Percival said, his voice sharpening slightly. “Let us handle it.”

Annalise crossed her arms, her expression obstinate as she leaned against the edge of a chair. “It concerns me if it concerns the Muldoon name,” she retorted. “Isn’t that what you’re always saying? That family comes first?”

Evangeline couldn’t help the flicker of recognition that tugged at her chest. Seeing her own stubbornness reflected so clearly in Annalise was disarming. It was like looking into a mirror of her younger self, bold and brash, unwilling to back down. Her lips twitched into a faint, involuntary smile.

Sebastian caught her reaction out of the corner of his eye and smirked faintly himself. “...Must run in the family,” he muttered just loud enough for Evangeline to hear.

Evangeline shot him a sideways look but couldn’t suppress her amusement. “Clearly,” she replied under her breath.

Annalise seemed to sense the quiet exchange, her hazel eyes narrowing slightly as she regarded them. “So, are you going to fill me in, or should I start guessing?” she asked, her tone breezy but underpinned with curiosity.

“Annalise,” Anja said again, her voice carrying a note of warning.

“It’s fine,” Evangeline interjected, surprising even herself. All eyes turned to her as she stepped forward, her gaze settling on her cousin. “If she’s anything like me—” her lips quirked slightly “—she’s not going to leave until she knows what’s going on.”

Annalise’s smile brightened, her arms uncrossing as she straightened. “Finally, someone who gets it.”

Sebastian let out a low chuckle, though he quickly masked it with a cough when Percival shot him a sharp look.

Annalise’s gaze darted between them, her curiosity intensifying. “So, what is it? A secret inheritance? A duel over family honor? Or did someone insult the Muldoon crest?” She winked.

Evangeline shook her head, “It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

“Well,” Annalise said, settling into a nearby chair with a dramatic flourish, “I’m all ears.”

Cassian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before addressing Annalise. “To put it simply, dear niece, someone has been using the Muldoon name to manipulate Evangeline’s life. They’ve sent threatening letters, poisoned her, and orchestrated a campaign in British high society all to isolate her and sabotage her relationships.”

Annalise’s playful demeanor vanished, replaced with a sharp seriousness. “Using our name? Poisoning her?” Her gaze snapped to Evangeline, her tone incredulous. “You’re serious?”

“Deadly serious,” Sebastian said flatly, his arms crossed as he leaned slightly toward Evangeline, ever the protector.

Annalise’s hazel eyes flicked to the table laden with evidence—the letters, the parchment, the ink bottles. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and she exhaled sharply. “So who's the suspect?"

Cassian raised an eyebrow. “The culprit is likely Lord Noctivus Gaunt. It appears his vendetta against Evangeline and her friends has spiraled into something quite insidious.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of the revelations settling over them once more. Evangeline’s mind churned, the questions that had been swirling earlier rushing back in full force. Her gaze drifted between Cassian, Percival, and Annalise, her chest tightening with a mix of frustration and curiosity.

Before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out. "Before we continue... I can't keep ignoring the graphorn in the room."

The room stilled, every eye turning to Evangeline as her words hung in the air, bold and unflinching. For a moment, no one spoke.

“What do you mean?” Percival asked carefully.

Evangeline squared her shoulders, the tension in her chest spilling over into her voice. “I mean we can’t keep skirting around the truth about my parents. About why I grew up in a Muggle orphanage.”

Cassian’s brows knitted together, his expression darkening. “Evangeline—”

“No,” she interrupted, her voice steady but edged with emotion. “I’ve gone my whole life with more questions than answers. And now I’m here, standing in the middle of this beautiful house, hearing all about how you wanted to protect me, to give me a choice. But that doesn’t quite align with why my mother was disowned. Or why my parents died in that fire.”

Percival’s jaw tightened, and he exhaled slowly, as though steadying himself. “It's not as simple as you think.”

Evangeline’s hazel eyes flared with frustration. “Then explain it to me. Because even if you're not behind all of this, all I see are people who abandoned me until it was convenient to acknowledge I existed.”

Annalise shifted uncomfortably but didn’t interject, her gaze darting between Evangeline and her father. There was a flicker of something in her expression—sympathy, maybe—but she held her tongue.

Percival’s jaw tightened, his gaze sharp but not unkind as it fixed on hers. “We didn’t abandon you,” he claimed, his tone quieter now, weighted with something deeper. “We didn’t even know you existed until after you defeated Ranrok.”

Evangeline scoffed. "And yet you didn't reach out to me. You knew for years and never sent word."

Cassian’s voice was calm but carried an undercurrent of frustration. “Yes, we knew about you, but we were trying to respect your independence. We couldn’t just appear out of nowhere and demand a place in your life. You’d have every right to resent us—and we anticipated you might.”

Evangeline’s gaze flickered between the brothers, her frustration warring with the weight of their explanation. “So you thought leaving me in the dark was better? That it was some sort of kindness?”

Percival’s jaw tightened, his features etched with regret. “We made mistakes,” he admitted, his voice heavy. “Mistakes that came from fear and uncertainty, not malice.”

Benedict interjected, his tone softening further. “We didn’t know how you’d feel about us. Especially knowing what our parents did.”

Cassian exchanged a brief glance with Percival and Benedict, an unspoken agreement passing between them before he continued. “Our parents were… relentless when it came to protecting the family’s reputation. When Rowena married your father... they erased her from the family."

“We never forgave our parents for it,” Benedict cut in. “Not for disowning her, not for what happened to Rowena and your father. It... created a rift that never healed.”

Evangeline swallowed hard, the lump in her throat making it difficult to speak. “And... you expect me to believe you’re different?”

Annalise cleared her throat, her voice unexpectedly soft but no less firm. “Maybe she needs to see the bedroom.”

The suggestion hung in the air, puzzling both Evangeline and Sebastian. Evangeline frowned, glancing between the Muldoons as an almost palpable tension passed between them.

Cassian and Percival exchanged a glance, something unspoken passing between them before Cassian gave a faint nod. “It might help,” he admitted quietly.

“What bedroom?” Evangeline asked, her tone sharper than she intended, the frustration from their earlier conversation still simmering beneath the surface.

Anja stepped forward, her movements slow and deliberate, as if she were approaching a frightened animal. Evangeline instinctively stiffened, her wand hand twitching slightly, but Anja raised her hands in a placating gesture. “It's alright, dear,” she said softly. “Just... come with me.”

Evangeline hesitated, her gaze flicking to Sebastian. His hand found hers, his fingers curling around hers in silent support. “We go together,” he said firmly, his voice brooking no argument.

Anja nodded, her expression unruffled by his protectiveness. “Of course.”

With Sebastian’s steady presence at her side, Evangeline followed Anja out of the sitting room. The rest of the family trailed behind them, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpets as they ascended the grand staircase to the third floor.

The hallways grew narrower and quieter the higher they climbed, the decor becoming less ostentatious and more personal. Family portraits lined the walls, each frame intricately carved and lovingly maintained. Evangeline caught glimpses of the faces—stern patriarchs, elegant matriarchs, and the occasional mischievous child immortalized in oil paint.

At the end of the hallway, Anja paused in front of a simple wooden door. She glanced back at the group, her expression unreadable, before pushing it open with a quiet creak.

Evangeline stepped inside cautiously, her heart pounding as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. The bedroom was modest compared to the rest of the manor, but there was an undeniable warmth to it. The walls were painted a soft shade of lavender, and the furniture, though simple, was clearly crafted with care. A well-worn rocking chair sat in one corner, draped with a faded quilt. On the dresser were framed photographs, their glass surfaces slightly smudged from years of handling.

Her breath hitched as she approached the dresser, her eyes locking onto one of the photographs. A young woman with dark hair and warm eyes stood arm in arm with a man—Evangeline recognized him to be her father—his casual suit contrasting with Rowena's elegant robes. Evangeline reached out, her fingers hovering over the frame as though afraid to touch it.

“That’s Rowena and Arthur,” Benedict said quietly from behind her. “Your parents.”

Evangeline’s throat tightened, her vision blurring slightly as she looked at the other photographs—Rowena as a child, Rowena in her Durmstrang uniform, Rowena laughing beside a younger Cassian and Percival. Each image painted a picture of a life that had been carefully preserved, even as it had been erased from the rest of the Muldoon legacy.

Cassian stepped into the room, leaning back against the wall. “When our parents first disowned Rowena... they wanted to remove all traces of her from the house. Her belongings, her photographs, everything.”

