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athenadione · 11 months ago

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deals and desire (we’re playing with fire)

Spreading my Christmas Cheer! I think this might be my favorite one yet. I really hope you guys enjoy this one. You have no idea how much it means to me to be part of a close-knit fandom. I have extra comments in the author's note and you can read it on a03 HERE

Rated: T (Harry Potter AU)

Words: 9,741

The halls at Hogwarts are rambunctious during class changes, and Raven does her best to avoid most students while walking to her next lecture. For the most part, she succeeds, with the occasional Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff calling out to greet her.

There’s chatter all around her with the excitement of the upcoming Yule Ball. Hufflepuffs bound around her with laughter, ignoring the groans of Griffyndors who are no doubt imagining the horrors of dressing up. One group of students in the hall is taking bets while another teases a younger Slytherin about asking a fellow girl to go with him.

Raven keeps walking, her robes flowing behind her as ebony locks blow in the wind when she reaches the covered bridge. It’s snowing.

It’s the first snowfall of the year.

There’s a ghost of a smile on her lips before they part, and she watches her breath materialize before her. Ivory fingers slip from beneath her robes, and she cups her hand, catching a few flakes. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to the snow.

It had always been such a sharp contrast to home—fire and brimstone and blood-stained cloaks.

The air around her is silent and she watches them continue to fall, already beginning to cover the ground below.

It captures the attention of others who walk outside with her. Tensing as the crowd grows, she withdraws her hand back inside her cloak, intent on walking across to the other side. Her next class starts soon, Advanced Potions with Snape. It wouldn’t be good to be late.

Another sharp gust of wind catches in her hair and she suppresses a shiver, feeling goosebumps rise on her flesh beneath her robes.

“Bloody hell, Raven, did you not hear the announcements yesterday about the weather?”

The yell from across the bridge becomes rapidly closer, and Raven releases a sigh, able to recognize his voice from anywhere. Insufferable prat. Never mind the fact that no—she did not hear about the announcements yesterday about the weather. She’d been nose-deep in a book instead, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Honestly, Damian, I don’t have time for this. I’m going to be late—”

Raven turns on her heel, only to run straight into his chest. Barely managing to keep hold of the books in her arms, she finds herself unable to move when Damian traps her there. He takes his scarf in his hands and begins to wrap it snugly around her neck. The rough fabric brushes her nose and she gets a whiff of his expensive cologne. Some kind of earthy scent with a hint of spice. Ugh, why does he have to smell so good?

“Don’t argue with me Raven, you could catch a cold walking out here without proper wear. You need to take care of yourself.”

Feeling her cheeks growing red from more than just the cold, her eyes also widen when he takes off his beanie to place it on her head. Words of refusal catch in her throat as Wayne shakes his hair to rid the indentions, and unruly curls pile over his brows into his lashes.

“Really, as a prefect you should be more responsible. Who would take your place if you get sick? Luna? You and I both know that would be a disaster.”

The warmth of his beanie seeps into her scalp and the tips of her ears when he places it on her head. She blushes even further as he takes time to brush a stray hair out of her face.

When emerald eyes peer into hers with expectation, she clears her throat, feigning irritation, “I’m not going to get sick, Damian, and besides I don’t see how this is any of your business.”

Damian raises a brow, undeterred as snowflakes begin to fall into his hair.

“As your colleague, I have an interest in your health. I’m not going to keep up with your prefect duties, and don’t you need all the time you can get to finish your application for the internship at the Ministry?”

“Well yes but—wait how do you know about—”

“No excuses Ravenclaw, and you have…” Damian glances down at his watch, “less than five minutes to get across campus to make it to class.”

“You’re an insufferable arse—”

“Four minutes, better hurry,” he flashes her a grin.

Raven curses, not bothering to look back at him as she rushes in the opposite direction.

Snape doesn’t tolerate tardiness.

Raven still has the beanie after class and she hates how warm it is.

She sheds the scarf shortly after class starts, with it being a hazard to potion making and all, but can’t bring herself to take off his beanie.

That smell, his smell, has forever enraptured her senses.

It distracts her the entire class, to the point that she accidentally picks up dried mallowsweet instead of dittany leaves for her Wiggenweld potion. Thank the gods Jinx catches her before she drops the ingredient into their cauldron. The mouthy Slytherin has more than a few choice words for her almost costly mistake.

Raven, of course, is grateful despite the word-lashing.

She can’t afford to fail any classes now that she’s getting ready to submit her application to the Ministry. Which reminds her that she needs to fill out the reference page next. Surely Professor McGonagall will agree to write one.

She makes a mental note to ask during her office hours later in the week.

Raven climbs the remaining stairs leading to the common room. As prefect she gets her own room, and it’s the greatest. She had made a small reading nook in the corner, right next to the window that overlooks the entire courtyard. And it’ll be the perfect spot to watch the snow.

When she reaches the top, the bronze eagle knocker is already waiting.

“Glittering points that downward thrust. Sparkling spears that never rust. What am I?”

She shoulders her books onto her hip while she thinks. Then she gives the eagle a victorious smirk, “An icicle.”

The eagle answers with a grinding noise while the lock turns. Then the door swivels open, and Raven steps inside.

The waft of an amber and cinnamon candle hits her first, lightly covering the scent of incense and old books. She takes a deep breath, relishing in the way that it immediately soothes her.

“Green and blue, they make a beautiful hue. Like the sea.”

Raven sighs and snags the beanie from her head. No reason to keep it on now that she’s inside.

“Hey Luna,” Raven says, ignoring her previous statement.

“I see more green in your future. Birds of a feather, stick together, through the weather.”

Raven blinks, then snorts, “Cute. Speaking of the weather, have you seen the snow? It started falling right after lunch.”

“Oh yes, very magical,” Luna lets out a dainty sigh, “there’s nothing like a snowfall at Hogwarts. Look—” she points out towards one of the glass windows in the common room, “the spirits have come to play. Such mischievous beings,” she says as her shoulders shake with mirth.

Raven turns in the direction Luna points, finding nothing but a blast of wind. It doesn’t phase her though. Luna’s unique ability allows her to see things that the average witch can’t, herself included.

“And I’m sure they’re having the best time,” Raven throws a small smile at Luna, then nods politely as she walks towards her room. The rest of the way is silent, which she’s grateful for.

She opens the door to her dormitory, places her books on her desk, and plops into the oversized papasan chair with a final sigh of relief. Beside her, the snow continues to fall in earnest outside the window. Its display across the courtyard is nothing short of grandeur.

She kicks off her boots and waves a silent spell to light the nearest candle. Soon after the smell of peppermint fills the room and she breathes in deep, relishing in her safe space. In here there’s no one to pry, no one to question her attendance here because of her heritage. It’s just her, and whoever she wants to be at this moment.

And right now she just wants to fall asleep reading and watching the snow, and it’s exactly what she plans to do. Until she spots Damian’s beanie on top of her books, bringing with it a conglomeration of emotions that Raven tries, and fails, to shut out.

She can admit that there’s something between them. Just out of arm’s reach, and if she’d just be brave enough to stretch for it…

But she can’t, even if she wants to. There are a number of reasons why it’s a bad idea. The first is her reputation. Even if she’d never been a Death Eater, she's still the daughter of one. Associating with Damian Wayne, his name of which is very well-known in the wizarding world for helping defeat you know who would be disastrous. A scandal even. Raven had previously thought she’d come to terms with it all—the knowledge that because of her father, there are so many doors that will never open. That being allowed to attend Hogwarts is a dream she’d never thought possible, and that it might be the only good thing to come from everything that had happened.

