WILD & WICKED / © yllwjckts
064 ⸻ Return From Exile

Lux knew she was in a dream the moment her conscious returned to her. She'd never before been able to tell the difference, always mistaking the realm of sleep with her real life until she woke up.

Now, she could. There was a distinct fuzz to everything around her, a weird coloring, and when she looked around, there was another Lux, just as she recalled herself to appear.

This was a memory, she understood. Not a dream. Or perhaps a mixture of both, truths and falses to the vision in front of her, bits and pieces of reality and fiction that she could not figure out how to put together.

Instead, she opted to observe.

Lux was home. At the cabin, watching herself with an eagerness she was unsure the origin of. She was outside of her body, the Lux of Then wandering about atop the creaky wooden floor, tiptoeing past where Fulk was fast asleep on his couch, feet hanging over the edge.

The Lux of Then hadn't noticed how uncomfortable he must've been, but the Lux of Now did. Why had he spent twenty years on a couch that could've easily been hers? She'd have fit just fine, being several inches shorter than him, but he'd told her to have his bed without once asking for it back.

The sun had just set when the Lux of Then stepped out of the cabin she and Fulk shared, a candle in hand as she slid around the back of the house. The Lux of Now followed, watching as her mirrored self knelt down in the grass, at the garden she'd always tended to.

She'd forgotten about it. Time had swept her away, Hogwarts and the people she'd grown to love becoming her main focus, leaving her garden at the cabin to shrivel and die in the process. The thought of the flowers she had littered around their home, the ones she'd nursed from seeds into blossoming, healthy plants had become nothing more than a fleeting memory, even if it had only been seven or so months since she'd last seen them.

Once she found comfort on the ground, the Lux of Then began to tug at some weeds wrapped around her rose bush. It was a massive thing, in which the ruby red flowers stuck out with ease, bloomed to absolute perfection due to her consistent doting.

She sighed when it wouldn't come out, as though it had its claws dug into the plant. The Lux of Then didn't want to pull too hard, she knew, out of fear she'd rip out the rose with it.

Even then, she had a bit of gentleness to her, though she kept it reserved for the occasions in which she was alone.

Another tug. Nothing, though a thorn lodged itself into her thumb, drawing a sliver of blood from the wound it punctured into her skin. She winced, waving her hand in the air to dull the pain — nothing she couldn't handle, the Lux of Now knew, but alone, there was no need to mask her emotions. If she wanted to be distressed from a small wound, she was allowed to be.

She went back to pulling on the weed, only halting her movements when the sound of the door squeaking had her head pivoting. "Fulk."

The elder vampire gave her a smooth smile. The Lux of Now, looking at him, could sense the worry practically oozing out of him. The Lux of Then didn't seem to notice at all, posture stiffening.

"If you intend to leave the cabin, you should tell me, my dear."

The Lux of Now frowned. Had he thought she'd run off? The relief his deep breaths indicated suggested as much, something odd twisting in her gut as she continued her passive observation. Something like longing.

The Lux of Then's brow cocked, but she was silent, returning to her plant.

"Do you need help?"

Her jaw shifted. "I have it just fine."

"It doesn't look like you do." He knelt down in the dirt next to him, the trousers he'd gone into the town for just weeks ago sinking into the mud, staining the pristine fabric. "Here. Allow me."

The Lux of Now expected her counterpart to argue, but to her surprise, she slid over with a dejected sort of sigh. Something almost vulnerable, yet carried enough of a wall to keep that barrier up between them.

Stop, the Lux of Now wanted to yell. Let him in. Let him help. Let him love.

Before it's too late.

Fulk dug his hands beneath the soil, digging about for several long seconds before a smile tugged at his lips. With more ease than both Lux's imagined possible, he withdrew the root of the weed from beneath the rose bush, tossing it to the side.

"See," he told her. "It just requires a bit of patience."

"I am patient," the Lux of Then lied, the hissing of her clenched teeth making her fib obvious.

Fulk didn't go against it, simply nodding. "You are."

Her eyes narrowed, but she returned back to her rose bush, straightening the stems in which the flowers stuck out from.

"You were having a nightmare," Fulk began, causing her head to turn back to him.

"How do you know that?"

"You were yelling. I had half a mind to wake you up, you seemed so frightened. But you've made it clear you lack the desire for me to enter your room."

"Your room," she reminded him. "I'm a guest."

His jaw shifted. The Lux of Now could tell his words stung like a slap, but the Lux of Then remained ignorant to it, running her hands over the petals of a particularly small flower, as if absentmindedly willing it to bloom.

"It's your room, Lux," he told her. "I gave it to you. I have no desire for it back."

The Lux of Then swallowed her words, though the Lux of Now knew she wanted to ask why. It was a fair question, she supposed. Why would Fulk be so selfless as to give up his own bedroom, for a girl he'd known for a handful of years at this point?

A few years.

Nothing to a vampire.

Everything to Lux.

"What was your nightmare about?" Fulk asked when Lux went back to weeding, pulling the next few ones out with ease. She'd subtly applied the patience Fulk had told her to, hands in the dirt, taking her time reaching the roots.

"Nothing," the Lux of Then said, refusing to look at him.

"Lux," Fulk breathed.

The Lux of Now felt tears bead in her eyes, and though she could not recall how this had taken place, she was certain what her nightmare had been made of. A memory lost to time, though the ending was still in sight.

Please, she wanted to beg her former self. Please, just tell him.

"It was the Coven," she said with a casual shrug.

"What were they doing?"

She gave him a look. "Pulling my hair and calling me ugly."

"You don't need to be sarcastic."

Huffing something beneath her breath, she turned back to her plants. The next tug on the weeds came out hard, rough, splitting the plant before the roots could follow. "Fuck."

"Patience," Fulk reminded her, reaching into the dirt for her, guiding the bits she'd left behind out. "Now they won't regrow."

"I'm aware of how a garden words," the Lux of Then snapped.

The Lux of Now flinched, as if the words had been aimed directly into her heart.

Fulk didn't. He must've been used to this by now, the verbal tirade she subjected him to any time he dared come close to a firm line she'd drawn in the sand. It was like two sides of a warring border, in which the enemy tried at every turn to breach the barrier.

Except there was no enemy. It was just Fulk.

A pause fell between them, filled just by the sounds of the night, and the animals they'd yet to bleed.

Then, "Lux, I know."

Genuine confusion flashed across her expression. "Know what?"

"I know what Philip did to you."

She released her hold on the flower, blood draining from her face.

The Lux of Now felt her heart shatter. For Fulk. For herself.

To her surprise, the Lux of Then didn't shout. Didn't scream. Instead, fear flashed across her expression, making a subconscious effort to slide away from him. "I don't know what you mean."

Pity shone in his eyes. "How can you think I don't know?"

She wouldn't meet his gaze. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"I do." He took a deep breath, a clear attempt made to be careful with the words that followed. "You think I couldn't see it on your face? You think I didn't know the moment I heard a little girl took down the king of vampires?"

"He wasn't a king," Lux spat, anger coming steadfast in wake of her fear, a primal need to protect herself. "And I'm not a little girl."

Fulk moved a hand, as if he were reaching to touch her. Stroke her cheek maybe, wipe away the singular tear that had made its way down her face. Stopped last minute, the very second the Lux of Then flinched.

The Lux of Now burst into tears.

This, she understood, was why Fulk had left her. He hadn't known she could heal in the way she had. He'd given up, he'd given everything he had and had vanished when it hadn't been enough.

How could she explain to him that her healing couldn't have come from him? That it had to be her to do it, to accomplish what she had?

It wasn't everything that needed to be done. She still had nightmares. She still felt sick when his name came up, rage when people used it against her, fury at the injustice of it all.

But she was no longer afraid of the worst. She was no longer dissecting brains for the most nefarious of intentions. She no longer believed Fulk had ever not loved her.

He still did, she imagined. A love that had lasted twenty years couldn't have dimmed, even with time and distance expanding between them with every second their absence left.

He loved her, but it had not been enough. She'd become a lost cause. No longer something worth fighting for.

"He hurt you," Fulk went on. "And I'm sorry for that."

She released a breath through her nose, masking her unease with irritation, the impatience he had just accused her of. "There's nothing to apologize for. You weren't there."

"Precisely."

The Lux of Now thought she might be sick.

How could she have been so blind? Trapped in the woods, with no other option but to trust him, perhaps the eggshells she forced herself to tread on made sense. But at Hogwarts?

She should've given him a chance.

The dream shifted.

The Lux of Now followed her past self as she walked back into the cabin, shutting the door behind her. When the door opened again, she was in the bedroom, the door open.

The Lux of Now walked inside, moving as to not somehow run into Fulk, who hovered just next to the door frame, holding something in his hands. A bag.

"I got you something in town tonight."

The Lux of Then looked up from the book she'd had planted in her lap, sitting with her legs folded in a weird sort of pose. Her hair was wild, fallen against her pale face, and her blue eyes shone with confusion as they met Fulk.

She was silent. An urge for him to go on.

He cleared his throat, a soft fist brought to the nape of his neck. "Clothes." He nudged towards the bag. "You could do without wearing all of my old stuff. I figured you'd find these more...suited to you."

The Lux of Now knew she should've been grateful. Instead, the Lux of Then looked horrified, any remaining color in her face draining.

Lux knew why, feeling her heart shatter at the scene in front of her. That was exactly how it started with Philip. The gifts. The pretty dresses. The jewelry.

Fulk had no clue. How could he?

"I don't want them," the Lux of Then snapped. Her grip on the book tightened.

