My name is Jade and welcome to my place of fanfiction & art! I'm a neurodivergent writer and design student, who focuses on representation of my communities in the world of fiction and other arts.
I love music and daydreaming, eating, traveling, and napping. Even when I'm not actively posting, I'm always working behind the scenes and I check in regularly, so don't be shy to say hi!
P.S. I love answering questions and reading comments!
Y'all I'm highkey in the works of making a witch/siren creepypasta OC and about to write a story and do drawings for her. Do people still interact with this fandom cause I'm cooking
Masterlist
Previous | Read Next Chapters on Ao3 or Wattpad (Updated every Monday)
Warnings: Bullying, Draco
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Blankets of white fall over the high esteemed Hogwarts castle, leaving its students to bundle up beneath their black robes. But even with layers, nothing could have prepared them for the freezing temperatures of their dungeon located classrooms.
The air is dry and frigid. The class huddles near each other, sitting on their hands for warmth as their breath clouds out in front of them. There must be some magic to keep the students warm and toasty, but alas, the freezing temperatures nip at their skin.
The windows frost with a hazy white. A student, wrapped tight within her blue robes, reaches a finger to scratch the ice from the glass, etching the shape of a star. Twila tilts her head from a moment to admire her simple drawing, before wiping the melted droplets of ice from her finger and onto her clothes.
"I expect each of you to study moonseed poison and its effects, then come prepared to concoct it Monday morning. You are dismissed."
The class murmurs, shuffling frigidly out of their seats and through the exit as Slughorn organizes his papers at his desk. The professor looks up a moment, eyes glowing as they make contact with one of the students left behind. "Ah, Ms. DeLuna. May I have a word with you?" His hand raises for attention, fingers wagging her over.
Her eyes widen at the mention of her name, her grip loosening on her books as she backs away from the exit she nearly escaped out of. Her fingers nervously scrape at the cloth cover of the tome in her arms as she comes closer to his desk. "Yes, professor?"
The professor takes note of her hesitant body language with a chuckle. "Don't worry, nothing is the matter. I just had something I wanted to ask of you." Slughorn says in an attempt to calm her nerves, smiling softly at her. "You're doing very well in your classes so far, even Professor Snape speaks highly of you." His smile grows at the statement, a rare set of words to be said about any student at Hogwarts.
Her ears perk up at this name. What details has the professor been conversing with the other faculty about? "Really?" She questions in surprise.
"Yes, really." He exclaims. "I'd say he's most impressed, as I find myself, and as Dumbledore must be as well. Being a transfer student is no ordinary feat, there must be something very special about you." He says with assurance.
Twila smiles weakly at the compliment, anxiety gnawing at her insides from his words. "I guess so."
He eyes her closely, examining her odd and hesitant expressions, noting the subtle secrets that make themselves apparent in her eyes, but continues casually nonetheless. "I run a little club, I call it 'Slug Club'. It's a gathering of sorts for extraordinary students, an academic resource for success throughout the school year." He reaches down to drag a drawer open from his desk, inside he searches for a small stack of slips that are tucked snuggly against the side. He separates one from the pile and hands it over his desk. "I'd like you to join us for our next meeting tonight."
Her eyes widen at his unexpected invitation, her eyes glossing over the metallic green writing on the slip. He views her as an 'extraordinary student'? How many students has he given this opportunity to? And how come she's never heard about this club?
His awaiting hand begins to falter at her apparent hesitation, slowly lowering. "Unless, you have... other plans...?"
At this, Twila jumps into a reaction. "No, um- I'd love to join tonight. I'm honored, thank you."
Slughorn smiles delightedly as she takes the paper from his hand. "Most pleasant. I'll see you at 6 p.m. sharp. I think you'll fit in very nicely with my other students."
"Of course. Thank you, professor." Twila turns to exit the room, but despite the invitation, excitement has not yet made itself present on her face. A club? On top of her homework, meetings with Snape, and her prefect duties? Would she even have time for another commitment?
"There you are." A voice suddenly calls just from outside the door.
Twila tips her head upward, noticing Jewel and Draco conversing inches outside the classroom and shifts her spine straighter. Though they've had class together, Twila's noticed a tension build between her and Draco. He's been quieter, and more likely to sit with his other Slytherin friends or choose another lab partner outside of her. She can hardly blame him, she hasn't exactly been a welcoming face since her incident with Mattheo, nor since all the rumors about her increased. She's unsure what precisely caused such a rift between them, but she's surprised to see him waiting for her after class.
"What do you have there? Detention slip?" Jewel smirks, peeking over Twila's books to examine the piece of parchment in her hand. Then, she gasps loudly, enough that two students by the stairs turn to survey the situation. "You got into Slug Club!?" Jewel takes the paper into her own hands, slack jawed as she reads over the green ink.
"What even is it?" Twila asks with significantly less enthusiasm.
"Do you not know?" Jewel drops her hands. "Slughorn has a knack for only picking out students that become outstanding within their fields."
Draco scoffs. "Yeah, you must be very impressive." He grumbles out, eyes elsewhere but the two of them.
Twila's eyes narrow. It's a tone unlike what she has grown used to. It's true irritation, true doubt, and true... jealousy?
Their friend only rolls her eyes, handing back the slip. "I couldn't tell you exactly what happens in one of these meetings, but surely you've caught the professor's eye. Be careful though, Slughorn is a Slytherin after all. What good is gathering the best students in the school if you can't reap any rewards from them?" Her words bounce with a chuckle.
༺ ☆ ༻
The short clicking of heels shoot off the lone halls' bricks and paintings as Twila slowly stalks down it. It is unsettlingly quiet and empty on this side of the castle, though she supposes most of the students would be having a normal dinner in the Great Hall right now, but, of course, not her.
She peeks around the corner to find a maroon door. That must be the one the professor mentioned. But there is no noise, no other students. Is she late? Is she early? Or is she simply lost?
With a breath, she reaches for the knob and pushes the door open. A dim light begins to pour into her view and her eyes scan the room nervously as a group of 10 or so students now turn to look at her. It's not until Slughorn stands from his spot to greet her that she feels more comfortable to step her entire body into the room.
"Ah, glad you could join us this evening, Ms. DeLuna. Come, come." He waves her in.
There are only two chairs left at the round table, side by side, and each with an awaiting plate in front of them. She takes the spot on the left, the one nearest the professor.
"Don't be shy to acquaint yourselves with one another. We're only waiting on one last student, then we shall begin." Slughorn claps his hands together with a warm smile, before glancing back at the door.
Twila uses her side vision to unsuspiciously take in the room. She doesn't recognize any of the students, except for one. Blaise Zabini eyes her coldly. She knows him as being Draco's right hand man and as a chaser on the Slytherin team, not to mention his knack for laughing at her in recent events. Apart from that, she doesn't know him well at all, and this alone raises a panic of isolation in her belly.
Suddenly, the door creaks open one last time, all eyes from the table now traveling to a spot a few feet behind her to peer at the last invited student. "Oh, Mr. Riddle, lovely to have you back this year."
Mr. Riddle? Twila's ears perk up, causing her head to spin on her neck and face the entrance. However, fear reaches her heart when she realizes just which Riddle will be joining them. She turns back to her food, her hands beginning to sweat as she listens to his footsteps draw nearer. She shouldn't be surprised. Of course he's in Slug Club, he's head of his classes and Head Boy, may as well check everything else off the list.
"Thank you, professor. It's good to be back."
His voice leaves a chill down Twila's spine as it approaches from behind and takes the last chair right beside her. He sits, his lips just barely curling into a smile, that is until his eyes meet hers. He seems to tense under her gaze, his mouth straightening and his eyes sharpening, but he draws his stare back to Slughorn in the end.
"Before we begin, I'd like to introduce everyone to our newest member this year, Twila DeLuna. Uh, Twila, would you care to share a little about yourself? A little bird told me you have a rather exciting history." Slughorn turns his body to face Twila, giving her his full, rapt attention.
She feels her stomach drop at such a statement. Snape had specifically asked her to avoid any personal prodding and probing, which seems immensely impossible this semester. Even with her own professors does the idea of privacy seem like such a foreign concept. However, Slughorn seems to act as if he knows something? Snape didn't tell him... did he?
"Um, I'm Twila, and I transferred from America." She states quietly.
Slughorn bursts into laughs. "No need to be modest, my dear. Surely that can't be all."
A gulp travels down her throat. She shakes her head no, leading with a soft voice. "No... that's really all. I'm just a new student to Hogwarts."
The professor pouts with a dissatisfied hum before jumping back towards his empty plate. "Well," Slughorn stirs feverishly. "Let's not let our food get cold then. Everyone dig in!"
Awkwardly, Twila eyes the lavish meats and glazes, the feast not unlike a Thanksgiving dinner, and yet, she finds her belly reluctant to be filled tonight. Even minutes in, she finds herself anxiously picking at the fluffy dough of a single custard bun.
Despite being a social group, the only noise to be heard is the clink of forks against the glass plates and the occasional shuffling of feet beneath the round wooden table. Much to the professor's dismay, the dinner comes to an awkward close rather quickly, with not much accomplished between the students. Twila wonders if this is a common occurrence within these meetings, or if the silence stems from the acceptance of a new member.
"Well, I should see you all in class then." Slughorn says as chairs scrape against the floor and footsteps scatter in an instant.
"She doesn't even have magic."
"He probably just pities her."
Two hushed voices whisper out the door, causing Twila's shoulders to slug as she loosely follows behind. Of course she would be the gossip of the evening. Nowadays, it's a rare occurrence that she isn't. But then, Twila finds herself stopped by her instructor once again as he reaches a hand out for her just before she makes it to the door. "Oh, Twila, a word please."
Just the call of his voice from behind is enough to drain her energy even further. She feels she knows almost exactly what he'll say. As she turns, Tom strides past, his tall form glancing down at her from the corner of his eye, but in the end he does nothing and exits the room. She follows the swing of his robes from over her shoulder, almost forgetting what stopped her from leaving in the first place as she watches him disappear and the door shut with an echoed thud. What a mysterious man, she thinks. She wonders just how many secrets swim around in the head of a Slytherin like him.
"I won't lie, I did pester Professor Snape for a bit of your background."
Twila's head snaps back in an instant, eyes wide with fear and heart thumping. Surely Snape would have told her if other professors were to be involved in her case. To her knowledge, only Snape, McGonagall, and Dumbledore know the story, the others are only instructed to play along and ask no questions. So, what does Slughorn know? And why, out of everyone, would Professor Snape be the one to tell him?
"I find it fascinating, unlike anything I've heard Hogwarts partake in. I'd be honored to hear more of your story, should you ever feel inclined to share with this old man." He chuckles, but his words come out more as a plea than an offer.
Fingering at the strap of her bag, Twila forces a smile, mind swirling with all the possible things he may know. "I'll keep that in mind." And slowly, her feet back away until the door can be felt on her backside. With one last friendly smile, she pushes the maroon door open, only to jump when a pale face becomes immediately apparent against the dark hallway.
"Forgot something." The older Riddle brother states blankly in front of her, not moving an inch out of her path.
The Ravenclaw hugs the straps of her bag and skittishly paces around Tom and away from the two Slytherins, and it's not until her robes disappear around the bend that the younger boy turns to face his instructor.
Slughorn holds the door open as he waddles through with a huff. "Twila seems to be having some difficulties adjusting to Hogwarts. Say, perhaps you could help her. You're one of our most experienced students, certainly one of my most trusted, maybe you could share some of your wisdom with her, hmm?"
Tom's lip curls up into a soft smile. "Of course, Professor. I'll do my best."
༺ ☆ ༻
Twila's fingers pat and tap against the skin of her thighs under the dinner table. The girls speak, but she can hardly hear a word over the chatter in the Great Hall. But perhaps the chatter isn't really what occupies her mind. Ever since she's made herself known throughout Hogwarts, it's only been that much harder for her to keep her memories at bay, and to keep those panicked feelings from gnawing at her insides like spilt stomach acid.
"Ugh, I can't finish this damn paper." Penelope chews through her food, dropping crumbs upon her parchment that leave behind small grease stains. "Don't they teach you all about the Salem Witch Trials in America, Twila? Can you help me?"
The Ravenclaw blinks in surprise, being pulled from her thoughts to instead glance over at the mere two sentences the Gryffindor had written thus far. She lets out a soft chuckle, her muscle memory kicking back in as she remembers to keep picking at her own food. "Funny you assume I didn't fall asleep in my own History of Magic classes."
Jewel cracks a smile, before shrugging an idea Penelope's way. "Just write about the injustices."
"What injustices?" Penelope asks with a genuine and straight stare, only causing her friends to giggle.
"The injustice of witches and wizards simply being who they are and how muggles became upset at how superior we are to them and attempted to control our greatness out of insecurity." A new voice speaks up.
The group turns to glance towards Draco, who bitterly affirms his thoughts on the subject.
Jewel awkwardly shifts, running her spoon through her mashed potatoes in a prolonged silence before attempting a smile. "The muggles were very intimidated by what they saw from the witches in question and reacted very harshly."
Penelope reaches for her pen to make a quick note, but is soon interrupted by the blond boy once more. "Because they're uncivilized creatures that can't comprehend anything beyond themselves." He spits out.
There it was. Twila feels as though she wants to roll in on herself just to escape the conversation, suddenly reminded why Jewel had been so adamant on shielding her from the other Slytherins, but listening to his words, she feels many thoughts burning on her tongue that beg to be let out. "You make wizards sound like saints." She says dryly, not bothering to glance up at Draco, but she feels the table's eyes on her nonetheless.
His face forms into a quick confused grimace, before he chuckles with a cruel edge at the forefront of his laughter. "Compared to them, we may as well be Gods."
The girls go quiet at Draco's statement, but none brave or passionate enough to further speak out against him. For the first time at Hogwarts, Twila feels ultimately alone.
With a quick, "Sorry," Twila suddenly picks herself up and excuses herself from the table.
"Where are you rushing off to, DeLuna?" She hears Draco call from behind her, practically tasting a smirk in his voice, but she ignores him and paces towards the heavy Great Hall doors. She feels eyes everywhere, a chorus of whispers surrounding her, following her down each corridor. It feels like a nightmare, no, like a memory.
She runs to find solace in her silent dorm room, unable to ignore the way her heart flutters in anxiety. She hadn't expected this school year to come crashing down on her so quickly, but little did she know, it would only be the beginning.
༺ ☆ ༻
Twila paces to Charms class, more on edge than ever. She has a bubble building in her stomach; an empty and light feeling that feels as though it will pop any second. What for? She hasn't a clue. But despite her feelings, class must continue on.
The Ravenclaw pushes through the door, just making it to her seat only a second after the bell rings.
"Hello, Twila." Ominis whispers with a smile, though cautious since she has been acting even more distant than usual.
It's difficult for Twila to be upset about her experience with the Slytherins thus far when Ominis has only greeted her with such friendly smiles every morning, but still, she can't ignore the way more bubbles begin to build in her stomach the more often she shows herself around in public. The Slytherin's obviously do not have her best interest at heart, much like the rest of the school. When it all really boils down, Ominis would likely turn on her too if he found out, not even Jewel can be trusted with the depth of this secret.
As Twila retrieves her books from her bag on the floor, a scoff rings in her ears from the chair in front of her. "Why even bother coming to class, Twila?"
Her eyes rise in surprise at the red headed boy in the third row, Leander, peering over his shoulder. He's never been known for having a kind word to say to most, but that still doesn't stop Twila's surprise from overpowering her and causing her the inability to form a word of defense. "What?" Is all she manages out.
He scoffs once more. "Nothing." Then, he turns back to face the front with a smirk.
The two Slytherin boys beside her furrow their brows at the Gryffindor's behavior, but hold their tongues as Professor Flitwick begins the lesson.
Twila's pen hardly scribbles a note, her hand shaking with nerves as though she were on a stage, expected to play a part she hadn't practiced in front of millions of waiting eyes as they wait for every little mistake and watch every drip of sweat that rolls from her forehead. The bell ringing at the end of class makes her feel as though she can finally breathe. She moves quickly to put her things away, not even having the strength to whisper goodbye to Ominis nor Sebastian, before she's already standing up and out the door.
"In a rush to your next magic class, are you?" Leander catches her in the hall as the rest of the class begins to file out after the professor.
She stops in her place, swallowing down a lump in her throat as she sees the lingering students side eye the two of them as they walk to their next course. Don't cause a scene, Twila. Don't raise attention to yourself. Her mind is racing with so many thoughts that she once again fails to form a sentence, instead allowing Leander to get a laugh out of her dumbfoundedness.
"Magic. You do know what that is, right?" He chuckles, his nearby friends seeming to get a kick out of it too. "You're completely incompetent, aren't you?"
She feels herself shrinking at his words. Snape hadn't trained her for a situation like this and she can only feel her frustration rise.
He only continues to chuckle at the look in her eyes, eyeing her down like a vulnerable prey as he takes out his wand from his back pocket. "Come on, duel me then. Unless you truly are a squib."
At this point, all nearby students perk up at the conversation, crowding around and peering over heads to watch how the scene will play out with wide and curious eyes.
Twila gulps, a panic rising inside of her and her hands forming pressured fists as she senses a familiar pain tingle across her spine. "I'm not a squib." She tries to assert, but instead her voice is weak and as shaky as her fingertips.
"Leander, leave her alone." Twila's eyes avert over as Ominis pushes his way through the crowd, brows angered and an equally upset Sebastian following behind him.
Leander only brushes the two of them off, his smirk never leaving her direction. "Prove it." He says simply.
The crowd surrounding her is silent, watching on their tiptoes to see how she'll reply. Everyone wants to see. Everyone wants to know. They have all had the same question on their minds since she came to this school and are equally desperate for the answer.
She wants to run. Her body screams for her to leave the situation as quickly as possible. There's nothing she can do. No matter how she chooses to answer, she will only affirm their suspicions. Run, but her feet won't move. She feels her lungs suffocate on air, her pulse ringing in her ears. Everyone wants to know. Say something!
"I don't need to prove anything to you."
Her whisper raises a smirk to Leander's face. She had done it; confirmed what everyone was thinking and it made her knuckles white with anger. Her glazed eyes can barely make out Ominis' and Sebastian's questioning faces before she finally gathers the courage to run.
Her arms wedge and push through the shocked and laughing crowd, her heart pounding at the walls of her skull, until she can find her way to a lone hall. Her lungs burn as she feels it's the first time she's been able to breathe since waking up this morning.
She lets out a gasp as she hears short footsteps approaching from behind. She whips her head back, ready to cower away from the mocking stranger, only to find Ominis, wand blinking red her way. She crosses her arms, letting out a silent whimper and shutting her eyes tight as his presence only serves to make her feel that much more weak. "What do you want?" She spits out hopelessly, her back turned towards him.
His footsteps slow, until coming to a stop multiple feet behind her. "I want to know that you're okay." His soft voice calls out, hesitating on the right words to say.
She rolls her eyes, but feels her shoulders slouch at his words, a sense of pity forming in her stomach. "I'm fine."
Her robotic reading of a script causes Ominis to sigh and approach once more. It is a mask to hide the pain, the fear, and trepidation. "Twila, don't act like I didn't just witness everything that happened. Please."
As she turns to face him, a shaky sigh leaves her lips, a small crack in her facade. Her arms remain crossed, but tears well in her eyes.
He inches closer, his wand slowly lowering down to his side. "I'm not completely oblivious to the fact that something is going on here. In fact, I might have been the first to notice. Ever since we first met..."
"I can't use magic." She says suddenly, in irritation.
Ominis blinks, finding himself silenced by her words. He allows himself to process for a moment, not expecting her words, but sensing deep down that there is more at play here. "Why...?"
"I- I can't tell you." She says helplessly.
"But why?" He says, voice filled with a mixture of hurt and genuine confusion.
"Because it will get me expelled, Ominis!" Twila takes a step back, hardly believing she's said even as much as she has.