Before her first day here she was ready, had sharpened her proverbial sword, and was prepared for the backlash.

She’d never been prepared for the young Slytherin with dark, unruly curls and emerald eyes to introduce himself to her first. Or the smile greeting her that had taken her completely by surprise—confident and steady.

She hadn’t been ready for Damian Wayne at all.

Even now, years later, she’s not ready for the door that he doesn’t realize he’s trying to open. His hand is on the handle, already turning, and Raven really, really, wants him to.

For once in her life, she wants to see that door open.

But Trigon had already branded and sealed her fate years ago.

Raven sighs, tearing her eyes away from the beanie while simultaneously banishing the boy who owns it from her thoughts. She’d have to see him again on prefect patrol tonight, but for now, she’s going to watch the snowfall and focus on the doors that she can open. Like the application to the Ministry that Professor McGonagall personally orchestrated for her as headmistress.

Demons like her don’t deserve to dream of something more.

Her eyelids begin to droop as she looks out her window, curled up in her chair under a blanket, and she slowly falls into a dreamless sleep.

Damian’s already waiting for her in the great hall when they meet for patrol. When Raven reaches him she practically shoves his beanie at his chest, “Here, you can have this back now that we’re not outside anymore,” she tells him.

He looks down at her, brows furrowed, before he pushes it back into her hands, “Keep it. I have a million more back in my dorm. Besides, who else is going to make sure you stay warm on the way to class?”

“No one, and especially not you. I’m no one’s responsibility,” she huffs.

Damian flashes her a look of irritation, “You’re not a responsibility, Raven, you’re a friend. Suck it up and take the beanie, or I’ll just keep bringing you more if I see you walking around without one.”

Raven stares at him, then acquiesces, “Fine, I’ll keep this one—but don’t expect me to say thank you for harassing me into this.”

“You’re welcome,” Damian gives her a light smirk, then gestures towards the staircase, “Now shall we get started? I’m pretty sure I heard some giggling earlier, probably those fifth years again.”

“Again?” Raven sighs, pulling out her wand, “Better start with Lumos.”

“Good idea.”

They walk up the stairs in silence for a few minutes, both listening for the sound of footsteps. Sneaking out after hours has always been an appeal for students since the dawn of time. With the ball coming up, however, the mischievous antics have seemed to increase tenfold. The fifth years they caught making out in a dark corner last night is unfortunately just the tip of the iceberg.

When they both enchant their spell, Raven can’t help but notice the way that the light of Damian’s wand bounces off the wall next to them and reflects onto his face. It highlights the angular shape of his cheekbones and gives his starking green eyes an ethereal glow. When he turns to look back at her she feigns nonchalance and waves her wand forward as it casts the hallway in a warm glow.

“Looks like if they were here they’re long gone now,” Raven says as they turn a corner.

Damian hums in agreement. “You know tomorrow is the last Quidditch game before the semester is over. We’re playing Griffyndor, are you going to watch?” he asks.

Raven shrugs non-committedly, “Maybe, although reading in my room under a blanket sounds like more fun.”

“Oh come on,” Damian turns to her fully, stopping her in the middle of the hallway, “You have to come. Whoever wins tomorrow takes the Quidditch Cup. Don’t you want to support your fellow prefect?”

She rolls her eyes, “Since when do you care that I come to your game? I haven’t been to one all year.”

“Well I haven’t asked before because I know you don’t like the cold, but this is the last game, the championship game, and I’ll feel better if you come,” he admits.

Raven turns her head to cover the light dusting of pink heating up her cheeks because OhMyGodsHeKnowsIDon’tLikeTheColdAndHeGaveMeHisBeanieWithoutASecondThought.

“I don’t see how me being there will make you feel better, or even help you win,” she says, shoving down her initial embarrassment.

“Does there have to be a reason why? I want you to be there, you can be my good luck charm. I promise I’ll make it worth your while,” he says smoothly with a smirk growing on his face.

“Oh yeah? How so?” she asks sarcastically and starts to patrol once more.

“How about a wager if you come watch me play?”

That stops in her tracks. Then she turns to him fully, until they’re face to face. The warm glow from their wands cast a more intimate light around them as they look at each other. Raven has to tilt her chin up to look him in his eyes, just to see that they’re filled with something dangerous. It sends a shiver down her spine.

“Okay, I’m listening,” she pretends to pick at a piece of lint on her uniform.

Damian’s smile turns wicked, “If Slytherin loses then I’ll owe you a favor. Any favor you choose. Anytime. And I have to do it, no matter what.”

It sounds like a trap, and if she knows Damian, then she knows that he definitely has something up his sleeve. She might be a demon, but he’s the devil. Cunning and devious and sinfully attractive .

And she’s about to make a deal with him.

“And if you win, then what do you want?”

His eyes darken in satisfaction, and it lights a fire in her lower abdomen. She tightens her hold on her wand as his tongue darts out to lick his lips before speaking.

“If I win, I want a date to the Yule Ball.”

The words no way are immediately on her lips, ready to be spoken, but at the last second, she stops herself. A date to the ball is a small price to pay for the chance for a favor from Damian Wayne, who’s family most definitely has the influence to help her get the internship at the Ministry. So what if there’s a part of her that wants to go with him? Even more importantly, he wants to go to the ball with her, and there’s another part of her that’s thrilled by that.

“Deal,” she says, “I’ll come to the game tomorrow, and if you win then I’ll go to the ball with you. But if I win , then you’re going to help me write my essay for my application.”

“Deal. See you tomorrow then, Raven. Don’t forget to wear my scarf too,” he says playfully.

Raven rolls her eyes. “Oh bugger off you prat. Let’s hurry up and finish, I’m knackered. I had to do room inspections early this morning before class.”

“Right, one more hallway,” Damian replies, leading the way back to where they started.

The new swagger in his step as he walks away doesn't escape her notice one bit.

It’s the first time she’s attended a Quidditch game since…well since her first day at Hogwarts. Back when she was still under the magnifying glass of the public eye and had not so subtly been run out of the stands.

This time it’s different. Most are polite, with the occasional glare or two from families who had been affected the most by Voldemort’s short reign. After a decade though, the retaliations have seemed to settle down. Now she can enjoy the Quidditch game in the stands without any fear for her life.

Last night the snow turned into sleet, so each step under her boots is accompanied by the loud crunch of ice. She shoves her hands into the pockets of her thickest cloak, thankful that she listened to Damian and had decided to wear both the scarf and beanie again. At the very least she’ll fit in with the rest of Slytherin, who’ve already started their gimmicks in the stands against the Gryffindors.

She can see each puff of breath as she continues the arduous walk through the ice, grumbling to herself about how magic exists for a reason and at the very least someone could have shoveled the sidewalk. Then she casts a silent heating charm around her hands, relieved at the immediate warmth filling her pockets.

Finding a spot in the stands is more difficult than she thought, and after a couple of minutes of searching, she has half a mind to turn back around completely. She’ll just tell Damian later that their bet is off when she hears a familiar voice call out over the rest.

“Hey, Ravenclaw, where ya goin’?”

Raven turns to find Jinx a couple of rows high, smiling big and cat-like. She shoves her way through the crowd to reach her, then tugs on her arm, “You can’t just stand there and wait for people to move, you have to make room yourself,” she says, pushing back through to her row. Jinx barks at the few people who don’t move to get out of the way, making quick work of the path back up.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Raven tells her when they get settled.