He looked as though he'd been expecting this. "You're content wearing oversized men's jeans and old flannels, then?"

"Perfectly fine with it."

He tossed the bag onto the bed anyways, it landing with a soft exhale of air on the mattress. "I didn't know what you liked, so I picked whatever I could. If they don't fit, I can try to mend them."

"I said I don't want them."

"It's a gift, Lux. I'm not expecting anything in return."

Her lip quivered. She glanced towards the window, at blinds concealing a sun that had just begun to rise. No doubt questioning if she should run, if that was possible.

To be rude about a gift would've meant being hit, if she were in the Coven. Talking back as much as she had already would've sparked a flurry of anger in Philip — and the Lux of Then certainly knew that.

The Lux of Then didn't want to push too far.

Instead, she reached for the bag, opening it. It was massive, perhaps an enchanted bag you could buy at those wizarding shops she'd almost forgotten existed. There were three dresses, each a different color and each far more modern than anything she'd ever worn in the Coven. None of them seemed as though they'd reach past her knees. Alongside those, two shirts and two skirts, a belt, a pair of shoes with large, bulky heels, a few leggings each the color of her skin, and a couple pairs of bras and underwear.

Her cheeks burned, but she held back a nasty remark. "I'm fine with what I have."

"I'm not returning them," he said with a shrug and a smile that the Lux of Now knew meant he was content. That he'd managed to move an inch against the rock solid wall she'd planted. "Do whatever it is you want with them."

She pulled out one of the dresses — a pink thing that had to be triple her size. Holding it against her body, she frowned. "I'm not sure this will fit."

He pressed his lips together in what the Lux of Now could tell was masking his amusement. "Probably not," he agreed. "I can try to make it smaller. I have sewing supplies."

"You sew?"

The Lux of Now knew what the Lux of Then was thinking. That Philip never sewed anything — none of the Coven did. If something had a tear, it was simply tossed away, wasted and replaced with another.

Something about this enticed Lux. Like a hint towards the safety she wasn't sure she could trust she had, but desired anyways.

He nodded. "It's a skill you need when you're out alone in the woods, my dear."

"I don't know how," she admitted. "I knew when I was a human, but I think I've forgotten." She paused, still holding the dress to her. "How could you possibly think this would fit me? Am I fat?"

It was genuine curiosity, not anxiety that had her asking — was she? She couldn't tell, not really. Not without a mirror.

"You're not fat. I don't know how I mistook it for you," he admitted with a sigh, reaching for it.

When it was in his hands, fabric bending beneath his touch, her eyes grew wide enough that he noticed. "What is it?"

"It'll fit you," she whispered, testing the waters.

This time, it was his turn to appear horrified. "No."

The Lux of Now smiled, as the Lux of Then lost her inhibition the moment the idea of entertainment came up. "Please?" She scrambled off the bed, rushing up to him, stopping just inches from touching him. "Please? I never ask for anything ever! Please? Just this once?"

"I'm not wearing a dress," Fulk insisted between laughs, no longer able to maintain a sophisticated aura.

"Why not?" She pouted, coming off as awful childlike. "No one will see it. It's just me. Oh come on, you know it'll be fun! Pleaseeeee?"

The Lux of Now wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh along or cry, Fulk's devotion showing when he nodded in reluctant agreement. It hadn't taken much pushing at all, to get him to do something to make her happy. "Fine. Fine, just this once. And we never speak of it again."

The Lux of Then clapped, grinning ear to ear.

The Lux of Now thought that was perhaps the first time Fulk had seen her without her barriers.

Fulk retreated into the bathroom, emerging five minutes later with the dress that fit him like a glove. The skirt reached his mid thigh, clinging to his skin as he waddled towards her. "What do you think?"

She couldn't say anything, too consumed by her laughter.

For the first time in front of Fulk, she'd lost any semblance of control, releasing herself to her emotions.

It hadn't been that funny, the Lux of Now thought. Fulk in a pink dress was certainly a unique sight, though nothing special. But the Lux of Then had been so deprived of humor for three hundred years, that it was perhaps the first time she'd truly laughed since coming up from the ash.

Again, the dream shifted. The memory.

The cabin morphed into something new entirely, Fulk vanishing into smoke as the Lux of Now reached out, desperate to grab hold of him.

Don't go, she wanted to scream, to cry, only to find her tongue was locked, mouth glued shut. She'd only just gotten him back, how could he go again?

She closed her eyes, pushing back more tears burning inside her. When they opened again, her counterpart was in a new house, the walls made of withering wood and the ground a collection of stones. In the air, a musky sort of scent wafted about — a collection of body odor from a hot summer's day in which no one had bothered to clean themselves.

It took a moment for the Lux of Now to understand where she had emerged into, finding the Lux of Then hovering by a bed, a young boy in her arms. She was singing, an odd, out of tune song coming out of her lips, somehow bringing the pale boy comfort.

Elijah, the Lux of Now realized. Her little brother.

She'd forgotten what he'd looked like.

He was sick. Feverish, gaunt in the face, the summer heat not helping at all in the sweat pouring down his face.

"I have the water," a woman's voice said, emerging from the door behind the Lux of Now.

She nearly fell over.

Mary Erzsebet was the very shape in which she could recall, an image cemented into her mind despite the years that had passed with her absense. Age had not treated her with kindness, hair gone prematurely grey in tone and wrinkles stretched across her face in a way Lux knew most women would despise.

Mary likely did. But Lux only felt envy at the sight.

The Lux of Then breathed a sigh of relief, taking hold of the cup from her mother and bringing it to Elijah's lips. "Drink," she told him. When he shook his head, she pressed harder. "Please. It will help."

"Can't," he whispered, voice hoarse.

"For me?"

Elijah drank.

"Your father has gone for a doctor near the Keep," Mary said. "He may be gone for days, if this is of any concern to you."

Lux shook her head, stroking Elijah's forehead. "We will make due without."

Mary's lips twitched. She was nervous, the Lux of Now understood, though she wasn't sure what of. Elijah was sick, yes, but it didn't seem to concern Mary at all. Instead, her mind seemed elsewhere, gaze consistently flickering towards her eldest daughter, then towards the door.

As if expecting something.

"Lux!" A young voice cried out. Another woman, though this one younger.

She turned as her two sisters broke through the door, both of them sweating from effort.

Mary hiccuped.

"Is everything alright?" Lux asked, lowering the now empty cup from Elijah's lips and rising to her feet.

Anne — the elder of the two, spoke, breathing long and heavy. "They're looking for you. They're coming!"

Lux blinked, once, twice, not understanding. "Who?"

Matilda, the younger one, opened her lips, but all that came out was a scream as someone emerged from behind her. Adorned in a silver breastplate and an odd sort of helmet, three men burst into their home, shoving both Anne and Matilda to the ground in the process.

Lux rushed to her knees, moving help Matilda to her feet. Her sister had large, fat tears running down her face, and the Lux of Then moved to wipe them away, only to be met by the tip of a sword brushing against her neck.

The Lux of Now thought she might pass out at the memory, something she'd blocked out of her mind. Something she'd tried so hard to forget that it scarcely felt like a memory at all. Rather, a tale, a book. Not something that truly happened to her.

"Lux Erzsebet," the man holding the sword growled. English, given the accent, and her lip curled. "You have been tried and found guilty of witchcraft."

"Tried," Lux began, pulling away from the sword. "I've faced no trial!"

"Come with us," one of the men behind her demanded, withdrawing his own sword.

"Mother!" Lux whipped around, turning to Mary. Her expression was vacant, and she'd taken a seat next to Elijah, hand holding his as he began to wail. "Mother, stop them! Please!"

The only man not carrying a sword grabbed her forearm, lacking any amount of gentleness as he dragged her to her feet.

"Mother!" The Lux of Then cried.

The Lux of Now was just as stunned. She'd forgotten Mary's apathy, how she'd done nothing to stop Lux from facing her arrest, her burning at that stake a week later. Perhaps she'd figured it had just been shock.

No, this was not shock. It was much more the opposite. It was as though she'd not been surprised at all.

As though she'd known this would occur.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ───

There was something about her name that felt unfamiliar. It shouldn't have, the change in identity hadn't truly meant she'd shed her former skin.

But Emma Greengrass felt so foreign, when she reached back for the girl that had once loved cross stitch and stargazing and bird watching. Like a person she'd created in her mind, just as Euphraxia had once been.

It was like crafting a new sculpture, finding the grooves in which she wanted herself to take the form of. She could be someone new — not that human who'd been in over her head, nor the member of the Coven who changed her name out of fear for a man who would never find her.

Lux Erzsebet, as much as she hated it, had been correct in her words. You can be Emma again, she'd told her, causing the elder vampire to scoff. Masking the truth she couldn't help but let seep into her, even then.

She wanted to be Emma again. Philip had never touched Emma. Emma had never killed, never drank human blood, never feared something as beautifully simple as the sun.

Emma had been consumed with power, yes, but she'd been at the top of the food chain. She'd had powerful men wrapped around her finger, she'd had beauty and youth to her advantage.

Now, she had neither. If she was beautiful to the modern standards, she was unsure. How was she meant to know? She hadn't a mirror, hadn't a man to tell her — unless Odo and his persistent advances back in the Coven were meant to count.

She didn't trust his taste, though. Not when he called the ethereal Mathilde a fat cow behind her back, when in reality she'd simply rejected him outright rather than Emma's subtle denials.

But she was out, now. Standing in the sun was no longer a death sentence, a form of suicide, but something meant to enjoy.

Meant to, and yet, Emma could not find it in herself to get past her pulsing fear.