Her sudden outburst causes Ominis' neck to crane back. "Expelled...?" He repeats with furrowed brows.
Twila's nails scratch at her skin, as if trying to grasp the words that so desperately want to come out. "Can you trust that if there's something you need to know, I will tell you?"
Ominis sighs at the implication of her words. It is clear just how much she forces herself to carry on her shoulders. Whatever is going on here is a big secret for her. "Yes, I trust you." He answers without hesitation.
"Good." She crosses her arms, attempting to build her defense once more. "Because it's nothing that anyone needs to know."
"I understand." Ominis clears his throat. "I won't make you tell, but I will be here for you if you ever decide you'd like an ear to listen."
The tone of Twila's sigh shows just how desperately she wants to let this secret go, her words just barely hanging on by a thread. "I can't tell you here." She finally lets out. "I'm scared to hear the words leave my lips in even the most private areas of the world, let alone the middle of this hallway."
Ominis lets out a relieved chuckle, his shoulders relaxing as she hesitates her desire to open up to him. But where is someplace private? A place no one will hear? He lets his mind wander. Well, there's always... But Ominis has never invited anyone but Sebastian there. However, maybe this one time he can expose a secret of his own for someone in need, someone that he trusts.
"Follow me."
Ominis leads her quickly towards the spiraling stairs and away from listening ears. However, an unsuspected student is listening within the shadows, watching with a smirk growing on his face as a plan began to formulate in his mind, secrets he's determined to uncover.
I just wanted to check in by saying how busy I've been. I started college recently, which has been hell, but I've been going to work on my creative writing skills, which I'm very happy about!
Having that said, I wanted to give a few updates to those that follow me on here.
Firstly, I've begun posting all of my fanfics on Wattpad and Ao3 only. If you're looking for my new work, it will be on there. I've been slow on posting, because my ADHD likes to start 7 different novels at the same time, but I am actively working on chapters for all of them and building up my drafts until I can start posting them weekly.
I post stories about Harry Potter, Elvis, Marvel, Baldur's Gate 3, and I have 3 stories heavily in the works about Love & Deepspace, Borderlands, and Homestuck (yes, I said homestuck, I know. I love me some dead a** fandoms)
Having that said, I'm thinking about having my Tumblr become more of a center for my art related to my stories rather than posting the actual stories themselves on here, but let me know what you think.
Lastly, I've been working on writing my own original books as well. I've been working with advisors in order to build up my knowledge of 'professional' writing, but I'm open to suggestions from any of you if you know anything about editing, writing tips, and publishing, or anything that would be helpful in getting my writing out there.
I hope to connect more with you guys in the future!
Masterlist
Previous | Next (Coming Soon)
Notes: I wrote this story literally the month Baldur's Gate III first came out and never shared it out of nervousness, but here I am two years later, so I hope y'all like it!
Warnings: swearing, brief and vague mentions of SA right off the bat, but fairly vanilla for the rest
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My lungs burn with contractions. The pebbles, sharper than I’ve ever felt them, impale through the soles of my feet, leaving a throbbing wetness behind with every step, but I never still my legs from continuing forward.
I trusted him. All of those sweet lies I believed and now all I can feel is the ghost of his hands all over my body. Though, I suppose in another world I should thank him. He presented me with a door. A door to get the fuck out of Baldur’s Gate and never return.
I can’t take another night of Eula’s pointless arguments, not another night of being locked away like a broom in a closet, waiting for the moment it’s useful enough to sweep away someone else’s mess. I’m not a child anymore, I see right through her. I know of her demand to control, but not of why. I’m not staying around long enough to discover that either.
I don’t need Zinnor anymore, not when I’m free now. He proved his usefulness to me when it was called for, but more importantly, he proved to me that he's just like all of the other city pigs when I needed to wake up the most. I’ve learned all that I can from this city, it’s time I make my own now. Maybe- maybe I’ll even return home, if there’s anything left of it. Wherever I’m to go, nothing can be worse than this.
My hand clutches the amulet around my neck, my feet never ceasing as I run through the dark alleyways. It’s time I discover who I am, what these powers mean, my true family. I will finally be free.
But there’s the gate.
Black Dragon Gate. It stands high, closed, and heavily guarded, blocking my final obstacle to the rest of my life.
Typically, I’m expected ‘home’ by now. Has Eula begun searching for me? Did she track us back to his home? Has she found what I left behind of him?
I swear I can feel her stalking me in the shadows. She’s always right behind me, feeding off of the suspense, like she’s waiting for just the right opportunity to sink her teeth in.
My heart beats in fear. My lungs can’t possibly expand any further in my corset, leaving me already exhausted even though I still have a long ways to go.
She’s going to find me. She’s going to bring me back to that filthy hell hole and lock me there until my carcass rots into the stone floors.
I can’t breathe. Why is this corset so fucking tight?! Calm yourself, Eirla. This is nothing you haven’t done before, there’s just a lot more hanging on the balance. But don’t think about that part.
I will not go back there, but I may not have the choice if I don’t quickly find a way to sneak past The Watch and into Blackgate.
My head peeks around the corner of the bricked building again, risking my safety for a chance to examine the surroundings. To my surprise, the guards are distracted. This is the perfect moment to get past, but it doesn’t solve the issue of the closed gate.
Like a gods damned miracle, I hear the whinny of a horse on the other side, the wheels of a carriage coming to a rocky stop. An importer. Oh, this is perfect!
The bars of the dense gate creak and moan as they are lifted to make way for the carriage of goods. It’s now or never.
The shadows of the night do well to conceal me as I run on tipped toes towards the exit, ignoring the ever growing sting of gravel against the tight skin of my feet.
I have to use a small opening between the wall and a guard to sneak behind in order to avoid his gaze. Even after years of training, it’s beyond me how I manage such situations with little problem.
I sneak past the guards, keeping my back against the stone wall, but then my breath catches in my throat when I hear that familiar creak and moan once more. My eyes avert straight above me, a multiple ton gate is about to come down directly onto my head. I have little choice but to dive out of the way, rolling through the sandy gravel as I feel the ground shake from the pointed iron bars as they slide snugly into their deep pockets in the ground.
I shake with anxiety as the guards on this side take an immediate notice of me and the commotion that I’ve just caused. Not a part of the plan.
“Get the hells out of here, you slum rat.” A woman cladded in heavy armor picks me up by the sleeve, only to send me tumbling back down as she throws me further away from the gate. I catch myself with a wince, landing right onto my elbow. “Go back to the corner you came from. Better not have slipped something off the cart either.”
Slowly, I stand, exposing my empty hands to her to prove I’ve taken nothing. Then, I make my body cower before her in a mask of fear and shame, but internally my heart reels in its success.
She thinks I’m attempting to sneak in, not out.
“My apologies, Ma’am.”
I turn away, hearing her scoff in disgust from behind me. “Damned refugee’s trying to sneak into the Upper City like we won’t catch them. Honestly, I’m sick of it. Wish the Duke would just set this damned town ablaze already, I didn’t take this job so I could be a mouse trap all day.”
As my back’s turned to her, I can’t stop a smile from raising cheek to cheek.
I did it. I finally fucking did it. No more living in the sewers. No more seducing just for a bite off of someone else’s plate. I get to make my own life.
But now I’m confronted with the next, debatably bigger issue at hand. Where to now? Where would Eula never look? Would she come looking? Is she already?
I keep my mouth shut and my eyes averted forward as I walk through Blackgate. I haven’t seen this town since Eula and I passed through after Waterdeep, so many years ago that had been and I’m in no rush to relive such memories.
Even at night the streets are alive as ever, traders and beggars on every corner, all with the simple notion that they will one day make it into the city. Likely, won't.
I walk slowly, contemplating my options. It’d be a stretch, but I could try to make it to Candlekeep, may even only take me a tenday if I find the right people. I’ve heard lots about their wizards and scholars, maybe they would have answers.
But as I ponder, a scream suddenly fills the air. The swoosh of a large body casts overhead. My feet make quick work to dodge under a canopy, immediately assuming the rare occurrence of a dragon judging by the noise, but as I look up I notice a ship.
It looks as though made of raw flesh, husks, and antennae. It’s disgusting. I’ve never seen anything like it. Then it dawns on me. I haven’t read many books or seen many drawings of such a thing, assuming it wasn’t much of a threat, but now that it’s in front of me I know exactly what it is: Mindflayers.
My heart pounds harder than it did when I thought Eula was on my tail, I’m half convinced she found a way to send them after me.
I hear another scream to my right. A man comes running in my direction, but then suddenly he turns to dust. I gasp in shock, cowering against the wall as another dust cloud appears to my left.
I want to close my eyes and pray to every god there is that I won’t be spotted, but I don’t dare keep my eyes off the chaos set before me.
Then, I see the inevitable. A large gray appendage slithers its way back down onto the street inches from my feet, like it’s searching for me, like it senses me. Then it turns.
I have not even half a second to process my pure terror before it snaps towards me and all turns black.
Notes: This short story is completely optional to read. This is to give insight on Eirla’s background and family, but all of the content below is explained throughout Memories of Destiny. If you like to discover a character’s secrets as you go/alongside the character then I recommend skipping this short story and going straight into the prologue, but if you want everything laid out for you before reading, then go ahead and continue forward.
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This tale begins many years ago, triggered by the doings of Lord Shadow, also named Telamont Tanthul, a Netherese archwizard and ruler. Telamont was an experimental student, learning under the wing of the esteemed archwizard and momentary God, Karsus. He dedicated himself to interplanar study, particularly drawn to the Plane of Shadow. He was considered taboo during his time, even for his fellow Netherese, and was exiled from Netheril.
Luckily, Karsus was kind enough to offer him a sanctuary to continue his studies. For his generosity, Telamont started on a gift that he would offer to Karsus once his efforts to travel to the Shadowfell proved successful. Telamont would create an amulet to store strands of the Shadow Weave, something he had already learned to manipulate on his own, but decided he wanted to gift to Karsus should he ever find use of it.
However, during the amulet’s development, Telamont would misplace the item while experimenting with demiplane travel and the amulet would be lost for centuries.
After escaping an assassination attempt, Telamont would then transport the Netherese enclave of Thultanthar to the Plane of Shadow just mere days before Karsus would cast his devastating spell and send Netheril to its ruin. Through Telamont’s doing, he had unintentionally saved his people from extinction, but only a handful. He then became the High Prince of Thultanthar and would assist in preserving the last of Netheril, preparing for when he would return to Faerûn and resurrect the fallen empire.
Until then, life in the Shadow Plane was dark and intense. The people who inhabited this remaining enclave came to be known as the Shadovar, growing into the shadows of the plane and able to resist the effects of the shadow curse. Some of which even transformed into Shades, a ruthless shadow known to have given up its soul for power and immortality.
Just before the change, Thultanthar housed a handful of elf slaves from Cormanthyr, who also grew adept to the shadows like their human peers. The Raevel family was amongst these enslaved elves. Over time, they would eventually gain their independence, but would live within the lowest social class of the enclave and were unusually inept with magic unlike their Netherese counterparts. That is until late 1300 DR, the Raevel family produced a daughter, Aladara Raevel, who showed much promise and dedicated her youth to arcane study and worship to Shar, in hope to master the Shadow Weave and rise above her born social class. Her studies would prove her well, rising as a powerful arcanist and gaining her the title ‘The White Shadow Mage’ due to her bright white Elven hair. She would even earn the attention of the High Prince himself.
Telamont would gather Aladara within a group of eager arcanists and send them out on missions to prove themselves worthy of being an agent of his. However, as time went on, Telamont’s body would weaken; life as a Shade demanded much from him and the collapse of the Shadow Weave would not make things easier for him. Telamont began to wonder if his gift to Karsus was still intact somewhere on Faerûn, holding any remaining bits of Shadow Weave he could use to his benefit. So, Telamont would send out this enthusiastic group of mages to retrieve the amulet for him with the promise of granting them the transformation to a shade should they return successful.
For a Shadovar, becoming a Shade was the highest appraisal one could receive, only the High Prince’s best were given such an honor. The people of the enclave were led to believe that becoming a Shade should be their utmost goal, and those that succeeded in the transformation were to be feared from the sheer power they had.
Aladara set out with high hopes, determined to prove herself to her ruler, however fights broke out immediately within her company, each mage equally as determined to achieve the same goal. So, Aladara took it upon herself to venture alone.
During her exploration, Aladara would eventually come across the warm and beautiful Neverwinter, a Northern city she had felt oddly drawn to. She disguised herself and searched the city. After spending a lifetime as a low class citizen in the Shadowfell, Aladara felt taken aback by the city’s rich colors, bright sunshine, culture, and friendliness. Honestly, she was offended by it at first, but slowly she began to fall inspired.
After spending only mere days in the city, she began having second thoughts about returning home and more so about losing her soul to the shade transformation, something she had once aspired to do, but still her work persisted. She continued to hunt through the city, however her unusual looks and sneaky behavior quickly caught the attention of the notorious King.
Now, the King of Neverwinter had a rather unusual background than those before him. Bann Alagondar, while raised within Castle Never and amongst riches and gold, was not the ordinary, spoiled noble you might think.
While a beautiful city, Neverwinter had endured its fair share of dark nights and unfortunate events. During the first king’s ruling, Nasher Alagondar, the magical disease known as The Wailing Death had knocked the city to its knees, leaving most of the city’s inhabitants dead within a tenday of its first reported case. The disease weakened the city enough to leave it vulnerable for Netherese infiltration where they would attempt to assassinate the King, but they would fortunately end in failure. Hardly ten years after, the city would undergo yet another disease known as the Spellplague, caused by the murder of Mystra. This would also take Nasher's life, leaving his son, Bann, to take the crown.
Bann was never the beloved, outgoing, and affable ruler his father was. Bann hardly looked forward to the day that he would sit on the throne, especially when forced upon him in such a manner, but even so, he took his role very seriously.
After witnessing the many horrors his father faced, Bann decided to rule his people from the shadows. Many hardly even knew what their king looked like. One might have guessed that the king was lazy or careless, but he was far from either. Bann possessed no arcane gifts, but felt that he and his father had failed to protect their people from magic, and that Mystra herself had as well, constantly leaving their people weakened to powerful magical attacks. After watching the weave collapse before his eyes, a plague that nearly wiped his people clean off of Toril, and a group of powerful, ancient beings attempt to assassinate his family, Bann began to look for alternative forms of protection.
Bann had no doubts that the Netherese would one day return to Neverwinter, and he was determined to be prepared this time. He began to study Netherese magic, as well as infamous Shadow Magic. He would even take risky adventures into The Chasm of Neverwinter to study the Plaguechanged Underdark residing just below the city, where he would acquire a spellscar on his leg, but also discover a particular amulet that seemed to be rusting at the bottom of the chasm’s lake. His goal was to find a meaning behind the curse and a way to use it to his advantage instead of fearing it like most.
Bann brought the amulet back to the surface, cautious of it, but finding it ultimately useless or broken. He would notice his spellscar begin to activate and react when near it, but the mark would not grant him any notable powers. Due to this, he secretly worked closely with the Order of the Blue Flame, to research and help those affected by the spellplague. It’s there that one of the members would alert the king of a suspicious new character that had been seen roaming the streets of Neverwinter.
He ordered his guards to find this woman, and when she was brought to the castle, Bann interrogated her. He learned that she was a Shadovar working with a Netherese ruler to find a lost artifact. Normally, Bann had many objections towards the Netherese, but he saw this as an opportunity rather. He decided to make a deal with her that he would help her find what she was looking for, but only if she provided insight on what the Netherese wanted with Faerûn and, once finished, never returned to Neverwinter again.
Unfortunately, Aladara had little to give on her own ruler's plans due to his secretive and deceitful nature, but she reluctantly offered her help regardless. The two began to hesitantly work together, but slowly they grew used to the other’s company. As she helped his research, she began to discover all of the secrets her rulers had hidden from their people and the powers they had kept for themselves, which only helped further her unease towards returning home and grow her trust in Bann instead.
As Bann assisted with her mission, they would eventually discover that he had accidentally found the amulet in The Chasm before she had even come to the city. Aladara finally felt that her mission was over and that she was to return back home to assimilate with her destiny. However, upon examining the amulet, she finds it filled with magic of all sorts. The amulet held its original Shadow Magic, as Telamont designed it to do, but while in The Chasm it had now been plaguechanged, making it even more potent and unpredictable than ever. She quickly decided it as dangerous in her ruler’s hands, so when the time came, she knew she couldn’t return and that she had to hide the amulet from the Netherese instead.
At this point, Bann had grown oddly attached to her and offered her residence in the castle. The two hid the amulet, all while seeking to understand the artifact's uses. Bann was exceptionally intrigued by Aladra's past and her knowledge of the Shadow Weave and would hint at the possibilities both she and the amulet could provide them with should the Netherese ever return. However, these plans would be put to halt for a time being when the two found themselves expecting their first child together.
The birth of Princess Eirlanna Alagondar was a secretive one, as was the King and Queen’s marriage, only a select few of the court members knowing of the families existence at all. But despite living in the shadows, the child was given an enriched youth. Both of her parents pushed the importance of education onto her, leaving her rather intelligent at such a young age. They would also teach her much about history and magic, though Eirlanna could not cast spells herself. Still, this left her with an insatiable curiosity and an adventurous spirit.
However, the kingdom would soon come to face its most catastrophic challenge yet.
The Netherese had done their research on Faerûn and discovered that one of its lost enclaves may reside somewhere in the northern area of the Sword Coast. A group of Shadovar warriors would come knocking on Neverwinter's door, only to find Aladara and her broken promise.
They raided the castle, looking for the amulet, but to no avail. Their leader, Herzgo Alegni, took the throne and locked the King and his daughter in the dungeons, where he would then torture the location of the amulet out of Aladara.
Aladara was stubborn, not wanting Tanthul to get his hands on such a powerful artifact to help him succeed in rebuilding the empire, so she endured the torture for weeks and weeks before she finally cracked, only for the sake of her family’s safety. As Herzgo took the amulet, Aladara would be freed for a matter of seconds before she felt the castle start to shake and crumble.
The streets littered with ash and fallen bodies as Mount Hotenow began to erupt, filling the alleyways with molten rock like a bustling river. The young girl and her father managed to break free of their dungeon jail, but just before the very last door, a boulder of rubble came crashing towards the ground. The King thrust his daughter towards safety, but at the price of letting himself be crushed by the broken piece of castle.
Horrified, Eirlanna ran to the Throne Room to find her mother. Aladara swung an attack towards Herzgo, causing him to drop the powerful jewelry. After hearing brief stories about the artifact, Eirlanna knew that the item was very important to her mother, so she sprinted to snatch it from the enemies. Herzgo’s attention was immediately brought to the approaching girl. Her small hand reached foward, but just as the tips of her fingers made contact with the amulet’s chain, he raised his sword in the air. She barely missed his deadly swing, but instead his sword stuck against the amulet, smashing it's jewel into pieces.
As the gem cracked, centuries of raw, plaguechanged shadow magic bursted out into the air, causing an energetic explosion that killed anyone close. The magic consumed Eirlanna, painfully changing the very structure of her young DNA. The burst had torn through the backside of her forearm, leaving a deep blue scar that ran the length of her arm and hand. When the magic had cleared and she finally looked up, she found her mother dead beside her, the only living being in a mile radius being Herzgo with his sword still wedged in the gold of the amulet. Completely in a daze from the blast, Herzgo didn’t notice when the girl quickly limped past him, but would run after her before she escaped the city with the artifact.
Just at the outskirts of the city, Eirlanna would find a woman named Eula with silvered skin and pink eyes. She almost reminded Eirlanna of her mother, aside from her dark hair and much more expressive features. The woman protected her from Herzgo, and brought Eirlanna in as her own.