“Yeah, yeah, you can make it up to me by not fucking up our next potion’s class. Why’re you here anyway? I’ve never seen you at a Quidditch game before.”

Raven bites her lip before deciding to tell her the truth, “Damian asked me to come watch him play.”

“Are you serious?” Jinx raises her brows and snorts, “That’s hilarious. Pansy is going to be pissed. She’s been bragging for months about how her family is trying to negotiate a marriage contract with Wayne.”

“They still do those?” Raven asks, befuddled while declining whatever mysterious liquid Jinx offers from her flask.

“Yeah, the purebloods do. Last I heard the Wayne’s weren’t very receptive though. I’m sure Damian’s determined to make his own choices,” Jinx flashes her a look from the side.

“You can’t tell anyone, I don’t want to cause Damian or anyone else any trouble. Just being here is enough to get people talking,” Raven says.

“So what? Fuck ‘em,” Jinx takes a small swig from her bottle, “Most people here don’t have anything better to do than talk anyway. They don’t know shite about the real world and probably never will.”

Raven admires Jinx’s blas é outlook on life. Her indifference gives her a confidence that shows in her stance, not caring about what anyone thinks about her or anything else for that matter. While it’s an attitude that Raven has yearned for herself, she knows that there’s also repercussions to not caring about the world or anyone in it. For her the consequences are astronomical.

“Maybe not, but their families have real influence over my life, and I’d rather not get caught in the middle of another political war.”

“Fair enough,” Jinx shrugs, “I won’t say anything if that makes you feel better.”

“Thank you.”

There’s a short pause, then Jinx asks, “Soo, you haven’t seen Wayne in a uniform yet have you?”

“No?” Raven asks, uncertain by the motive behind her question.

Jinx’s mischievous grin is back on her face as she takes yet another sip from her flask. “Oh, you’re in for a real treat. Just wait, they’re supposed to start in a few minutes.”

Raven gives her a look, one that she hopes shows her irritation, as they wait. Everyone else seems to quiet down too, anticipating their entrance.

When they come out, Raven has to physically stop herself from dropping her jaw. Dear gods. Damian’s tight uniform long-sleeve shirt clings to the muscles of his arms and his chest. His trousers hug his body like it’s a second skin. The roar of all the cheering around her can’t distract her from the way he glides through the air on his broom—like flying is second nature. The way his gloved fingers grip the handle ignites something inside of her, and she flushes.

Damian flies around in a circle around the stadium, and their eyes meet when he passes their stand. He flashes her a smile and then winks, and Raven’s surprised that she doesn’t just melt into a puddle right there on the spot. She offers a small wave and smile of her own in return, just before he moves on.

“Hot right?” Jinx elbows her in the middle and Raven scowls, saying nothing. She crosses her arms and watches the rest of the players fly in.

Beside her Jinx screams when the commentator introduces the Slytherins. Damian’s name is called last as the seeker. Raven knows the basics of Quidditch, and that it means that he’ll be spending the entirety of the game trying to find the snitch.

The game is surprisingly engaging, and towards the end Raven finds herself standing on her feet, leaning towards the field. The two teams are neck and neck, and Gryffindor scores with under a minute left.

Just when it looks like Gryffindor is going to win, Damian comes hurling down in the middle of the field. He crashes in the ice-covered dirt, and everyone is dead silent as he rolls to a stop. Then he throws his arm in the air, revealing the snitch captured in his hand.

The commentator blares through the speaker a moment later, announcing Slytherin as the champion.

Raven laughs in disbelief as the crowd around her storms the field. She can’t believe he managed to pull off a win like that. Then her heart drops into her stomach as reality sets in. She has to go to the Yule Ball with Damian Wayne, and she doesn’t even own a dress.

Looks like she has some shopping to do.

She thinks about waiting around to congratulate Damian, but the swarm around him and the rest of the team is growing rapidly. It’s fun to watch for a minute as everyone jumps up and down around him, patting him on the back as he raises the Quidditch Cup in the air. The toothy grin on his face warms her in a way that her charms never will.

Eventually, she turns away to make the trek back to her dorm.

It’s much colder now as the sun is beginning to set, and more slippery too. Unfortunately, her combat boots only help so much. She’s about a half mile out when one step slides against a particularly slick piece of ice. She loses her balance, and prepares to fall when a hand grips her elbow to help steady her.

“I’m going to have to follow you around everywhere to make sure you’re taken care of aren’t I?”

Raven turns in shock to see Damian behind her, easing her back onto both feet, “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be celebrating your big win?” she asks instead of answering his question.

“I wanted to thank my good luck charm for coming to my game, and to make sure she doesn’t back out of our bet,” he says with a tease, appraising her clothes. She can see the approval in his gaze to see her wearing his attire. It makes her feel a bit weak in the knees, but she decides to blame that on the ice.

“Don’t worry, I don’t have any intentions of backing out. I’m a witch of my word,” she says. It’s one of the only things she has. “I’ll have to take a trip to Hogsmeade for a dress though.”

“Get a green one,” he says quickly, “You look good in green.”

“Noted,” she replies, sending him a smirk, “You know if we show up at the ball together people will talk? I don’t exactly have the best reputation around here.”

Damian shrugs, “You’re not your father, and people will eventually see that.” He starts walking with her, and Raven is highly aware that he has not let go of her elbow.

“Well, you may be the only one,” she quips back.

“All the better, then I can keep you all to myself,” his grin is bordering on cocky, like he has a special secret that no one else knows. Raven chokes back on a retort, unable to hold back the flush at the back of her neck. It’s a good thing she covered up with his scarf.

Then she sighs, “Damian, you know it’s going to be more than just talking. People are going to come for me when they see us together. Some will probably try to ruin whatever chances I have of a future.”

He’s silent for a few minutes, the only sound around on their walk is the crunch of their boots on the ice. A light wind breezes between them, and Raven suppresses a shudder from the cold. Damian must notice, because he presses his side in closer to hers, sharing his warmth.

“Raven, don’t you think it’s time to show everyone that they’re wrong about you? You shouldn’t have to hide anymore. I won’t let anyone bother you at the ball, I promise.”

Raven chews the inside of her cheek, mulling over his words. For so long she’s been hypervigilant about everything she says or does, fearful of how some people will interpret her intentions. Maybe Damian’s right, and it’s time to stop running. How long will she let her father and his actions hang over her head?

“I’ll hold you to that promise—but you’re buying my dress. If everyone’s going to be staring at us I might as well be the best looking one there.”

Damian’s laugh echoes in the cold air, and Raven can feel his shoulders shake against her, “Deal,” he says.

Raven promptly nods, and the rest of the walk back they talk about plans to go shopping next week. By the time they reach the entrance to Hogwarts Raven realizes that she’s no longer cold.

She feels like Damian has just lit every part of her on fire.

Raven is nervous when she reaches the top of the stairs. Below, the ball is in full swing, and Damian’s waiting for her. She wrings her gloved hands together, before swiping a ringlet from her pinned hair out of her line of vision. Then she places her hand at her chest, just above the sweetheart neckline of her sparkling emerald gown. The sheer, matching cape clasped around her neck feels a little tight. She takes a moment to rearrange it around her before letting it fall delicately around her shoulders and down her open back.

She has half a mind to walk away, and she probably would if it hadn’t taken her all of two hours to get ready. That and the thought of disappointing Damian sends a pang through her chest.