What should've felt like freedom instead was reminiscent of a pillow held to her face, a slow suffocation in which no amount of struggling could free her.

Emma should've run. She knew that much, and yet, she could not bring herself to leave the comfort of Hogsmeade Village just yet. Wherever Adelais and the rest of them were, if they'd survived Lux's wrath regarding that Black boy, it didn't concern her. They'd not come looking, anyways.

Maybe they thought her dead. That Lux had killed her just as she had Philip.

She wondered if Lux had covered for her, an odd sort of feeling arising in her at the thought. Lux Erzsebet was a conundrum if Emma had ever come across one, contradictory at every turn. Exuding power at one moment in time and then kindness at the other.

Mercy, even.

Understanding.

What reason did anyone have to understand what Emma did, let alone her? What reason did she have to tell her to become her old self, other than an odd desire for something good?

What reason did she have, other than a sliver of naivety that even Philip could not strip her of? Something so childish to hold onto, yet she did anyways, both hands clinging with all her might. Giving up her ring had been the tip of the iceberg that was Lux's delusions.

No, Emma may have been grateful for it, but Lux Erzsebet was the worst fool she'd ever met.

Emma scoffed as she thought about this, stretched out atop a bench, staring off at Hogwarts castle from a distance. Hair blowing in the wind, birds chirping above and the scent of spring wafting about, she could almost recall a time in which she'd been in a similar spot, a human.

Almost.

A time in which Salazar Slytherin took a keen interest in her, and she'd reveled in the attention. She'd reveled in the power it meant she had, having such a man wrapped around her finger. He thought he could own the world if he so desired, but she had owned him.

Until Philip owned her.

She glanced up at the sun, blinding herself to the thought. Thinking perhaps if she could not see, she could not think either.

It failed to work, yet she continued on anyways, even when the back of her head began to pound with pain.

"That's dangerous."

Withdrawing herself from the sun, Emma turned around, craning her neck to see who it was that had spoken. Behind her, slightly to her left, a woman with dark hair and olive skin hovered, a hand balancing atop the back of the bench. She had a distant look in her sunken eyes, as if not all there.

"What is?"

"Staring at the sun," the woman said. Her voice was wispy, faraway, almost ageless in a sense.

She wore no ring, telling Emma she couldn't be a vampire. Unless something else prevented her from burning, though she couldn't fathom what it might be.

"The concern is appreciated," Emma mused, brows lifted as she took in the woman, her flowy skirt and hands that trembled ever so slightly. A pause, then, "Do you know who I am?"

"The woman of two names," the woman responded, not looking at her. When Emma followed her gaze, she saw she too was looking directly into the sun.

Her lips parted, then closed again.

"Do you want something?"

"I want freedom," she breathed. "I am to die soon."

Emma feigned concern. If this woman wasn't a vampire, then she was a witch, and Emma hadn't a wand to defend herself if an attack were to take place. If offense were to strike. "Are you sick?"

"My mind, yes. I see it. I see blood, and fangs, and a smile." She turned to look at Emma for the first time. "My name is Camille Larkin."

"Emma," she responded, reaching out to shake her hand. Typically, she would have left a setting like this, but something about this odd woman had her attention spiking.

"I know who you are," Camille said. "The woman of two names."

Emma rose to her feet, stepping around the bench. What would Lux do, she asked herself, when faced with a situation like this? What would someone so powerful and independent do, someone without a Coven pulling the strings to her decisions?

She couldn't kill the woman, not in broad daylight. She couldn't abandon her either, when she seemed so deranged. Deranged...or knowing, the name she'd branded Emma with having a meaning, if not a vague one.

Lux would help, she realized with a deep sigh. Soft, yes, but perhaps that was the right choice. The most beneficial one.

"Should I find you help?" Emma asked, placing a hand on the woman's shoulder.

Camille lurched, jumping away from the vampire. "My days are withering, my nights waning. My killer approaches, and my savior is lost."

"Miss—"

"You've lived long enough," Camille interrupted. "You can end it. Do the world something good for all the rot you've brewed. End it, woman of two names. One side of a coin."

She flinched. Had she somehow heard her conversation with Lux, the pointless words she'd thrown at the girl, tossing them at a wall to see what stuck?

Or was it, just as before, nothing more than delirium. "End what?"

"End me."

It was Emma's turn to recoil, retreating backwards as though she'd been hit. She shouldn't have been shocked, the words that spewed from the woman's mouth had been nonsense for the few minutes they'd been speaking, but to beg for death?

Camille, who had returned to looking at the sun, suddenly had her head pivoting towards the vampire. It was a sharp enough turn to have Emma's heart thundering in her chest, lurching at the sight.

What followed was a voice far different than the misty laments of Camille Larkin. It almost didn't belong to her at all. "Do you still see the future, Euphraxia?"

Her fists clenched, the words earning the turning heads of a few lingering witches and wizards, who otherwise went about their day. Perhaps they knew better than to interrupt, knew this was not something for the likes of mortals. "Don't call me that."

"I can see yours. I saw it before, and I will see it again."

"What do you want from me?"

"Can you still see what lies ahead?" Camille — or whatever presence had taken a hold of her body, hissed. She reached over, grabbing hold of Emma's wrist with a strength a woman of her size should not have. "I know you could. You saw it all."

"No," Emma gave her a half lie. "No, my sight left when I was turned."

It was the truth, in a way. Her sight had changed, the ability to look into the future that she'd once reveled in. What had once been clear became a wave of fog, as though she needed glasses like Lux had to clearly see what was in front of her.

"Liar." Camille released her wrist, and the vampire stumbled backwards. Fumbling for something to say, she was cut off by the woman returning to her normal voice. "I will meet my death by your kind. The other side of the coin would have been my savior, but the star made her fly. Made her fall. She cannot save me."

"My kind? What do they want from you?"

"The very thing you kept hidden."

Emma gulped. "You're a seer too, then?"

She nodded, though no pride shone from this fact. Instead, it was fear that radiated from the woman, making her appear somehow even smaller than before.

"I had a prophecy," Emma began, enticed into speech by the sight before her, a small woman and an urge to help she'd never felt as Euphraxia. "Before I became a vampire. I saw that my descendant — whoever that would be, would kill me. It's been a thousand years, and nothing's ever happened. I think some prophecies are not meant to be believed."

She shook her head. "Not yet."

Emma paled. "Who is it that can save you, then?"

While she wasn't initially inclined to believe a word this woman said, something tugged at her lips, forcing them into speech. Maybe this mysterious savior could help her as well.

"Lux Erzsebet."

Emma almost swore.

That wasn't happening, not when she'd helped snatch up Regulus Black's brother, dangling his life above them.

If she was even alive. She had no confirmation of that, that perhaps Adelais had bled the younger vampire dry, though Emma found she doubted that. Lux didn't seem the type to yield with ease. She'd make it out, she had before and she surely would again.

"You'd do well to run, then," Emma told Camille. "They can't — she can't get kill you, drink from you for your sight if you run."

Her face was dull as she shook her head. "I will be found. I always am. It is the way of things — Lux Erzsebet, Slayer of Kings, comes to my rescue, or my end is met. There is no other way."

"Camille—" Emma began, moving to rub her temples with her fingers. It wasn't her business, wasn't her problem, and yet a nagging sensation hit her at the idea of letting this woman wallow.

Who was she? Why was she in the middle of Hogsmeade? Had she come here specifically seeking out Emma?

And if she had all this knowledge, if she knew who Lux and Emma both were... "Is Lux alive?"

"For now," was the only response she got.

Her lips parted, but the sound of a crack flooding the air had all attention shifting. Hogsmeade was not alive, and Emma knew why that was — the threat of those Death Eaters, of Voldemort, had limited people's desire to leave the illusion of safety their homes provided.

The lack of people, with only a few lingering witches and wizards hopping from shop to shop, made it easy to spot the source of the noise.

"He's back," Camille whispered, a figure forming from nothing in the near distance.

"Who?" Emma asked, squinting to get a good look at him, the familiar figure that she could not fully tell apart from the fifty or so yards between them.

"The start of how it all ends."

Emma nearly fell over as the figure grew closer and closer, the features clearing up from the fuzz the distance provided. First, she noticed the pale skin — too pale for a normal human, indicating years in which the sun had not met his skin. Then was the dark hair, the very shade of the night sky, and those intense blue eyes.

Fulk Slytherin.

He didn't notice her, gaze fixed directly upon the castle he trekked to. Why would he? Had he even remembered her?

(How could he forget?)

She'd known Fulk had associated with Lux for many years now. She'd known he'd denied Philip in the very time she'd accepted his offer, swept up in a need to run from her mistakes, and a craving for power that even her newfound vampirism could not grant her.

She'd heard Fulk had left. Abandoned Lux with the same fervor in which he'd allied himself with her in the first place. That was why Adelais found it in her to strike then, when the man was absent.

Her legs trembled beneath her, retreating in on herself, hoping perhaps it would remain that way. But just as he moved to pass them entirely, striding down the path the bench rested by, he did a double take, head tilting towards them.

Eyes widened with recognition.

For a long moment, the lovers that had once been simply stared at each other, the time that should've passed coming to a standstill. The world seemed to cease spinning, breathing ended, all for this very moment. "You."

She wondered if he'd thought she were a ghost.

Best she haunt him, then.

"I heard you've changed your name," Emma breathed. "You're Ingelger now, are you not?"

He glanced towards the castle, then back at her.

Lux, Emma thought. She was in those walls, if she'd truly survived Adelais.