Benedict nodded, his gaze drifting to the rocking chair. “So we hid everything we could—her childhood belongings, her pictures, even her favorite books. When our parents passed, we restored the room exactly as it was.”

Evangeline turned to face them, her emotions a whirlwind of anger, grief, and something she couldn’t quite name. “You kept this… all this time?”

"Of course we did,” Percival said firmly. “She was our sister, we loved her. We still do."

Evangeline stood frozen, her emotions a maelstrom of grief, confusion, and disbelief as her gaze swept over the room.

Meanwhile, Annalise stepped forward hesitantly, her movements cautious yet deliberate. Sebastian stiffened at the approach, his hand tightening protectively around Evangeline’s. His sharp gaze darted to Annalise, silently warning her to keep her distance.

But something inside Evangeline wavered as she took in her cousin's features—the high cheekbones, the curve of her jaw, the way her frame mirrored Evangeline’s own. The resemblance was undeniable. She wasn’t just looking at a cousin; she was looking at proof of a connection she had spent her entire life missing.

Her grip on Sebastian’s hand slackened and Annalise closed the distance between them, her arms wrapping around Evangeline in a tentative but genuine hug. Evangeline stood stiffly for a moment, unsure how to react, but then something within her gave way. She closed her eyes, her arms slowly lifting to return the embrace. The contact felt strange, yet comforting—a connection she hadn’t realized she’d been yearning for.

“You’re really my cousin,” Evangeline murmured, her voice soft and almost disbelieving.

Annalise pulled back slightly, just enough to meet Evangeline’s gaze. “I am,” she said simply, a small, wry smile tugging at her lips. “And I know what you’ve probably heard about us. All the rumors, the dark magic, the blood rituals, our obsession with secrecy…”

Evangeline’s breath hitched slightly, her hazel eyes narrowing as the familiar tales of Muldoon mystique swirled in her mind. Annalise’s smile softened, her tone light but carrying a weight that stilled the room. “I’ll admit, there’s truth in some of it,” she said, her voice calm, though there was a flicker of unease in her eyes. “But it’s not what the rumors would have you believe. The Muldoons have alwasy been... keepers of knowledge. Some of it ancient. Some of it... strange. It’s what we’ve done for generations—preserving magical history.”

Evangeline swallowed hard, blinking back tears. “Then why all the secrecy?”

Annalise sighed, glancing briefly at her father as she let go of Evangeline.

“Knowledge,” Percival began, “is power. And not everyone can be trusted with power.”

Evangeline’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she remained silent, waiting for him to elaborate.

“The work our family does—the knowledge we’ve preserved—goes beyond anything you might find in Hogwarts or Durmstrang or the Ministry archives,” Percival continued. “We’ve spent generations safeguarding magical texts, ancient spells, rituals, and artifacts. Much of it is harmless when studied responsibly, but in the wrong hands...”

“And you think keeping it hidden is the best solution?” Evangeline asked, her voice laced with doubt. “If it’s so dangerous, wouldn’t it be better to destroy it?”

Percival’s expression hardened, his jaw tightening briefly before he spoke. “Destroying knowledge doesn’t eliminate the dangers—it only ensures that when it resurfaces, as it always does, it’s in the hands of someone who isn’t prepared for it.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Evangeline’s jaw tightened, her mind racing. It was almost too much to take in: the idea that the family she had imagined as shadowy manipulators might instead see themselves as protectors. It made sense, and yet it felt too convenient, too easy. And still, something in the way they spoke made it difficult to dismiss outright.

“So... you’re saying all the rumors—the blood rituals, the dark magic—it’s all just... misunderstanding? Legends taken out of context?” She asked, glancing between them.

Percival let out a small, dry laugh. “Not all of it,” he admitted, his expression faintly amused. “The truth is, some of those stories are rooted in fact. Our ancestors were... let’s just say dedicated to preserving their power and influence. But that’s not who we are anymore. Our family isn’t clinging to outdated traditions or purity-obsessed ideologies. We focus on what really matters—protecting what we’ve preserved and using it to understand magical history."

Evangeline’s arms tightened across her chest. “So what about me?” she asked quietly, her voice carrying the weight of long-buried insecurities. “I’m not a pure-blood."

“You’re Rowena’s daughter," Percival said firmly. "That’s all that matters. You’re family, Evangeline.”

Evangeline glanced back at Sebastian, who was standing silently behind her, his arms crossed. His expression was an unreadable mix of skepticism and protectiveness, his sharp eyes scanning each of the Muldoons like he was still weighing every word.

Turning back to the family, she took a deep breath, her voice carefully measured as she asked, “And what about who I court? Who I... choose to marry?”

The question hung heavily in the air, and for a moment, the Muldoons exchanged glances, as if silently deciding who would answer.

It was Cassian who finally broke the silence, his tone calm but firm. “Of course, we want the best for our children—our nieces, nephews, cousins. We want them to be with someone smart, driven, and successful. Someone who will treat them with respect and love.”

Evangeline’s jaw tightened, her brow furrowing as she braced herself for what came next.

“But whether that person is a pure-blood, half-blood, or Muggle-born?” Cassian continued, his voice softening. “We don’t care. Blood status isn’t what defines someone’s worth, at least not to us.”

Percival nodded in agreement, stepping forward slightly. “And if you and Mr. Sallow—” he gestured toward Sebastian with a faint smile “—are happy together, then we’re happy for you.”

Evangeline swallowed hard, her throat tight as their words settled over her. The tension in her shoulders eased slightly, though doubt still lingered in the back of her mind. She glanced back at Sebastian again, finding his gaze fixed on hers. His expression was softer now, the faintest flicker of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. I’m here, his eyes seemed to say. And whatever you decide, I’m with you.

Evangeline exhaled slowly and met Percival’s gaze, her voice quiet but steady. “If that’s true… if you really mean that, then I’d... like to try. To trust you.”

A ripple of relief passed through the room. Percival’s features softened, his stern expression giving way to a small, genuine smile. Cassian and Benedict exchanged a pleased glance while their wives all seemed to relax for the first time since the encounter began.

Annalise grinned, stepping forward and giving Evangeline’s arm a playful squeeze. “Good. Because you’re stuck with us now, cousin.”

Sebastian, who had been quietly observing, gave a faint smirk at Annalise’s remark but quickly sobered. “That’s all well and good,” he said, his tone measured, “but... we have bigger problems right now.”

All eyes turned to him, and he glanced at Evangeline for confirmation before continuing. “Noctivus. If we’re certain he’s the one behind all this, we need to stop him before he does any more damage.”

“Agreed,” Percival said firmly, his expression darkening.

“But how do you propose we corner someone like him?" Evangeline wondered. "He’s dangerous and calculating—I faced him once, and I'd rather not do it again... at least, not alone.”

Sebastian’s gaze hardened, his protective instincts immediately on edge. “You won’t be alone,” he said firmly. “We’ll handle him together.”

Cassian tilted his head, his expression contemplative. “Lord Gaunt may be calculating, but every strategist has a blind spot.”

“And his,” Benedict added slowly, “seems to be his son.”

The room fell into a thoughtful silence as the weight of her words settled. Percival rubbed his chin, his brow furrowed. “His son... Yes, that could work. If we involve him, we might have the leverage we need."

Sebastian hesitated, his jaw tightening as he glanced toward Evangeline. She was watching him, her hazel eyes filled with a quiet resolve that steadied something in him. Her trust in the Muldoons was tentative, but it was there, and that was enough for him—for now.

“Alright,” he agreed, his tone measured but firm. "I'll write to them. But they’re not going to go through what Evangeline and I did to get here. If we’re inviting them, clear instructions on how to access the manor without triggering every ward you’ve got.”

Cassian smiled at Sebastian’s insistence. “Of course. Annalise, fetch Mr. Sallow a quill and parchment. But speaking of the wards,” he said, his tone carrying both curiosity and a touch of amusement, “I’d like to hear how you managed to bypass them in the first place."

Evangeline hesitated, her hand brushing against Sebastian’s arm as she glanced toward him for support. His expression hardened slightly, his protectiveness rising again. "Why?"

Cassian raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Relax, Mr. Sallow. The wards are there to protect the manor, the library, and everything contained within. They’re designed to prevent any unwelcome guests from breaching our defenses without permission. The fact that you both managed to get through is… noteworthy.”

“They’re not harmful,” Benedict clarified, his voice steady and calm. “Just designed to prevent access. Prolonged exposure to the second ward obliviates trespassers and relocates them to a safe area outside the boundaries of the estate. It’s safe and effective, and those who encounter them never even realize they’ve been turned away.”