Unbeknownst to the child, Eula had known of Eirlanna's mother quite well. She too was of Thultanthar, but unlike Aladara, Eula was an Archmage and a master of the shadow weave. The High Prince granted her with her biggest wish of becoming a Shade, but as the ritual was taking place, the goddess of magic fell to her death, ripping all of the shadow magic from Eula’s body and leaving her with half a soul. Now a useless wizard, Eula became a thief to survive, searching for any opportunity to get back the best of her magic.
Eula immediately recognized the artifact and attempted to remove the amulet from the child’s neck in her sleep, only to find that the artifact had bound itself to her and all of its magic had been absorbed into her small form. Eula nearly abandoned the child until the young one seeked her comfort after a nightmare. It is then that the Shadovar realized just how much she can shape Eirlanna into exactly what she needed.
The two set out for Waterdeep, where Eula opened a humble potion shop named ‘The Dripping Thorn,’ and where Eirlanna would begin her training. Here, the child would take on the name Eirla Raevel, abandoning her royal birth name in order to keep hidden. However, their time here would be short lived in the City of Spelndors when a local guard spots Eirla stealing, but as he catches her arm he finds himself appalled by the sight of her spellscar. He seeks to banish them, but the two manage to escape just before being quarantined and make their way to Baldur’s Gate.
Due to Eula’s background, she is particularly sensitive to sunlight which made her seek out an effective hideout when arriving in the city, hence her discovery of The Undercellar. This would also help keep Eirla’s spellscar a secret until they discovered what activates it. Eula quickly manipulated a friendship with the owner of the Blushing Mermaid and continued doing this until coming to own the entire Undercellar tavern.
Eirla would continue to steal, but Eula would eventually run into a dilemma. When away from her tavern duties, Eula spent her time tinkering and researching Eirla’s amulet. Hungry for the return of her old shadow magic, she committed herself to discovering a way to take the magic for herself. However, because of her drainage of powers, she would have to seek the help of magical items, not easy and not cheap. She’d hire skilled rogues to search for her, but money ran rapidly short. So, when Eirla was older, her ‘mother’s’ attention shifted to the festhall within the Undercellar.
Eirla began her education on how to use her words and body to seduce until she was ready to become a full courtesan, unknowingly raising the money towards her own demise.
Knowing little else, Eirla grew used to these dynamics, but as years went on, it proved more and more difficult for her to forget about her ties to the throne. Still, she tried her best to forget her past, until one day her scar began to glow. Innately, she casts four small black orbs that danced across her bedroom floor. Naturally, she tells the news to Eula, hoping she would have insight of her own. However, the Shadovar felt threatened by this and felt no choice but to use her tactics to keep Eirla under her control. She convinced the girl that Neverwinter had been permanently destroyed, leaving no one and no throne to go back to. She told her that she alone was the reason her parents had died and that, had she not intervened, she may still have them today.
This discouraged Eirla for a long while, but it did not stop her magical powers from manifesting well beyond her constraint.
Eirla has been through one's fair share of unusual circumstances. She has unique ways of surviving the hustle and bustle of Baldur's Gate, all while sitting on an important, life changing secret. Her profession leads her to not the finest of customers, which presents her with a big obstacle, but also a window. She dreads her life; present, past, and especially her future should she stay in Baldur's Gate. When the opportunity strikes, she escapes, but only to find herself in an even more unfortunate situation with even more unlikely of people.
Living a sheltered life can make one unprepared, especially in Faerun, and being lied to your whole life doesn't help. Despite her naivety, Eirla plans to use her new freedom to her advantage, but a worm to the head turns out to be the least of her issues when a mad cult threatens to take over the world.
Eirla teams with her new found friends to save Faerun, but she finds her past nipping at her heels every step of the way. Can she afford her companions discovering who she really is, or will her secrets eat away at them faster than the tadpoles?
I'm Eirla, the pretty, witty, Half-Elf you must be looking for.
Don't be fooled by my humor and quirks, I love to make one laugh, but I know more than one way to make a permanent residence in your memory.
I live in Baldur's Gate, but I was born all the way over in Neverwinter. A long journey, I know. I take much pride in my birth city, especially after it's destruction, but I'm a survivor and I do my best to honor it's memory.
I'm sure you've noticed by now, but I'm a sorceress. My powers came from my amulet, it was my mother's before she died. It's ancient, dark, and Netherese, all of which meaning limitless things for my magic. Having that said, I have no idea what it actually does, but I will find out. Unfortunately, the only thing I do know about it is it's inability to be controlled, which comes with some rather... humbling experiences at times.
My adoptive mother banned me from using my own magic most of my life, she told me it's dangerous and most days I still believe her. 'Mom' and I didn't get along most days, to say the absolute least, so I ran away.
But about that- you see, I was sheltered most of my life, hidden away and locked up. I've barely left my front door and such inexperience is not preferable in a place like Faerun. I'm not much of a fighter, but I do have a very specific set of skills that may be of value to the right people.
No matter, I am off to start a new life and find my true self... whatever that means. But I must do so quietly. I can't have everyone knowing my secrets, now can I? Not when the mere mention of my family name can alter history as we know it, a history that is best kept in the rubble where I left it.
Eirla has been through one's fair share of unusual circumstances. She has unique ways of surviving the hustle and bustle of Baldur's Gate, all while sitting on an important, life changing secret. Her profession leads her to not the finest of customers, which presents her with a big obstacle, but also a window. She dreads her life; present, past, and especially her future should she stay in Baldur's Gate. When the opportunity strikes, she escapes, but only to find herself in an even more unfortunate situation with even more unlikely of people.
Living a sheltered life can make one unprepared, especially in Faerun, and being lied to your whole life doesn't help. Despite her naivety, Eirla plans to use her new freedom to her advantage, but a worm to the head turns out to be the least of her issues when a mad cult threatens to take over the world.
Eirla teams with her new found friends to save Faerun, but she finds her past nipping at her heels every step of the way. Can she afford her companions discovering who she really is, or will her secrets eat away at them faster than the tadpoles?
Warnings: Swearing, NSFW (18+) Violence & Gore
Adventure - Dark Fantasy
Masterlist
Previous | Next (Read on Wattpad)
Warnings: mentions of murder
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Arali knows not how long she has been locked away in the castle room. Days have turned into months, and months turned into years. Eventually, she lost track of time, and accepted her solitude, attempting to busy her mind with daydreams of the past.
She stares out her window, as she does most everyday, longing to be anywhere else. Life went on without her and her family. The clouds still form and the sun still shines, almost as if the war never even happened. The people of Olympia still smile and work, as though their new ruler did not murder her entire family and hold Arali hostage within the walls of the castle.
As Arali looks out into the clouds with anger, she notices a group making their way to the castle entrance. More visitors. But as she looks more closely, she realizes she recognizes these visitors. It is the Asgardians. Her heart begins to beat faster and a prang of hope shoots through her veins. They could help her.
She watches them enter the castle in the distance and waits with a hopeful smile that one of them will come bursting through her door. Frigga will definitely explain to Zeus that Arali is a princess and deserves her freedom, she thinks. So, she waits and waits, but alas no one comes. The sun becomes the moon and Arali feels her hope dissipate and dread loom over her like a heavy, dark veil.
Lifting herself from the window ledge, she walks to sit on her bed instead. She massages her fingers into her arms, her elbow sore from leaning on it for days on end while dreaming of the outside world.
Arali lies looking up to the ceiling, tears stinging her tired eyes, before drifting off to sleep.
The next morning goes similarly to how it does the day before, and the day before that. However, by the time evening comes something different begins to happen.
She notices two familiar voices yelling in the distance, causing her to perk up. Around the corner Thor and Loki run, or chase each other more like, unknowing of their friend above them. As they approach, her eyes light up with the most joy she has felt in a very long time. She yells to them as loud as she can, almost instantly grabbing their attention.
The brothers look up in confusion before their eyes land on her and light up. “Arali! You’re alive! How did you get up there?” Thor asks, his brother’s mouth agape in shock.
She shrugs sadly, “I do not know. They put me in here.”
“Come down.” Loki says confused, as if it were only that easy.
“I can’t.” Tears threaten to come to her eyes just from the very words. She feels an overwhelming amount of hopelessness wash over her as she watches her friends from below. This is the first time she has verbally admitted to herself just how stuck she really is, let alone talked to someone at all.
“Hold on!” The brothers race back around the corner, only to appear minutes later holding a rope. From where? She doesn’t care enough to ask. She holds so much joy, she has no words to explain her gratitude to them. Luckily, Thor’s strength is able to hurl the rope up to the window, and after a few tries her short arms are able to reach in. She spins, looking for a place to tie the end of the rope to. She decides that a large metal sconce by the window will have to do and will hopefully hold her descend.
She holds onto the rope, sitting over the window ledge. Slowly she lifts herself off, pressing her feet to the side of the castle, before carefully making her way down. “Don’t look up my dress!” She calls out.
“Sorry!” Thor replies, causing her to roll her eyes.
Loki watches anxiously as she makes her descent, making sure she never loses her footing, before she finally reaches the ground. Arali jumps down from the rope and turns with sigh, before excitedly pulling the two into an embrace. “I have missed you both!” The three stay in that embrace for a moment longer than usual, each equally as fearful to let go, but, alas they do.
“We have missed you as well, but why are you locked in the castle? What happened to your mother and Cronus?” Thor questions.
Arali’s face drops, “They are gone.” She slides her bare foot along the grass, attempting to distract herself from the pain of the situation. “They think I’m dangerous, so they locked me here.”
Loki squints his eyes. “Why do they think that?”
“But you’ve never hurt anyone.” Thor says, equally as confused and hurt.
She shrugs and when she looks up she’s met with their saddened faces. She lets out a deep sigh, wanting not to think about it any longer than she already has. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Come! Let’s go on an adventure like we used to!”
Reluctantly, the Asgardians smile and go to follow her, sneaking past the castle in secret as they had once always done. The three walk until finding an abandoned corner, one free of guards. Arali sits upon the ground, reaching out her hand. “Please. Tell me how things have been.” She smiles softly.
The two join beside her. “Things have been fine.” Loki begins. “Well… rather boring, actually.”
“Father is preparing the two of us for when we’ll have to take the throne. He has been training us in combat and I’ve grown stronger than ever.” Thor states proudly with a wide grin.
Loki scoffs, leaning closer to Arali. “Thor has been the same as usual, as you can see.” A smirk rises to his face as he glances over to his brother.
Arali smiles, deeply having missed her dear friends. They sit for some time, catching up with one another, jesting and laughing. Occasionally the boys would show off their new skills to the girl, but alas, soon her two friends would have to leave, for their mother would be worried.
While Loki is distracted, Thor leans close, whispering to her, “Do you still like my brother?” He asks.
She raises an eyebrow at him, not expecting his question, before her face would give a more vulnerable expression.
Thor takes this as a yes and stands. “Alright, well. I’m going to check if there are any guards around, I would hate to have to do ‘Get Help’. Meet me at the front entrance in a short while.” He says teasingly at his brother, before dashing out of sight.
A blush rises to Arali’s face, embarrassed as she realizes Thor’s intentions. She nervously inspects Loki’ face, before deciding to break the awkward silence that has risen between the two of them. “Thank you for helping me today.” Then, taking a brave step forward, she leans in to kiss him on the cheek.
He falters for a moment, looking away with a deep blush, almost as dark as her own. “I-um, I should go make sure my brother is alright. Hopefully, we can visit you tomorrow. Goodbye for now.” Without giving her a second look, he all but runs away.
Arali feels the pit of her stomach drop. Embarrassed, she sits alone and in silence, mentally kicking herself over her actions. With a sigh, she eventually picks herself up to climb back to her room. Little does she know, that would be the last time she would see her friends for many years to come.
-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-
Year after year would pass by. The walls began to fill with drawings, for it was the only way Arali knew how to communicate her deep feelings. She would draw far away places she dreamt about, dresses and armor she wished she could wear, people she wanted to be. But many of her drawings were of her childhood love interest. She pondered over how the years had treated him, what he looked like nowadays.
Naturally, the two boys told their mother of Arali’s secret room within the castle, which led to snooping on her behalf. Arali was delighted that Frigga had found her, and the older woman would keep her company and bring her gifts when she could, but there was little the Allmother could do to free the child.
Frigga would go to teach Arali how to read and write, everything she was unable to learn during her youth. She would then start keeping a journal, letting out all the feelings she had been unable to express over the course of multiple centuries. Arali longed for the prince she was promised to, for him and Frigga were the last things alive giving her hope of ever returning to her previous way of life. She missed having a family and she missed her freedom as well.
With time, her hair fell longer and her bones reached taller. Her baby weight shed off her meat and was replaced with dips and curves. Her body slowly outgrew her prison until she became a young adult. She had little understanding of what the outside world held in store for her, but after centuries of waiting for something to happen, Arali was determined to finally take her life into her own hands.
-ˋˏ ༻ Arali ༺ ˎˊ-
Sunshine hits my eyes through the open window, forcing me out of my slumber. I groan, turning on my flat pillow to stare at the walls of my prison cell. I used to look at my drawings and feel inspired, but now I find myself numb to them. I was so childish for believing one day I could live as I once had. I used to think that if I escaped, everything would go back to normal, but freedom will not bring back my home, it will not bring back my brothers and sister, and it will not bring back our mother. If I could escape, I would have to live in hiding, for Zeus would surely put a bounty on me. However, I don’t wish to live in hiding, to live in fear. I don’t want to hide anymore. I want to see the world and I want the world to see me right back. I am done being hidden.
Unfortunately, the childish happiness that my old childhood friend once gave me has lasted for all these years. I am still incredibly fond of Loki, even if it has been centuries since we last spoke. At this rate, I believe once I die I will spend the rest of eternity wallowing away in the Fields of Mourning. I am terrified to ever see him again, despite how much I wish to. I’d rather admire him from a distance, than to ever find out that he no longer remembers who I am, let alone if his feelings of friendship are still present or if they’re the only feelings he’ll ever have towards me. Most days, I try my best to snuff the feeling he once gave me. It is best that I forget about him all together. What matters most is mine and my family’s respect. Who knows, he might be very different from what I remember him as.
I sigh, pushing away the thoughts, before sitting up and stretching my arms into the air and focusing my mind on the task at hand. I have been gathering supplies for a while now; dyes, and little jewels and trinkets that I found on the streets to add to my attire. Of course I had snuck out plenty of times, I had Thor and Loki to thank all those years ago for that.
I made a friend a while back, he owns a fabric store. In return for material, I agreed to work for him until I could pay it off. Though, he tends to be very generous to me, supportive in my efforts to stand up to Zeus unlike everyone else that has ever been wronged by him, and believe me, that would be many of people.
I would be lying if I said I am not terrified, Zeus could easily kill me for my actions, but I will not live a moment longer in my prison, I cannot take another year of letting my mother’s death mean nothing to him or the people of Olympia. I am a goddess, a princess! I should be treated with the same respect, and if I am not, I will find a way to single handedly tear this kingdom apart.
However, if I am standing up to him, I’m going to at least dress the part and show him all the things Frigga taught me, despite his efforts to keep me starved and ignorant. I am intelligent, I am talented, I am beautiful, and most importantly, I survived. The planet will know this soon.
I have been piecing my gown together for months. I’d stay up for hours, hand sewing each gem in carefully, hoping to never stain the green silk each time the tiny needle pricks my finger. It is finally done. I will present myself to Zeus in the morning, then the entire kingdom will know that the Titans live on.
-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-
My feet tremble as I approach the front gates of Olympus Castle for the first time. I’ve never dared to travel in this direction of the castle when sneaking out before. The guards would catch me, they would tell Zeus, then he would have my head on a stake. But now, I would rather my head there, than filled a second longer with the speech I have been dying to bestow to the murderer of my mother. There is no turning back now.
I pace forwards, the guards eyeing down at me from their places on either side of the walkway. They don’t recognize me like this, no one does, and they do not need to yet. The only person that needs to understand who I am is Zeus, the rest will follow soon enough.
The main hall leading to the throne room is decorated with intricate marble statues. To my surprise, there is a statue dedicated to my mother. My lip snarls when I see the piece of art specifically designed to showcase her death and Zeus’ part in it. He takes pride in what he did, and worse of all, the others commend him for it. I stop short in front of the sculpture, feelings of guilt and disgust dropping to the pit of my stomach. He has painted my mother as a monster, a monster deserving of slaying. This is what Olympia thinks of my family, of the Titans.
I take one last look at my mother’s face. He cannot take her from me, she is still here. She lives on in me, she lives in the trees, the wind, the animals. She is the earth. I feel her everywhere, she speaks to me, she guides me. She never died. She is just free of her physical form. She can be anything and go anywhere now.
I can do this.
I have to do this.
With a deep, staggered breath, I adjust my dress, hold my head high, and march onward.
Two hoplites guard the impending double doors to the throne room, spears and shields raised high and ready. “What business do you have with the king?” One blares out.
I pause in front of my last obstacle, glaring up at the hoplites. “I wish to ask for my title back, as a Titan princess.”
The two guards' faces drop upon hearing one of my words, gripping tighter on their spears. A word they have not heard for many years, no doubt. Regardless, they do not let me pass.
I know better than to argue with them, but they know not of my abilities to maneuver around the castle. With a huff, I exit back the way I came, but as soon as their eyes stray from forward, I dart down one of the side halls. I have to be quick and quiet, but I know a way to the throne room through the kitchen.
Pressing my back against the stone walls, I peek into the room. The maids are hunched over the many delicacies they will soon offer the gods and goddesses of the court, far too busy with their demands than to pay any attention to the intruder behind them. While they are occupied, I tiptoe past and into the final hall. Unfortunately for me, there are two more guards blocking the opening, but they are the only thing keeping me from coming face to face with Zeus. If I’m able to get past them, I can grab his attention just before they can take me away.
I hear the god’s voice boom through the throne room. My heart races and my lungs jitter with an emptiness as I ready myself into a running stance.
This is it.
I push off my right leg and dart through the guards. By the time they hear me coming, I have already gone through them. However, at the very last second, one manages to grip my arm, yanking me back far enough for the second to do the same. Luckily, my actions are enough to catch attention.
I struggle and squirm in their grasp, teeth bared in fury. “ZEUS!” I scream.
The guards halt, the entire court and audience looking my way.
Zeus’ smile fades as he turns his head to the left to witness the scene. A grumble erupts from his chest as he immediately recognizes my face and motions the guards to bring me forth.
I stumble as they drag me to the center.
I’ve heard countless stories of Zeus and all of his children, but by the Gods, I never internalized just how many there are until seeing them all sitting before me. Hera’s face is filled with a shocked disgust. Last I saw her, she had ordered Zeus to kill me. I’m sure the latter will receive a long scolding regarding my ongoing health and, well, existence. But then I see her. My sister.
Aphrodite is everything I loath and yet everything I should be. She was born from the Titan Ouranos, just as I was born from his wife Gaia. She is not seen as a Titan, though our only difference is that Zeus found her before the war and me after. She is just as guilty of killing off the Titan’s as Zeus is. She will never be my sister.
“What brings you here, child?” Zeus questions, humoring me only for a moment before his anger will inevitably kick in.
Oh, I could spit on him right now. “I demand my title back. As Titan, and daughter of The Earth Mother, I am the rightful Queen of Olympia!”
The crowd gasps at my outrageous words, but my eyes can only focus on Zeus. “Settle, settle. I promise there is no reason to be fearful, my children. The Titans have all been slain and the peace received from their absence shall remain.” He turns back to me, a smug smirk playing beneath his white beard. “Child, you are far from royalty and are only proving to all of Olympus how unbalanced and mad the Titan empire truly was.” A deep laugh roars from his belly as he speaks, his children following suit which only helps his audience feel all the more comfortable laughing off my request.
I am not mad. “I am a Titan!”