I can do this. Just a short walk down the stairs where the entirety of the student body can see her, and then she can pull Damian into a corner and hide the rest of the evening. She takes a deep breath and takes the bottom of her dress into her hands, lifting just an inch so that she doesn’t trip over her heeled feet.

When she steps into the limelight she nearly grimaces as the chatter seems to die down all at once, all to stare at her. She can feel her heartbeat hard and fast in her chest, and her breaths are coming in short pants when she spots Damian at the bottom of the stairs.

He looks…awestruck. It takes her by surprise, and it distracts her from the rest of the stares. She focuses on him, and his reassuring smile, and by the time she reaches him she’s not so nervous anymore.

“You are stunning,” he says, reaching out for her to take his hand. She does, and he starts to lead them to a less-crowded area.

“You’re looking handsome yourself,” she tells him. His black suit and robe must be tailored to his exact measurements, because it fits him perfectly. There’s not a hair out of place, and the Wayne insignia ring on his forefinger shines bright. He looks every part the eligible bachelor that Jinx says he is.

“Thank you,” he says, pulling them into a corner that’s out of the foot traffic to give her a moment to collect herself. Raven takes the time to admire him fully, all the way down to his leather Santoni shoes. He’s so gorgeous he’s hard to look at.

“And thank you for coming,” he murmurs somewhere close to her ear, his breath sending goosebumps rising on her arms.

“Don’t thank me yet, I’m sure I’ll get you back for this somehow,” she teases, grinning at his snort.

“And I look forward to that, but for now I’d love to show you off on the dance floor. Is that okay?” he asks, aware of her earlier unease.

“As long as you’re leading because I have two left feet,” she says.

“Deal,” he replies, taking her hand in his again, “I won’t let you fall Raven, you have my word.”

“Good,” she says, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor. There’s still a lot of staring as they walk by, but for some reason it doesn’t bother her as much with her hand in Damian’s.

The song starting is slower, and the dance is a simple waltz so she’s confident enough to not trip. Still, she relies heavily on Damian’s queue as he twirls them around. After a few minutes, she gets lost in the sparkle of his eyes and the way they hold her own. They dance for what feels like close to an hour, as one song blurs into another, but time doesn’t exist at this moment. They’re just wrapped up in each other, and everything else just fades away.

Then he dips her, and the outline of his frame is encased in the glow from the chandelier above them. The sight of him is beautiful and breathtaking, and it’s everything she never knew she wanted.

When he brings them back upright and the song ends, they’re nearly nose to nose. Something between them shifts, and Damian’s eyes dip lower from her eyes to her lips. His nose brushes against hers, almost lovingly. She’s certain that he’s about to kiss her, and she’s about to kiss him back, and that tonight is something she’ll never forget.

Their lips are just about to meet when someone from behind her bumps into her side, and Raven tumbles over. Then Astoria Greengrass is in her face, babbling an apology just as the flute in her hand pours an unknown liquid over the front of Raven’s gown.

Damian, true to his word, keeps her from falling, but Raven can’t find the words to thank him—too focused on what could have been. Now the moment is lost forever, and they both know it.

“Oh my gods, I cannot believe how clumsy I’ve been,” Astoria fusses over Raven’s gown, “I am so sorry, truly, I’m completely mortified. Please, let me help you to the ladies room.”

“No thank you,” she says, wrenching out of her grasp, “I’m perfectly fine going by myself, although I appreciate your offer.”

“If you insist, but really it’s no trouble to tag along—”

“Again, thank you, but I’m really okay.” Raven takes a step backward, picking up on the malice blaring in Astoria’s aura. She’s about to escape from the scene entirely when Astoria seizes her wrist in a tight grip.

Then Damian breaks her hold and pulls Astoria away from her. He growls something in her face that Raven can’t quite understand, but she doesn’t need to. The rage clear in his eyes tells her everything she needs to know. That what happened isn’t an accident, it’s sabotage.

Damian sends Astoria scurrying off with a squeak of terror, but Raven is already turning away. The front of her dress is covered in something sticky and although it’ll only take a second to fix it with a spell she desperately needs a moment alone.

Damian tries to talk to her, “Raven, I’m so sorry—”

She cuts him off, not able to take another apology, especially from him, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I’ll be right back okay?”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No,” she waves him off, “I promise it’ll just be a minute. Please, excuse me,” she rushes off, not waiting to hear his reply. Not able to stand there a second longer, because she had been so close to a dream she thought was too far out of reach. And then it had been taken from her.

Raven pushes the door open to the bathroom, heels clacking on the linoleum. When she reaches the sink she takes hold of it with both hands and looks into the mirror. Her chest is heaving with panicked breaths and bites her lip to keep from sobbing. Her hair is askew from her dash from the dance floor, and her cape is hanging haphazardly over one shoulder. At least her makeup is still nice, and as long as she doesn’t cry her mascara should stay put. She focuses on the spill next, murmuring a few charms to clean it up after getting her breathing under control.

She’s a few minutes away from deeming herself capable of going back out when one of the bathroom stalls opens. Pansy Parkinson walks out in a slinky black gown with a villainous smirk growing on her face as their eyes meet in the mirror.

“It looks like you missed a spot, need some help?” she asks haughtily.

“No thank you,” Raven ignores her in favor of soaping up her hands to wash, “I’m managing just fine.”

“Actually I don’t think you are. Do you know how many people are vying for Damian’s attention? Compared to them you’re just a drop in the bucket.”

Raven stills, anger heating up her face, before continuing to wash her hands, “I think I’ll let Damian decide who he wants to give his attention to.”

Pansy draws closer, “You might think this is just a game, but it’s not. You think what Astoria just did to you is bad? That’s just the beginning if you continue down this road. I’m only going to warn you once, demon. Stay away from Damian Wayne.”

Her hands shake with thinly controlled rage as she washes the water off, which she knows Pansy assumes is fear from her smug smile. Raven takes the time to dry her hands before she turns back around and faces the Slytherin directly, “Trust me when I say I know all too well that this isn’t a game, but you don’t really know who I am. I’ve walked a very thin line to get where I am here at Hogwarts. I still walk that line. Every. Day.” She pauses to ensure she has Pansy’s full attention, “If you do anything to mess that up for me, I will have nothing left. And when I have nothing left, I’ll show you just how much of a demon I can be.”

The color slowly drains from Pansy’s face, and Raven cocks her head innocently, “You’re looking a little pale, Pansy. Why don’t you take a minute to freshen up? I think I’m going to go out and enjoy the rest of my evening . ”

That seems to bring the girl’s color back redder than before as she grits her teeth, gripping her clutch so hard Raven can see the white of her knuckles. “You’re going to regret the way you just spoke to me.”

Raven rolls her eyes, “The only thing I’m regretting right now is entertaining this conversation with you.”

“You have no idea who you’re messing with. My family can make your life a living hell, and if you stand in my way then I’ll make sure of that myself.”

Raven's laugh is hard and cruel, “You’ll never be able to make my life worse than the hell I’ve already lived through. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go back out to my date . Unless you want to take this up with the headmistress instead?”

A myriad of emotions cross Pansy’s face, before landing on something lethal. Her eyes narrow as she steps close enough that Raven can smell her rosy perfume, “Watch your back, demon filth,” Pansy hisses, pushing past her and storming out of the bathroom.

Although Raven should feel victorious for standing up to Pansy, she mostly just feels on edge. This is her reality if she wants to be with Damian. Always looking over her shoulder for someone that’s desperate to take her place. Forced to play the role of a viper and strike back twice as fast to protect herself.