His devotion sent a twist of jealousy inside her, in spite of everything. She'd heard as much from Odo — the vampire who'd done most of the spywork. Emma had never met with Regulus, for example, nor had she seen Lux in person until the night before.

Fulk's expression darkened. Jaw shifted. He was not pleased to see her, though she'd expected as much, if they were ever to reunite.

He'd not wanted to be a vampire. Emma remembered that clearly, when Salazar had given her the instructions to turn him. He was going to kill himself, too consumed by grief. The death of his daughter had sent him into a spiral, Salazar had told her, and she was the only one who could do a thing about it.

She'd been turned recently. Hadn't understood the downsides of vampirism — if she had, she'd never have subjected Fulk to it. But she bit him anyways, and when his neck was wrung by that rope and he swung from the tree, his eyes opened once again.

Alive, in the only way a dead man could be.

Fulk had killed his brother in revenge for it. Stabbed Salazar in the back and feasted on his blood — the first he'd drank since emerging into his new skin.

Emma had run before she could be next. Changed her name — Euphraxia, a name she'd come across in some Greek book back as a student in Hogwarts. Joined the Coven, joined Philip, who in turn offered Fulk a place there.

He'd refused.

Emma had it in her to wonder if she was the reason for that. If he knew, somehow, that nothing good would come of being around her. They would kill each other in the same flurry of passion their love had emerged in.

Both brothers had loved her. She'd loved them both in return. But Fulk...

He'd always been her favorite.

Now, she wondered if he'd remember how much she'd adored him, perhaps spare her with an ounce of mercy he still possessed.

He would not, she understood, if he knew what had happened with Lux.

She slid her hand into the pocket of her dress before Fulk could see the ring she wore — one that matched the ruby red gemstone adorned on his middle finger. Held his gaze, that intensity she remembered so vividly in spite of the thousand years they'd been parted for.

"What are you doing here, Emma?" He sighed, expression dimming into one of pure, utter exhaustion.

Not the reaction she'd expected out of him, causing her to recoil ever so slightly. Fulk had been a spitfire as a human, practically burning with embers. Now, with the sun casting shadows across his face, emphasizing the bags beneath his eyes, he appeared as though he'd not gotten a solid night's sleep in months.

She'd expected rage. She'd expected cruelty. She'd expected him to attempt to strike her down — a fight his strength would surely cause him to win.

(Why had she stayed, then? Why hadn't she run the moment she saw him approaching, before he'd noticed her? Why had she allowed herself to walk into a fight in which there would be no escape, if Fulk desired the outcome she had expected?)

"Nothing," she breathed, the only lie she could come up with. Her mind had turned to mush. "Yourself?"

Seconds of silence, followed by the shake of his head. "I haven't the time for this."

"You seek the Slayer of Kings," Camille whispered.

He turned, as if noticing Camille for the first time. "Professor Larkin?"

She hummed, the only response she gave.

"What do you know about Lux?" He demanded, a newfound thickness to his tone.

Another hum, dark hair blowing in the gust of wind that followed. "When you rise so high, the only way up is down."

He paled.

"I need to go." He looked at Emma, swallowing. She thought he would curse her out, say something cruel if he had no intention of killing her, but he seemed too preoccupied to think of such. "Stay in town. Please."

"Okay," she lied.

He believed her. Of course he did.

Fool him once, shame on her. Fool him twice, shame on him.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ───

James Potter had often considered Hogwarts a second home to him. Nothing would ever compete with Euphemia and Fleamont Potter of course, their hugs and kind words and the love that never seemed to have an end, no matter how poorly he behaved, if he talked back or broke something or didn't do his chores.

He was always loved in the Potter home, but not much was different at Hogwarts. He ruled the halls in a way that had once filled his ego with pride, a mindset in which he proclaimed himself as above so many people.

It had been after that prank in fifth year that the rose tinted glasses he saw everything with — including his own reflection, had faded. He wasn't so far up his own arse that he couldn't see how he was partially to blame for Sirius's actions. He'd only ever egged his best friend on when it came to the cruelty they projected onto Severus Snape. He'd joined in — started it, even, all the way back in their first year.

Sirius would've stopped if James had told him to. But he never did, leading to a fracture he'd never thought would be repaired. He wasn't stupid — Remus was forgiving, but he was not the kind to forget. He'd carry that betrayal on his aching back until the day he died, James had presumed.

Sixth year, James had changed. Done the work, so to speak, to better himself after a wake up call that should not have had to happen. It should not have taken the near death of Snape to make James understand that he was not a good person.

He hoped he was now. He tried to be, anyways. Not perfect, no, that was impossible. But good enough.

It hadn't been what was needed. James could try with all his might to mend the rip that had formed in his friend group, spent all of sixth year trying to do as much, but fabric could only be worn down so much before it was impossible to fully repair.

Then Lux had burst into their lives in a way that shouldn't have done anyone any good, but it had. She was standoffish and aloof and held an aura of superiority, as though she thought of herself as better than the rest of them. Similar how James had once been.

He'd not been lying when he'd shouted at her, that she wasn't trying, she wasn't being as good as she could've been. He'd put in the work to be a better person, why couldn't she do the same? Didn't she understand that if anyone could fix the rift between Sirius and Remus, it was her?

He'd underestimated Remus's own desire for destruction. It outweighed anything James had ever seen before, anything Lux had ever shown. While she had built herself up, Remus had torn himself down, determined to make misery his company.

James had been under the impression that things had been fixed.

That had lasted for six hours.

Lily was still crying deep into the afternoon, as the sun set from out the window. They'd remained in the Hospital Wing, Lily curled up on the floor while James rubbed her back from his position on the chair. He'd tried to get her to sit next to him, but she'd refused, and no amount of begging could convince her to stand.

Remus and Sirius were in a similar state. Neither boy were crying anymore, but both were pale, looking sick to their stomachs. Peter was nervously pacing back and forth, and Mary, Marlene and Dorcas had resolved themselves to sitting in a row on the bed next to Lux, sharing whispers between the three of them. Emmeline Vance, to James's confusion, lurked in the corner, hugging her arms to her chest, and Professor Hyde had popped in for a moment, though left at the sight of all the people that had collected to preemptively mourn Lux.

She wasn't dead.

She should've been. Any human who fell from that height would've died on impact. But Lux was not human, something that only a handful of them were aware of, and thus could not be outwardly discussed.

Instead, it was projected to be some sort of miracle that she was simply unconscious, in a coma of sorts, rather than her biology acting as it should.

When the clock above struck six, Lily let out another wail. "Why hasn't she woken up yet?"

"Pomfrey said it could be a while," Marlene said, rubbing her protruding stomach. James wanted to tell her to leave, that surely the stress of hovering over her unconscious friend, waiting for her to wake wouldn't be any good for the baby, but opted against it. Marlene would only ever do what she wanted, he knew that.

"How long is a while?" Emmeline asked. She was the last to arrive, hearing about Lux's accident through the grapevine.

"We don't know," Mary sniffed. "Could be an hour. Could be a year. No one's ever survived a fall from the Astronomy Tower before, is what Pomfrey said."

"Shouldn't she go to St. Mungo's?" Dorcas began, though it was unclear who her question was addressed to.

"Pomfrey doesn't want to move her," Peter answered, not stilling his pacing. "Said it could be dangerous. That she's in the best care here."

Remus hiccuped, face tinting green.

"What was she doing all the way up there in the first place?" Sirius demanded, not for the first time. He'd been repeating the question every fifteen minutes or so, never getting the answer he wanted and thus not refraining from repeating it.

"Mate," James breathed, heart shattering at the look on his best friend — his brother's face.

He loved Lux, of course he did. She'd become something of a sister to him. But it was Sirius who he was primarily concerned about.

Remus Lupin was predictable, in a way. He was going to spiral, to collapse and be forced to rebuild himself, as he'd done so many times before. He was going to lash out, get angry, cry, refuse to get out of bed, repeat the cycle until time broke him out of it.

James could take care of Remus. James could keep him safe.

Sirius was different. His emotions were sporadic, his responses impossible to guess in spite of the long time James had known him for. When he got angry, when he got hurt, he would shut down entirely.

It wasn't an intentional, the silent treatment he'd give everyone. It wasn't a way to punish people, or get attention, but because he hadn't a clue what else to do with emotions so big. Sirius had never been in an environment in which anything but perfection was acceptable, and feelings, no matter the size or intensity or reason behind them, were considered flaws.

"Pomfrey will take good care of her," James said, not just to Sirius, but to the entire swarm of students. Lux's friends.

There were certainly too many of them — nine total, but for once, Pomfrey hadn't scolded them for lingering in the Hospital Wing for too long.

From her position on the floor, Lily choked on a sob. "I know why she was up there."

Sirius turned to her. "Why?"

"She was going to kill herself!"

Peter stopped pacing. Emmeline coughed. Mary fell off the bed.

Sirius's eyes bulged, all the color draining from his face. "Why would you think that? Did she say something?"

Lily shook her head, struggling to speak through her tears. "We fought, and I was cruel to her. I said..." Another shake of her head. "I was horrible and she threw herself off the Astronomy Tower because she couldn't handle living anymore! I was the last straw!"

"Lux wouldn't kill herself," Remus broke the silence he'd fallen into, voice pinched in a way that implied he was offended at the idea.

"Why else would she be up here?" Sirius snapped at him. When Remus didn't turn up with an answer, a challenge reflected in his silence, Sirius went on. "Why else would Lux be in the fucking Astronomy Tower, Remus? She's not clumsy, she didn't fall!"