“YOU-” Zeus suddenly flares up, bolting into a stand. “-ARE NOTHING!” He bangs his staff onto the marble floor so hard that I nearly expect the ground to shatter from the force. “Guards!” He yells, however, just as they reach me I see her eyes make contact with mine. She smiles at me before waltzing towards her ‘father’ proudly. He pauses, listening to her request. Then, he perks back towards me and the guards. “Bring her to the dungeons.” He then demands.
At that moment, I feel as though I am seeing my life flash before my eyes. I have ruined this entirely. This is not how this was supposed to play out. I am supposed to be free. I deserve to be free!
They drag me down further and further into the depths of the castle, light quickly escaping my vision only helped by the small flames perched high on the walls. They stop us in the center of the room before I hear clicking sounds from behind me shortly after. The guards turn me to face Hera and Aphrodite at the entrance, the last two people I neither expected nor craved to see.
“Look who it is again. I had no idea such scum had been rotting away within the kingdom all these years, I could have sworn we weeded your kind out centuries ago.” Hera’s voice is sturdy, but her tone and words only help to weaken and dim any strength and beauty she may appear to have. “You have burdened our kingdom enough, alive or not. Your life means nothing, as does your death. You will be put to work, and you will, for the first time, have a purpose on this planet. But shall you take one breath without my permission, you will wish for a death as quick as your mother’s, am I understood?”
My chest rises and falls with rage as I glare into her cold and unforgiving eyes.
They may view me as a weed that has sprouted from my mother’s carcass, but believe me when I say I will stop at nothing until I’ve tainted the entire garden.
Twila turns against the pillow, letting out a soft yawn as she snuggles into the cotton sheets. She lets out a deep, tired breath for a moment, allowing consciousness to slowly wash over her being before her memories fully kick in and a panic rises to her heart.
This isn’t her bed.
Last thing she remembers is their shared giggles as he held her bare body against his. She jolts up, eyeing over Mattheo’s quiet room, but more importantly his absence from it. The left side of the bed is messy, the sheets rippling in the spot his body once was. She reaches her hands out to slowly graze over his spot. The sheets are cold. He’s been gone for some time.
She waits a few moments. Maybe he’s just in the washroom, she tells herself. He’ll be back any minute, but the minutes pass her by and before she knows it, the class bells ring. He’s not coming.
Her body shakes with guilt, dread, and many other emotions as she lifts herself out of bed. She pulls her bottoms on, adjusts her shirt, and fixes her hair to the best of her ability, but she needs to go quick.
She presses her ear against the door, hearing voices just outside. There’s no use in hiding now, the halls are going to be filled until class begins and she cannot afford such a strike on her record. She must face the wolves… in the same clothes she was in last night… walking from the male dormitories.
With a pained groan, she takes a deep breath, holds it in, and opens the door.
Twila speeds through the hall, realizing later that the action likely only brought more attention to her than if she had quietly snuck around her peers. She doesn’t look at the other students, she doesn’t have the strength to. The previous rumors are already bad enough, she can think of her new ones some other time. But then, she gets to the main seating area and her heart drops.
His shared laughter with his friends abruptly stops as Draco unexpectedly makes eye contact with Twila across the way. She watches as Blaise and Theo scoff out laughs at her, snickering as they piece the puzzle together quickly in their minds, but her last bit of dignity dies when she sees Draco join in with them. She wants to roll her eyes, but she’s too weak to blow it off, giving him one last glossy look and storming to the exit before she makes a bigger fool of herself in front of the entire house.
She holds back her tears just long enough for her to get back to her dorm, only mere seconds to spare before she has to be in Herbology. She rummages through her wardrobe, the tears somehow escaping from her eyes, but she angrily wipes them away and messily puts her arms through her prefect robe. Though it doesn’t take long for the tears to take control. With a weak sob, she feels her strength slip from her grasp and she slumps into her desk chair, her school robe falling back off her shoulder. She leans forward, resting her head down in her arms as the emotions force themselves free.
Maybe skipping class won’t hurt this one time.
༺ ☆ ༻
Unfortunately for Twila, her second period class is D.A.D.A, so skipping is not even a thought in her mind, she’ll already be receiving an earful from Snape about her skipping her last class, let alone his own. Even more devastating news, she’ll also have to face Draco this period.
She doesn’t even dare look at him as she enters the room, making the effort to sit in a seat completely opposite of him as well, something she’s never done even from the very first day of school.
She hears the boys snicker like they did earlier, and she doesn’t need to look up to find out at what or who. Regardless, she focuses on her work. I came here for help, not for relationships. I came here for a reason. I came here for a reason. She has to remind herself of these things in order to keep her sanity and her tears from spilling out again.
When class ends, she’s determined to do the exact same thing in potions; ignore Draco and work. Unlike her usual behavior, she is first out of her seat, squeezing past students and out the door before anyone’s even allowed to glance her way.
She rushes through the halls, knowing her own way to the classroom by now. As she enters, she finds a lone table to seat herself at, pulling out her books and already working ahead at what she sees written on the board.
To her dissatisfaction, the blond enters the class and finds her corner, sitting next to her with a smirk. She takes a deep breath, pausing her writing for only a moment, before resuming and paying him absolutely no mind.
However, her efforts only take her so far before the boy is already pestering her. “So, how did you like the party last night?”
Anger builds behind her teeth, many words she’d like to say to him, but giving him attention will only make it worse, that’s how all of her bullies have worked, Draco will be no different. She bounces her leg with impatience, keeping her mouth shut in disdain.
He eyes her in amusement. “What’s wrong? Tired after your night with Mattheo?”
She stops her writing, bouncing her pencil instead. “How’d you know?”
He scoffs. “Twila, everyone knows. You’d think the house known for secrets would be good at keeping them…”
She bites her cheek, holding back anger. “Is he bragging about it or something?” She spits out, thinking of how Mattheo must be smiling and joking with his friends about her right now.
“No.” Draco admits, nonchalantly flipping to a page in his textbook. “It’s just plainly obvious.”
She sighs, leaning back in the chair, still not bothering to make eye contact with him. “It’s never happening again, I don’t understand why you care so much.” She adds sourly.
He chuckles at her denial. “Oh, I don’t care at all. I just find it amusing how easily Mattheo was able to charm the new foreign student into his bedchamber. Quite an admirable skill, actually.”
“I’m not in the mood, Draco.” She says through her teeth.
But still he smiles. “Oh, come on, Twila. You don’t find this situation in the least bit entertaining?” But instead of their usual back and forth banter, he noticed her lip quiver so slightly before she bites on it. He feels a pang of guilt in his stomach, but not enough to completely cease his pestering. “That bad, was he?”
Her voice is quiet, trying to hide the tremble she feels in her throat. “You have no idea.”
He scoffs sarcastically. “Well, I certainly hope not to,” he jests, but she only twiddles her pencil in her hands, still not raising her head yet. Draco watches her, hopeless that his behavior will bring a smile to her face as it typically does. “Twila… are you alright…?” He hesitates out.
“I’m fine.” But still, she does not show her eyes.
On the way out of class, she is once again eager to leave his side. However, this time she is stopped by a group of students at the door, troubling her in more aggressive ways than Draco usually does.
Despite his previous taunts, he finds himself making his way over, pushing aside the students surrounding her. “That’s enough. Go find someone else to bother.” His tone is authoritative, glaring down his peers. They seem taken aback by his actions, but take the hint and exit the room.
Twila watches him in her peripheral view, hugging her books to herself as they leave. Even she is surprised by what he’s done. “...Thank you.” She says, her voice soft and weak, something Draco is not at all used to.
Normally, he’d brush off the gesture, maybe even deny that he helped at all, but seeing her like this makes him feel something… something. He simply nods at her sincerity, holding the door open for her as they too take their leave.
They walk together without a word, moving closer and closer to the Great Hall for lunch, butTwila’s face drops even further when she notices the people around her. They seem to be watching her, whispering even. Her stomach drops and her fingers begin picking at the edge of her notebook cover.
Snape had told her that this would be a simple and quick procedure, that no one would care about a thing so long as she kept her mouth shut, but nothing could have prepared her to feel like this again; an outcast.
Upon entering the giant room, Draco notices that all eyes seem to be on them… on her. He looks over his shoulder at her, concern growing in him as he watches panic wash over her face.
Her heart speeds up, realizing it’s happening all over again. “I have to go,” she falters out quietly, her eyes glazing over once again as her legs make quick work to run from the scene, leaving lunch behind all together.
With a quick sigh, Draco collects himself and moves towards the Slytherin table, sitting beside Blaise and Theo as if nothing had happened.
They chuckle at her running away, amused at what their friend must have done to cause such a reaction out of her. “Was that Mattheo’s girl?” Blaise questions, trying to look over at her while she’s still in eyes view.
Draco slides into his seat, still contemplating what happened. “Yes, that’s her.” He confirms in displeasure.
“You have class together, right?” Theo asks.
“Yes, a few.” His reply is distant as he eyes over his plate.
His friends lean in curiously. “Have you ever seen her do magic?”
Draco raises an eyebrow, suddenly caught off guard by the question.”Not really, why?” He finds himself curious again, nearly forgetting this aspect of the girl and wondering if they have discovered something about her he hasn’t.
They both laugh at his answer, seeming to beam excitedly at a revelation. “Have you not heard?”
Draco looks over them both impatiently, anticipating whatever information they’ve managed to come up with. “Heard what? What’s so amusing?”
Theo chuckles at the blond, leaning in closer. “Mate… she’s a squib.”
༺ ☆ ༻
Twila sits anxiously in the hall. She’s been really pushing her luck with Jewel lately, and she can’t seem to escape the punishments that come with that.
Her heart drops in disappointment as she hears the clicking of heels approaching her at the end of the corridor from the Great hall. Twila stares down at her own feet, readying herself for her friend’s rage.
“Twila!” Jewel calls out, bewilderment written on her face as she stops short of the Ravenclaw sitting on the stone floor. “I thought you said you were done! What’s going on?” She places her hands on her hips in anger.
Twila isn’t surprised that Jewel has found out on her own, the whole school has done so already. She rests her head on the wall behind her, having no energy left to even defend herself.
“I just- I can’t believe you. I asked one thing of you, for your own protection! I’m telling you, it is not worth it!”
However, seeing as her friend still won’t even make the effort to look up at her, Jewel drops her arms in defeat, letting go of her anger enough to be there for one of her oldest friends. “What happened?” She says softer this time.
Twila bites her lip, still feigning suddenly fascination in her shoes. “He left.” She whispers.
Jewel watches Twila fight back her tears with a sigh, before kneeling to her side on the floor. “I tried to warn you, Twila. If he’s not lying and hiding from you, he’s leaving you entirely. He doesn’t know anything else.” Jewel bites her lip, thinking over all the rumors she’s heard recently. “Come.” She says suddenly, reaching out her hand. “I’ll sneak some food into the library and we can eat there.”
The Ravenclaw looks up in surprise. She and Jewel may have their own ways of viewing life, but at the end of the day, she may be the only true friend that she has.
Twila smiles sadly, taking her hand and following her to the library.
༺ ☆ ༻
“Twila…”
In the cold and damp detention room Professor Snape and Twila sit, much too early in the morning for such a conversation for the both of them.
Snape taps his pen against the ledge of the wooden desk, his dark eyes fixated on her. “I heard you skipped your morning class yesterday, and while I appreciate your concern over your attendance to mine, we have made a bargain prior to this that you are expected to uphold.”
She stares down at her hand, fiddling her thumbs around the other.
He lets out a deep sigh. “Is there something that is causing you to skip your classes, Twila?” His expression remains neutral, but Twila has been casted as his responsibility, so anything she does directly reflects onto him, and this is unacceptable behavior.
She stares off to the side, letting her voice whisper out of her mouth. “They’re all looking at me again.”
Snape leans against the front of his desk, his calm expression shifting a bit. “I presume you mean your classmates?”
“It’s just like Ilvermorny again.” She says, unable to raise her voice without it cracking. “They know I’m different, Professor.”
He remains silent, examining the misery in her eyes and understanding her isolation. “I’m truly sorry, Miss DeLuna, but it must be done.” With a sigh, he lowers his head back down to his book, studying over his new subjects of interest.
She takes a deep breath in, letting it out slowly as she stares at the cobbled floors. Despite her stress, her heart flutters anxiously with a question she has been pondering for a few days now, one that feels like no better time than now to ask. “I, um…” Her words get caught in her throat, raising Snape’s attention to her once more. “I was actually hoping to discuss the book you suggested, as well.”
Snape eyeballs her from over the edge of his own book, before curiously closing it and setting it down on the table behind him. “Yes… of course.” He pronunciates slowly as usual.
She pulls the book ‘Heinous Healing’ out of her bag, letting it thud down on the desk before her. “Do you think anything in here actually works? Or… is allowed…?”
With a deep breath, Snape crosses his arms. “Hypothetically, yes. Everything in that book should provide results, though I’m unfamiliar with just what kind of results those may be. However, that is not my reasoning for suggesting the book in the first place. As for your last question, I know the text suggests rather… unorthodox methods, nothing I recommend you attempt, but I believe it to be wise to be educated on all of our options.”
Twila eyes the book in front of her, her finger thoughtfully thumbing the edge of its fragile pages. “I was thinking of something recently…”
Professor Snape takes notice of the way she fiddles with the book as she thinks. “And what about?”
Her eyes still gaze over the open page in front of her, looking for nothing but the push to say her next words. Her heart flutters with a familiar darkness, but she’s certain that is not what’s powering her curiosity, only her lust for knowledge. She nervously bites the inside of her cheek and counts to three. If her past weren’t enough already to ban her from most wizarding schools, this might. “Do you think Salazar Slytherin might hold some of the answers we seek?”
Snape’s brows shoot up, as he realizes what she is suggesting. “Are you proposing…” He pauses, taking a second to ensure he’s understanding her correctly. “Are you proposing we take inspiration from one of the most vile wizards known to Hogwarts?”
She lets out a guilt breath, only now having the courage to meet his eyes. “Professor, with all due respect, I have been studying methods like this for years, perhaps what we need is to look into the mind of someone different, someone more… honest about the method’s complexities, someone that would actually use them.”
Professor Snape understands her sentiment entirely, but still he is unsure which decision to make. It is enough their secret meetings, to allow so many visits to the restricted section would only appear as favoritism to the other students, or worse. Not to mention, what she is suggesting would require even more secrets from Dumbledore himself, but still, her suggestion sounds intriguing, especially coming from someone not within his own house.
Twila notices his hesitancy and shuts the book softly, taking a deep breath. “I know this sounds risky and incredibly suspicious, but I only mean to find answers. In any normal circumstance, I admit, I would have just gone and done the research on my own without permission, but I respect you a lot, Professor, and I know that I can’t do this on my own anymore. I would greatly appreciate your guidance as I navigate though these darker subjects, something I didn’t have the privilege of with Mr. Moore. But even then, if you say no, I promise to put my curiosity to rest.”
Snape is taken aback by her honesty, surprised to feel his admiration towards her grow. Deep down, he knows she may be one of the few students that has the intellect to handle such a subject with a level of maturity. A tempting proposition she has put onto him.
“Very well.” Snape agrees. “I’ll see what material is available to us, but I want you to promise me something.”
She sits straighter in her seat, hope gleaming in her eyes.
“Promise me that you will not let this curiosity get out of hand. We are going to explore some very dark and twisted matters. I have no doubts in your abilities as a student, but we must take this very seriously. Do you understand?”
She nods sincerely, meeting his eyes with both high regard and excitement.
“And no matter what we learn, do not attempt such things on your own. These darker matters require a great deal of knowledge and skill, especially if we are to study them right under the nose of the Headmaster, not to mention its unethical and dangerous nature. Promise me…” He raises a finger, staring her down with a warning look, the first and last warning.
She gives a slight bow of her head. “Of course, Professor. Believe me, Salazar isn’t exactly an idol in my eyes, but I do fully believe he’ll be of great use to me this year and I wouldn’t ask if I thought otherwise.”
For a brief moment, Twila catches the tiniest glimpse of warmth in the professor; an understanding. “I see…” He says as he studies her over. “Alright. Let us begin then.”
Masterlist
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Warnings: NSFW 18+, heavy makeout, bullying, swearing
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“This year’s already stressing me out. The boys are barely adequate and we’ve been practicing all summer to put these Americans on their asses. Sorry, Twila.”
“No, by all means.”
After a rematch with Gryffindor, the Slytherin’s were now qualified to enter the Internationals and were determined to climb their way to the World Cup. First match would be against Ilvermorny, Hogwarts already preparing to host their opposing team.
Jewel takes a less thoughtful bite of her muffin, looking over towards the Slytherin table at her team. “I can’t believe they’re already going to be arriving tomorrow.”
Twila is happy that her relationship with Jewel is mended once more, but less than happy to hear that her old school would be coming to stay at Hogwarts for a week. She contemplates hiding in her room the next few days just to avoid them, there are more than a few people she would not like to see again.
The hours go by all too quickly, and next she knows, the entire student body is gathered in the Great Hall to welcome the foreign school. Luckily, it is just the winning Ilvermorny quidditch team coming to visit, leaving a few hundred people out that Twila prayed to avoid. Unluckily, the winning team is the Horned Serpents, her former rival house.
Twila stays on her guard, now more than aware that her old classmates are roaming freely in the halls. She hugs her torso, keeping her head low.
“Are you alright, Twila?” Jewel asks with a laugh.
“Yeah, I’m good.” She answers shortly, deciding to ‘fix her hair’ as they pass one of the navy and crimson colored robes standing out amongst the Hogwarts ones.
Jewel chuckles at this. “Recognize any of them?”
“Been trying not to.” Twila hugs herself tighter, continuing to peer over the student's heads.
Jewel studies her friend's face understandingly. “Draco and I are hanging out in the courtyard. You should come.”
“Are you talking about me?” A deeper voice comes from behind them. Draco’s head appears over Jewel’s shoulder.
“Twila’s joining us. Come.” Jewel grasps Twila’s hand and pulls her towards the courtyard.
Draco follows slowly with a roll of his eyes. The two sit on the grass, looking up at Draco and waiting for him to join them, but he is reluctant to dirty his robes. He sits with a grumble, crossing his legs in a more comfortable position. “So, Twila, seeing as you went to Ilvermorny, what do you know about the Horned Serpents?”
Twila turns to him in surprise, like she’s been pulled out of a thought just then. “Oh, um, what do you mean exactly? Just in general?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, like strengths, weaknesses or whatever. I need to know what I’ll be going up against at the end of the week.”
Twila shifts in her spot a bit, reluctant to remember. “Well, as far as quidditch goes, I’m not sure. I never really watched them play. But as a house, Horned Serpents are known for their intelligence and academics.”
Draco scoffs. “And I suppose this is your old house we’re going against then?”
Twila chuckles, shaking her head. “I was not, actually. I was in Thunderbird; moody, but smart and soulful adventurers.”
“Drawn to bird houses, are we?” He scoffs out, raising a dubious brow. “I can see moody just fine, but you? An adventurer? Seems unlikely to me.”
“Then I may surprise you.” She giggles out proudly.
His eyes squint, a doubtful chuckle escaping his lips as he leans his hands back into the lush grass. “Oh will you? I’m sure you’re quite the daredevil.” He states sarcastically.
“We should invite them to our common room sometime.” Jewel says with a smirk, adjusting herself to sit on her feet. “Learn a bit about them.”
Twila scoffs, disinterested. “You guys have fun with that.”
Draco finds himself amused by her response.
The trio continue their friendly discussion for some time until Twila has to take a sudden leave upon realizing the time. The remaining pair watch as the odd Ravenclaw races her way back into the castle.
However, Jewel is more than used to the girl’s behavior and turns to Draco with something she needs immediately discussed. Her voice is lowered as she waits for a group of students to pass by. “Did you put the map back in my room?”
Draco’s expression turns serious, able to quickly adjust to the sudden change in energy. He nods, responding at a similar volume. “Yeah, right where you asked.”