She takes another minute to collect herself in the mirror before following Pansy out of the bathroom shortly after. Then Damian is immediately at her side, handing her a cup of water, “Are you okay?” he asks.

Raven musters a smile, and accepts the glass gratefully, “Yeah I’m okay, just some girl talk.”

“Pansy?”

“Yep.”

Damian runs a hand through his hair, disheveling a few of the strands, “I should tell you that her family’s been trying to make a marriage contract happen between us for years, but my father’s turned them down three times already. I don’t think they know how to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“So it seems,” she says, slightly amused.

“Do you want to go for a walk outside? I think we could both use the fresh air.”

“Yeah,” she breathes, “That would be great.”

As Damian guides her towards the exit leading to the school gardens, a commotion catches her attention. Just out of her peripheral vision, before the party fades from view, she spots Jinx across the room, tossing her own drink at Astoria.

Raven suppresses a chuckle as a funny feeling in her chest grows. So maybe she isn’t completely alone in this. Maybe she has a few friends who won’t hesitate to defend her. That’s a comforting thought, and she takes it with her on the walk, allowing it to shroud around her like a shield.

Maybe demons can dream after all.

The first thing she notices when stepping outside is the sky. It’s clear, nearly a full moon, and the stars are just as bright. It bathes the gardens in a celestial glow, and the snow covered grounds makes it all look surreal.

She takes a deep breath, relishing in the fresh air. It helps to clear her mind, especially as Damian’s hand settles on the small of her back to steer her towards a gazebo outlooking the central yard. It’s covered in fairy lights, and she’s delighted to find that there’s a warming charm when she steps inside.

“Feeling better?” Damian asks, his hand traveling up to brush her arm. Raven nods while enjoying the view.

“Much, this was a good idea,” she bumps him lightly, “Thanks.”

“No need to thank me, what happened earlier was my fault. I should have known that Pansy and Astoria were planning something.”

Raven props her elbows up against the wooden rail, and looks up at the sky, “No, it wasn’t your fault,” she glances back at him, “I’ve been dealing with discrimination since my first day here. This really isn’t anything new.”

“Still, I wish that I could have protected you from it, somehow.”

Raven smiles at his blatant concern, “I used to think that if I stayed quiet and kept my head down that everyone would just leave me alone. Try and graduate without a fuss,” she chuckles drily, “I was stupid to think maybe that could be enough.”

Damian covers one of his hands with hers, capturing her attention.“You’re definitely not stupid Raven, but you are a fighter. You’re one of the bravest people I know. To have hope like that, even knowing that people might treat you differently because of what happened? That’s admirable.”

Something stirs in Raven’s chest at his words. A spark that lights a fire within her, “You’re right, I am a fighter. I deserve to have the same opportunities as everyone else, regardless of my family name. I can dream about anything I want—and I’m starting with that internship.”

Damian’s smile is wide, “That’s my girl.”

Her stomach makes a little flip at his words, but she doesn’t let that stop her from throwing her arms around his neck, “Thank you Damian.”

His arms tighten around her after getting over his initial shock from her touch, and his chin rests gently on the top of her head, “You’re welcome Raven,” he leans back to look down at her, “Now how about you tell me what really happened in the bathroom, and maybe I’ll consider giving the next book in that series you’ve been reading all semester.”

Raven ignores the fact that Damian obviously keeps up with her reading habits, and looks at him with a raised brow, “The next book doesn’t come out until next summer.”

“I may or may not have the author’s copy.”

“You do not,” her eyes light up at his smirk, “How did you manage to get one?”

“I pulled a few strings,” he trails, choosing not to indulge any further.

“I cannot believe you!”

“I’ll show it to you later. It was going to be your Christmas present, but now it’s my bargaining chip.”

Raven sends him a mock glare, “That’s not fair, it’s my present.”

“Nope, it’s not fair at all,” Damian grins, “So spill first—then you’ll get your present.”

She bites her lip, “You have to swear that you won’t do or say anything about it to anyone else.” Even though she had threatened Pansy earlier, she never intended to say anything to Damian about their conversation.

“So something did happen?” his eyes bunch together with concern, “Did she or Astoria hurt you?”

“No, no one hurt me,” Raven sighs, “I’ll tell you what happened but I’m serious. I don’t want anyone getting in trouble, that’ll just make everything worse.”

“I promise,” Damian holds out his hand, “Pinky promise.”

With a smile she interloops her pinky with his, “And you better be serious about that book. I expect it to be in my hands before the night’s over.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll go right up to my dorm to get it after you tell me everything. ”

Raven rolls her eyes and feigns annoyance, but the grin obvious on her face betrays her true feelings. So they sit down on the closest bench under the gazebo, and Damian leans in close as Raven starts to recall her confrontation with Pansy. She lays a hand softly on his arm when his hands clench, nearly shaking with unbridled and righteous rage. They continue to talk until they’re both calmer, and ready to put the events from the evening behind them. Then their conversation evolves to other things—her internship, his family—everything and anything they can think about.

The longer they spend together the harder it gets for Raven to keep her hands to herself. She reaches out to rub a comforting hand down his arm as he talks about the strained relationship with his parents. Then she smacks his shoulder when he jokes about that one Niffler incident last year. (They had chased it down for nearly an hour before trapping it in a corner…right before it jumped right on top of her head).

He listens intently as she talks about her wishes of becoming a part of something bigger than herself. Together they dream about the world they want to create.

As it starts to get later and the warming charms begin to fade, Raven follows Damian back inside and through the halls to his dorm. She waits outside while he grabs her book, and then together he takes her hand and they walk to Ravenclaw common room.

Students are filtering in and out of the halls, all still filled with an excited energy from the night. Raven’s thankful they’re not on patrol duty tonight, and she holds her book close to her chest with the hand that’s not holding Damian's.

Witches and wizards whisper to each other as they walk by, but Raven doesn’t care. She’s too focused on the warm, fuzzy feeling growing in her chest as Damian’s thumb strokes lightly over the back of her hand.

The door to the common room is wide open when they get there. Damian insists on walking her to her room, and from the amount of inter-house couples visiting she figures it won’t hurt to add another Slytherin to the mix. There’s a part of her that’s a little anxious about Damian seeing her room, but the larger part that just wants him closer keeps her walking.

She lets go of Damian’s hand to open the door, missing his warmth, and she holds it open wider for him to follow her inside.

“Yeah, this is almost exactly what I imagined your room would look like,” Damian says, voice full of amusement. His eyes quickly scan her room, taking note of the high black shelves—each stacked to the top with books. Another in the corner is full of potion ingredients. Her walls are painted a dark navy blue (her house colors of course), and her gray blackout curtains are pulled back, putting the courtyard below on full display.

“Oh bugger off,” Raven places her newest novel on the desk, fingers lingering on the cover, “You know how much I love books and dark colors.”

“That’s true, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a book in your hands,” he teases back.

“Well they’re book free for now,” Raven wiggles her fingers at him, “but I don’t know if I’ll be able to say the same in the next few minutes.”

He smiles, shoving his hands in his pockets, “Well I’m glad you like your present. Happy Christmas Raven.”

“Happy Christmas Damian. I feel bad though, I didn’t get you anything.”

“Of course you did. Tonight with you was my Christmas present, the best one yet.”

There’s something in his eyes that looks like before when they were out on the dance floor and enraptured in each other. Now they’re in the safety of her room with no one to interrupt them, and it sends Raven’s heart racing. She wraps a hand around the back of her neck, suddenly feeling a bit shy.