Evangeline exchanged a quick glance with Sebastian. “It... really wasn’t as complicated as you think,” she began carefully. “The first ward required me to be a Muldoon, so that was simple enough. Holding Sebastian’s hand gave him access as well.”

“The second ward,” Evangeline continued, “obviously it blocked traditional magic, but it didn’t account for ancient magic. It was easy enough for me to clear the fog once we figured that out."

Annalise’s brows rose in intrigue as she returned with a parchment and inkwell in hand, but she said nothing, letting the conversation flow.

"As for the third," Evangeline’s lips quirked in a faint smile. “I’ve seen similar enchantments before. Just needed to find a weak spot in the lattice.”

The room went still for a moment as the weight of her explanation settled. The three brothers exchanged a look, and Percival’s lips curved into a knowing smile.

“Cursebreaker?” Cassian asked finally.

Evangeline tilted her head, her lips twitching with faint amusement. “In training,” she admitted. “But yes.”

Benedict let out a low chuckle, his expression one of approval. “That certainly explains it."

Sebastian took the parchment and quill from Annalise, nodding his thanks before turning his attention back to the Muldoons. “Alright,” he said. “Since neither of them are Muldoon cursebreakers, what’s the easiest way for Anne and Ominis to get here?”

Cassian gave him a small, approving smile. “Simple enough,” he said. “They can use the Floo Network. We have a hearth connected to it.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "You go through all that trouble with the wards but you're connected to the Floo?"

Cassian let out a low chuckle, the sound joined by Percival and Benedict.

“Yes, Mr. Sallow,” Cassian said, his voice tinged with amusement. “We’re connected to the Floo, we are civilized. But we change the hearth name regularly."

“And we don’t make a habit of giving the name out freely,” Benedict added, his expression turning serious. “It’s a well-guarded secret. One slip could compromise the entire estate.”

Sebastian considered this for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as he weighed their words. “Alright,” he said finally, his voice even. “What’s the name now?”

Percival glanced at Cassian, who gave a brief nod. “For the time being, it’s ‘Wisteria Hall,’” Percival said.

Sebastian nodded, jotting down the name on the parchment. “Good. I’ll make sure Ominis and Anne know exactly what to do. Anything else they need to be aware of?”

Cassian shook his head. “The Floo will bring them directly to the main receiving hall. We’ll be here to greet them and guide them the rest of the way.”

Satisfied, Sebastian finished writing the letter and folded it neatly. “I’ll send this off now,” he said, his tone brisk as he stepped toward the nearest window.

Evangeline watched Sebastian cross the room, his movements purposeful as he folded the letter. The flickering firelight caught his silhouette, highlighting the tension in his posture as he prepared to send the message that could change everything. A quiet sense of gratitude bloomed in her chest, swelling with every passing moment.

This entire encounter had gone so differently than she had expected.

She had entered the Muldoon manor braced for conflict, her mind filled with visions of cold, calculating relatives who would judge her unworthy of their name. She had imagined herself walking into a lion’s den—facing accusations, condescension, or, worse, hostility. Instead, she had found warmth. Acceptance. A family that wasn’t perfect but was trying to be better.

They had kept her mother’s memory alive, protecting her belongings, her photographs, her stories. They had stood against their own parents’ cruelty and chosen to honor Rowena in their own way. That wasn’t what Evangeline had expected. Not at all.

And now there was hope.

Hope that the Muldoons might be the family she had always dreamed of—the kind who valued her for who she was, not for her blood or her magic. Hope that they would not only accept but support her and Sebastian’s relationship. And for the first time, Evangeline dared to believe that her and Sebastian’s love wouldn’t be overshadowed by societal expectations. That they could finally shed the weight of judgment and whispers, the disapproving headlines in the Daily Prophet, and the endless speculation about her future.

And then there was the matter of Noctivus. A problem that had unknowingly loomed over them for far too long. If the Muldoons were as resourceful as they seemed—if they truly could help her and her friends confront him—then this nightmare might finally end.

Her gaze drifted to Cassian, Benedict, Percival, who were quietly discussing strategy with their wives near the door, their tones low but determined. Annalise had perched herseelf in the rocking chair, swinging her legs idly as she listened, her bright eyes darting between her family members. They all looked so... normal. Ordinary, even.

They weren’t monsters. They weren’t untouchable elites who saw her as a tool or an outsider. They were just... people. People who had made mistakes, certainly, but people who wanted to make things right.

Her chest tightened as the realization washed over her. For the first time in her life, she didn’t feel like an orphan. She felt like she belonged.

Sebastian turned back toward her, the letter now secured on the leg of a snowy white owl as it took off into the night. Sebastian's sharp dark eyes softened as they met hers, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. It wasn’t just reassurance in his gaze—it was trust. And love.

Evangeline smiled back, the weight in her chest easing as the warmth of his presence steadied her. Together, they would face whatever came next. Together, they would protect their friends, each other, and the life they were building.

And for the first time in a long while, together didn’t feel like such an impossible dream. It felt like a promise.

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animasola86 · 1 year ago

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The Darkness Within (Smut Edition) - Light

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!mc x Tom Riddle

Summary: When Genevieve dies at the end of the Battle of Hogwarts, Sebastian is driven mad with grief and sees only one way out of it: he has to bring her back, no matter what. He goes down the darkest path imaginable and in the end, it works, but not as he imagined - as he is suddenly transported to 62 years into the future. As is the love of his life. Until they finally meet again, both of them go down the opposite ends of the moral meter: one becomes an Auror and the other is charmed and influenced by none other than Tom Riddle, who is on the verge of gathering more and more people for his cause. Will they be able to rekindle their love, now that they are mortal enemies?

Genre: Angst/Smut/Dark!Romance

Warnings: Explicit sexual content. Auror vs Death Eater. Manipulation. Fluff.

Read more on AO3

If you're here for some smut+, please keep reading. If you like to know how they ended up like this, please read the previous chapters right here.

Excerpt of Chapter 7:

Why did she forget?

Her head started hurting as she kept screwing up her eyes, thinking hard. It didn't matter, did it? Tom's voice echoed inside her head. It doesn't matter, he had said. And he was right, of course he was. She should just get rid of this Auror and be done with it. But somehow she couldn't. Something drew her towards him, she couldn't help it. She started breathing heavier and shook her head, slowly walking towards the bed, sitting down and groaning loudly as she buried her face in her hands.

“Genevieve,” she heard his soft voice. “Genevieve, please. Let me help you.”

“How could you possibly help me?” she muttered into her palms.

“I could hold you, I could be there for you. You are not alone in this. I don't belong in this timeline either.” His voice was soothing and warm and she started to really like to hear him talk. As for what he said, she remained doubtful.

For one, she didn't need help. She had been fine these last years, she had enjoyed her life and the place and the purpose Tom Riddle had given her. It had filled her up completely. But then came this man, and from the shadows from which he had watched her he had lodged himself into her thoughts and was trying to claw himself into her heart as well, with his memories and his sad eyes and his deep voice. Telling her about a former life, a former love.

She breathed deeply and lowered her hands, slowly looking back to him. When she reached into her pocket and drew her wand, she saw him flinch a little. Her eyes lingered on him for another moment, before she looked at the rope wrapped around his chest. “Finite,” she whispered and watched how the ropes disappeared.

“Go then, report me, add me to your list,” she muttered, twirling her wand between her fingers, staring at it as if it might hold all the answers. “Do whatever you have to do. I don't care any more.”

She heard him get up from the chair and listened, but instead of him putting his clothes back on or straight up leaving through the door, he took two steps towards her and in the next moment he had pulled her to her feet and pressed her against his naked chest, holding her tightly. She gasped against him.

“What are you doing?” she breathed almost soundlessly.

“What I have to do,” he replied quietly, pulling her even closer by holding the back of her head with one hand and her lower back with the other.

His touches were warm and reassuring and she couldn't help but lean into them. She could feel his love radiating from him like heat from an open fire. He was so sure about his feelings for her, even after she had trampled it with her boots and her darkness. And she wished with all she had left that she could feel the same way. She wanted to love so badly.

She realized that was one thing she had missed those last seven years. Tom had been there for her, sure, accepting and comforting, but he never loved her the way she thought she had loved him. And perhaps it wasn't love, but gratitude she had felt towards him, perhaps a little crush because of his attention, but it hadn't been love. Tom Riddle couldn't love, she knew that somehow.