Pomfrey, who was tending to another patient at the other end of the Hospital Wing, shushed them loudly.

"She didn't kill herself," Remus repeated, venom in his tone.

"Well clearly not, since she's still alive!" Sirius gestured to her bed. "She's been struggling. You know she has. And it's all your fault."

"Sirius, don't," James began, stepping towards him.

He knew where this came from. Built up resentment, added with the lack of sleep and the stress of the night before, all combined into an explosion that had no right to occur, but was bound to happen.

They'd gotten back together, from what James understood, but that wasn't enough to cause a halt to the argument blossoming. The line was still thin.

His plea fell upon deaf ears, heart sinking to the ground when he saw the look on Remus's face.

His expression had darkened, lips directed downwards in a scowl he'd only ever seen once before on him. "My fault?" He repeated, slow and deliberate. "We'd just fucking fixed things! How is it my fault?"

"Hey, both of you, cut it out," James said, holding a hand up to Remus. He'd positioned himself between the two boys, though it did little to dim the brewing argument.

"Maybe she realized your heart wasn't in it. That you'd go back to how you were before, treating us both like shit because you can't come to terms with your own problems! She probably thought it was a fluke — and who can blame her for it? You've spent the past month acting like she was some spec beneath your shoe!"

"Says you," Remus scoffed. "You see her — you see us both, as some toys to get back at your parents. The only reason you picked us over someone else who came your way is—-"

He promptly cut himself off.

Sirius lifted his chin. "No, do go on. Share with the class, why don't you? Why did I pick you, other than the fact that I love you?"

"Enough!"

It wasn't James that broke through the barrier, but Peter, who'd gone red in the face.

All heads turned to him.

"You're both being ridiculous," he went on, not at all phased by the sudden attention he'd drawn to himself. "I get it, you're stressed out and scared and heartbroken, but Lux wouldn't want you to take it out on each other. She—"

It was his turn to cut himself off, biting down on her lip. Nearly outing their relationship, no doubt, of which one person in the room was still clueless to.

All eyes slowly flickered towards where Emmeline hovered in the corner, still hugging her arms to her chest. It took her several beats to notice the eyes on her, causing her brow to furrow. "What?"

"Nothing," James breathed, clapping his hands together. "Just that they're good mates, and it would be terrible if Lux woke up to them fighting."

"Do you suppose she can hear us?" Marlene asked, tilting her head to the side as she observed where Lux lay on the bed, movements eerily still.

"No, I doubt she can," Emmeline said. Turning to Remus and Sirius, she continued, "And Pettigrew is right. Lux would lose her mind if she woke up to you two on the outs. She loves you both. Everyone knows that."

Remus frowned.

"What did she tell you?" Sirius asked, a wariness to his tone.

"Nothing I'm going to go around blabbing about, swear it." She gave him a small smile, big eyes shining. "Believe it or not, I've grown in the past few years. And I'm sorry for being a right arsehole to you."

James though Sirius would shout in the same way he just had to Remus. Instead, he shook his head, walking over to Emmeline and embracing her in a tight hug.

"If our Lux trusts you, so do I."

Against his chest, she grinned. When she pulled away, she walked over to where Mary, Marlene and Dorcas sat in a row, nudging towards the available spot on the bed next to the latter. "Can I sit here?"

Dorcas nodded, smiling at her. "Go for it."

Lily, whose sobs hadn't stilled since the fight had begun, choked on her words as she spoke again. "If she didn't kill herself, then something else happened."

"She could've tripped," Peter suggested, though he didn't sound at all convinced of this.

James shook his head. "She's not clumsy. Besides, why would she be all the way up in the Astronomy Tower? I highly doubt that's a place she frequents."

They looked at Remus, who shook his head in confirmation. "No, she's never mentioned going up there."

"Now would be a great time to have that map." Sirius glanced at Peter, wearing a look of playful annoyance that, in spite of everything, had Wormtail laughing.

"Yeah, well, tell that to Filch."

"What map?" Mary demanded.

"Something that got confiscated by Filch in our sixth year," Sirius said with a sigh, before turning to Remus. A pause fell between them, a deep breath taken, then, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of that."

Remus nodded. "I know. I didn't either."

"We're all stressed," James said, glancing at the sound asleep Lux. She was no longer coated in blood, as she'd initially been found in, but bruises were dotted across her body. He wondered how many of her bones had broken, and how fast they'd be mended with her advanced vampire healing. If they'd be mended. What if the fall had been too severe for healing? What if she woke up and could no longer walk or talk or eat?

What if she didn't wake up at all?

He bit down on his lip, forcing the thoughts to the back of his mind.

He couldn't break, though. Not when Lily needed him. Not when Sirius and Remus needed him. He had to be the one to rally them all, the cheerleader, the one to hold onto hope when it was obvious there was none to be had.

"We're all stressed," he repeated, this time with more confidence. "But mulling over this won't do anyone any good. When Lux wakes up—"

"If she wakes up," Marlene interrupted, followed by a grunt as Dorcas elbowed her in the side.

"Lux will wake up," James continued, hoping it came off as though he believed it. "And when she does, she can tell us herself what happened. If she jumped or fell or was pushed—"

"Pushed?!" Mary exclaimed, gone white in the face. "Why would you think she was pushed?!"

"I..." James began, scratching the back of his neck. "It's just possible, isn't it?"

He looked to Remus and Sirius for backup. Both boys looked horrified at the concept, though James suspected they'd had the very same thought lingering in the back of their minds.

Then, Remus's jaw clenched. "I know who it was."

"Who?" James rushed up to him as Remus aimed for the door, Sirius at his side, willing to go along with whatever it was Remus desired. When he flung the door to the Hospital Wing open, James grabbed hold of his wrist. "Mate, listen, don't do anything rash. We don't know for sure she was pushed."

"We do!" Remus shouted, tugging himself out of James's hold and continuing down the hall.

James looked at Sirius, then raced after Remus. "Remus, Moony, please, come on, you've got to calm down."

"It had to have been Snape," Remus hissed. "I know it was him."

James blinked wildly, though Sirius nodded in agreement. "Why would it have been Snape?"

"They've got this sick alliance going on! Even after what he did, they're still talking! Still helping each other! He's double crossed her, he's hurt her, I know he has! It had to have been him!"

He wanted to scream.

How could Lux be so stupid, he thought. After that shitshow in February, how could she still associate with him?

James once again grabbed onto Remus's wrist, this time his hold strong enough to halt his tracks. While he had a million questions, he knew the priority was keeping Remus, Sirius and Snape apart.

Mind racing for anything to stop the approaching confrontation, he sputtered out a, "Listen, we don't want to give Snape any reason to come after us in return, yeah?"

His jaw shifted.

"He has too much information on you — on Lux, on all of us, to want to provoke him," James rationalized. "I'll talk to him. I know where the Slytherin common room is. I'll hop in there and see what he's up to. Yeah?"

Sirius nodded along, but it seemed to go in one ear and out of the other for his boyfriend.

"I want to do it," Remus said through clenched teeth. Face gone red, he went on, "I want to be the one to kick his fucking face in."

"Precisely why it should be me." He turned to Sirius. "Keep him here, alright? Calm him down, and keep an eye on Lux. I'll be back in an hour, max. If we find out it's him, you all have my blessing to torture Snape as much as you'd like."

There would be no arguing, James wouldn't allow it. With a pat on Remus's shoulder, an attempt at being comforting, he pivoted down the hall and made his way towards the Slytherin common room.

When he turned the corner, he allowed himself a second to breathe. To take it all in.

It made sense, he thought. Snape had nearly gotten her killed once, maybe she'd threatened to go to Dumbledore about the incident in February. Maybe it had something to do with the Coven, and the mess that had occurred the night before.

Maybe that mysterious informant was Snape.

He thought he might be sick.

Lux had been found by Madam Sinistra, who'd come out into her office and looked over the railing while adjusting her telescope for the class planned for the night. When her eyes trailed downwards, she'd spotted the girl in a pool of blood, body practically broken from the fall.

The entire school knew what had happened within an hour, gossip spreading like wildfire, though James was unsure of the specifics that were floating about. If the rest of the school came to the consensus that she'd been pushed, or if they believed it was a suicide attempt as Lily had said.

Suicide — James might have believed it, if she'd not only just gotten back together with her boyfriends. She'd been depressed lately, stressed and overwhelmed and heartbroken, but why would she choose the day four of her adversaries were defeated and the boys she loved came back to her to throw herself to her death?

Had it been guilt? Had she cared more for the members of the Coven than she'd let on? She didn't seem to have an issue when hiding the bodies, but he knew how she could be, concealing her emotions. Bottling them up until they exploded in one way or another.

Guilt twisted in his guts at the thought.

James was only halfway through his journey when a man wearing a billowing cloak sidestepped him, cutting his pathway off. Lips parted, he prepared to curse him out.

Then, he closed his mouth, finding himself face to face with Severus Snape.

"You're looking for me," Snape said, voice drawled. Slow. Calculated.

James's eyes narrowed. "How do you figure that?"

"An estimated guess." He glanced around, down the empty corridor then back at James. "You're in the dungeons, after all. Since when do you come down here?"

James wanted to shoot something bad, a cruel word, a mean name. Instead, he shrugged. "Yeah. I was looking for you. I want to have a chat."

"Color me intrigued."

"You heard what happened to Lux."

His lips pressed together. Something odd flashed across his expression, so quick James almost didn't notice it.

But he did.

It was anguish, a downward twitch of his lips and his eyes growing momentarily weary, the dim lighting of the dungeon only adding to the dismayed look.