Damian steps closer, and Raven sucks in a soft breath. She so desperately wants to grab him by his lapels and pull him forward to meet her lips. How many times had she daydreamed about snogging him? Too many to count. Now that he’s right here, inches away and leaning in, she feels herself pulling away. Despite how perfect she imagines it will be because Pansy’s words are stuck in the back of her mind, telling her that all she’ll do is hold him back.

And her heart breaks just a little when he pulls back too, concern clearly written on his face, but all she can do is turn away.

“I think we both should get some rest,” she whispers, her voice shaky but clear enough for Damian to realize that this is goodbye.

He looks at her and Raven thinks for a moment that he might argue. Nothing has ever stopped him from doing just that before, but he doesn’t. Instead he sighs, “You’re probably right,” he says, taking her hand in his once more. Then he brings it up to his lips and gives it just the barest of kisses before letting it go, “sweet dreams Raven.”

“Goodnight Damian.”

She has to bite her lip as she watches him turn away to keep herself from calling him back. When he shuts the door she slumps on the bed, the fabric of her dress crinkles as she sits, and she drops her face into her hands.

She spends the rest of the night wondering what would have happened if she didn’t care about what anyone thought and just kissed him anyway.

The fall out of last night with Pansy isn’t as bad as Raven thought it would be.

Rumors fly of course (both literally and figuratively), but she’s surprised to find that just as many people seem to take her side as they do Pansy’s.

Regardless, being at the center of attention is always something that Raven tries her best to avoid. So when witches and wizards flock to her from all houses in between class changes she’s nearly at her wits end by the time she gets to her last one with Snape. She sits down with a huff as some students turn back to look at her. After a well-placed glare they turn back just as quickly.

Jinx applauds her, “Nice glare Ravenclaw, you have a lot of Slytherin potential.”

“Thanks,” Raven grumbles, “But I’m trying to distance myself from Slytherin right now.”

“This doesn’t have to do with a certain Slytherin prefect and Quidditch cup champion does it?”

“How did you know? It’s not like the entire school is talking about us right now,” she mocks, then sends Jinx a smirk, “Although I will say there’s a lot of people also talking about how you humiliated Astoria last night.”

The smile Jinx gives her is downright evil, “You don’t know how happy that makes me. If we’re being real though she had it coming since first year.”

In a rare moment of vulnerability Raven gives her a warm smile, “Thanks for sticking up for me Jinx, that honestly means a lot.”

“And I’ll do it again,” Jinx flips her vibrant pink hair over her shoulder, “Hey listen. This thing you kind of have with Damian—it’s good you know that right? I saw him at lunch, he doesn't care about the rumors. He just asked about you, and if you were okay. ”

Raven sighs, “I like him, Jinx. A lot. I just…I’m not good for him. I have so much baggage, I’m afraid I’m going to drag him down.”

“You’re an idiot, and I mean that in the best way,” Jinx rolls her eyes, “Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“Awh, how sweet of you to say,” Raven says drily.

“I know, I’m really channeling my inner Hufflepuff. Don’t expect that to last though.”

Raven shakes her head, but smiles nonetheless as Professor Snape starts class with hiss to quiet down.

They’re well into creating their next potion when Jinx bumps her shoulder after handing over the fluxweed.

“Just think about giving it a chance.”

Raven doesn’t have to ask her what she means. Damian’s been the only thing she’s been able to think about all day. She nods, and they finish their potion together in silence. The rest of class goes by fast and she makes the trip back to the common room after telling Jinx goodbye. Then she shuts her door to her room and the rest of the world, deigning to read her book in isolation as everyone else starts to pack.

She doesn’t know when she’ll see Damian next, but she can’t quite make herself go out to search for him yet.

Mostly because she’s afraid of what he’ll say if she tells him the truth.

There’s only one part of the year the corridors at Hogwarts are empty, and Raven looks forward to it every time it comes around. Everyone else leaves to go home for Christmas break, all except her of course, but that’s okay. Hogwarts is more of a home than her father’s manor ever was. Now especially. It’s quiet and calm, and safe .

Soon everyone will be back for the spring semester—but at least for now she can breathe again.

For the first time in a while she finds herself relaxing in front of the fireplace in the living area. Tucking her fuzzy-socked feet underneath her, she leans back into the couch with her wool blanket. While pulling out the book Damian gave her she hums to herself with gratification at the snow falling steadily outside the nearby window. The only thing that can make this perfect is—

“Tea?” A voice calls out behind her. Raven turns, cooling her features to hide her surprise when she finds Damian there, with a mug in each hand.

“Damian? I didn’t know you were still here?” She takes the cup with thanks, bringing it to her nose and breathing in. There’s a hint of something herbal and sweet—almost fruity like apples, and it’s wonderful. Chamomile.

“I’ll be leaving this evening,” he says, taking a seat on the couch next to her, “I wanted to stay back for a bit before I go.”

She thinks about asking why, but she knows that Damian is about to tell her himself. She feels the undercurrent of his emotions in his aura, each one just as complex as the other. There’s something brewing underneath, bubbling as he draws closer.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, taking an experimental sip. It fills her with warmth and sends tingles down to the tips of her toes. She knows they should talk about why she’s been avoiding him. She opens her mouth to give him an apology when he cuts her off,

“I have another present for you,” Damian says, and Raven notices the letter in his hand for the first time. She raises her brows, tentatively reaching out for it when Damian hands it to her.

“What is it?” she asks, turning it over. The Wayne’s wax seal is stamped onto the back and her fingers brush over it. It’s gold with a large W in the middle, surrounded by a crest and a sword at the top, intertwined with vines.

“It’s my father’s recommendation letter. I told him about how you’ve been wanting to apply for the internship at the Ministry a while ago and he wanted to help.”

Raven feels her heart skip a beat. After Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Snape both agreed to write her a recommendation, she only needs one more. A letter from Bruce Wayne is pretty much a guaranteed acceptance. This is her opportunity to show the Ministry that she’s not her father. This is life changing. It’s everything. It’s…too much.

“Damian I can’t accept this, it’s too generous,” she holds the letter back out to him, “I don’t deserve this.”

“Raven,” Damian says, capturing her wrist in his hand to stop her, “You’re going to be fighting to prove people they’re wrong about you for the rest of your life, all because of your father. I get a chance to help because of mine. Take it, because this will be an uphill battle. You’re going to need all the help you can get, and it’s okay to let us—let me help.”

Tears well in the corners of her eyes. Never has she been presented with such generosity without someone trying to serve their own self-interests. The sincerity in Damian’s voice is overwhelming. He wants to help her because he can, and that’s it.

“I don’t know how I could ever thank either of you for this,” she says, taking a shaky breath.

Damian smiles and tenderly reaches out to brush her hair out of her face and behind her ears. “You can come visit home with me and thank him yourself if you want. Everyone would love to have you, especially Alfred. He’s been wanting to meet you ever since I came home talking all about you during first year.”

Raven laughs through her tears, shaking her head, because this can’t possibly be real. Except it is, and Damian’s smile is hopeful, mirroring the hope now blooming in her chest, and his thumb is brushing away the tear that rolls down her face.

She doesn’t know how this will go—doesn’t even know how to navigate a courtship, but she does know she wants to try. Damian’s worth it.

“Deal.”

His grin lights up the entire room, “Can I kiss you now?”

Raven nods enthusiastically, “Yes, please, I want that very much.”

“Good,” he murmurs against her mouth, “Because you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to snog you.”