And suddenly she knew: she had loved before. Really loved, unconditionally loved someone, with all her heart, with all her being, with her entire soul. She must have, otherwise why was she longing for a feeling she had never experienced before? Why was she craving the touches of another man, a man she had only met today even, how was any of this possible if not for love? A long forgotten love...

She took a shuddering breath and placed her hands against his chest, gently pushing him away to look up at him. He was so freakishly tall compared to her. His eyes met hers and she looked long and hard at him, forcing the memories to come back. But of course that didn't work. Yet she was willing to try harder.

While her heart started to beat a little faster inside her chest, she kept pushing him backwards until he was sitting in the chair again. He raised an eyebrow at her, but neither complained nor protested. “No more ropes, please.” was all he said with a quiet chuckle.

She smiled at him and shook her head. “Don't worry. I want you to use your hands,” she replied in a low voice and started unclasping her cloak. It quickly joined his clothes on the floor and when she started unbuttoning her blouse, he suddenly stood up and walked towards her with helping hands. “No, not yet! Please, just sit and enjoy the show, alright?” she smirked and he complied, watching her with a curious little smile.

When she pulled the last button from its loop, she inhaled deeply and let her chest open her blouse for her, revealing the tight corset-type bodice she was wearing beneath. Her index finger ran all the way from the top down the long row of hooks until the stiff fabric met her belt, and she smirked pleasantly when she noticed his eyes following the movement. Slowly she started to undo the hooks (rather happy about the fact that fashion had gotten more convenient over the years, no more lacing and far less layers) and then she shook her hips slightly and the sleeveless corset simply slid down her curves and fell to the ground behind her, leaving her chest and stomach bare and unconstrained.

She decided to leave the black satin blouse on, for one she liked the feeling of the soft fabric on her skin, also she really didn't want him to see her left forearm. There would be a time and place for that revelation, but it wasn't now.

Walking closer to him, she grabbed his shoulders and pushed him gently against the back of the chair, before she sat down on his lap and watched him closely. His eyes couldn't decide between staring at her face and down at her newly exposed breasts and she smiled when she saw the little red splotches on his cheeks. “You can touch them, if you want,” she whispered and licked her lips. He looked at her, his eyes asking if it really was okay, and when she nodded, he raised a hand and gently closed his large palm around one of her breasts, firmly squeezing them.

“You've grown so much,” he muttered a little breathlessly and she laughed. “In all the right places anyway.” She laughed even more at that.

She watched him with a warm smile as he kept fondling her breasts, cupping them gently to groping them a little harder, his fingers grazing her soft skin and teasing the little buds peaking up ever so slightly. He was surprisingly kind in his movements, despite the hungry look inside his brown eyes. She let him continue his exploration of her chest a little longer, sighing deeply at his touches, before she grabbed his chin and made him look at her.

When she let her tongue slide gingerly over her lower lip as she stared at him, she noticed his eyes wandering towards her mouth, and without another word, they both leaned in at the same time and met in a passionate kiss. His hands moved up to her face and his long fingers dug into her hair, while his thumbs caressed her cheeks as he deepened the kiss by firmly pushing his tongue into her mouth. She mirrored his movements, forcing her jaw against his, really fighting for dominance over who could explore the other's mouth first.

Her hands found his messy hair and she grabbed it almost forcefully as he groaned into her mouth. While still glued to his lips, held by his hands, she sat up in a weird crouch and put her legs on either side of him, straddling him to get even closer. Her chest pushed against his and she really leaned into the kiss, feeling light-headed and eager for more at the same time. Her heart was accelerating fast and she couldn't help but feel very, very pleased with herself and the world around her.

He certainly had a way of making a girl feel special.

And she wished even more she could remember him. Sighing breathlessly against him, her arms lazily crossed behind his head as she leaned against him and into the kiss, a sudden warmth crossed her heart and this whole situation felt weirdly familiar, like a déjà-vu. Was it because she wanted to remember it or did she actually remember something like this? She didn't know and she didn't concern herself too much with it, instead she kissed him more and deeper and let her mind wander, as she focused on the urges of her body.

When his hands grabbed her waist and kneaded her skin gently, she leaned back slightly, trying to catch her breath as her lips hovered above his, her eyes meeting his in a heated gaze. “Want to take this somewhere else?” she whispered sultry, her voice a little hoarse.

He smiled widely at her and suddenly he stood, grabbing her rear in the process, lifting her up easily as she wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, and she laughed and felt like a teenager again, far away from the worries of the world. His mouth found her neck as he carried her towards the bed and gently sat her down on the edge. There she sat, her legs trembling a little under the anticipation, and watched him closely. His hands found her thighs and as he knelt down in front of her, he squeezed them lightly, then pushed her legs apart.

Her trousers felt even tighter than they already were and she couldn't wait to be freed of them. But he wouldn't help her with that just yet. Instead his hands slid up and down her thighs, his long fingers grazing the outer edge, while his thumbs caressed the more sensitive inner side. She leaned back on her arms and watched him, her chest rising and falling faster. His eyes were on her face the entire time and she blushed slightly under the intense desire in his gaze.

He smiled softly and his hands moved upwards, until his thumbs gently pressed against her centre. She felt the blood pumping violently against the tightness of her trousers, her middle positively aflame already. He breathed harder when he started moving his index finger up and down the tight fabric, pushing it firmly against her, activating all the nerves waiting to be stimulated beneath. She let out a soft moan and arched her head back, closing her eyes in the process.

He rubbed her for a moment longer, while one of his hands moved up to her belt. With quick, capable fingers he unbuckled it, then started to unbutton her trousers. As she leaned against his touch, slightly grinding her hips against the firm pressure of his finger, his now free hand moved up and closed around her right breast, squeezing it demandingly. She exhaled loudly and looked at him, biting her lip. He looked right back, his gaze dark and intense.

As if communicating without words, he then grabbed her waist firmly with both hands and in the next moment, as she lifted her body up a little, he pushed her trousers off her hips and down her legs, his hands following the curve of her body. As the fabric gathered around her shins, he looked down and chuckled deeply. “Should have thought about the boots,” she heard him mutter and she laughed lightly. He quickly unlaced her leather boots and threw them through the room once he had pulled them off, then continued removing her trousers.

And then she sat on the edge of the bed in nothing but her satin blouse covering her shoulders and arms. He looked at her, still crouched in front of her, and raised an eyebrow. “No panties, huh?” he commented and she smiled slyly, slowly crossing her legs and leaning them away from him. “Oh, no need to be modest now, darling,” he smirked and gently, but firmly grabbed her thighs, loosening them and pulling them apart again as he stood up and leaned over her. One of his hands found her face and he pulled her towards him for a quick, but heated kiss, leaving her breathlessly and wanting more.

“Say, you told me we were close, real close, right?” she asked quietly as he leaned back again and watched her curiously. “Have we...” She didn't have to finish the question and he nodded softly. “We have.” She looked at him and felt a little overwhelmed by all the sensations coursing through her body, mostly by how her heart fluttered with him so close. “Can you talk me through our... first time?” she then asked in a whisper and he frowned a little at that, but then smiled warmly. “Of course,” he said and sat down next to her on the bed.

His arm wrapped around her shoulder as he pulled her against his side and she cradled against him as if she really belonged there. It certainly felt like it. Her body fit perfectly against his. She looked up. “Well, needless to say we were very nervous. Both of us had never done it before,” he said in a low tone, his voice vibrating through her body as he spoke. She absorbed every word. “But I knew you trusted me and vice versa and then we just... started touching each other.” He laughed a little nervously and she smiled at the innocent sound.

“Like how?” she pressed and bit her lip.

“Like this...” he replied and his hand moved down her stomach between her legs.

He didn't hesitate at all when he cupped his entire palm around her warm centre, his long fingers grazing her soft folds and his thumb gently stroking the blush of hair above it. She inhaled sharply and closed her eyes, leaning against him. He continued touching her most sensitive area, his hand moving up and down slowly, gently pressing and squeezing and rubbing. She felt her warmth pooling just behind his touch and when he started moving individual fingers through her folds, she heard just how warm and wet she was down there from the almost vulgar noises his movements caused. A moan escaped her and she had to snake her arm around his waist to hold onto him, her fingernails digging into his firm skin.

He turned his head and kissed her cheek, distracting her from the fact that he started to press his fingertips firmly against her entrance. She looked up and kissed him back, then her lips found his and while she pressed her tongue into his mouth, he pressed one finger into her. She moaned loudly against him as he moved his digit deeper and deeper, curling it slightly as he moved his hand down to angle it better against her. While he did that, she could feel his thumb moving around the little bundle of nerves inches away from where his finger was exploring her insides, and when he pressed against it firmly, she actually flinched and squeaked against his mouth.