He didn't do it, James understood, an instantaneous jolt of realization hitting him. He was hiding something, yes, but it had nothing to do with Lux's tumble off the Astronomy Tower.

The look was gone as quick as it came, expression reverting to one of neutrality. "It's a shame," he agreed, a little too quick. "Suppose it was bound to happen eventually. She had a lot of demons. No doubt they finally caught up to her."

"You think she tried to kill herself, then?"

Another shrug, causing James's eyes to narrow through his glasses. Snape was lying.

"I know you and her were friends."

He didn't, not really, but that's what Remus seemed to be hinting at. That their alliance was more than the bare essentials Lux had alluded to.

He wished he had his invisibility cloak, that it hadn't been stolen, if only to spy on the very man in front of him.

Snape scoffed. "Lux Erzsebet was hardly my friend."

"Not a good one, at least," James agreed. "Since you nearly got her killed."

His expression darkened. "Get on with it, Potter."

"Do you know anything about what happened?"

"If I did, what reason would I have to tell you?"

He was at a loss, and Snape knew as much.

There was only one possible thing left he could use to his advantage, a grasping of straws he was unsure would work, but found himself desperate enough to attempt.

"I don't know," James admitted. "You have every reason to hate me and my friends. But I do think you care about Lux. And if someone hurt her...they could do it again. She survived the fall, but that same someone might press a pillow to her face while she sleeps and suffocate her that way."

His jaw shifted, seconds of consideration passing. "What if knowing who hurt her would only hurt the people you love?"

"What?"

"Who do you love more, Potter? Lux, or Sirius Black?"

The answer was easy, but he didn't want to say it. It felt wrong, a betrayal, almost, to admit Sirius held precedence over anyone in his life. Save for Lily, Sirius was his primary focus, something he knew would hurt everyone else if it were to be stated out loud.

"I love all my friends, Snape."

He shook his head, taking a step back. "You're lucky. Had Lux come around here two years earlier, she would've hated you. It would've been me she befriended, me she confided in. You'd have been nothing to her. No, less than nothing. She'd have hated you."

He was right, in a way that had James fumbling for an answer that would never come. He'd tried to be good, tried so hard to become a better version of himself, but that didn't erase his past mistakes.

It didn't undo the endless pursuit of cruelty he'd subjected Snape to for the simple crime of existing. It didn't grab Snape and pull him away from the blood supremacists he'd kept for company, all but forced into their arms because of James and Sirius's horrific behavior.

It didn't undo what Sirius did to him, to Remus, two years ago, the memory haunting them to this day.

It was only when Snape had turned around and walked away, vanishing around the corridor, that James realized the Slytherin had called Lux by her first name.

It had to mean something. He just wasn't sure what.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ───

Severus Snape had been in love three times in his life.

The first time was a girl called Penelope. He was five, and she was six, and they'd met at the park their mothers brought them both to. Severus had a black eye, the result of his father's fury at another perceived error of his mother. Eileen hadn't known what to do about it, no magic she could do was good enough to conceal the purple and blue hues that dotted his face, so he was sent to the park in the state he was in, instructed to tell anyone who asked that he'd had an accident when playing a ball game.

Severus didn't play ball games, but he knew better than to go against what his mother wanted. She could be just as cruel as Tobias Snape when provoked.

Penelope had a black eye too. She'd said she ran into a door, and Severus, even at that age, did not believe it.

They didn't talk about it much though. Instead, they played about. She let him push her on the swing, and then they took turns spinning the other around on the merry-go-round. By the time they parted ways, he'd known he loved her.

He never saw Penelope again. He still thought about her, all these years later. If she was okay, or if those bruises still found their way across her mahogany skin.

Lily came next. They'd met at age eight, three years since parting from Penelope, and up until recently, Severus had resigned himself to a life in which his heart would only beat for her.

She was too good for him. He'd known that just as well as he knew the grass was green and the sky was blue. There was no use pretending otherwise. He never bothered to, anyways, never believed himself as self righteous, as moral. He'd never deserved Lily Evans, but he'd had enough nerve to want her anyways, and enough self importance to be hurt when she didn't want him back. Finding out mistakes had consequences hadn't been the wake up call he'd supposed it should've been, because Severus wasn't most people.

He'd always known he was different, and this was amplified with Lux Erzsebet.

He couldn't say why he loved her. He loved Penelope because he saw himself in her, and was able to find freedom on that playground with someone he knew could understood. He loved Lily because she brought out the best in him — on most occasions, that was. She treated him with a kindness no one else had.

Lux was neither. She was hot and cold with her moods, inconsistent in a way that should've frightened a man so used to that from his raging father, but instead enticed him.

It had begun as a desire for power.

She was bursting at the seams with it, in ways he hadn't even known until the night before, but could sense anyways, like a predator zeroing in on prey by scent alone.

Her mind had been the gateway.

A mind so troubled by all means should have been guarded. It was odd that it wasn't — Ingelger's was, after all. But the more he'd contemplated it, the more it made sense that he could see straight into her thoughts.

They'd always been her safe space, in a world in which her words could not be aired. She'd never had to fear the invasion of her mind, until he came about.

Lux was troubling, in a way. Too forgiving, in a way that had him anxious on her behalf.

Had she forgiven him, was something he often found himself wondering. He wanted it, that forgiveness, proof that he too could make mistakes and still be seen as human, as worthy of a second chance. It wasn't fair, in a way, if she didn't. How could she forgive that Emma woman for standing by, allowing her to be raped, but not Severus?

He'd saved her, after all. From Mulciber and Rosier. Surely that had done some good in his favor. Maybe not put him above Black and Lupin, those useless idiots who she only loved in return because they'd gotten to her first, but it certainly should've alleviated some of the animosity between them.

(Part of him didn't want forgiveness. If anyone could change the path Severus knew he was walking down, it would be Lux.)

He couldn't say why it was that he loved her, but he did, and that was what mattered.

And with her future uncertain, so was his.

Potter knew it as well as him, though the common ground they'd found themselves on for the first time was an unwillingness to air the thought. For Severus, Lux's approaching death was not the only grievance rattling his mind, but the next step.

He needed a new ally. He knew who he needed to hunt down, to find a new path now that the current one had been cut short.

Regulus Black was not an easy man to find.

Severus had spent the better part of three hours searching the castle for him — beginning at the very Astronomy Tower he knew the boy liked to frequent, and making his way down to the dungeons.

Nothing.

He wondered if he'd somehow missed a place, forgotten one of the many rooms in Hogwarts. He could be in the Ravenclaw dorms, Severus supposed, with Pandora Rosier, hopped up on the very drugs that kept him from reading his mind. He could be outside, enjoying the nice spring weather.

Instead, he was buried in the very classroom Severus always found himself meeting with Lux in, their designated spot for lessons on Occlumency and planning their ventures together.

He'd subjected himself to reside in that classroom for as long as he could, every day. Just hoping she'd show up. So she'd know where to find him.

Even if it was to insult him, to tell him he was not worthy of the love she gave those two fuckheads of boyfriends, it was something. In the case of Lux, any attention was good attention.

Regulus Black was seated in the corner, legs held to his chest in a stance all too familiar to Severus. Something that had his heart panging in what he presumed was a rare bout of sympathy.

Was this how Lux felt, when she looked at the boy, too small for his skin?

Was this how she'd gotten fooled into toppling off the Astronomy Tower?

Regulus pushed himself to his feet in a fast, stumbling motion, but Severus was quicker. Swiftly withdrawing his wand from his pocket, the tip aimed directly at the younger boy's head.

To his credit, Regulus didn't falter. Didn't shrink. Only moved to wipe his reddened eyes — from being high or from crying, Snape wasn't sure of.

"Hurry it up, Snape. I've not got all day."

Severus smirked, pushing onto him an aura of confidence he could not truly find in himself no matter how deeply he searched. Everything that came out of him was a mirage, a falsity of what he ought to be, what the world expected from a man like him.

"I'm not going to kill you," he said coolly, keeping his wand raised as he added, "Coward."

Regulus flinched, the word slamming into him like a punch.

Yes, he'd definitely been crying. The consequences of his own actions, Severus supposed with something like a laugh slipping from his lips.

"I know you love her," Regulus countered, voice shaky yet posture stiff, the Black genes that flowed through his veins keeping his head high. He'd never abandon his roots, not truly, in a way that had Severus feeling oddly inferior.

"I don't love anyone," Severus lied.

"Sure." Regulus shook his head, not believing him. He couldn't blame the younger boy for that — he hadn't sounded very convincing. "You just did her dirty work for the fun of it, then?"

"It was an alliance. Nothing more."

"When it started, maybe." A shrug. "I've observed her for long enough to notice the people who observe her in return. You don't care about anyone but yourself, Severus, and yet..." His jaw shifted. "Yet you brought her the unicorn blood. Yet you saved her life from Liam and Evan when there was nothing in it for you. You kept her alive twice."

"Pandora Rosier told you what happened, I presume?"

The only one who'd know it was Severus, he figured. She'd have been told by Evan, who had woken up but still remained in the Hospital Wing, silent about the attack.

Mulciber too, hadn't said a word about it. Severus only just had enough restraint to keep himself from killing the boy. He had figured Lux could get around to it, when the time was right. Use him to get her magic back, as Emma from the Coven had said.

Regulus shook his head. "I guessed, actually. If anyone can get away with a spell of that intensity, the one that nearly killed Evan, it's you."

"Should I be honored by this perception?"

"Perhaps." Regulus took a brave step towards Severus. "If you're not here to attack me for hurting your precious Erzsebet, what are you here for?"