She lets out a nervous breath. “Good. I don’t want him to know you had it. Thank you for taking it for a while.”
He lets out a soft chuckle, but his smile is slight. “Yeah, no problem.”
༺ ☆ ༻
Though the Horned Serpents are visiting, that in fact does not halt classes for the rest of the school.
Being forced into History of Magic with Mattheo is one of Twila’s least favorite parts of the day. Not that she cares, of course. Her emotions are one hundred percent in her control, and if she says she doesn’t feel anything, then feel anything she will not. She just has to make sure to keep staring at anything else in the room, then everything will be fine.
Later in the day, Jewel guides the girls to the Slytherin Common Room, granting them access through the doors through her invitation. Twila is amazed as she watches the snake tile in the floor, rise up and slither into the shape of an entryway, confirming to her the exact location of the common room. She is barely surprised to find it near the hall that leads to the detention room she and Snape meet at.
The girls walk shyly behind Jewel as they descend further and further into the cold and damp basement. The sounds of water droplets fill their ears before a large fountain comes into their view, and then the ginormous windows that look into the depth of the Black Lake. Twila finds it all extremely beautiful, and oddly inspiring.
Chatting and jabbering make it known to Twila and, just as Jewel had promised, the common room is full of the foreign students. A grumble vibrates at the bottom of Twila’s throat. Jewel has failed to mention that today would be the day that she’d invited the Ilvermorny team to the common room.
Draco lounges at the center of it all, keeping a friendly facade as he assesses the rival team while they speak to him. His friends surround him, engaging in conversation with the navy robed students. It is no surprise to Twila that the Horned Serpents had found quick friends in the Slytherins. They are very alike in her mind.
As they edge closer, their ears pick up on their conversation, that is until it halts entirely upon the new students' eyes landing on the girls. A familiar boy’s face lights up, making Twila’s stomach churn in a mix of nerve and anger.
Silas. Oh, how she hated him.
“I can’t believe it.” Silas chuckles out, causing the Slytherin’s to follow his gaze towards her. “Twila, we’ve missed you the past two years. Where have you been?” He asks, but anyone could pick up on the ill intent in his voice.
She picks at a loose string that hangs from the sleeve of her sweater dress, but her eyes never falter away from his. She shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly. “I was there. I’m surprised you didn’t notice considering you still can’t keep my name off your tongue.”
The sides of Draco’s lips curl at her gentle remark, watching the scene play out in a silent amusement.
Unfortunately, Silas finds this equally as amusing. “Ah, I see. You transfer schools and suddenly you’ve grown a voice. What changed? Do your new friends not know why you left?”
Twila’s mouth dries of a comeback, looking down at him with a wavering glare. What does he know? What have they been saying about her since she left? Did they tell Draco?
“We know more than you ever will.” Jewel steps forward to take the lead, before taking Twila’s arm and guiding her away from the situation and to the dorms instead. She looks over her shoulder with a proud smile as the boy glares at the back of Twila’s head, but her friend gives him no further acknowledgement.
As they go, Silas chuckles a victorious laugh.
Draco keeps his eyes on her as well, mind swirling with more than a few questions. Then, he turns back to Silas with an eyebrow raised. “You two seem to know each other.” He observes.
The American boy chuckles sarcastically. “She’s a freak. She messed with hexes and curses and got expelled for it.”
One of his friends leans forward. “I’m putting my money on the idea that she couldn’t handle being the outcast and got caught trying to get revenge on the school. She was always quiet and had this mean look to her. I wouldn’t be surprised if news came out that she tried to burn down the school.”
Draco finds their rumors curious. He has questioned her about her past at Ilvermorny before, but he’s never gotten any straight answers. Though it is all rather ironic. It was no secret that Twila didn’t cherish her memories from Ilvermorny. Did she really have ill intentions towards the school however?
The blond simply nods in silence and lets himself digest these words while his friends take over the conversation.
However, Draco isn’t the only one of Twila’s new acquaintances that had seen the interaction take place.
༺ ☆ ༻
Game day doesn’t come quick enough for Twila, but eventually she finally finds herself seated in the pitch.
Cheers roar throughout the stadium as the teams step out onto the field; Slytherin dressed in green, Horned Serpent in purple. Serpent against serpent, both equal matches in intellect and craftiness and perfect mirrors of one another in more ways than one.
The teams are rushed with adrenaline as they ready themselves in the center. The winner moves on to the next international game and ultimately to the Quidditch World Cup, something no Hogwarts team has ever achieved.
One Slytherin boy finds his heart racing particularly fast.
As the game begins, Mattheo’s mind goes black, focus laser sharp. He’s been waiting for this moment all season and his team is determined to win, any distractions be damned.
They battle it out until halftime swings around and they are just barely ahead. He sits with his team on the benches, resting while the band plays their tunes. He scans the crowd, looking for no one in particular, but his eyes find her regardless.
Twila sits with her friends, all three decked out in green. The group of girls yell chaotically for their home team, well, Penelope does anyways. The other two simply smile and clap, showing their support a few octaves lower than their red headed friend.
The boy lets out a chuckle to himself, unable to stop from smiling a little bit. Though her friends cheer Jewel on, it’s clear to him where Twila’s eyes have fallen despite their last interaction.
The band plays their last note, causing another uproar from the crowd. Excitement flies through the air once more as the two teams return to their positions.
Mattheo tries hard to focus on the game again, but his heart beats faster than normal. He can feel her eyes follow him everywhere; he’s unable to escape her influence, nor the distracting thoughts that come with it. He tries to remind himself what happened the last time he let his imagination run wild, but he finds himself looking back at her nonetheless.
Despite having more than a few teammates with their heads occupied with thoughts outside the game, Slytherin ends victorious. The crowd is loud and chaotic. Slytherin will proceed to the next international game, that much closer to the World Cup.
Twila smiles brightly as her friends cheer, reveling in knowing that her old school will be gone in the morrow and return home as losers. Then, she rushes through the stadium with Celia, and Penelope to find where Jewel and her team are celebrating.
༺ ☆ ༻
As one would guess, a party would naturally ensue for the winning team, the scheming Slytherins already planning a night of fun for their efforts and the professors pretending to know nothing about it.
Mattheo and Draco find their way to the common room. Loud music fills the area and people are crowded everywhere. It doesn’t take them long to find Jewel’s squad already celebrating within the crowd.
Draco pushes his way over, but Mattheo stays back. His face clouds over with a different kind of emotion. Something tells him to walk over to her, but everything else tells him not to. It’s a bad idea and will do more harm than good.
He can’t help but smile at her in spite of everything that was said last between them. Her braids drape down her dress, their caramel color subtle under the dim lights. He thinks green suits her, maybe even too well. Mattheo can’t even imagine the chaos that would occur if Twila were in the same house, the sneaking Jewel would do to hide her from him. But then he’d have the chance to bump into her more often. He’d also be able to sneak around with her better. Maybe if she was a Slytherin she’d understand his urgency for privacy. Or better yet, maybe she’d be in on it.
The new girl bounces in her spot, dancing softly to the music while her friends begin drinking. Her head turns as she innocently scans the crowd, still dancing, that is until her eyes land on him.
Suddenly, his chest feels tight. He wants to go over there so badly.
Jewel is none the wiser to their staring contest. The brunette closes her eyes, throwing her hair gently to the music. He’d be lying if he said he never once felt something for Jewel. Naturally, after spending a childhood with someone, one would feel the urge, but those feelings long been destroyed. Besides, between the two of them, Twila is the only real gem that seems to shine in his eyes.
As Jewel leaves to grab another drink, he sees this as an opportunity to approach Twila, but as he does so, his feet get heavier the closer and closer he gets. He shouldn’t, but he almost can’t stop himself.
To his surprise, she smiles wider as he makes his way towards her. “Congratulations!” She says excitedly to him, but it is crystal clear the mask she is fighting to maintain, the ‘No hard feelings’, ‘We can still be friends after our break up’ lie that couples tend to attempt for half a day before never speaking again.
He’s both shocked and disappointed by her reaction, but plays along with the casual charade for her sake. “Thank you. We really needed that win. It’s been a tough few years.”
The two stand rather awkwardly as the party continues around them. Life goes on, but they stay still, reluctant even. He looks down at her, eyeing her from up close now. Her green skirt fans out past her hips, showing her support for the team, for his team. “I, um, I like the green. Looks good on you.” His heart races all over again, no matter how innocently he tries to speak his words.
“Thanks.” She smiles, swaying in a flustered manner at his complement, only making said skirt swish against her skin. Then, she pauses for a moment, biting her lip at a thought. She shouldn’t say it, but she’s dying to see his reaction. “It’s for you,” she quickly adds.
Part of Twila almost hopes Mattheo doesn’t hear that last part over the loud music. She shouldn’t flirt, she knows it’s wrong, but it just comes so naturally between them. However, she is pleasantly disappointed that he does hear her.
He chuckles, cheeks beginning to rose. As the thought registers in his mind, he feels a warmth in his gut. “Really, for me?”
She nods, eyes fluttering to look up at him, daring yet shy.
He feels a sense of nervousness wash over him. He doesn’t expect something like this from her, and yet here she is, twirling around in a green skirt in support of him. He tries to keep his eyes locked on her face. We’re being casual, just friendly and casual. “That’s real sweet of you, Twila.”
His mind begins to wander to places it shouldn’t be. He knows it’s wrong, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to just ignore the connection he once felt between them.
He glances over his shoulder to make sure no one is watching them, someone in particular. The last thing he needs is Jewel to see them even in the same room. He takes in the environment. The music is loud and no one is paying attention to anything but the music. His heart pounds, but before he can catch himself, the words just seem to spill out. “Is it okay if we talk somewhere more private?”
His stomach fills with dread. Why would he ask that?
Twila hesitates for a moment, looking over at her friends at the food table with multiple feelings beginning to shiver through her body. Just a talk. What harm could be done? Besides, what Jewel never finds out won't hurt her. In the end, she agrees.
He gives her a hand, moving the two of them away from the main crowd before anyone can process their absence. He decides the best place for them to talk would be the privacy of his dorm room, an easy place to sneak off to. He enters the room quickly, before shutting and locking the door behind her. “We should be good in here,” he says as he pats the wooden door, making sure it fits snugly between its lock.
She scratches her arm nervously, taking a peek around the boy’s slightly messy room, but still, she beams with anticipation. “What did you want to talk about?” She asks with an excited glint in her eyes.
Mattheo moves a bit closer. His chest flutters with nerves. He used to be confident around her, around most people. He can’t believe what’s gotten into him lately. “Did you really mean it?” He murmurs, eyes locked on her face.
“Mean what?” She asks.
Another step closer, the distance between the two disappearing quicker than they can even realize. “When you said you wore that for me. Did you really mean that?” His voice is just barely above a whisper, his words close enough to be able to glide past her own mouth.
Her face heats up, her body melts. She raises an eyebrow at his boldness, but she’s also so very pleased and impressed by his actions. Her breathing grows heavier as he nears, her eyes tracing a line between his eyes and lips, unable to find words of her own.
His heart thuds hard in his chest. Mattheo’s eyes become as heavy as his breathing. He can feel his control slipping from the palm of his hand and into hers instead. “We shouldn’t do this… should we…?”
“No.” She whispers weakly, but doesn’t pull away as he inches closer and closer.
He scans her face, only imagining the things she’s thinking. “We should stop…”
“Yeah.” Her breath cascades across his lips, her hands reaching out to place on his chest to anchor her to something as she feels her balance begin to waver.
Just a hair away now. “It would be wrong, wouldn’t it…?”
“Just shut up and do it already.” She whispers back.
That’s all he needs to hear and, in an instant, his lips latch on to hers. He leans into the kiss as feelings of euphoria overwhelm his body. He feels the need to have even more of her, every moment feeling like something he’s never felt before.
She moans against his lips, holding his face still as her lips meet his back. She feels a strong current of electricity pour through her body as his hands grasp her waist and move her back against the wall.
He breaks away, only far enough for his lips to graze upon hers as he speaks. “Is this what you wanted?” He grins, reconnecting them.
She hums smugly against him. “I know it’s what you’ve been wanting.”
He chuckles softly at her comment, moving down to kiss her neck. “Don’t act like you’re any better than me.” He mumbles against her skin.
She lets out a breathy laugh, holding the back of his head so his lips can press firmly to her neck. She rolls her head to rest on the wall behind her, her eyes closing shut in pleasure.
Her reactions are enough to drive him crazy. With every kiss, he draws out her soft and sweet sounds, pressing closer to her until there’s not an inch left between them. He moves down her neck, leaving behind small spots wherever his lips touch until finding his way to her collarbone to make a nibble and then back up to her ear so he can whisper to her. “Is the skirt really for me?” His voice low and quiet, just for her to hear.
She giggles at his questioning, her eyes still shut and her head resting upon the wall. “Am I not allowed to support my favorite team?” She smirks.
But he only smirks back. “I know a few ways you can support me without it,” his voice even deeper than before and his fingers trailing up her inner thigh and beneath the article of clothing.
Her smirk disappears, her eyes now looking up at him with a needy lust.
The fabric of the skirt bunches up around his wrist as he reaches higher. Her legs clench around his hand with a whimper, but his free one grasps her leg, bringing it up to his hip to allow him access again as his lips find home in her neck. “You want me, don’t you?”
Her head feels like it’s made of clouds, her fingers feeling like they’re the only things with strength in her body as they grip tightly onto his shoulders.
“Say the words.”
She closes her eyes, chest heaving. “I want you.”
He reaches for her other leg now, lifting it to his other hip and pinning her against the wall with his pelvis. The two lock lips again, before Twila finds her hips moving at their own accord, as much as her position allows her to. However, to her satisfaction, Mattheo is quick to return the gesture with his own movements.
He’d have to listen to his mind eventually, but maybe one last night won’t hurt, so long as no one finds out.
He brings her to his bed, letting her slide down his body until she’s laying down upon it, smiling up at him with an excited grin. He dives down on top of her, his hands shimmying up her legs and back beneath her skirt until finding the cotton of her undergarments where he then leaves a soft kiss before gently biting at the sensitive skin of her thighs.
She arches her back, before reaching down to pull him into another kiss, however, his hand remains between her legs. She moans into his lips, letting her hands run down the front of his shirt before slipping underneath to graze up his torso. His hands reach up to do the same to her and she nearly falls victim to it, before her mind flashes with panic.
“Wait!” She calls out suddenly.
Mattheo stares down at her in shock and concern, stopping his movements entirely. “What? What’s wrong?”
Twila calms her breathing, realizing she’s scared him now. Her eyes fill with guilt as she meets his. “Sorry, I- Can I keep my shirt on?”
He raises an eyebrow in surprise at first, but agrees quickly after, his nerves settling as he’s happy to hear that she’s alright. “Yeah, of course. Whatever makes you feel comfortable.”
She smiles at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and meeting his lips once more.
However, the look in her eyes makes him falter for a moment. He leans down to kiss her back, before something comes into his mind. His mark. He nearly forgot entirely. “Uh, as long as I can keep mine on too.”
She giggles, not thinking much about it. “That’s fine with me.”
His face gets hot. He’s nervous and excited all at once, but he keeps his composure.
“I need you, Mattheo.” She whispers, saying his name like it’s been stuck in her throat for ages.
His heart’s beats faster than it ever has, both of them ignoring the promises they gave to Jewel.
At the end of the night, Twila falls asleep with a smile still on her lips, but Mattheo can’t help but lie awake, very unsure of himself and the pain he’s brought both of his past lovers.
Of all the times he’s hurt Jewel, this would be the one to sting them both the worse. Jewel was reluctant to forgive him before, he can only hope she never finds out what they’ve done now.
He can’t keep hurting the both of them like this. He’s known from the start that anything between him and Twila cannot last, which only makes the depth of his involvement with her feel all the more painful. Shall his world ever discover her, it will without a doubt drown her before she ever realizes that it’s happening, a secret Jewel knows and has held against him for years.
He never should have trusted Jewel with his secret. He never should have become the monster he is today in the first place.
With both guilt and disconnection in his eyes, heaviness in his sigh, he picks himself up and leaves the room.
Eleven o’clock, the bell chimes with a deep ring over the Hogwarts Grounds on a particularly cold night. A couple cuddles up in a blanket seated near the flying class lawn, just beyond the Beasts classroom.
As the week passed by, Mattheo and Twila have had regular meetups, sneaking in dates when the faculty are asleep and exchanging secret kisses in empty halls. Twila feels guilty for keeping such a thing from her longest friend, but something about him is too sweet for her to let go of just yet. For now, she’ll enjoy the sweet moments while there’s still peace.
Though, she finds it weird to be around Jewel while keeping her and Mattheo a secret. It's odd knowing that they were once together. Does Jewel still have feelings for him? Just how far did their relationship get? And how long were they together?
Part of Twila feels betrayed. Sure the two of them lived on opposite sides of the globe from each other, but she had barely heard Jewel mention the Riddles at all until she arrived here. How had she never mentioned their relationship in any of their letters? For all Twila knew, Jewel only ever had her mind on Draco. So, how did Mattheo suddenly get mixed in?
The moonlight casts brightly on the students' hair, Mattheo resting his head upon hers as they sit in a peaceful silence, nothing but the sound of their breathing to fill the slowly cooling air as autumn approaches. She lets herself scoot closer to him, placing a hand on his chest and nuzzling her face into his neck for warmth. He lets his eyes calmly wander over the grounds which are decorated with small and large orange pumpkins for the season, much like the rest of the school as well. He looks down with soft eyes, noticing hers begin to close. He chuckles gently at the sight. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to your Common Room.”
She whines softly as she feels his body heat leave her side and grasps her hands instead, bringing her to a slow stand. The blankets vanish under Mattheo’s wand movements, before he leads her back through the castle towers. He brings her to that same stairway crossroad; Ravenclaw up, and Slytherin down, and bids her a goodbye and a tender kiss. She smiles as she watches the back of his head disappear down the stairs, but her fatigued mind unable to daydream about their night as she usually would. With a lazy step, she trudges forward, but stops just short of the first step.
For a moment, she feels a lingering presence near her, but when she turns around, nothing. Maybe it’s just Peeves playing his usual tricks, or maybe one of the other castle ghosts. She turns back around, foot now on the first step, but something still doesn’t feel right. It’s like a dark entity, reaching its tendril outs to touch her, to creep over her shoulder when her back is turned.
She spins one more time, gazing out into the dark halls, then she sees it. That shadow she saw that one night, following her again. She squints, but her eyes are too tired to focus in on the blackness. So, with her heart beating fast, she quickly retreats up the stairs, the eagle door slamming shut quickly behind her as she enters, locking the stalker on the opposite side. She stares at the door, heart beating faster than ever as she catches her breath.
Why is this happening to her? And who could it be? It seems she can’t catch a break.
After calming her body, she lies in bed, but her nerves are as anxious as ever. Is she in danger once more? Has someone discovered her secrets…? Or maybe she’s just paranoid again. She had similar things happen to her after… it… happened. Perhaps it's all just in her head again, bad memories coming through and causing her paranoia all over again. She had thought she healed by now, but she tries not to hold it against herself. It’s basically her first year back after all, triggers are bound to come up eventually.
She does her best to fall asleep, telling herself that nothing was really there and that she was just tired, but something still doesn’t ease her. Even through the night, she can almost feel its energy attempting to find her and break through her shield.
Eventually, the bells would chime to wake school sooner rather than later, but tomorrow would only be more difficult than Twila could imagine.
༺ ☆ ༻
Today is the day Slytherin goes up against Gryffindor in Quidditch, the resulting winner heading to the international games, which is keeping each student on their toes and itching for the hours to pass, the professors not so thrilled with having to fight so hard for the student’s attention all morning and afternoon.
The mostly empty halls echo the heels of Twila’s shoes as she paces up and down her assigned hall after breakfast, supposedly awaiting to ‘guide the first years and their many questions’ as McGonagall puts it, though she feels she’s the last person that should be guiding new students around a school she barely knows herself.