She had already been so worked up that a single touch had been enough to make her heart jump against her chest at the sensation. He rubbed her quicker and she breathed against him heavily, her free hand clawing at the bed sheets beside her. He slipped another finger inside her and kept a steady pace of moving his digits in and out of her, gently stretching her as he did so. She moaned against him and kissed him breathlessly, holding onto him helplessly as he worked her centre.

Just before she felt her insides convulsing slightly, as the first wave of pleasure came crashing down on her hard, he retrieved his fingers and even let go of her as he slipped off the bed and knelt down between her legs. She stared at him restlessly, her chest rising and falling fast as she watched him. His eyes darted up and the intensity of his gaze made her blush deeply. He looked about ready to devour her. And when he did, she fell flat on her back and kicked her legs around him. His face was pressed tightly to her centre, his mouth glued to the bundle of nerves, his tongue licking and sucking on the sensitive skin, pushing up folds and really going down on her nub as if there was nothing else in the world.

She moaned loudly as he slipped his fingers back inside, going from one straight to three this time, and he pumped his hand back and forth, in and out, in a steady, fast rhythm, the new angle causing her to shiver deeply as moan after moan slipped from her open mouth. Her hands felt around helplessly and one found the top of his head and she forcefully grabbed his hair, pushing him down even further as she rocked her hips against him. Stars danced behind her eyelids as she pressed herself into the mattress, her legs trembling against his shoulders, her toes curling up violently.

The high came like a herd of trampling horses, like the screeching of a boiling tea kettle, like a flock of crows dispersing into the night with a frantic flutter. His mouth was hot on her skin and his fingers worked tirelessly against her and she felt him spreading them inside, stretching her walls as her orgasm clenched them around him. She was still riding the high, her hips grinding slowly, her hands falling loosely to her sides, her whole body twitching in pleasure, when his touches suddenly disappeared.

Before she could question his loss, she heard the rustle of fabric and then he was leaning over her, his face so close to her that she could feel his hot breath on her lips, and when she lazily opened an eye, she saw him smiling. The next moment he had pushed himself deeply into her still convulsing channel and she moaned loudly at the sensation. Her hands found his back and she dug her fingernails into his skin as he positioned himself above her, leaning on his arms as he kept moving his hips against her, slow at first, really slow as he slid really deep, with her walls still contracting around him, before he fell into a steady rhythm and every thrust caused her to groan deeply.

His own rapid breaths hit her cheek as she turned her face to the side, trying to breathe through the sensations, with her heart drumming against her ribcage and her entire body tensed and relaxed at the same time. It was a constant up and down between the tiniest of pains as he drove himself really deep and fast into her, and the biggest of pleasures when he moved away again. She somehow found the strength to lift her legs and wrap them tightly around his waist, the movement causing him to slip even further in as she pressed him tighter against her.

His deep moan echoed inside her head, and she opened her eyes and looked at him and was surprised and a little shocked to see him watching her closely, his brown eyes half-lidded, but never leaving her face. His lips were parted and he was really working all the muscles in his body. She relaxed her grip on his shoulders and gently snaked her arms back to place her hands around his face, pulling him closer to her for a passionate kiss. Soon they just pressed their foreheads together and breathed loudly against each other as their steady rhythm made the headboard of the bed slam against the wall behind it.

When she felt the next wave of pleasure approaching (or was it still the first one and she kept on riding it? She didn't know and she didn't care...), she held onto his neck and moaned into his mouth, rocking her hips up against him quickly, crossing her feet behind his back to keep him in place. She felt the pleasure spread from where their bodies were tightly connected, her walls convulsing almost painfully around him, her breaths erratic, barely sounding human at this point any more. She held onto him and when she reached the peak, she let out a deep, soft scream, arching her back into the mattress, pulling his upper body forcefully against hers, his weight only adding to the sensation as he fell on top of her.

Their lower bodies continued their rhythm, as his hands found the sides of her face and he gently caressed her cheeks, despite the rapid motion of his hips. She leaned up and kissed him deeply, savouring every little touch and taste of him. When her heart had slowed down enough for her to be able to move a little more again, she looked into his eyes and smirked, then, with a swift sideways motion, she used the weight of his body to roll around on the bed until his back was pressed to the mattress and she sat up on top of him, his length driving up into her with yet another painful, yet blissful sensation.

She leaned her head back and her long hair fell over her shoulders as she issued a loud moan, her knees firmly placed on either side of his waist as she started to move up and down slowly, her breasts bouncing slightly with every movement. She watched him closely as he stared at her out of dark, lustful eyes. His hands found her hips and he kneaded the soft flesh firmly as he helped her move against him. The more she was grinding against him, the more familiar this whole encounter felt. Eerily familiar. As if they had never done anything else. She smiled at the thought and tried to imagine the teenagers they used to be, exploring each other's body at any given moment.

Her hands moved up his chest and she felt the way the muscles tensed inside his abdomen as he worked his hips against her, and she felt his rapid heartbeat as she pressed her palms onto his skin, and when she closed a hand around his throat she felt him swallowing hard against the sensation. Her fingers tightened around his neck and she looked at him hungrily and he looked back just as ravenously as he licked his lips and bared his teeth to her when she squeezed his throat. She smiled darkly and when his breath halted, she felt his arms loosen their grip on her hip, but instead of gasping for air, he suddenly sat up and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, her elbows pressed against his chest as he started pumping up into her forcefully.

She quickly melted into the sensation and couldn't do anything but moan, her fingers helplessly grazing the skin of his neck as he held her close, working through his last remaining strength frantically as his own moans became louder around her. He was close, she could tell, and she tried her best to help get to where she had been a couple of times now. Their hips moved rapidly against each other, every thrust causing her to whimper and moan, her vision blurry from all the air that went out but not in. He groaned deeply as he pressed his body against hers, his arms in a deadlock around her, his motions became frantic and devilishly fast – and then a shudder broke from the middle of his body and he halted abruptly, and she felt him twitch within her, his warmth quickly spreading inside of her, filling her up completely.

He slowly resumed his pumping motion, his head resting on her shoulder as he did so, as both their bodies shivered through the sensations. His breath was hot and erratic and she moved her hands around him and gently stroked his back in soothing circles, leaning against him, savouring the last moments before they eventually had to come down from their highs again. His movements slowed and she heard him sigh deeply, then his lips were pressed against her shoulder. And then he just slumped backwards, falling onto the bed with a heavy thud, and as she was still holding him, she fell with him and laughed softly as she rocked against him one more time.

They remained lying like this for a long moment, while her midst was still twitching viciously and his length was still warm within her. Her legs felt a little numb. His hands wandered up her body then and firmly grabbed onto her rear, gently kneading the soft flesh, his long fingers pulling her cheeks apart slightly as they did so. She chuckled at his inability to just relax and leaned up a little to look at him. He was watching her out of tired, half-lidded eyes and when she smiled at him with her cheeks blushed deeply, he smirked back at her.

She leaned down to kiss him softly, her lips slowly moving from his cheeks to his jawline and over to his earlobe. There she planted a couple of small kisses and then whispered: “Thank you for this, Sebastian.”

He stopped his kneading of her rear and froze. “Did you remember?”

She inhaled deeply, kissed his earlobe again and nuzzled her nose against his hair. “No,” she then said honestly, feeling his sigh long before she heard it. “But I wish I would. I am clearly missing out on more of this...”

He laughed quietly at her answer and she knew he was disappointed, but when he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her closely, she felt like he started to accept it.

(Read more on AO3)

Another little excerpt (Chapter 6) can be found here.

Pictures credit: @sebswebs (Sebastian) @the-slytherin-paramour (Sebastian) @esolean (Tom) @zimmerfarn (redhead)

Notes:

I had a little chat with @seabass-swallows Auror Sebastian chat bot and he inspired me to write this story. Thank you for tickling my creative juices!

With one eye closed you could also see this as the (possible) sequel to my very slow-burn, fluffy, tame af HL re-write story Diary of a Snake Lover (this fic does reference some parts of it).

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tlacehualli · 2 years ago

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@femtaile

The sun's setting already, although the hour isn't particularly late. Still though, she turns on the faint light on the roof of the limousine the two of them rented so she can see herself better in the make up mirror. The hacker had somewhat less time to dedicate to herself, so she's particularly cognizant of the edges of the lace front wig she's wearing. It looks fine - her dramatically colored hair is tight against her head underneath the cap the wig is partially secured to. It's a deep chestnut brown and wavy and the contacts that cover her cybernetically enhanced eyes are an ever deeper brown next to black.