A crafty smirk slid across his lips, masking the pain he had radiating in his chest whenever he thought about Lux, about where she was and how she'd ended up that way.

He could kill Regulus. He wanted to.

But it would serve no one any good. If Lux was truly going to die, he needed to pave a new path. Find a new way to go about keeping himself safe.

He'd never been able to do as much on his own. His bastard father had seen to that.

He lifted his chin, staring down into Regulus's grey eyes. "There are two ways this can go, Black. Either I go straight to Dumbledore and let him know what you did to Lux. Or, you go tell the Dark Lord you singlehandedly rendered a vampire into a coma. You want to jump the ranks? Keep yourself safe? That will certainly grant you what you desire from him."

Regulus narrowed his gaze. "What's it matter to you, if I rise or not?"

"It matters because when this happens, I'll be your very best friend."

He let out a scoff of disbelief. "You want to be a Death Eater?"

"I want to survive this war," Severus countered. "Lux and Ingelger were Dumbledore's best shots at being the winning side. With her knocking on death's door, and Ingelger missing in action, what do they have to put themselves on top?"

His nose twitched.

"I want in," Severus continued. "And you're my window."

A pause, as Regulus considered this. "I don't know if the Dark Lord is aware vampires reside at Hogwarts. If he knows Dumbledore has two of them on his side."

"Then you delivering that very knowledge could bring you into his good graces. Set you apart from the others."

"Why don't you do it yourself?"

"How would I go about contacting the Dark Lord? I doubt he's accepting many owls from Hogwarts students. Not to mention I believe my letters are being monitored."

"Why's that?"

"Dumbledore sees all," was the vague response Severus gave. "You'd do well to accept this offer, Black. It'll only do us both good. Unless you'd rather I rat you out to Dumbledore and have you face his wrath. You may be a child, but he isn't exactly mincing when it comes to winning this war."

Regulus was quiet, though his grey eyes remained fixed on Snape. "Fine," he settled on. "Fine, I'll talk to the Dark Lord over the summer holidays. But you have to do something for me too, Severus."

He raised an eyebrow, lazy and unassuming. "Go on."

"If Erzsebet wakes up, you need to protect me. You need to make sure she — or Ingelger, if he ever comes back, don't get to me."

Snape couldn't help but scoff, before vowing a promise he knew he could not keep. "You have a deal."

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Fulk hadn't given Emma Greengrass much thought, in the past couple hundred of years. While the memory of her had haunted him in his initial years as a vampire, she'd waned to the back of his mind over time, forgetting much about her. The precise shade of brown her eyes gleamed with, the way her smile left a dimple in the left side of her cheek.

It had been Salazar's return that made her come back to him again. The reminder of one of the few people he'd loved.

Edgar, a boy he could scarcely remember.

Edith, his wife, dead days after Sara came into this world.

Aberforth, a man too good for him.

And Emma, perhaps the only person in which he could find a kindred soul in. She'd too been cruel at times, not quite sure how to know how to love in the right way. But he liked to believe she had loved him, after all. More than Salazar, anyways, the other boy she'd taken a fancy to. She'd loved power most, wielding her sight above the heads of everyone.

She could see the future, and yet, she'd not known which brother to pick. Instead, she opted to pin Fulk against his twin, seeing who would come out on top.

It had been tug of war, in a way. The two fighting over a girl they had no business interfering with. Fulk hadn't known her until much later, but Salazar...

She'd been his student, back at Hogwarts. Even in a time like then, Fulk understood the power dynamic was wrong.

He'd tried to stop it, a few years later, when he'd made her acquaintance. Instead, he'd fallen too, and she'd led him down a path there was no returning from.

Then, she'd been turned into a vampire, and everything had come to a halt.

It didn't matter, Fulk told himself, struggling to collect his thoughts as he pushed himself down the rough terrain leading to the castle. It was all in the past, something he had no desire to reminisce over while Lux resided less than a mile away from him.

When you rise so high, the only way up is down.

Camille Larkin had always been a curious case, someone Fulk opted to seclude himself from. He never had much of a desire to get to know her, finding her off putting and overall too familiar in a way that made his skin crawl.

But those words...

They had no business relating to Lux. His stomach wouldn't stop twisting into knots as he mulled over them, over and over in the very rhythm in which his steps made.

The castle was considerably empty — most students likely in their common rooms after the classes of the day had ended. The sun was beginning to set across the horizon, signaling the end of a long spring day, in which the weather was pleasant and the atmosphere crisp.

It did little to match his inner turmoil.

Emma, Lux, they'd morphed in his mind, mixing into a swell of anxiety he was unsure how to tame.

How, he wondered in the back of his mind, was she in the sun? Why was she in Hogsmeade at all, so very close to his daughter?

Now within the castle walls, Fulk broke out into a sprint.

He wasn't sure where he'd go about finding Lux, the castle a maze in which she could be in any part of. Instead, he went to the heart of the castle, the man whom the school revolved around.

He reached the entrance to Dumbledore's office with ease, though when the password to the golden eagle statue failed to work, he opted to shouting into the face of the bird until it opened.

No one was there to see his display, but he wouldn't have cared if they had, making his way up the spiral staircase with his limbs turned into goo.

"Fulk Ingelger," Dumbledore smiled pleasantly when Fulk shoved the door open, making no attempts to mask the intensity of his emotions. He wasn't at all surprised, given the placid expression on his face, and the way he barely looked up from the piece of parchment he was scribbling onto from where he sat at his desk.

"Albus," he greeted, disdain thick in his tone. "Where's Lux?"

"Take a seat." He nudged towards the chair in front of his desk.

Fulk ignored him, remaining standing as he approached the desk, slamming his hands down on the wood. "Where's Lux?"

"Did you find them?" Albus asked. There was an odd strain to his tone, not completely placid in his delivery.

"Find who?"

"The Blood Oaths," he said. His head tilted to the side ever so slightly, a subtle hint of innocence. "The group of vampires in Albania. The reason I sent you away in the first place."

He knew. Fulk was certain of it, the man in front of him knew he'd never made it to Albania.

Yet he could not admit as much, could not submit to defeat that easily.

"They refused," Fulk lied.

Albus raised an eyebrow. "Did they?"

"Where is Lux?" He demanded, dodging the question. No good would come from a confrontation, and he hadn't the patience to wait any longer. "Is she in the common room? Where do I find her?"

"I don't have twenty four hour surveillance on her, Fulk." A pause, fingers drumming on the desk. "But I do know where she is now, if that's of such great concern to you."

"Out with it."

"Patience is a virtue, Fulk," he reprimanded, leaning against his desk. A certain sparkle in his eye had the vampire resisting the urge to look away, that sea-sick feeling returning. "There was an incident."

It took everything in him not to fall over.

He wasn't sure he wanted to know what happened, the only thing preventing him from asking as much.

"She's alive," he said, a prayer. "Tell me she's alive."

"She's alive," Albus confirmed, and his body began to shake from relief. "No doubt her friends are at her bedside in the Hospital Wing this very moment. They can give you a fuller picture than I about what occurred."

He turned, not bothering to dismiss himself.

"Fulk," Albus called when he'd reached the door, all but stumbling towards it.

His head spun back around, the only acknowledgment he would give the man as his hand twisted around the door knob.

"Don't think I don't know you didn't reach your destination."

"Prove it," Fulk spat, taking the bait he'd only just sworn himself off of.

"The Blood Oaths were massacred in 1892. They don't exist."

His stomach plummeted.

"I think for both of our sakes, the lie you attempted to tell me should be spoken to Miss Erzsebet as well."

Fulk nodded.

I know your secret too, Albus, he thought to himself, before understanding it did not matter. What did he care of Albus Dumbledore lived forever, if he had two horcruxes, if his Lux was unable to join him in that eternal life?

What purpose did anything have?

He was out the door without another word.

Had this been his fault, he asked himself as he rushed down the halls, careless to the occasional eyes that would follow him, watching his frantic movements. Had Lux gotten hurt because of Dumbledore, because of him? His detours, had they gotten back to the Headmaster?

Was Lux meant to suffer for a crime he'd committed?

The Death Stone weighed heavy in his pocket again, pulsing with a need to be taken out. If he were anywhere else, he would have. He'd tell Salazar about it all, about seeing Emma clear as day, stuck in the sun as though the past thousand years didn't occur at all.

He hadn't bothered to ask how she wasn't burning. Didn't think he cared to know.

Maybe she was human. He wouldn't put it past her, knowing how she always got what she wanted.

Emma had ceased to matter the moment he spotted Hogwarts. A woman he'd loved, fought for, a thousand years ago had nothing on the girl within the castle.

Not to mention what she'd done.

The Hospital Wing was crowded when Fulk finally emerged into it, out of breath and heart rate increasing with every passing second. Two boys were on beds near the center, but Lux's was the furthest to the right, with ten or so students crammed around.

Fulk's breath caught in his throat.

Through the students, her body was visible, buried beneath a fluffy blanket someone else must've brought to the Hospital Wing, skin gaunt, pale, and eyes closed. Her breathing was slow and steady, indicating she lived.

But she wasn't awake. She was hurt.

He'd imagined their reunion in so many ways, ached for it in the bitter chill of winter and the dizzying movements on the boat. Never had it been like this, with Lux unable to reciprocate the intensity in which he'd missed her.

It wasn't just that which had regret flooding him, though. He hadn't been able to protect her, to stop whatever fate had caused her to be in such a position, and that was the salt in the wound.

It was never supposed to be like this.