She has quickly grown tired of her prefect title, not from its responsibilities as one might think though. It seems more questions have risen, pondering how a brand new, foreign student was able to make prefect within her first month of arriving, something many other students haven’t been able to accomplish within the 7 years they’ve attended the school. Her prefect title, once a commendable accomplishment, now feels considered for impeachment, especially when mixed with her magical abilities in the classroom, or lack of more like.
Whispers spread around every room she enters, pairs of eyes watching her every move. Even the younger students have begun looking away as they pass her in the halls. The badge she has once felt honor and triumph to wear, now fills her with embarrassment. She doesn’t deserve to wear such a badge. She feels like a fraud.
She sighs, ashamed she hasn’t grown used to the feeling yet, but it only seems to get harder each day that passes.
She sadly glazes her eyes up and down the wall of magical paintings when a sudden pair of footsteps approach from behind her. She glances over her shoulder to see Draco with his usual smug look striding forward. She smirks back, putting up a strong front, so he won’t catch her face slipping to her thoughts like he had before. “Malfoy.”
“What’s your name again?” He teases with a grin. “So, what have you been up to? Other than…this… of course.” He says raising a judgmental brow at the old and dusty portraits.
She hums amusedly. “Just got back from the Prefect’s Bathroom actually.” She says, happily swaying her weight back and forth between her heels and the balls of her feet.
He immediately grimaces, amusedly squinting his eyes down at her. “Gods, I thought you were joking about that.”
“Why would I joke about a luxury bubble bath?”
“Ah yes, nothing says luxury like soaking up 20 other students' sweat residue.”
She grumbles, crossing her arms at his stubborn words. Clearly, he’s too spoiled to appreciate a work of art such as that bathroom. “Bathing is something most of us need to do, but I guess you wouldn’t know anything about that.”
He scoffs, not even taking her obviously fake insult slightly to heart. “I’m surprised you get anything done with how much time you spend with Mattheo.”
Her face drops from his sentence, as does her stomach. “What do you mean?” She asks quietly.
He rolls his eyes at her weak attempt to act oblivious. “The two of you aren’t as sneaky as you think, very obvious actually.”
Twila swallows down a lump in her throat, unable to look at him as she feels her cheeks begin to heat. “Does… Jewel know?”
The secrets are just piling up between these two. Are the two of them even actually friends? He ponders. He sighs. “I can’t say, but she will if you both keep acting like idiots.”
Twila twiddles with her thumbs in thought, and she does so long after Draco leaves her side. What if Jewel does know? She’s sure that she and Mattheo had been careful all week, how had they gotten spotted?
Her mind ponders as lunch passes and the school begins preparing for the big game, leaving most of its hall’s busy with scampering students. It’s not until Mattheo himself disrupts her thoughts that she’s able to leave her mind.
“Hey, are you alright?” He jogs up to her in the hallway, walking along with her to one of the castle’s side exits.
Her eyes light up in surprise, turning to face the boy. “Yeah, why?” She says, keeping her face blank as she pushes open the door, feeling a gust of wind brush past her. A handful of students are already gathered outside the pitch, waiting to get through to their seats for the game that will begin soon.
He falters for a moment, readjusting the strap of his backpack on his shoulder. “Well, I just thought… all the rumors…”
Twila’s stomach drops a second time today, heart already filling with panic. “What… rumors…?” She asks cautiously, but knowing exactly what he’d say. Or at least, one of few things he could say.
He shrugs nervously. “That the teachers aren’t letting you use magic in class. There’s gotta be some kind of policy against that.”
She feels the air from her lungs relax out of her airway, her muscles easing. “Yeah,” She chuckles, feeling somewhat lighter by his wording. It’s clear that whatever people are saying, Mattheo either doesn’t believe it, or he’s holding back from saying more. “I just have to turn in a few more assignments before I can, it’s nothing.” He looks at her skeptically, causing her to let out a quiet sigh, but ultimately ignoring it. “So, you excited for the game?” She purposely changes the subject.
He chuckles. “Yeah, I’m sure we’ll kick Gryffindor’s ass. Are you excited?”
“Excited to watch you win.” She grins.
They walk together out to the bright and tall pitch, the area already filled with people and noises as the students anticipate the match, loudly at that.
“I’ll see you later, cheerleader.” Mattheo winks at her with his charming smirk.
Twila smiles flusteredly at him, but just as he’s about to turn to enter the changing room, Jewel emerges from the doorway. The brunette pauses, staring between the two, but muttering nothing before standing with crossed arms. Mattheo shares a glance with Twila before following the captain inside with a huff, knowing something must be up with her today. As he disappears into the room, Jewel looks over to Twila, before entering as well and closing the door.
Twila swallows down a feeling of gut rot from Jewel’s disappointed stare. She must know. She must have found out about her and Mattheo, seen them together one too many times. What will she say to Mattheo? Will Jewel be able to forgive her at all or will today’s match be the end of their friendship?
Anxiously, Twila makes her way to the stands, placing herself at an empty spot on one of the lower benches, mind heavy once again with thoughts of stress.
Minutes later, the crowds cheer as both teams take their place on the field, adorned in their green and red uniforms. Twila focuses down on the Slytherin team. Mattheo no longer wears a smile, none of them do actually. What happened to the confidence he had while walking her here? Draco seemed fine earlier as well, and knowing his views on Gryffindor, he must have been waiting for this day all semester. So why do they all seem so grim now?
Each team member readies themselves on their brooms above the field, captains meeting in the center as the flying instructor holds the quaffle out in front of them. Words are exchanged between the two captains, before the quaffle is released into the air, signifying the start of the match.
The teams fly around in circles, chasing this, flying from that, but the winner seems unclear. As one team scores 10 points, the other does nearly immediately after, tying the scores most of the game until both teams cease to score at all. Minutes seem like hours, the score completely unmoving. The crowd gets fidgety watching Draco and the Gryffindor seeker go head to head against the snitch, both just barely grasping it. Just then, the beaters fly by them, the bludger coming quickly after and knocking into Draco’s broom, causing him to crash into the other seeker and send both straight to the ground, scraping the sand as they tumble off their brooms.
With a sigh, the announcer calls the end of the game, tied at 40 -40.
Twila can practically hear the Slytherin team groan from the other side of the field. The crowd grumbles down the steps, complaining about the long game and giving their own advice about how they personally would have won the match. However, Twila’s mind was far from quaffles and scores, her thoughts nearly as tense as the battle that just played before her eyes. She can only hope that she isn’t the cause of this.
Twila waits for most of the crowd to disperse, before cautiously heading towards the equipment tent, listening carefully in case she maybe shouldn’t enter. Her ears pick up on an argument, but the exact words are unclear. Her fingers gently creak the door open, peeking inside to see Mattheo angrily throw down his things, Jewel close behind.
“What the hell! The quaffle was right there! How could you miss it?” Jewel calls as she stomps up to the boy.
Mattheo turns around with an unbelievable look in his eyes as he hangs up his broom. “Sorry, captain.” He spits out with a certain amount of venom in his voice.
Draco doesn’t watch the scene, but allows the smallest hint of a smile to form on his face at Mattheo’s remark, but Jewel catches it and finds nothing funny about the situation. “Nice job on the snitch out there too. I see you’ve been practicing.” She snaps sarcastically.
Draco’s face quickly contorts, a mixture of confusion and disgust. “Right, and maybe you’d like to catch it yourself then. Potter didn’t exactly have it either. Should have thrown the quaffle myself. At least I could have done it,” he joins to jab back at the two of them.
There’s a thick tension in the air. However, it’s obvious to Twila that quidditch is not the real issue here.
Mattheo rolls his eyes at the both of them, grabbing his backpack and marching towards the door. Twila quickly backs up, freezing as Mattheo pushes past the exit, coming face to face with her. He holds the door, for the first time looking down at her with distance and dejection.
But the young Rookburg takes notice and marches over, pushing herself between the two as she hooks arms with Twila and carries her back towards the castle. “Come on, Twila,” she interrupts.
The boy follows after the two in an angered state of annoyance. “Can I just talk to her, please?” He raises his voice.
Jewel lets go of Twila’s limb, spinning around with wide eyes to face him. “I don’t understand why you need to.” She crosses her arms, ready to reject any and every word that’s about to come out of his mouth.
Mattheo takes a sharp inhale, looking down at her standoffish. “I can talk to her if I want to.” He’s trying hard to keep his voice calm and relaxed despite her attitude, but she makes it extremely difficult to do so.
Twila places her hands softly on Jewel’s arm. “Jewel, it’s really fine. We-”
“No, it’s not fine.” She pulls her arm away from Twila’s hand with a disgusted look. “Are the two of you going out?” She sternly asks Twila specifically, not Mattheo.
Twila looks between her friend’s eyes and the grass around them, biting at her cheek. She may hold back from saying things to Jewel, but lying is something entirely different, something she knows to be useless, especially against a Slytherin like her.
“It’s not even any of your business.” Mattheo speaks up for Twila, but Jewel doesn’t give him the satisfaction of being acknowledged into the conversation.
Twila looks to her feet with a sigh. “Yeah.” She whispers.
The girl lets out a hum. “Did he tell you we dated?” DeLuna shifts in her spot, not sure how to answer her friend anymore and not knowing which of them to even look at. Jewel lets out a dry chuckle, taking her silence as a good enough answer. “Mattheo, how did the two of us break up?” She asks, now allowing Mattheo to speak.
His rage rises in his throat, irritation building with each of her petty and controlling words. He bites at his cheek for a moment, biting back the words he really wants to say, knowing anything he says will be used against him. So, he tells her the truth that she wants to hear. “You accused me of cheating.”
“Because you did.” She corrects him, whipping her head to look at him for the first time since they left the tent.
He looks off into the distance, chewing his cheek once more, but then closing his eyes with a slow exhale. Arguing goes nowhere with her, something he learned at a young age. “Yeah, I did.”
Jewel grimaces at him before turning back to Twila. “You can have him all you want, Twila. But don’t tell me I never warned you. Believe me, it’s only the beginning.” She says, then leaves the two.
Twila stands unmoving, looking up at him with an uneasy look.
Mattheo’s stomach twists at the sight of her face. “Twila..?” She itches her arms nervously, avoiding his gaze, which only fills him with more guilt. “Twila…” He reaches for her arm, squeezing gently.
“You never told me you cheated on her.” Her voice is shaky as it speaks to him.
He swallows hard, letting go of her arms. “I didn’t know how to say it…” She looks away from him still, so he decides it’s a better time than ever to tell her the truth, since Jewel obviously has no intention of doing so. “You know that Jewel’s, like- madly in love with Draco, right?” The Ravenclaw meets his eyes hesitantly. “You know that she’s always liked him, yeah?” Mattheo makes sure to confirm that they’re on the same page, following her face with pleading eyes.
“Yeah.” She whispers.
Hearing that she’s willing to give him a chance to explain eases his stress for the moment being, so he continues. “She’s always had a thing for Malfoy, but he started dating Pansy back in 4th year, around the time before Jewel’s mom passed away, and she wanted to make him jealous. But then they broke up and once Draco was back on the market, she stopped giving a rat’s ass about me. I didn’t call things off, because I assumed we were done. Believe me, we were barely a thing to begin with. You have to believe me, she never cared about me, not after- She just never actually wanted to be with me, okay?”
Her body pauses with a shiver. She can’t pretend to not have heard his slip up. “Not after what..?” She breathes out.
He swallows, biting his lips down and mentally kicking himself. “Not after this stupid thing that happened when we were younger…” He trails off, staring down at the dewy grass. “Look, I really can’t say more, but I’m sure Jewel will tell you all about that if she really wants to.”
Twila bites her lips together, a bitter feeling swelling up in the pit of her stomach. So many secrets the two of them have to keep from one another. Perhaps things wouldn’t work between them as well as she had hoped. Maybe it’s time to finally listen to Jewel’s advice.
She follows his eyes to the same patch of grass with regret. “Jewel’s my oldest friend, Mattheo…” She barely whispers, not even wanting to say what she’s implying.
“Twila, she uses you.”
But she shakes her head. “You don’t know all the things she’d helped me through.” So many more words she could say with that, but she can’t.
He lets out a frustrated sigh. “I know that, but do you really think she sees you as her equal?”
She shakes her head once more. “It’s not up for debate. I like you, and I believe you, but I’m not losing her over this. Not when I barely know who you are and you can never tell me either.” The words pour out of her mouth faster than she can think, each word coated in hypocrisy.
Her words sting him, forcing him to look away. “I…” His voice falters, the words coming to a halt in his throat.
She thinks about all the things she felt with him. Though she meant what she said, she really doesn’t know anything about him, and yet she couldn’t help but feel an odd sense of familiarity with him, a feeling of understanding. They felt so similar, but alas she has no evidence of the truth behind this. Sure, he is exciting; Mattheo is the perfect forbidden fruit and she loves the chasing and hiding feeling. It gives her a rush… but is it enough?
Tears glaze her eyes, but she never lets them fall, biting down hard on her lip instead. She swallows down a rock hard lump in her throat, slowly backing away. “I’m sorry.” She whispers once more, before turning to pace away.
༺ ☆ ༻
‘I did it. Okay, Jewel. Whatever bad he and his family is, I promise it’s over and I want no part of it anymore. I trust you.’
The words she spoke to Jewel that night echo in her head, even when she’s trying everything to focus on the Potions book in front of her. Jewel, of course, accepted her back with open arms after apologizing for her actions towards the both of them. Then things seemed to go back to normal, at least on the outside, but on the inside a large hollow gap formed in Twila's chest, empty of thrill and excitement, and another feeling she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
She sighs, slouching in her chair, a boring day for potions class, unfortunately nothing hands on to distract her roaming mind.
“Do you plan on paying attention the entire time?”
She looks up from the textbook to tilt her head annoyedly towards Draco. “I actually want to pass our classes.”
He rolls his eyes, leaning his head back against the cobbled wall. Luckily, their table is around the corner from the professor's desk, and the bubbling of a large potion in the center of class echoed over their voices, not that Slughorn would really care if he saw them talking anyway. “Such a Ravenclaw.” He grumbles out.
She playfully rolls her eyes right back. “Whatever. I’m not a complete killjoy.”
He chuckles, leaning forward with a smug smirk. “Then I suppose there should be more Ravenclaws like you then?”
“That wouldn’t make me so special then, would it?” She asks, a growing smirk on her face.
He raises an amused brow. “Like being special, do you?”
She shrugs. Being special and different is a feeling Twila has grown quite used to in her lifetime. But special in a good and admirable way, well, that’d be something, wouldn’t it? “It’s a nice feeling every once in a while, I’ll admit.”
Draco flips through the recipe pages with a chuckle. “Nothing wrong with that. I surely can relate.”
For the first time that day, she smiled, but that still didn’t solve the loneliness that was beginning to grow in her heart. Deep down, she knew that things would catch up to her and all that she’s built up so far would come knocking on her door with questions, and if she couldn’t answer them, she’d risk losing it all over again. The thought plagues her mind. Can she even find it in herself to trust again? And who could she tell?
She stays up late, contemplating her thoughts. The secrets would begin to eat her alive if she doesn’t find someone to confide in soon, and sadly, Snape would not be enough. There is only so much she can speak to him without risking her safety. She needs someone who will accept and understand her mistakes, someone unseeing of judgment. But even then, the words fear ever escaping her lips.
༺ ☆ ༻
Ominis chuckles over a story Sebastian tells him in the Charms classroom. The morning sun shines brightly through the window, a warm welcome to start the day. However, the boy then loses his smile when the latter Slytherin immediately asks to see his page of writing as Professor Flitwick enters through the door.
“Ominis, I’m serious. I completely forgot.”
“Don’t you always.” The blond sighs, scooting over the paper.
He hears another pair of footsteps enter after Flitwick, heavier ones, so obviously someone taller than the professor. The sound travels towards him, pulling out the chair and sitting next to him. Twila, it must be. He can also tell from her subtle scent of strawberries that’s often in her perfume. But something seems off today. In fact, something seemed off with her since the Sorting Hat incident, but he chooses not to press into her private matters again.
Flitwick goes about class as he normally would, then gives them half the class time to work on their next assignment, Sebastian barely having finished the first assignment before getting this new one piled on him.
Just then, Leander, a less than liked Gryffindor, spins around on his stool to face the reserved Ravenclaw sitting behind him. “So, Twila,” he begins mischievously, “care to show us your spellwork today?” He snickers, a few joining with him.
Ominis, typically only simply annoyed by the boy, now winces at Leander’s harsh words. He and Sebastian had naturally stumbled across the gossip of their Ravenclaw classmate, but never assumed these people were bold enough to blatantly say it to her face.
She rolls her eyes at his words with a deep breath and continues with her work to not satisfy his need for attention.
Both Sebastian and Ominis frown at her response, surprised, but also know that the power behind her restraint means experience. But Leander only chuckles, amused by her response. “I didn’t expect you would,” and he turns to face the front once more.
Twila stays quiet for the rest of class, even as Leander laughs at their exchange as he exits the classroom. She slowly packs up her things, face still neutral, but her eyes vulnerable.
Sebastian has to stop himself from saying something, reminding himself that Twila’s not going after his bait for a reason and it’s best not to cause a scene, at least not yet.
Sensing her defeated form, Ominis strides to catch up to her. “Are you alright?” The words cautious as he approaches her.
She glances his way, but her eyes drop back towards the floor. “Yes, I’m fine.” Her timid voice tells a different story.
The freckled Slytherin notices Ominis give a soft pout at her lie before coming up with an idea of his own. He clears his throat. “Say, Ominis and I had plans to grab butterbeers after class. Would you like to come with us?”
Her eyes widen slightly at his offer. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude…”
With a smile, he chuckles. “You wouldn’t be intruding at all. It’d be nice to have someone new tag along.”
A small smile pulls at the side of her lip at his unexpected invitation. A distraction would be nice. Besides, she trusts the two enough. “I’ve never had butterbeer before.”
“You’ve never had butterbeer before?” Sebastian says with a mix of surprise and excitement. “C’mon, you’ll have a great time with us.”
Ominis is pleasantly surprised to already hear the lightness in her voice. “They’re fantastic. You’ll love them.” He smiles.
Twila follows the two towards the Three Broomsticks with a sudden good spirit building inside her. It’s a bit of a walk, but they make sure to keep her occupied with conversation and stories. Twila had never realized how silly the two of them are, nor how apparently rebellious Ominis can be, according to Sebastian’s tales.
Her eyes glimmer as they walk through Hogsmeade, a cute and magical town, bustling with spells and knicknacks. They push through the doors of a building that’s shaped like a giant barrel, and as they do so laughter and music hits their ears instantly. It’s a warm atmosphere, one that can draw even the most grim in with a smile.
The three seat themselves at an empty table, where they are greeted by a worker. “Something to drink?”
“Three butterbeers please.”
Only seconds after, three glasses larger than both of Twila’s hands thud down on the wooden table, froth spilling over the sides. She eyes the drink curiously before leaning down to sniff it, its butterscotch and toffee like scents filling her nose immediately. She then takes both her hands to lift the chilled glass to her lips and takes a sip. The creamy flavor is first to touch her tongue, causing her to hum happily. When she sets the glass down, a small dollop of foam lingers on the tip of her nose, which she quickly rubs off using her sleeve. The three share a laugh, the boys happy to already see the girl’s mood become lighter just from the drink.
“So, how do you like the butterbeer?” Ominis chuckles out.
“It’s wonderful!”
They laugh with relief, each taking sips of their own butterbeers.
Glass now half empty and lips sticky from the bubbly beverage, Twila places the mug back down on the table. “So, how long have the two of you been friends?”
They both smile at the question. “We’ve been friends for quite a while. I think about 6 or 7 years now, right Sebastian?”
“Basically since the first day of school. We’ve been inseparable since.”