This is what she would have looked like at this age, had she not become a cyborg. It's pretty. Plus it has the advantage of looking very natural with her skin tone. She doubts any of the fools they'll meet at the Gala will suspect a thing. Her dress shows off her back and along with it, all of the metal and tech that lays against her spine, but - generally that's covered up and the circuits on her skull are not. A good trade.

"Should be fine." She looks over at the Widow too and the Widow, even from the short distance between the two of them, looks remarkably human. Normal. Sombra did good work. Although the Spider's expression is still severe, drawn, worn - her skin tone is now a light tan with a hint of color at her cheeks, lips drawn in a deep red that echoes the mulberry shade of Sombra's. The hair she chose was a similar, deep red the color of merlot - the eye color she'd picked out from her many shades of differently colored contacts was a similar brown close to black like her own.

It would have been strange to paint Widow in Ami's colors. So she hadn't.

-x-

"You know, I've never had the chance to use clown white before." Sombra's voice is quiet, focused, like it is when she's talking to someone whilst a large part of her is distracted with something else. Her hand is steady, layering the stark white powder over the assassin's face, her neck, her ears - just about anything that would be visible in the dress they've picked out. It doesn't show too much skin - mainly because this process is rather painstaking.

-x-

The limousine's dropped them off now and Sombra's got an arm slung loosely through the Widow's. They're not here as a couple, of course, but the act of physical closeness would do well in deterring others from touching them. It's the 2070's after all - people didn't assume as much, but neither did they wish to challenge the possibility so openly.

"Just to recap. You're Madame Genevieve Rousseau, you are the owner of a small but very old winery in Alsace. I'm Rosa Castillo Rivera and I've been working with you on social media marketing." Sombra's voice is low, just loud enough so only the spider can hear her. She isn't distrusting on the Widow's capacity for remembering these little details - she's also reminding herself as well, so that when they reach the man who's asking their names in front of the building, she smiles more easily and slips into that role.

"Rosa Rivera," the hacker speaks indulgently with a smile that could kill. "This is my boss, Madame Rousseau. We should be on the guest list." Easy as pie, they're waved right on through and she's already getting to work in ways that would be difficult for anyone save the spider to read. She has one lace glove, colored in filigree gold (which is actually copper covered in a thin golden layer, connecting underneath said glove to the port in her wrist that connects to her spine), and the fingers on her glove are moving minutely. Her eyes are taking in everything as if she's full of wonder. In actuality, she's recording every piece of data that she can - auditory, visual, and any other sense she deems important.

They won't have that much time here so she wants to make the best of it.

-x-

"Honestly, all you have to do is just keep me from looking too stupid while I'm trying to get as much information as we can." The Widow's make-up is done and now the hacker is carefully winding her brown-and-lavender hair around her head along with pins that secure it tightly against her scalp. She has to be careful not to mess with the circuits on her head, but it's nothing she hasn't done before.

"I'm probably gonna have to get into a bit of jargon, which sucks. I'm gonna be your social media manager. I fucking hate social media but that's just a bunch of bullshit I can google. Already spoofed a huge Instagram account for us with pictures going back around 8 years. Here, I'll pass it to you." She reaches into the phone on the table with hardlight, then sends it across to the Widow's device. The two of them hardly needed phones, really, but it was useful when they were on the job and trying to seem more normal.

-x-

"Chido." The two are still arm in arm, now overlooking the gala. Filled to the brim with the sort of people Sombra deeply dislikes, but what she did like, what she loved really - was taking them for everything they had.

She looks over at the Widow and offers her a mischievous smile. "Ready to shine?"

#femtaile #plotted starter #this SEEMS fine i tried the time skip stuff #otherwise it would have grown into a bible of bullshit but #yeS HERE U GO

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incorrectcdadquotes · 4 years ago

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echo: *exists*

gen: you better shut up before I look at you one day, feel warm, and realise I've fallen in love with you.

echo:

gen: I'm serious, quit it! Fuck-

#charon docks at daylight #zoe reed #hayden blair #echo #gencho #genevieve x echo #genevieve moretti #cdad #incorrect cdad

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imexhaughtsted · 4 years ago

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when kiena in breaking legacies said "touch her like that again and you'll never get the chance" and when genevieve in charon docks at daylight said "if you lay one finger on her, I'll kill you".... yeah.....

#charon docks at daylight #cdad #genevieve moretti #genevieve x echo #gencho #echo #hayden blair #breaking legacies #kiena x ava #kiena thaon #avarona gaveston #i love my overprotective girlfriends #zoe reed

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paige-from-my-book · 3 years ago

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I'm rereading CDAD for the.... Well, it doesn't matter how many times I've read it. And I absolutely love how in chapter 7, Genevieve hates Echo SO much, but still calls her by her preferred name even in her thoughts. This woman hates the person she sees responsible for her family's death, but her preferred name still gets respected, and I love that.

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tanimaichi · 4 years ago

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Happy belated birthday @mezoereed !! Thank you for creating these beautiful characters we love so much!

#digital art #cdad #charon docks at daylight #genevieve x echo #kiena x ava #jordan x taylor #morgan x audrey #interference #endgame #breaking legacies #wlw #lesbians

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qthroine · 4 years ago

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I never NEVER cried this much for fictonal characters or a book in general. I actually read this whole paragraph outloud, and it’s so emotinal, I had to take breaks. And I’m not just saying “im crying” to be dramatic, I seriously was crying so bad. ugh, gen loves her so much..

#cdad spoiler #charon docks at daylight #cdad #gencho #genevieve x echo #this is the first time I got emotional over #something fictional #damn.

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coolbeans32 · 7 months ago

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Echoes of Destiny: The Serpent and the Phoenix

PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader (OC)

SYNOPSIS: For the purposes of not spoiling anything, hehe...It is officially time for the ritual. The ritual that will either bring back Tom Riddle, or one that will cause chaos.

WARNINGS: The following passage contains some themes of death and resurrection and some themes of trauma. If there are any others that need mentioning that I was unable to catch please let me know!

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I think you will be pleased with this chapter...that's for sure....Happy Reading luvs!

TRANSLATION: “Dissipata animae fragmenta redeant ad unitatem. De tenebris ad lucem, anima vaga, revertere. Vincula animae franguntur, libertatem inveniunt. Animae divisae simul redeant et corpus inveniant. Ab umbris in lucem, tota anima reviviscat.” (Latin)

“Let the scattered fragments of the soul return to unity. From darkness to light, wandering soul, return. The bonds of the soul are broken, let them find freedom. Let the divided souls come back together and find their body. From the shadows into the light, let the whole soul come back to life.” (English)

Previous Part| Next Part

Chapter Sixteen

The Ritual

The morning light filtered through the dusty windows, casting a muted glow over the ancient rooms. In the library, Genevieve was surrounded by an array of books, scrolls, and magical instruments. She had been up since the peak of dawn, meticulously preparing for the daunting task ahead: extracting the pieces of Voldemort's soul from Harry and Nagini. Genevieve knew that rune magic was a precise and ancient art, demanding unwavering focus and skill, as her father Gellert had once said. She had spent years studying its intricacies, but the stakes had never been this high, at least with so many years without practice due to her state. Nonetheless, she took a deep breath, centering herself before beginning the complicated process.

First, she laid out a large piece of parchment on the table, its surface blank and waiting. She dipped a quill into a pot of specially prepared ink, a deep red hue that shimmered faintly. The ink was a crucial component, infused with phoenix tears and basilisk venom she found in the secret apothecary built into the Black house, which when combined is potent enough to interact with the fragments of Voldemort's soul. Genevieve began by drawing a large circle, the foundational boundary for the runic array. She moved with practiced precision, her hand steady as she inscribed the outermost symbols, each one representing protection, containment, and purification. These runes would form the barrier to keep the extracted soul pieces from escaping or causing harm.

With the circle complete, Genevieve added inner layers of runes, each set corresponding to specific magical properties. There were runes for severance, to carefully cut the soul fragments from their hosts, and runes for transfer, to safely move the fragments into prepared vessels. The final set of runes were for healing, to mend the spiritual wounds left behind. As Genevieve worked, she recited incantations under her breath, the ancient words resonating with the power of the runes. The air around her seemed to hum with energy, the magic taking shape in response to her efforts.