“I think I have an idea,” she says, closing the rest of the distance.

Their lips meet for the first time, and her eyes slide shut as she breathes in his scent. The same one from his beanie that had driven her crazy. Just like the way he holds her tight as if she’ll disappear forever in an instant, and the maddening path of his hands sliding up and under her sweater to feel the bare skin of her lower back.

When he deepens their kiss, and she moans softly into his mouth, she thinks about how she never wants to be sane again.

#damirae #damian x raven #teen titans #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #fan fiction #a03 writer #read on a03 #fluff #christmas fluff #harry potter au

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rewrittenwrongs · 1 month ago

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Whumptober day 12: Starvation/Underground caverns

Read on Ao3 (registered users only) | Day 11 | Day 13 coming soon | Whumptober masterpost

CW: implied murder in self defence, pre-fic non-consensual body modification (of the turning into a vampire kind)

Dick and Wally’s relationship can be interpreted as either platonic or romantic

The house above them was surprisingly nice considering the dungeon in the basement. The carpet was clean and well kept, the walls and ceiling in good repair. It was modelled after Victorian styles, all stained wood and dark carpet, electric candelabras and chandeliers rather than proper lightbulbs. All the doorknobs and hinges were brass. The walls were covered in old paintings and monochromatic photographs. Dick wondered just how old their captor really was.

Dick locked himself in the first bathroom they found and spent a good 20 minutes scrubbing the blood off his hands and face and neck, grabbing the coarsest brush he could find and scrubbing until his skin was raw. There was nothing that could be done about the blood staining his suit. He found a toothbrush still in the packaging and vigorously brushed his teeth for at least 5 minutes, filling his mouth with mint toothpaste until it dripped down his chin, pink and red. The mint taste was harsh but at this point gasoline would be better than that bastard’s cherry-tasting blood.

He became intimately aware with exactly how the anatomy of his teeth had changed. His fangs hadn’t replaced his canine teeth but rather poked down behind them, hugging them tight enough they were seamless. His bottom incisors had shifted around a little, creating a perfect space for his fangs to slide behind them, tucking into a new pocket. If they hadn’t he wouldn’t be able to close his mouth. They were more than a centimetre longer than his canines. Thin, hollow, almost see-through, slightly curved. There was a muscle, organ, something, that when flexing drew his fangs into the roof of his mouth. It was uncomfortable and tense and made his jaw and sinuses ache and he could barely breathe through his nose with them up.

He peeled off his mask and stared at himself in the mirror. He kind of wished he didn’t see his reflection: he looked starved and dehydrated and sleep deprived and hypothermic. Almost as horrible as he felt. His eyes were bloodshot and brighter, like they’d glow in the dark. His skin was a little pale from how long it’s been since he saw the sun. There were still flecks of dried blood in his hair. When he bared his teeth he looked… dangerous and inhuman. Which, he supposed, was accurate.

His hands shook where they curled around the porcelain sink. He dried them off and put back on his gloves, running through his hair and ruffling it aggressively.

Valerie had also cleaned up, he discovered when he left the bathroom. Her week-old makeup had been washed off, her hair was finally free of its messy braid, her thin black crop top was covered in an oversized sweater and her fishnets by sweatpants. There was a bandage around her forearm and band-aids on her knuckles. She still wore her black platform boots. She held out a jumper, sweatpants and satchel to Dick when he emerged.

The idea of wearing his clothes disgusted him, but he accepted. He pulled on the sweatpants and shoved the hoodie over his head and was submerged in the smell of him. He almost gagged. All his senses were so much stronger now, he could hear the hum of the electric lights, his own heartbeat, Valerie’s—he could practically taste the smell of their kidnapper.

Maybe he could burn the clothes later. That would be a bit cathartic.

“We’re in the diamond district,” Valerie reported. “Does your family have any helpful-vigilante-bat-supplies stashed nearby?”

“There’s a safehouse we own in downtown Diamond.” Dick opened the satchel and found it full of his missing gear. He put a sheathed knife in his pocket and slung the bag over his shoulder.

Valerie nodded. “Let’s find a front door, then.”

She led the way through the penthouse. Dick followed after her like a lost duckling, still half in shock, still seeing the bloody rebar spike when he blinked. He payed no attention to where they were headed or what rooms they passed through. He grit his teeth and focused on putting one step in front of the other, on ignoring the general ache that hasn’t left his body for days. His fangs pulsed, and he tried his best not to stare at the back of her neck, where he could hear her blood thrumming.

Valerie stopped suddenly, in the middle of a doorway. He almost bumped into her. “Wait,” she called, “there’s windows.”

It took Dick’s fuzzy mind a couple seconds to realise what she meant. At the same time as he realised, she elaborated: “It’s daytime.”

Valerie sent him a meaningful look. Dick didn’t get it. It can be annoying covering up his suit, sure, but he was already wearing clothes over it, and she already knew his identity. Then he got it.

Vampires burn in the sun.

“…Why would a vampire have a home with windows?”

Valerie frowned. “…I don’t actually know. Maybe the myths are wrong, and it won’t burn you?”

Dick shrugged. “Worth a shot.” Then he entered the room beside Valerie, or tried to, because she immediately shoved him back.

Dick fell on his ass back inside the hallway. Guess he’s still a little weak.

“What are you doing?” Valerie hissed. “Have you never seen a vampire movie!?”

Dick stared at her. His butt hurt now, more than the rest of him. It was a struggle to think. “…Yes?”

Valerie looked at him like he was an idiot. “So you’d just be fine and dandy with exploding into smoke? Or turning into ash? Or whatever it is that happens to vampires when they step directly into sunlight?”

“…I could be fine.”

“Could be.” Valerie stared imploringly at the ceiling. “That is true. It could be fine, totally harmless. Let’s hope for that. But just in case, let’s start with—poking a hand or a foot into the sunlight, yeah?”

Ah. Now he sees her point. Wow, he really is not thinking straight. “Okay.”

Valerie opened the door wider and stepped aside. The room was a large rectangular living room, one wall entirely constructed of windows, the other lined bookshelves, the far wall displaying a large TV and extensive CD collection. The windows had curtains but they were pulled wide open. It was late or early enough that the sunlight was golden, spilling over the carpet and vintage armchairs and wallpaper like precious metal. Dust motes glittered in the air. The edge of the direct sunlight lay less than half a foot from the doorway. It was quite bright, he had a feeling proper sunlight would hurt his eyes.

Dick stood, walked over to the door, took off a glove and held his hand out into the sunlight.

It didn’t turn to ash or start smoking. It didn’t char or even visibly burn at all. It didn’t hurt, not quite, but a tingly sensitive feeling settled over it. The warmth felt amazing, actually, almost alien. He liked it.

Dick and Valerie’s eyes met. Dick shrugged. Valerie jerked her head. Dick fully entered the living room.

He had to squint his eyes a little. The golden warmth seeped into his very bones—it felt amazing, heavenly compared to the constant cold of the last two weeks. He hasn’t been this warm in ages. Maybe ever.

“It doesn’t hurt?” Valerie checked, stepping in after him and leaning against the doorframe.

“I don’t think so.” He was starting to feel a little lightheaded, though. “It’s a bit bright.” Dick entered fully and looked around, focus landing on the expansive bookshelves. He walked over to them, letting out a little “Woah,” when he understood what he was seeing. “These books are old.” The vast majority were first editions, too. He saw Terry Pratchett, C.S Lewis, J.R.R Tolkien, Arthur Conan Doyle, Jane Austen—wait a second.