“Most of the time anyway.”
Twila can’t help but giggle anytime their casual bickering shows up in conversation. It reminds her of how she talks with Draco.
“So, Twila, what was life like in the U.S.?” Sebastian perks his arm up on the table, leaning into it as he sips his drink.
She smiles at his question. "Um, it was good, I guess. I live in the South, it's a very magical and colorful place and I miss it a lot. I have a friend there named Cirilo. He's a very... interesting wizard." She chuckles nervously.
Sebastian chuckles back. “How so?”
A blush forms on her cheeks. There are many things she can’t say about her friend back home. She purses her lips at her inability to just keep her mouth shut. “Um, he’s a collector of sorts.”
Ominis takes a sip of his butterbeer in silence, listening to the two speak.
“Well, what does he collect then? Come on, you have me interested now.” Sebastian leans in, face wide with a smile.
Twila laughs at Sebastian. “Gods, anything he can find really. I don’t even know the extent of it.” Vague, but a very true statement.
Sebastian chuckles slightly, taking another sip while staring down at the table with a thought. As he sets it down, he looks back over at Twila examining the way she speaks of the man. “So, is Cirilo, like… a special friend…?"
Twila nearly chokes on her drink, immediately setting down her glass. “Oh, no no. It’s not like that.” She clears her throat, hoping to get the rogue liquid from dripping into her windpipe. “We’re just friends.”
Sebastian smiles at her response, thinking she seems quite flustered at the assumption. “Just friends? Are you sure? Because you were blushing quite a bit there.”
Ominis furrows his brows at Sebastian’s behavior. He knows what he’s doing, remembering their little bet they made at the beginning of the school year. Ominis had nearly forgotten about it until now, and after becoming closer to Twila he realizes just how wrong it truly was.
She chuckles once more, blush brightening. “No, I promise. It’s not like that between him and I.”
Sebastian studies her for a moment. “Hmm… I don’t believe you.”
She can’t hold back her laughter anymore. “Well, I hope you start. Cirilo doesn’t date girls.”
Now it’s Sebastian’s turn to choke on his drink. “Oh.” He tries to think of ways to get himself out of the embarrassment of pestering her about the idea of liking someone that is completely uninterested in her. “So, there’s no one you have a crush on then? U.S. or Hogwarts?”
She blushes lightly, holding back the urge to drop her smile at the question, thoughts of Mattheo subconsciously swarming her mind. “No one at the moment…”
His eyes narrow at Ominis, barely holding back his offense. “What? We’re just having a joke.” He attempts to laugh it off.
“We should head back to the castle.” Ominis suddenly orders, standing up from his chair and not letting Sebastian have another word.
The blond is met with a glare from the other side of the table. “Fine.” Sebastian grumbles, standing with him.
The walk back is awkwardly silent, all the way until Twila parts ways with them and returns to her common room. Only then does one of them speak up about what happened back in the restaurant.
“What the hell was that about?” Sebastian questions immediately once in the dark of the Slytherin dorms.
Ominis walks forward, basically disregarding the boy’s words. “I don’t want to speak about it.”
But Sebastian marches closely behind. “You surely wanted to in front of Twila. What’s changed now?”
“The deal is off. No more trying to ‘woo’ her.” He responds irritatedly, as if it should be obvious to the other.
Sebastian stops in his tracks, eyes narrowed in utter confusion at his friend's odd behavior. “What?! Why?”
“I’m done talking about this, Sebastian. The deal is over.”
Masterlist
Previous | Next
Warnings: Character death
-
“Come, Rodakina.”
A small, orange colored rabbit follows the girl through the woods, its coat nearly as bright as the child’s own curly hair.
Arali loves the tiny creature, almost as much as she loves all creatures, and has spent much time with it since she was only a small toddler. They loved to go everywhere together, going on many short adventures around the castle with one another. Her rabbit is the first thing the girl ever learned to love and nurture and she has followed such feelings ever since.
She has much in common with her Rodakina. A small rabbit is what the young girl has come to look like in the eyes of the gods. Though, Arali’s youthful mind is too oblivious to understand the insult, only focusing on how flattering it is to be compared to such an adorable little animal. However, she is not oblivious to the tone in which the other gods tend to say this to her, but she does her best not to think about it.
Arali is currently on one of her daily adventures, hoping to find an interesting branch or an odd colored rock. Though, it seems she has lost track of time, as night begins to fall over the head of the trees.
As a panic rises over her, she lifts her bunny to her chest, petting its soft fur to calm her nerves. Her mother would be looking for her soon and she would not take kindly to discovering that her Asgardian friend had taught her a handful of new tricks, like sneaking through the castle doors or adventuring without advising.
She turns to make her way back to the palace, but instead sees something aglow in the distance. Slowly, she stalks towards it, clutching her furry friend closer. A large blue willow tree stands in the center of the forest, its vines thick as if to heavily conceal something important underneath. Arali has never come across this before.
Pushing past the leaves, Aralia is met with a large tree stump, overhead are the willow branches, floating in place above the detached stump. Surrounding it is a small pond that illuminates her small form with a cyan hue. Feeling brave and curious, she lifts her dress, wading through the sallow water to the center stump. Upon reaching it, she finds a rock glimmering with an orange shine as it floats above the wood.
Enchanted, she sets Rodakina on a dry area on the sides of the tree stump, stepping closer to further examine the rock. She extends her arms, reaching for it, the rock illuminating even brighter as she tiny fingers draw closer and closer, bewitched by the sight, its orange glow shining in her green eyes.
As her hands hover beneath it, she gets a mild sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Confused, she almost pulls away, almost, but her curiosity gets the better of her and she pushes the feeling aside.
Just as she reaches it, the rock falters in the air, before dropping into her hands. Then, just like that, the forest goes completely black; the rock, nor the water bringing light to her eyes any longer.
“Rodakina!” she calls in fear, searching for her friend in the pitch dark. She pats the dry area surrounding the stump, but she is all alone.
Quickly, with tears in her eyes, she stomps back through the water, but it seems that it has extended and grown deeper than she last remembers. She grasps the stone tightly, holding it high above her head, as the water somehow reaches her chest, then her chin, before engulfing her entirely. Her lungs fight for air as she panics through the black water. Her feet kick, finding no trace of mud beneath it. Her arms flail forward, but her eyes can only hope that she is moving at all. Then, a miracle strikes and she finds her hands coming in contact with a patch of grass just within her reach. She pulls on the fragile blades, hurling herself out of the water and onto the forest floor once more.
Out of breath, she knows not what to do, but to run as far from the tree as possible. Her small bare feet pace through the trees, just barely missing their bulging and tangled roots. The tears from her eyes wash away with the lake water, soaking her white gown.
Arali breaks through the entrance doors, rock still in hand. She bolts for her room, but is only met with the sight of her mother sitting upon her bed waiting for her there. In a panic, Arali does the only thing she can think to do; she throws the orange stone in her mouth, holding it in place with her tongue. Her heart beats faster than ever, her small brain still processing the many recent events as her mother looks up to gaze down at her child.
“Where have you been, Arali? I was worried. And why are you soaking wet?” The Goddess Mother exclaims, standing from her spot.
She shrugs.
Gaia moves closer to her child, cautiously examining her. It is unlike Arali to be so quiet and it is clear to Gaia that there is a glint of fear in Arali’s eyes, not to mention her racing heart and out of breath lungs. “Are you alright?” She questions, her own heart beating anxiously.
She nods.
Gaia places her hands on her hips. It seems she will not get her daughter to budge tonight, but perhaps the morning will reveal her secrets. “Alright. Well then, let’s get you changed and cleaned up.”
Her mother strolls past her, expecting her to follow, but just as she turns, Arali quickly spits out the orange rock and hides it beneath her pillows. Something feels dangerous about the stone. She has to keep it a secret.
-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-
Arali paces back and forth in front of the window in the empty throne room. Rain droplets glide down the glass, as she stares into the gray sky. She never did see Rodakina again after that night and she knows not how to explain the incident to her mother, who has asked repeatedly what had happened to her friend. The only thing she can think to say is that it ran away, but she deeply misses having a loving companion by her side.
“Mama, when will Thor and Loki come back to visit?”
Gaia sighs from her seat by the window, placing down her book to instead gaze over at Arali’s sorrowful face. “Thor and Loki will not be coming back for a while.”
“Why?” Arali asks instantly, turning around in shock. Fear swarms in the child’s eyes, threatening to leak out upon hearing the news.
Her mother bites her lips together, debating how much to tell the young girl. “There are bad things happening outside these castle walls, my dear. It is unsafe for us to leave, and for our allies to visit. We must remain here for the time being, and they in Asgard.”
The young princess drops her face, looking to the ground, unsure of what to make of her mothers words. “You promise to finally read me that story tonight?” She cautiously asks, subconsciously aware of her mother’s weariness and desire to change the subject.
Gaia smiles lightly, “Of course, little one,” but there is much sadness hidden beneath her smile tonight.
The Earth goddess holds Arali’s hand guiding her to her bedroom. She sets her on the bed, holding both of her hands now, while looking into her eyes. “Stay here for a moment, I will be right back.” But instead of leaving right away, she holds her young one's face, cupping her puffy cheeks. Aralia furrows her eyebrows at her mothers odd behavior, but lets her hold her nonetheless. Gaia smiles at this, playing with a loose curl that had fallen into Arali’s face, before sighing and standing to make her way to the door. She turns one last time to gaze at her child, before finally exiting the room.
Arali sits, waiting patiently for her mother’s return. Her mother promised to read her the new book, and Arali is determined to hear it. It takes nearly an hour of waiting to pass before Arali decides she has had enough. How dare her own mother lie to her like that? Arali is sure her mother thought she would fall asleep while waiting for her and instead went off to have fun. Well, Arali wants to join the fun as well.
She jumps out of her bed, her feet landing with a loud crash. No, that couldn’t have been her feet that made that sound. But before she can give it a second thought, she cowers at the sound of screaming coming from the front of the castle.
Deciding to be brave like her friends, Thor and Loki, she hesitantly opens her door and makes her way out into the hallway. The palace smells different and the air is gray and foggy. The castle walls look bare and more empty than usual, the very ground feeling unsteady and unreliable. Something strange is about tonight. Arali pushes forward despite her fear and runs to the front of the palace, but soon realizes maybe she should not have.
A tall, muscular man stands in the center of the stone yard, confidently climbing the grand stairs. Though he is not nearly as big as her Titan brothers and sisters, Arali can’t help but cringe in fear when the man speaks. His voice booms across the lands as the sky flashes with light and roars with thunder, a frightening sight for any young one.
He notices the small child quivering in the distance and his eyes squint with a new sense of determination. He nods towards her and two hoplites stand behind her, pushing her forwards towards him. It is now that she notices her mother on the ground at the man’s feet. Her dress is ripped and torn, and her skin is stained with cuts and purple patches.
But then, the man leaves Gaia’s side and slowly marches to the young goddess. Arali shakes as her neck bends to look up at the man. “A small orange stone, do you have it, little one?” His blaring, menacing voice asks.
Arali knows what he is asking for, but seeing the fear in her mothers eyes in the distance makes her quite unsure of how she should answer. Luckily, Gaia knows her child quite well and speaks. “Please Arali, bring it to Zeus,” She confirms. Arali gulps at her mother’s defeated expression, but nods.
Zeus commands the two hoplites once more, “Follow her, but do not touch the stone.”
With that, Arali leads them back to where she should have stayed hiding, locked away in the safety of her room. She lifts her pillows to reveal an orange glow that fills the room with a powerful energy. She slowly grabs it, her fingers doing little to conceal the light that emerges from it, and brings it back outside. She approaches Zeus once more, her shaky fragile hands presenting him the item, which is barely any smaller than her two palms.
Zeus hums in satisfaction, reaching down to take the stone, but just before his hands can make contact, The Goddess Mother cries out. “Zeus, stop this! The stone demands a sacrifice, it won’t work for you.” Gaia shouts to him, causing his actions to pause.
The man, Zeus, ponders for a moment, a slight grin on his face as he peers over his shoulder at The Goddess Mother, but her words do not stop him for long however. Without a single thought more, he takes the stone from the girl's hands, the mighty glow ceasing upon his touch. He then presses the stone into the grand sword in his other hand, a perfect slot fixed into the metal to hold just an item as this, as he walks back to The Goddess Mother. “I am aware.” Is all he says, turning back to the hoplites with a demanding glare. “Bring her.”
Arali screams as she tries to run to her mother, hoping to make it to her before Zeus can, but the two hoplites grab a hold of her arms before she can run away. Her mother calls out her name raspily, but it does nothing to release her from the guards grasps. The man of lightning towers above Gaia, the creator of all the gods of Olympia. His sword is raised high in the air, flashing the sky with powerful white streaks as he yells a powerful battle cry. Arali uses all her strength to pull her arms away, jaw hanging open as the hoplites guide her past her mother. “Never forget you are a Titan.” Gaia yells with a calm dread in her voice, before she succumbs to the sword. With that, her mother’s eyes fall and her head drops, hanging lifelessly from her two shoulders.
A soldier throws the girl into his arms, holding down her legs to halt her kicking while she continues to thrash and cry, her eyes never leaving her mother’s fallen body. The hoplite walks her away from the scene, as she watches the rest of her empire burn before her, her family slain and her palace dust, nothing left but her memories of a once sacred home.
The soldiers take the child to the new kingdom, one that is built in the skies. Arali, under other circumstances, would have gawked in awe at the giant, gold and white palace that floats above the clouds, it is ethereal after all, but instead, the sight leaves her ill. The new castle is burdened with gray, stormy skies, dreaded with anger and hatred. This is no home.
Eventually, Zeus marches with her and the soldiers. The stone now glowing in the sword which drips with a thick crimson liquid. The God begins speaking with a powerful looking woman that Arali has never seen before. She is blonde and tall, just as regal as Zeus. Though, Arali doesn’t catch most of their words, for she is busy glaring at Zeus with a fueled hatred and lust for revenge.
“She is of direct descent from The Goddess Mother.”
“She is a child, and evidently does not possess any gifts. She is small and weak. It is nothing to freight over, Hera, my love.”
The woman, Hera, stares at the child, and the child stares back. “We cannot afford the chances. She should be dead with the rest of them. See to it.” She demands, before storming off, sandals clicking through the dark marbled hall.
Zeus watches her go, before turning back to the child, however with a plan of his own. “Guards, take her away.”
The lightness in his voice both confuses and fills Arali with fear, but before she can think on it further, the two men take her arms in their hands, sharing a hidden understanding of their king’s demand.
Arali’s heart pounds as she only continues to thrash and cry. She is brought up a pair of poorly lit stairs to a dim and damp area of the castle, a lone room awaiting at the top. They stand in front of a thick metal door, one that looms above Arali’s small frame. A guard pulls out a long key, slipping it into a small port in the door with a metallic click. He presses his shoulder into the door and slowly pushes it open with a grunt. Once opened, the guards both push her inside, causing her to stumble to the ground.
Tears pour down Arali’s face as she reluctantly accepts her own doom, expecting them to slay her in a similar fashion to her mother, but to her surprise they slam the door behind her. She looks up at the door as the key switches back in place, unknowing that they would leave the lock to stay for decades to come.
Multiple hard knocks awaken the girl from her slumber with a jolt. Her heart pounds with every worst case scenario as she flops out of bed, her blanket, of course, deciding at this exact moment to get wrapped around her ankle and nearly trip her on her way to the door. She swings open her dorm door with heavy breaths, kicking the blue blanket angrily to the side, only to peer down at a pair of first years.
“They put frogs in the lavatory!” The shorter one yells, despite only being a few inches away.
Twila takes a slow blink, allowing time for her brain to catch up to speed and wrap around what’s happening just now.
“Come quickly!”
She lazily drags behind the two girls out of the common room and downstairs to the nearest girls bathroom. The prefect rubs her eyes with a groan as the sunlight hits her face from a window on the closest wall, but she stops at the sound of a ribbit.
Ribbit Ribbit
She drops her hands, staring at the wooden door with caution. She looks to the two girls, who only part way for her as she walks forward. Twila places a hand on the door, already able to feel the chaos without even needing to see it. With a deep breath, she pushes the door open, coming face to face with green and yellow toads flying back and forth, and up and down across every feasible surface. The last thing she expected this morning was a trip to a swampy bathroom, quite literally this time.
A particularly large toad launches forward through the door frame, causing the three girls to scream as they jump out of its path. Unfortunately, a handful of the amphibians take inspiration from this and follow suit, causing them to spill out into the halls, now gaining the attention of other nearby students.
“Cast Evanesco on them, I forgot my wand.” Twila says with a groan, tiptoeing around the small creatures.
The two first years look at her in shock at her request to cast a fifth year level transfiguration spell on the toads, but they try their hardest anyway. But Twila hardly notices their struggles, especially not when a certain blond prefect is laughing his ass off at the end of the hall.
“Malfoy.” She grits her teeth, approaching with a less than happy expression.
The boy puts on the best innocent face he can muster through his suppressed laughter, eyes feigning surprise as she stops in front of him. “Oh, hello, Twila. How are we this morning?” The two other boys, Blaise and Theo, snicker from beside him.
Twila crosses her arms. “Oh, just great actually.” She responds sarcastically.
Draco keeps himself from smiling. “I’m glad you’re doing well. What’s got you out of bed this morning?” He says taking a moment to peek down at her sweater and plaid pajama shorts in contrast to all the black cloak uniforms surrounding her.
She takes note of this as well, but pretends not to care. “Just out for my usual morning stroll.” Her voice still drips with sarcasm, making it clear she knows exactly who's behind this situation.
The blond puts on a dumb smile, nodding his head in revelation. “I see. I’m sure it’s wonderful taking a stroll this early in the morning.”
“Oh, it’s just my favorite. The things you see, you know?” Twila matches him with an equally fake smile.
The urge to laugh is quite a challenge for Draco at this point. “Oh, I totally get what you’re saying. You really get to see nature in a whole new way. Truly the highlight of every morning.”
“Emphasis on the nature part.”
A hint of aggression surfaces in her voice in her last sentence, but Draco decides to push her just a little bit further. “Right. So, why are there toads in the bathroom anyway?”
“Draco, I’m gonna kill you.”
A small chuckle finally escapes his throat, finding himself very amused at how this plan worked out. “Now, now, Twila. Don’t you think that’s a bit of an overreaction. It’s just a few lousy toads.”
She groans dramatically, turning away to see that the first years managed to clean up all the toads by now. Then, she raises a warning finger at him. “I’m going back to sleep. Leave me alone.” She warns, but he can see the small smirk pull at her lips before she walks away.
Unfortunately for Twila, she has no choice but to stay up now. Classes will start too soon and she still has yet to get dressed. Lucky for her, the day would go on as any normal Wednesday would. Care of Magical Creatures with the girls. Charms with Celia, Ominis, and Sebastian. History of Magic, where she is unfortunately dragged behind Jewel the entire time without the ability to mutter as much as a single word to Mattheo, who Jewel makes sure to sit on the other side of the room from.
Arithmancy, however, is odd this time around.
She sees him again, Tom. She’s alone for the first time today and stuck in a room with the very person everyone has now told her to stay away from. Even his own brother has warned her against him. She keeps hearing Mattheo’s words play out in her head from last night. As much as she’s been told to feel scared of him, she only feels frustration. Why won’t anyone give her an explanation? People love to get on her back for her secrets and yet everyone seems to be doing the same to her. Is she just supposed to trust that she’s currently sitting 10 feet from the most ‘vile’ man in the school just because of a few rumors? Sure he doesn’t seem like the most talkative and friendly of people, but Twila is no stranger to being seen as the weird outcast. Then again, Mattheo and Draco never did tell her that Tom’s dangerous per se... So maybe there’s another reason they want her to stay away.
Regardless, she decides to be adamant about avoiding his gaze, just in case.