Meanwhile, in another part of the house, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were trying to keep their minds off the gravity of the situation. They had set up a makeshift game room in the drawing-room, hoping to find some distraction in each other's company.

Ron dealt a hand of Exploding Snap, his movements quick and practiced. "Alright, who's ready to lose?" he said with a grin, trying to inject some levity into the tense atmosphere.

Harry rolled his eyes playfully. "You wish, Ron. I've been practicing."

Hermione, sitting across from them, managed a smile. "Just try not to blow up the table this time, okay?" They played several rounds, the familiar game providing a welcome respite from their worries. The cards snapped and crackled, and laughter occasionally punctuated the air as they bantered and teased each other.

After a particularly explosive round, Ron leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful. "Do you think Genevieve will be alright? I mean, this rune magic stuff sounds intense."

Hermione nodded, her expression serious. "It is. But if anyone can do it, it's Genevieve. She’s been studying this for years. We have to trust her."

Harry sighed, his thoughts drifting back to the library. "I know. It’s just... hard to sit here and wait."

Hermione reached over and squeezed his hand. "We’re all in this together, Harry. She’ll call us when she’s ready. For now, we need to keep our spirits up, especially you Harry. Being relaxed helps the transfer to be efficient without any form of resistance." As the day wore on, they shifted from games to conversation, reminiscing about their time at Hogwarts, sharing stories of past adventures, and discussing their hopes for the future. They shared memories that helped ease their anxiety, if only for a while, as they continued to enjoy their time together, despite the troubles in the outside world, just this once.

Back in the library, Genevieve was nearing the final steps of her preparation. The runic array was complete, glowing faintly with the power imbued in each symbol. She double-checked her work, ensuring that every line was perfect, every rune precisely where it needed to be. Satisfied, she moved to the next phase: testing the array. She retrieved a small, inert object, a piece of old jewelry, and placed it in the center of the circle. Chanting softly, she activated the runes, watching as the energy flowed through the array. The jewelry glowed briefly, the runes flaring with light as the magic interacted with the object.

After a few moments, the glow subsided, and Genevieve carefully examined the jewelry. It was unharmed, the runic magic having performed as expected. She allowed herself a small smile of relief. The array was ready. With the preparations complete, Genevieve knew it was time to gather the others. She left the library and found Harry, Ron, and Hermione still in the drawing-room, their conversation fading as she approached.

"It's time," she said, her voice steady but solemn. "We’re ready to begin the extraction." The trio exchanged glances, their earlier levity replaced by resolve. They followed Genevieve back to the library, where the runic array awaited. The room felt charged with anticipation, the significance of the moment heavy in the air.

Genevieve turned to face them, her expression calm but determined. "This will be difficult, but we’ve come this far. We can do this. Trust me."

Harry nodded, stepping forward. "Let’s finish this."

Back in the library, the room was bathed in a soft, golden light as Genevieve prepared for the ritual. The runic array on the parchment glowed faintly, the complex symbols resonating with the magic imbued within them. On the table, two necklaces lay side by side, their simple designs belying the monumental task they were about to undertake: becoming the new vessels for the pieces of Voldemort's soul.

Harry and Nagini stood nearby, their expressions a mix of apprehension and determination. Genevieve motioned for them to take their places. "Please, sit facing each other," she instructed, her voice calm and reassuring. "This will allow the energy to flow more smoothly during the extraction."

Harry and Nagini complied, sitting down across from one another with the necklaces between them. Genevieve positioned herself at the head of the table, her wand in hand, and took a deep breath, centering herself.

"This process will require you both to remain as relaxed as possible," Genevieve said, her eyes moving from Harry to Nagini. "Do not move, no matter what you feel. The runes will guide the extraction, but any sudden movements could disrupt the ritual."

Harry nodded, his jaw set in determination. "We'll do our best."

Nagini, her demeanor composed, added, "We trust you, Genevieve."

Genevieve smiled, “This may feel uncomfortable but I guarantee you both, you won't have to deal with having his soul inside you any more.”

Harry smiled, “We’re ready.”

With that, Genevieve began to chant softly, the ancient words of the incantation filling the room. She moved her wand in a precise pattern, tracing the runes in the air. The runic array on the parchment responded, the symbols glowing brighter as the magic activated.

A soft, pulsing light emanated from the necklaces, signaling the beginning of the extraction. Genevieve directed her wand toward Harry first, her movements fluid and exact. She could feel the resistance as she gently coaxed the fragment of Voldemort's soul from within him, the dark energy struggling against the pull of the runes.

Harry's eyes fluttered closed, his breathing deep and steady. He felt a strange sensation, like a cold wind swirling inside him, but he remained still, trusting Genevieve to guide the process. Slowly, the dark energy began to flow out of him, drawn towards the necklace. The runes glowed brighter, their light intensifying as the fragment was transferred into the new vessel. With a final, soft incantation, Genevieve completed the extraction. The necklace pulsed with a dark light for a moment before settling, the fragment securely contained. She exhaled slowly, relief washing over her as she turned her attention to Nagini.

"Well done, Harry," she whispered, her voice steady. "Now for the next step."

Nagini met Genevieve's gaze, her eyes calm. Genevieve repeated the process, her wand movements precise and her incantation steady. The runic array responded once more, the symbols flaring to life as they worked to extract the second fragment of Voldemort's soul. Nagini felt a similar cold sensation, the dark energy swirling within her as it was drawn out. She remained perfectly still, her breathing controlled. The fragment flowed from her into the second necklace, the runes glowing fiercely as they completed the transfer.

With the final incantation, Genevieve sealed the fragment within the necklace. The room seemed to exhale with her, the tension easing as the ritual reached its conclusion. The necklaces lay on the table, now containing the dark fragments of Voldemort's soul, their task complete.

Genevieve lowered her wand, her shoulders relaxing. She looked at Harry and Nagini, both of whom were now free from the burden of the Horcruxes. "It's done," she said softly, a small smile of triumph on her lips. "You both did wonderfully."

Harry opened his eyes, feeling lighter than he had in years. "Thank you, Genevieve," he said, his voice filled with gratitude. "I can't believe it's over."

Nagini nodded, her expression serene. "You've done something remarkable, Genevieve. We can move forward now."

Genevieve's smile widened, relief and hope shining in her eyes. "This is only the first step, but it's a crucial one. With the Horcruxes contained, we can now focus on bringing Tom Riddle back. The next part is something that I will have to do alone. I cannot have you here."

Harry, curiously asked, “Why is that?”

Genevieve turned towards him, “I can’t risk putting anyone else in danger for the rest of the ritual. The runes are complicated and if gone wrong, the vessels may burst and attach to anything alive other than the conjurer. That would be no good. It would be much more difficult, impossible even to remove a full set of horcruxes from a human being. It’s best if you all just waited outside.”

Harry wanted to interject but Nagini beat him to it, “We understand, just be careful.”

Genevieve nodded, “Of course. I promise you both, everything will go just fine. If anything does happen, know that at least I will be alright.”

Harry, still unsure, says, “Promise?”

Genevieve smiled softly, “I promise Harry.”

Harry, defeated, said, “Okay. We’ll be in the other room if you need anything.”

The soft hum of magical energy was still lingering in the air after Genevieve's successful extraction of the Horcruxes. As she prepared for the next phase of the ritual, Harry paced restlessly in the adjoining room, his mind racing with concern. He couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that leaving Genevieve to perform the ritual alone was a mistake.

Ron, Hermione, and Nagini watched him, understanding his worry. Hermione was the first to speak, her voice gentle yet firm. "Harry, you need to calm down. Genevieve knows what she's doing. She's powerful and experienced in rune magic. She wouldn't proceed if she wasn't confident she could handle it."

Harry stopped pacing, running a hand through his hair. "I know, Hermione, but this is different. Extracting the Horcruxes was one thing, but bringing Tom Riddle back to life? It's dangerous. What if something goes wrong?"

Ron stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder. "Mate, I get it. I do. But Genevieve is smart. She's been planning this for a long time. She wouldn't take unnecessary risks. And besides, we've all seen what she's capable of."

Nagini, her voice calm and soothing, added, "Genevieve is not alone in this. She has our support and the knowledge she's gathered. She knows when to stop if something goes wrong. You have to trust her, Harry."

Harry sighed, the weight of his anxiety pressing down on him. "It's just... we've been through so much already. I can't bear the thought of losing her too. What if Voldemort's soul fragments fight back? What if they hurt her?"