(He thought of Sara, her corpse, bloodied and bruised from the beating her husband had given her. He thought of, how then, he'd not been able to do anything to save her. Had not been around to protect her. He was pathetically human then, and a thousand years later, remained the same.)

"—really, I don't think it was him," James Potter was saying to a red faced Remus Lupin.

No one had noticed him enter, everyone nervously engaged in their own conversations.

Sirius Black was the first to spot Fulk as he pushed himself towards them, weary eyes lighting up. "Professor Fuck!"

All heads turned.

He recognized all the students but one — a girl with big eyes and light brown hair, chewing on her nails in the corner. Lily Evans was on the ground, face red and tears silently streaming down her freckled cheeks. Lux's other dormmates were lined on the edge of a bed together, and Peter Pettigrew hovered by a window, previously staring out into the evening sky.

"You call him Professor Fuck?" The girl Fulk didn't notice looked at Black, appearing half scandalized.

"What happened to her?" Fulk breathed, ignoring the students as he positioned himself at her bedside. Up close, he noticed the details he'd missed. Her blonde curls were askew, messier than usual, and she wore a pair of glasses, a large crack running through the middle of the left eye.

That made sense, he thought in spite of it all, taking hold of the least alarming part of the scene before her and letting it become his primary focus. She'd always had horrible vision. He should've seen to getting her glasses sooner.

No one seemed to know what to say. No doubt afraid. He wondered if, over the past few months, Lux had told them all what she was. What they both were.

"She fell off the Astronomy Tower," Marlene McKinnon — who was noticeably pregnant, eventually spoke up. Her voice was dull, not apathetic, but void of emotions all the same. Worn down, perhaps.

"She was pushed!" Lupin countered, voice thick with anger.

"She tried to kill herself!" Lily Evans wailed.

He paused, taking in all this information, feeling as though weights were holding them down as it settled in. A fall from that height should've killed her. Should've killed even the strongest of vampires, save for perhaps the most ancient.

"When?"

"Today," Sirius said. His tone was shaky, but compared to the other boy Lux had entered a relationship with, he was more stable. He turned around, glancing at all the students. "Guys, I think Professor Fuck should talk to Remus and I alone for a bit. Then be allowed some alone time with Lux."

"Why?" Dorcas Meadows frowned. "Is there something we're not allowed to know?"

"Yeah," Mary MacDonald added with indigence. "What's going on?"

So they didn't know, Fulk presumed. Just the four boys.

"It's just for privacy. They've been apart for months, no doubt Professor Ingelger wants to have some alone time with Lux." Potter said, helping Evans to her feet. "Come on. Let Sirius and Remus fill him in, then we can all visit her tomorrow."

No one seemed happy about it. But Potter was a consistent voice of reason, in which they all followed with resigned acceptance.

Fulk gave Potter a final nod, before turning to the two remaining boys, eyebrows raised and jaw trembling. "Did she jump?"

He thought he'd go mad if she did. Lose any remaining sense of sanity. How could he not have been there? How could he have left her to hurt?

She'd sworn to him once that she'd never kill herself, a memory he doubted she could still recall. They were in the cabin, and she'd been in a particularly sour mood.

He'd asked her, holding nothing back.

She'd said no. Seemed almost offended by the question.

"I made a promise," she had told him, and Fulk thought it best not to question.

Black's lips parted, but Lupin pulled out his wand before a word could come out. With a wave towards the other end of the Hospital Wing, he turned back to Fulk. "Silencing spell. So no one can eavesdrop."

He should've thought of that. Mind too ailed to not, focused exclusively on his injured daughter.

"We don't think she jumped," Sirius said, and Remus nodded in agreement.

His shoulders slumped with relief.

The silence that followed provided him enough ease to break through the final few feet between him and Lux. Taking a seat down at the edge of her bed, he brushed a stray curl out of her face, tucking it behind her ear.

"She's very dear to me," he said, as though this weren't obvious. Words more to himself than to either of the boys.

Maybe it was to explain his shift, the lack of a mask he so frequently held. To be allowed to be fully and completely himself with these two boys, just for a mourning moment.

Tone gentle, as if trying to not wake her when this was precisely the opposite of what he desired, he looked up at Lupin and Black. "You've taken good care of her?"

"Course we have," Black answered with a wobbling smile. Lupin was silent.

He didn't have the energy to dissect if this was a lie.

Looking back at Lux again, keeping his eyes glued to her out of fear she may bolt if he did not, he asked, "Who pushed her?"

"We don't know she was pushed," Black rationalized.

Fulk shook his head. "She's not clumsy, nor would she be on the Astronomy Tower without reason. And if she didn't jump, then..."

"A lot's happened," Lupin began, sounding hesitant. Glancing at Black for approval, he went on when the boy nodded. "There's quite a few suspects."

"Such as?"

"We don't think it was Snape anymore," Black said, though he was looking at Lupin when he said this, rather than Fulk. "James said he didn't think it was him, friends or not."

"Lux keeps the company of Severus Snape?"

Lupin sighed with dejection. "It doesn't matter. It wasn't him. He had no reason to."

"Who did, then?"

"Mulciber," Black suggested, face glowing red at the name.

Fulk's posture stiffened, skin crawling at the reminder of that boy, and the grip he'd had on Lux's throat. How she'd not fought back, how she'd all but let him capture her.

As if she didn't view herself, her life, as worth fighting for.

Lux may not have been actively seeking to end her life, but passively suicidal was a term he'd coined to her long ago.

"He was expelled, though."

"His brother. Liam, not Thomas," Lupin explained. "He and Evan Rosier have been..."

"What?" Fulk demanded when he trailed off.

Neither boy spoke, though when he followed both of their gazes, he found them fixed not on Lux, but on her right arm.

Fulk grabbed hold of it, tugging the sleeve up until he was met with thin, black stitches lining up her vein. The wound had healed almost completely, from what he could gather, the skin a normal shade and the cut morphed into a pale scar.

"They imperioed her, and made her do that to herself," Black breathed when Fulk pivoted, a demand working up his aching throat.

"And they haven't been expelled?!" He was dangerously close to shouting, voice growing louder and louder with every word.

"She didn't tell anyone outside of us. It was so complicated. We didn't know what they knew about her, we didn't want any further retaliation since they didn't listen the first time, and Evan Rosier got what he had coming anyways." Black was stumbling over his words, breathing growing heavy. When all Fulk had to offer was silence, he continued, "You've missed a lot, Professor."

"Someone hurt her," he repeated the obvious, voice gone raw as he looked back at Lux, at her arm, at the evidence that someone had to stitch up her skin. At another instance of which power had been stripped from her, someone believing themselves as above her.

He hadn't been there to stop it, nor to provide comfort after the fact.

He'd never hated Albus Dumbledore more.

His lips parted, preparing for another question — why hadn't anyone else stopped it? Why had the boys who were supposed to love her let this happen?

Nothing came out, the sound of silence the only thing filling the Hospital Wing.

Then, the door opened.

A man with greying red hair walked inside, hazel eyes wide with worry as they zeroed in almost instantly on where Lux lay. Both boys turned around as the man — a few years Fulk's senior, rushed over to them, muttering something beneath his breath.

Only when he was at Lux's side, did Fulk see the flowers he held in one hand, using the other to whip out his wand and conjure a vase.

"Sorry I'm so late! I wanted to stop by earlier, but there were so many people, I couldn't well explain why I was there," he explained an unanswered question to Lupin and Black, as though familiar with them. "Is she alright?"

"She'll be okay," Black said. "She's not woken up yet, but Pomfrey says it could be a while."

"I'm sneaking her blood," Lupin went on. "I don't know if Pomfrey knows what she is, and I don't want to make a mess of things by telling her..."

Fulk blinked.

So he knew Lux was a vampire, cared enough to bring her flowers, and was clearly familiar with Black and Lupin, enough so that neither of them seemed phased by his presence.

Who the fuck was this man?

He cleared his throat, causing the redhead to jump. "Sorry, I didn't see you there."

"How?" Fulk asked, genuinely curious.

The man shrugged sheepishly as he gave him a nervous sort of smile, lips twitching in the rhythm of his speech. "I was a bit focused on Lux, I suppose. Merlin knows I've been worried about her all day. Staff's gone amok with this — I mean, this is Lux. What the hell was she doing in the classroom for a class she doesn't even take?"

"Er..."

"Sorry, I'm being awful rude, aren't I?" The man stuck out one hand in Fulk's direction, digging his wand back into the pocket of his robe with the other. Accidentally poking himself in the side in the process, he let out a pained whimper before mustering a smile and returning his attention to the vampire. "I'm Elias. Elias Hyde — Defense Against the Dark Arts professor here. Are you from St. Mungo's? I heard they were going to send someone from over there to examine her."

"I...I beg your pardon?"

"St. Mungo's," he repeated, drawing out the word this time. It might've been patronizing had it been coming from anyone else, but this man seemed genuinely concerned for Fulk's ability to hear. "As in the hospital."

"Your name," Fulk repeated. He'd almost thought he'd said...

"Elias Hyde." When Fulk was quiet, he went to scratch the back of his neck, redness creeping across his freckled cheeks. "I take it you're not from St. Mungo's?"

Fulk looked at the two boys, both of which were watching the scene go down as if unsure what to say to it.

"Like I said, Professor," Black began, clearing his throat. "A lot's happened since you've been gone."

ㅤ

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so uh...i should probably explain myself with the 16k chapter. originally this was two chapters, but i realized that nothing really happened in either, it's just a lot of head hopping and people yapping and i'd feel bad if i posted two of those in a row so you get a combo of them ahaha.

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