༺ ☆ ༻
Annoying Draco during dinner is a new favorite pastime for the girls, much to his dismay, especially while his other friends like Blaise and Theo are present. Though, Draco just learns to ignore the girls until dinner ends at this point.
“Ready?” Twila suddenly greets him.
The girls stop themselves from exiting the Great Hall, looking back at their friend as she stands in front of Draco. “Aren’t you coming, Twila?” Jewel asks.
“Can’t.” She smiles fakely. “Draco and I are assigned to the clock tower tonight.”
Draco’s brows furrow at this, before his face drops in remembrance. “Damn.” He mutters under his breath. He stands with a sigh. “Let’s get this over with, Ravenclaw.”
He grumbles his way out of the Great Hall, not bothering to wait for Twila as she walks not too far behind him. As the commotion of the dining area dies out, their footsteps echo throughout the greater silence of the giant halls. She rolls her eyes at him. “Don’t act so grim. I don’t exactly wish to spend my night like this either.”
He laughs fakely at this, continuing forward as he speaks to her over his shoulder. “I’ll try my best, but I’m not exactly feeling peppy and cheerful tonight.”
She scoffs. “Oh, trust me, I know the feeling. You wouldn’t believe the morning I had.” She says through gritted teeth, eyes narrowing at the back of the boy's head as they make their way up the endless stairs.
Now his smirk turns genuine.
As the sun finally sets, the two students find themselves surrounded by incredibly sized spinning cogs, and grinding metal gears. The area is dimly light, only allowing the shine of the moon that comes through a giant stained glass clock face, embroidered with golden roman numerals. About a hundred winding, wooden stairs lead down to the cemented floor of the courtyard, a multiple ton pendulum swinging just above it. It swooshes and creaks with every literal second that passes by, filling the strangely eerie room with its sound.
Twila stares up and down between the high ceiling, and the low drop beneath them, taking in each metallic whir with a sigh. “So, this is our night?” She asks rhetorically, looking around with already bored growing eyes as the two of them stand in the tower shaped grandfather clock.
Draco’s eyes try their best to make out their surroundings in the darkness of the tower, looking for nothing in particular. “I suppose it is.” He says just as dull as he is feeling. With a sigh, he makes his way to a nearby wall and leans against it lazily. “Can’t get much worse than this.” He mutters.
Though, Twila already finds herself too busy with something to hear him. Her feet step down to the next level, walking over to the clock face. Patterns of blues and yellow reflect down onto her face, the moon’s light overtoning her and the room with a pale coloring. She stands on the stone frame, coming close enough to run her fingers along the thick, cold glass.
He watches her from across the platform with narrowed, but just as curious of eyes, feeling almost annoyed that she isn’t paying attention to him.
She walks slowly across the wooden planks, hands behind her back, but her head high as she searches the tower for something she’s never seen before. The night will feel slow, that’s for sure, but she is persistent on entertaining herself however possible, even if it means finding joy in the little things. She also can’t help but notice how dead, yet private this part of the castle is. She’ll have to remember this for another time.
Draco taps his foot, twiddling with his fingers as each creaking sound of her footsteps against the floorboards only pushes him further into his irritation. As Twila returns to their original level, she passes by him once more, still allowing silence to fill the space between them and continues exploring the castle with a light hum of a song. Draco lets out a deep breath, watching her in the corner of his eyes. Suddenly, she stops short in front of a new hallway, standing on her tiptoes in an attempt to look down it. Draco pushes himself off the wall and takes a small and quick peek down the hall as well, but returns to his previous bored stance before she can notice. But before Draco can even get comfortable again, Twila is carelessly making her way down the hall, leaving him and the designated patrol area behind.
Naturally, this earns a groan from the blond, making him get back up again and follow her annoyedly. “And where the hell do you think you’re going?” He confronts angrily, only a few steps behind her.
However, he quickly finds that Twila’s curious nature makes her completely unfazed by his attitude and that she is too unapologetic to care. “What’s that room?” A large wooden door at the end of the hall stares back at the girl, its frame marbled with intricate designs.
“Are you always this damn nosey? For god’s sake, you’re like a cat.” He huffs as he now stands beside her before his face twists with a mocking grimace as he recognizes the door in front of them. “It’s a bathroom.”
“Why is it so fancy?”
“It’s for prefects.”
“So… we get our own special bathroom…?”
“Yes, you get to share your own personal bathroom with the other 20 prefects. Now are you done fantasizing about the toilets?”
She stares at the door for a moment again. It can’t just look like any old bathroom if it has to be locked away from the other hundreds of students. There has to be something different. “Well, hell, I wanna see what’s in there!”
“It’s a toilet! Can we please go back to doing our job?”
He watches in disbelief as she silently crosses her arms. With a sigh and shake of his head, he looks away, ready to guide them back into the clock tower.
“No.”
Then, she’s racing down the hall, her school robes fanning out behind her as she paces towards the door.
Draco has half a second of amazement before he’s chasing right after her. She pushes open the door, not bothering to wait for the boy behind her, and letting it nearly slam in his face before he catches it with the palms of his hands just before. She’s met with the unexpected, looking around in awe at the giant, pool-like bathtub in the center of the room, lined with about a hundred gold faucets. The walls stand with plenty of paintings and golden panel moulding and trims, but the pool is the real eye catcher here. Definitely not any old bathroom.
“Are you done obsessively haunting the bathroom now?”
Twila is certain she’ll turn into a mermaid in here. “Just a bathroom, Draco? This is insane!” Her jaw hangs open as she, obviously, has to touch every single golden and shiny faucet in sight, leaving tiny finger prints on each one. “I’m going to spend every night here.”
“You’re absolutely mad, you know that, right?”
She’s now on her knees, swishing her hands back and forth across the warm water’s surface, watching as ripples trail behind her fingertips. However, she cautiously retreats her hand as she realizes the depth of the water. Would something be underneath? This is a wizarding school afterall. She half expects a dragon to pop out from underneath the bath water. She eyes down into the dark water with squinted eyes, awaiting something magical.
He rolls his eyes at her odd fascination, fighting off the very, very small part of him that almost wants to join her. However, he decides that enough is enough and speaks up one last time before he’s going to decide to leave her behind. “Can we be done now? Have you seen enough toilets to be satisfied until tomorrow?”
“Fine.” She huffs as she shakes the water from her hands, standing from her place off the floor. They exit the room together and make their way back down the portrait lined hall, at least 50 or so paintings moving to watch them as they approach the clock tower once more, but instead of its usual hums and ticks, they hear a clamoring coming from the stairs above.
“Will you just listen to me!”
“That’s enough! I know what I’m doing.”
Draco immediately recognizes both of the voices, but Twila can only pick up Mattheo’s. Soon enough, two boys come stomping down the stairs, still heated from their argument when they spot Draco and Twila standing together. Twila suddenly makes direct eye contact with Tom as his eyes fill with surprise then determination as he marches up to the two of them. “And just what are the two of you doing out?” He says menacingly.
Draco scoffs quietly under his breath. “We’re partoling.” He answers simply.
However, before another word can be said, they hear two more voices come from beneath their wooden platform.
“Sebastian, this is a bad idea.”
“Come on, Ominis. Not even just one round? I know you know how to duel, despite how often you deny it.” The second boy says with a laugh as he looks around at all the Crosswands dueling equipment.
Tom’s head spins as he glares down beneath them into the courtyard. He lets out a hum, murmuring something quietly. Then, in an instant, he’s making his way down the stairs, ready to scold the two boys below. The other three stare at one another before following only feet behind him, curious how the scene will play out. Tom stands before Ominis and Sebastian, who both are equally as frightened as they are confused to see the room suddenly as full as it is. And just before Tom can speak, he is yet again interrupted by even more company. The group continues to grow as one blonde, one red head, and one brunette pile in through the door, laughing while carrying a familiar, but forbidden object.
The three girls freeze in place as they see the room as already more than occupied, eyes wide and alert, especially noting that Tom is in the room. Nervously, Penelope swishes the object behind her back with a stressed laugh. “Hey, girl.” She greets Twila with a stiff wave.
The boys turn to look between her and the American in either confusion or annoyance, causing Twila’s pores to start to sweat with nerves. “Hey.” She greets back quietly, unsure if she should dare move a muscle right now or not. Regardless of fear or not, Tom is Head Boy and therefore in charge of everyone in the room, including Twila and Draco even as Prefects, and something tells Twila that Tom is more than willing and able to use that power.
But then, a wide and confident smile appears on Jewel’s face. She steps forward, the clacking of her kitten heels making heads turn back towards her. “Damn,” She starts, having the bravery to waltz to the center of the circle. “You said you were patrolling the clocktower. I didn’t expect… all of this.” Jewel seems to be the only one unfazed and unintimidated by the situation at hand, not caring one bit that Tom is present. She immediately walks to Twila, standing between her and the boys as a shield. “So, what’s going on here?” She asks no one in particular, staring down the familiar men.
“You’re all out past curfew, is what.” Tom spits out, but his eyes seem to be directed at Jewel more than anyone, glaring at her with what Twila could almost sense as hatred, which only flourishes the questions in her head. Penelope shifts in her spot, making an echoed scrape sound with her shoes and drawing Tom’s attention once more. “What do you have?” He demands, peering down at the large leather object that peeks around her legs.
“Nothing.”
“How dumb do you truly think I am, Gryfindor? I could go straight to Dumbledor with this.” He threatens with his face ever so serious.
Penelope crosses her arms in annoyance. “Well, can you do it in about 10 minutes? I went through hell to get this.” And just like that, she unveils the stolen Sorting Hat and places it upon her head, caring less if the room sees it now. While completely ignoring the Slytherin’s, Penelope smiles widely as she looks up at the brim of the hat. The Sorting Hat’s face scrunches to life, its rim moving in a wave-like manner as it makes its assessment. “Miss Cassoway, you must be tired of this by now.” It speaks out loud to her. “You are still a Gryfindor and just as much of a nuisance as you were the first time you stole me.”
She disappointedly removes the hat with a visible pout, before looking around for the next victim.
“‘Nelope, you really should put that back.” Jewel warns but with a laugh in her voice, still watching as she passes it on to Celia now.
“Yeah, you should really listen to your leader.”
“Shut up, Malfoy.”
The hat relaxes as it’s placed on Celia's head. “Miss Mulberry, you are just as bright as I remember and your kindness is ever growing, but not all deserve your patience, remember this.” Celia’s face drops in contemplation at the object's unexpectedly deep words. She has an idea what this can mean, but she is quiet to reveal it to the group, choosing instead to remain silent and let her friends do as they will.
Sebastian and Ominis stand with their jaws slightly hanging open, beyond overwhelmed at the amount of things that have taken place in the last minute or so. They are unfamiliar with most of the people in the room and debate sneaking away while everyone’s distracted, but they both know it is likely Tom will notice.
Penelope is still just as ecstatic and skips over to bring the hat to Twila now. The ravenclaw feels a huge rush of embarrassment from the whole ordeal, seeing as the boys are less than amused as they watch the red head carelessly throw around the stolen object. “Penelope, please,” her voice at a whisper.
“Oh, it’ll just be quick, then I’ll go return it or whatever.”
The large hat is surprisingly light on her head, she hardly recalls her first meeting with the object even if it was only a few months ago.
“Ah, Twila DeLuna. I remember you.” The hat sounds as if it were smiling as it speaks this to her. Twila holds her arms insecurely as everyone’s eyes watch her and the hat’s interaction. “The intelligence and creativity of a Ravenclaw, the charm and ambition of a Slytherin; a dangerous and confusing combination indeed. You are a powerful witch, Miss DeLuna. People will either respect or fear you; it is your choice to make.”
Twila’s eyes widen at the hat’s words and quickly reaches up to remove it from her head. “What a silly little thing.” She laughs it off and hands the sentient object back to Penelope with her cheeks bright red with fluster and insecurity.
“Are you done playing dress up now?” Draco suddenly speaks up to the girls, but keeps Twila in the corner of his eye, giving her a once over from the hat’s statement.
Penelope rolls her eyes, exiting the room with the hat in hand while Celia follows quickly behind. Jewel takes a slow look at some of the boys, before linking arms with Twila and leading her forward and out without another word, only a small smirk on her face.
The boys stand silently and awkward in the slightly less crowded room, when Tom then clears his throat. He takes one glare around the room, then just like that, he’s gone as well.
༺ ☆ ༻
Twila tries her best to shake off the hats’ words from last night, but deep down she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it since. They’re not new words for her, she had been told similar ones when it first assessed her before coming to Hogwarts, but they still have her just as troubled.
She pulls on a dark blue, long sleeve shirt, popping her black robes over it as she paces out the door to D.A.D.A. She plops in her usual seat with a short sigh, allowing herself to catch her breath after descending the many, many stairs of her common room’s tower.
“You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.” Draco studies her face with a fake look of disgust.
She turns to him unamused, before letting out a quiet groan, continuing to remove her books from her bag. But before they can speak any further, Snape calls for the students' attention, briefing them with a small history lesson before he prepares them with a spell.
“Wands. Up.” He demands, looking down upon the sitting students.
Draco grabs his wand as instructed with a huff, lazily and boredly leaning back against his chair as he awaits for the professor's next word.
“Twila.” Snape suddenly says. She raises her head to meet her professor’s eyes, everyone else's now on her as well. Snape tilts his head towards the back of the room. With a small gulp, Twila embarrassingly stands, taking a seat in an empty desk near the back with her book, where she then begins writing, trying hard to ignore the judgemental and assuming gazes she can practically feel on her.
Twila’s heart beats quickly but she attempts to tune it out through her writing, but her shaky pen proves difficult. She knows she’ll get an earful of this after class and she needs to think of an excuse as soon as possible. Of course this would happen now. She saw this coming, she made a deal after all. But for Snape himself to embarrass her like this after everything she’s told him. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel completely humiliated right now, especially with Malfoy watching.
Draco watches her with curious and confused eyes. Professor Snape raises his wand, the other students following. Draco does so cautiously, but his head never turns to face away from Twila. He squints, as if to try and question her with his eyes. He is the last person Twila wanted to have to see this, let alone explain it to. Twila attempts to warn him away, but she is too late, Professor Snape loudly slaps his hand on Draco’s book to snap his attention forward once more. Snape’s eyes flicker over to Twila for a brief second, almost threatening her with something, before turning back to his class.
Nearing the end, Snape, for once, lets the class pack up early, but only because he has reason to. “Two rows on my desk by the beginning of next week, all of you.” The class leaves with moans and groans of protest, but Snape thinks little of it. He picks something from his desk, walking it over to Twila in silence. She takes the envelope in his hand cautiously as he walks away, his long cloak making him appear as if he’s gliding across the floor.
She reads it quickly, making sure to shield it from any lookers, then walks out into the hall, of course, a certain boy already waiting for her just outside the door, ready to walk her to Potions. “What was that all about?” Draco questions.
“It’s just new student things.” She says with a sigh, tucking away the letter.
He rolls his eyes. “About? Have you opened the envelope? What is it?”
Twila groans in exhaust. It’s just like when they first met all over again. “It’s a love letter from your father.” She responds sarcastically.
He lets out an annoyed chuckle. “Come on, be honest with me.”
“It’s nothing, Draco.” She says, her tone growing slightly impatient now. She has enough going on, she doesn’t need his prying on top of it.
Twila’s eyes squint, noticing traffic outside the Potions’ door. She peeks over the shoulder of one of her classmates, eyeing what Professor Slughorn has in store. Each student that walks through the Potions’ door is handed a tray assorted with different ingredients.
“Ah, here you go. You two will work together. And same for you two.”
Professor Slughorn hands Twila a tray, pointing her and Draco together as they enter the room. Draco responds with a quick ‘ugh’ before picking out a table for them near the window. “Come on, DeLuna. This way.”
He reads the instructions, purposefully only giving her a handful of tasks he thinks she’ll be able to handle while he does the rest. He pours in a vile of a purple liquid, mixing the pot while he reads the next step again. In the corner of his eyes, he notices Twila struggling with something. She’s carefully assessing the best way to hold the spine of lionfish, poking her fingers through its small and sharp bones. Once she has a clean grasp on it, she snaps it in half. Draco cringes at the sound, immediately putting down the parchment he’s holding in irritation. “I told you to powder the spine, not crack it!”
“I thought you said to powder the other stuff!” She exclaims, putting down the broken spine.
He narrows his brows at her vague words. “It’s called dittany and you can’t powder leaves, you idiot.”
“I mean… if it’s dried-”
“Powder the spine!”
He pushes forward with the potion, but keeps her in the corner of his eye. She’s acting odd today. Normally, she’s on top of her game. If anything, the Ravenclaw’s usually looking for excuses to show off to anything and anyone. Is it something to do with the Sorting Hat, or something more? “Did you and the girls have fun with your little dress up, slumber party last night?” He jokes.
“I had nothing to do with that.” She claims, pressing her pestle against the finely crushed bones in her bowl, cheeks turning rosy in remembrance.
“Right, of course.” He chuckles to himself, dipping in the ladle to mix the ingredients. He eyes her for a moment again, his sarcastic attitude slightly slipping away. “Are you sure you’re alright today?”
She quickly composes herself as she realizes he’s taken notice, letting out a soft sigh and still keeping her eyes on the mortar in her hands. “Yeah, I was just thinking about taking a bath later.”
Draco pauses, off guard for a moment, before rolling his eyes. “I’m being serious. I know you’re not actually thinking about taking a bath.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I’m going to bathe in that tub, Draco.” She says in all seriousness, placing down the bowl to look up at the boy.
He looks her up and down, face slowly contorting in confusion. “You’re being serious, aren’t you?”
“It’s a magical bubble bath! Sorry, not all of us have pool sized baths in our homes.” She exclaims.
“Ah, the poor.” He says with a smirk.
“Ah, the normal.” She corrects.
He rolls his eyes once more, making room for Professor Slughorn to come and check their work. He leans over the cauldron, clapping his hands together with a smile as he sees the foamy bubbles he mentioned as a necessary component to the finished potion. “Ah, excellent as usual. You’re both dismissed.”
Draco grabs his bag with a smirk, catching up with Twila on their way to the Great Hall for lunch. “So, tell me, is this bubble bath before or after the date with my father?”
༺ ☆ ༻
That night, Twila finds herself in the library. She quietly weaves through the desks and chairs, up to the librarian's desk. She discreetly shows her the pass and gets escorted to the section of the library secured and gated with thick iron bars.
“You have five minutes. No touching. I will know.” Madam Pince warns, opening the gates for the Ravenclaw.
Twila steps inside, descending down the stairs to the main level. There were plenty of interesting looking books; some with faces, ones with chains, others with intricate, glowing designs, but she is forced to walk past them and pretend to not be the slightest bit intrigued. She pulls out the note Snape gave her earlier. Heinous Healing: How to Heal the Broken. Quite the name. She searches the shelves for the familiar title, seeing nothing of the sort just yet. “Damn.” She curses under her breath. How is she supposed to find the book in under five minutes when this place is ginormous?
She glances at the note once more, spinning on her toes to next check the shelf behind her, but when she looks up, she comes face to face with Tom Riddle himself,
alone with her in the Restricted Section.
Twila gasps loudly, whole body tensing in shock as she sees him towering above her, his face completely unreadable.
He glances down at the letter in her hand. He recognizes the book title, even while reading it upside down. He also eyes the inked lines of what would be a signature at the bottom of the paper, but, to his dissatisfaction, her thumb is covering the name of the teacher who signed it, though he has a guess. Tom turns and walks up to one of the tall shelves against the wall. He scans it boredly, before his eyes land on a yellowish brown book, picking it off the shelf and handing it to her in silence.
She cautiously takes it from his hands before glancing back up at him. “Thank you.” She barely whispers and quickly paces back up towards the entrance without muttering another word, leaving him there now alone.
Madam Pince sits at her desk, making eye contact with Twila as she takes a mental note that she has now left the Restricted Section.