Hermione moved closer, her eyes full of empathy. "I understand, Harry. We all do. But remember, Genevieve is the one who discovered the Horcrux in you. She’s the one who figured out how to extract them. If anyone can handle this, it's her. She’s been preparing for this moment."

Ron nodded in agreement. "And we're right here. If she needs help, we'll be ready. But she needs us to trust her right now."

Harry looked at his friends, seeing the same determination and faith in their eyes that had carried them through countless battles. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. "You're right. I need to trust her. I do trust her. It's just hard."

Nagini offered a small, reassuring smile. "It’s natural to worry about those we care for. But worrying won't help her. Believing in her will."

Harry nodded slowly, feeling a bit of the tension ease. "Okay. I'll try to stay calm. But if anything goes wrong, we’re going in to help her."

Hermione squeezed his arm gently. "Of course. But for now, let's give her the space she needs to work. We have to have faith in her abilities."

With a final, deep breath, Harry tried to let go of his worry. "Alright. Let's wait here, then. And keep our ears open, just in case." As the group settled into a tense vigil, the door to the library remained closed, a silent testament to the weight of the task Genevieve was undertaking. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation and concern, but also with a thread of hope. They had come so far, and now, more than ever, they needed to trust in the strength and wisdom of their friend.

Inside the library, Genevieve stood over the runic array, her hands steady and her mind focused. She knew the risks, but she also knew the importance of the task at hand. Taking a deep breath, she began to relax, meditating, feeling the ancient magic respond to her. The room was filled with an eerie stillness as Genevieve was ready for the final phase of the ritual.

The Horcruxes, now contained within two ornate necklaces, lay on the table before her. The runic array she had meticulously prepared glowed faintly, the ancient symbols pulsing with latent power. She took a final deep breath, grounding herself in the knowledge and preparation that had led to this moment. It was time to bring Tom Riddle back to life, to mend his fragmented soul, and set the stage for Voldemort's ultimate defeat.

She began by placing the necklaces in the center of the runic array, positioning them precisely according to the intricate pattern she had studied for months. The room seemed to hum with energy, the air thick with anticipation. Genevieve raised her hands, her voice steady as she chanted the first incantation. "Dissipata animae fragmenta redeant ad unitatem." The runes flared to life, casting an otherworldly glow across the library.

With each step, the ritual grew more intense. Genevieve's voice grew stronger, the power of the incantations filling the room. "De tenebris ad lucem, anima vaga, revertere." The necklaces began to vibrate, the fragments of Voldemort's soul responding to the call.

Sweat beaded on Genevieve's forehead as she moved to the next stage, her focus unwavering. "Vincula animae franguntur, libertatem inveniunt." The runic symbols pulsed brighter, the light shifting from a dark, ominous hue to a softer, more radiant glow. The atmosphere in the library began to change. What had been a heavy, oppressive energy transformed into something lighter, more hopeful. Genevieve could feel the dark magic being purified, the fragments of Voldemort's soul being drawn out of their vessels and into the center of the array.

She took a deep breath, knowing the most critical part was at hand. "Animae divisae simul redeant et corpus inveniant." The light intensified, swirling around the necklaces in a brilliant vortex. As she uttered the final incantation, her voice rang with power and determination. "Ab umbris in lucem, tota anima reviviscat." The room was flooded with blinding light, the dark magic fully transformed into pure, radiant energy.

When the light subsided, the runes on the floor dimmed to a gentle glow, their task complete. In the center of the array, where the necklaces had been, layed a figure. Tom Riddle, not the twisted visage of Voldemort, but a young man Genevive once knew, his features unmarked by dark magic. He looked around, disoriented, his eyes wide with confusion and a hint of fear. Genevieve stepped back, her breath coming in heavy gasps. The ritual had taken a toll on her, but she had succeeded. The vessels were empty, and Tom Riddle was there before her, his soul mended and whole. She couldn’t believe it. He was back.

She reached towards him slowly, and said, “Tom?”

Tom turned around to the voice in front of him. He truthfully couldn’t believe his eyes. The last time she was in front of him, was the day he had lost everything. He didn’t want to believe she was there, she was dead in his arms the last time. There was no possibility that Genevieve was alive.

Tom gulped, tears on the verge of escaping, “Gen?” He said quietly.

Genevieve smiled, tears in her eyes, “Yeah Tom?”

Tom closed his eyes, tears escaping. He thought that this was a dream. “I’m dreaming. You died in my arms. You’re not here. You’re a figment of my imagination.” He said as he was shaking his head.

Genevieve moved to grab his hand. She had to show him that this was, in fact, real. “No, Tommy, I am here. I’m alive. Grab my hand love.”

Tom, filled with confusion but relief, opened his eyes as Genevieve laid her hand over his. Feeling she was real, he moved his other hand to cradle her face. He caressed her cheek, taking it all in that Genevieve was really in front of him. “You’re alive? You’re really here?”

Genevieve moved to caress his cheek, enjoying feeling his warm touch again, “I really am here.”

Tom moved forward, leaning for their foreheads to touch. He let out a sigh that he didn’t realize he was holding on to. For a moment, he just relished the feeling of his lover next to him, not wanting to let go. He furrowed his eyebrows, “But how? You weren’t breathing in my arms… I tried…y-you were so pale…and Dumbledore…he didn’t fucking do anything. That blasted oaf-” Tom stated furiously, body shaking as Genevieve interjected, “I know my love. He did this. He planted this whole plan to separate us and made it seem I died, but I didn’t. He locked me up in hopes for those he wished for to find me and destroy you…but I made them realize who my blasted father was…and now look. You’re back here with me.” Genevieve held Tom’s face in her hands, staring into his eyes.

Tom looked deep into her eyes, and he knew that she was real. Her two different colored eyes radiated with passion and longing just as much as his eyes did. For so long, he had felt lost. Lost without the one person who understood him and loved him, even with his flaws. “I’ve missed you Doll.”

Genevieve smiled, sobs fighting to get out, recalling the last time they were together. For she had wished that their last encounter wasn’t a fight. “I-I’ve missed you too, my love.”

Tom, letting go of his tears, happy that he was finally with Genevieve again, and leaned forward to kiss her. Genevieve reciprocated the kiss, gentle but passionate, filled with an eagerness from the years apart. Simultaneously, a yellow glow had emitted, a symbol of their love radiating from both of their magical cores. Even their cores knew that their two souls had bonded to each other once again, as it had many years ago, in their secret sanctuary.

Genevieve let go to stare back into Tom’s eyes. She said, “Let’s get you into some better robes. I have so much to catch you up on.”

Tom smiled softly and nodded. “Of course my dear.” With that, they moved to stand up to head to the other room.

Outside the library, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Nagini waited anxiously. When the light had poured from under the door, they had held their breath, hoping for the best. Now, as the glow faded, they exchanged nervous glances.

That is when they heard the doorknob turn. The sight that greeted them was almost surreal. Genevieve moved to stand at the center of the room, visibly exhausted but triumphant. And standing next to her was Tom Riddle, hands held together, looking more like the young man he once was than the dark lord he had become.

"Genevieve," Harry said softly, his voice filled with awe and relief. "You did it."

Genevieve turned to him, a tired but satisfied smile on her face. "Yes, it's done.” Hermione and Ron stepped forward, their expressions a mix of amazement and caution. Nagini watched from the doorway, her eyes unreadable.

Tom Riddle, now fully aware of his surroundings, looked at the group before him. He seemed to be grappling with the situation, wondering whom the people around him were. He looked at Genevieve for some help.

“We’ll talk in a few. For right now, I have to catch Tom up on a few things and then we can continue to discuss our next plans. I'll help with dinner shortly,” Genevieve said.

Nagini was the first to speak, “Take your time. I know you both have so much to discuss. We can handle dinner.”

Hermione nodded, “Of course, don’t worry about that Genevieve. You’ve already done so much. We’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.” Harry and Ron both nodded.

“Yeah, you should also get some rest. I think we can wait another day before anything,” Harry said with a beaming smile.

Genevieve bowed her head slightly in gratitude, “Thank you all. We’ll be down shortly.” With that, they left to head to the kitchen as Genevieve led Tom up to her room up the stairs. The weight of their mission still heavy but now imbued with a renewed sense of hope, they knew that the end was in sight. They had taken a crucial step towards victory and it was only a matter of time that the end of darkness would be near.

Taglist: @wheenerrr @jillian2003 @secretkittydreamland

Tom Riddle Masterlist

#harry potter #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction #slytherin #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle x reader

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