Dick gingerly reached out and pulled a copy of Pride and Prejudice. Hardback. First edition. Incredibly good condition, he never would’ve guessed it was several hundreds of years old. Jason would have a heart attack!

“Half this stuff belongs in museums, but I’m sure they won’t notice a missing book or two,” Valerie called. She’d made her way to the far side of the living room, and was poking her head out of the other door. She sent Dick a grin.

Dick, suddenly feeling even more sick, put the book back. He’d already killed him. He couldn’t deface his home too.

Dick turned to follow after her only to stumble as black starbursts exploded through his vision.

“Nightwing?” Valerie appeared beside him. She grabbed his arm and steadied him.

“Um. I feel lightheaded.” Wow, his limbs were starting to feel seriously heavy, too. He became uncomfortably aware of all the bones in his gloveless hand. And his head was light and aching. It was like each hair follicle was slowly trying to burrow into his skull.

Valerie started helping him to the door. Dick followed, slower than he meant to. Nothing in his body felt nice but his hand and head by far had the worst of it, like they’d been in a desert for three days while the rest of him was just in an uncomfortably hot room. It hurt.

“Um.” Dick closed his eyes and tried to think past the pounding in his skull. “…My head hurts.” Thank you, Captain Obvious.

They emerged into a large, open kitchen. It’s windows were thankfully covered by curtains. Dick leaned against the closest wall. Before he knew it he’d slid down and was sitting. He licked his lips and cleared his throat. “I think. It hurts worst where, my skin is-is exposed. A, a hoodie or cloak should be enough, for a little bit. Sunglasses.”

“It didn’t settle in immediately?”

“No. I felt fine. Warm.”

“Do you need to eat again?”

Dick’s eyes opened. He felt incredibly hungry, ached with it, but he’d already drunk from her today and had already struggled to stop. He felt his heartbeat in his fangs. “No.”

Valerie seemed doubtful, but let him have his lie. She tugged his jumper’s hood over his head. “I saw some sunglasses with the rest of the clothes. Want to change gloves, too?”

His gloves were not only recognisable as Nightwing’s, but still splattered with blood. “Yes please.”

“Stay here, I’ll be back in a sec.”

Dick focused on slowing his breathing and steadying the shake of his hands while she was gone. He did some breathing exercises, cracked his knuckles and kept his eyes closed. The exhaustion, pain and nausea gradually lessened. He was feeling better by the time Valerie returned.

She handed him a pair of black sunglasses and long leather gloves. She pulled him to his feet and they continued their search in silence. It was about five minutes before they found the front door. Dick flexed the new muscle in his mouth, hiding his fangs, tugged on his hood and tilted his head down. Valerie stepped out first, grabbing his hand and guiding him to the alleys and shaded spots. It was easier to see with the sunglasses.

They made it maybe fifteen yards before being tackled.

With a rush of dizzying vertigo and disorientation, Dick found himself collapsed over the ground dry heaving, someone’s hands on his shoulder and arm. Someone was speaking rapidly—several someone’s—too rapidly, what are you saying slow down—the smell of stone and water and cave was overpowering—had he come back somehow—

“Breathe, Dick,” someone told him quietly, and their voice was familiar, but what made it click was the smell of their hoodie. Fresh air and burning fabric and electricity. Wally.

…Since when did electricity have a smell?

Since his senses had tripled, obviously—Wally’s heartbeat was impossibly loud, a drumbeat in his ear. He wondered if it was always that fast—speedster thing?—or if he was anxious. He certainly seemed anxious. He was still talking. What?

Dick coughed, nearly choked on all the conflicting smells surrounding him. He blinked rapidly and tried to look at his surroundings. He saw Valerie, being handcuffed by Kori—what?

“Why is she…” Dick stared at the pair of them, like his eyeballs could extract an answer if he looked hard enough.

“Getting ready to interrogate her,” Wally explained quietly. “Why was she—?”

“She saved my life,” Dick said, voice cracking, brows furrowed. Kori looked over and glanced rapidly between him and Valerie.

Valerie muttered, “Barely,” but didn’t argue as Kori slowly unhand-cuffed her. Obviously. Doing that would be dumb.

“Where were you kept?” Wally asked quietly, rubbing his shoulder. It felt like sandpaper.

“In… underground.” Dick also spotted Raven, Beast boy, Cyborg, Red Arrow and Gotham’s fellow vigilantes. They were gathered at the edges of the Batcave to not crowd him, watching him and pretending they weren’t.

“Did they cast any spells on you?” Wally asked softly, practically whispering, brows furrowed. “Rachel’s tracking spell didn’t work. We thought you…”

Dick heard him swallow. He heard everything, the hum of the batcomputer, the whir of Vic’s circuitry, the creaking of Jason’s gloves, their breathing bouncing between the cave walls and echoing back at him, their heartbeats—Dick had the sudden painful urge to clamp his jaw around Wally’s neck.

Wally’s worry visibly increased. Had he stayed silent too long? Did he see his fangs? No, they hadn’t dropped. “Want me to take you to your room?”

Dick nodded mutely. He closed his eyes preemptively.

The whoosh of disorientation was far less nauseating this time around. In a second they were both curled on top of Dick’s bed, Wally still steadying him by the shoulders, Dick still hunched over like he was dying. He curled his arms around Wally and went to tuck his head under his chin, only to stop himself—he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself from biting. That thought alone was enough pull the first tear from his eye.

“Oh, Dick.” Wally hugged him closer and rearranged them until they were well and truly wrapped around each other. “It’s okay, we got you. You’re safe. You’re at Wayne Manor. You don’t have to say what happened right now.”

Once they started it was like the floodgates opened. Dick sobbed, violently, loudly, tears falling nonstop and soaking Wally’s hoodie, which just made him feel even more horrible. It felt like a never-ending, vicious cycle. Every time he began to calm down something set him off and he was sobbing again.

At some point, he heard footsteps approach, stop outside their door, then carry on.

By the time he cried himself out his throat ached like there was no tomorrow, his head and nose were stuffy and aching, his face was itchy with half-dry tears, and his eyes prickled painfully. He made himself pull back despite longing to stay in Wally’s warmth—maybe because of it.

Wally’s thumb rubbed a tear from his cheek. He looked so heartbroken for him, but also so impossibly glad to be seeing him.

Dick licked his lips, checked his fangs were still hidden, dragged his gaze away from the pulse in Wally’s neck, and whispered, “What spell did she use?”

His voice sounded awful. Wally’s brow creased further. “The blood tracking one. With the blood transfusions you bats like to stock up.”

That spell only stopped working if the target’s heart stopped beating. Or, if their blood was altered enough to be unrecognisable.

Dick stayed silent for too long. “What are you looking at?” Wally whispered, and he realised he’d been staring at his neck. Right over his pulse, where the veins were so close to the skin they might as well be shielded with tissue paper.

Dick licked his lips, managed to look away, and got distracted for a second by the thin blush spread over Wally’s cheeks.

“He didn’t quite cast a spell,” Dick blurted, suddenly positive he would never manage to say it out loud if he didn’t do it now, “but he did… my blood, uh…”

He swallowed dryly, opened his mouth and let his fangs drop. Wally’s eyes widened.

“…Changed.”

#whumptober 2024 #no.12 #starvation #underground caverns #nightwing #teen titans #fan fiction #dick grayson #wally west #batman fanfic #dc fanfic #my writing #dual post #dc fanfiction

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