Nathalia (DISCONTINUED)

Chapter 1

Nathalia Sharpe, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, crammed the last of her clothes into her second leather bag. It had been weeks since she saw her aunties, Sabrina and Ambrose, and there were no words that could describe how much she missed them.

Although the witch was already a senior, she never once enjoyed a single moment of being here. Maybe it was the bustling atmosphere that made Nathalia's head spin, she wasn't certain. Her brain would often turn to mush as her eyelids drooped from lack of sleep. Of course, the girl couldn't express that to her aunts, especially Zelda Spellman, because they would flip. "For you to enroll in the Academy is an honor," aunt Zelda would affirm. Being a witch was hard, and Nathalia couldn't recall signing up for it.

"Headed somewhere Nat?" A deep sultry voice made the witch jump.

"Dear Satan, Scratch you scared the living hell out of me!" She hissed.

Nicholas Scratch. A name often whispered around the halls of the Academy. Whether from the parting lips of impressionable horny girls or praises from impressed professors, Nick was many things. A warlock-slut, a total daddy, or a self-assured tryhard, the list is never-ending. Wherever you go, his name is echoed. It's impossible to not know who the warlock was. His Golden Boy reputation was truly notorious.

"Going home I see?" Nick asked, a smug look plastered on his face as he made himself comfortable on the ground next to Nathalia.

"May I remind you that you're not invited?" She uttered, barely paying any attention, much to the dismay of the warlock.

"I might not be invited," He whispered, cracking a boyish grin as he twirled a strand of Nat's dark black hair with his finger, "but I'm wanted?"

Nathalia laughed, which in turn received a cheeky grin from the boy. Ever since she enrolled in the Academy, Nick has had eyes on her the second she laid foot on the grounds of the school. He was the only student that ever surpassed her in their shared classes of Conjuring and was the first person friendly enough to approach her. Nicholas was, much to Nat's surprise, the only person that truly looked past her Spellman heritage. Most students would assume that, because she was raised by the infamous and, often controversial, witch family that she would be the same. Yet, Nick never asked anything of the witch, rather just simply enjoying her company. Although their relationship occasionally crossed the line of platonic, or possibly erased it, she had no desire of taking it any further.

"Not this time." Nathalia winked, before turning on her heels. She could feel his gaze burning a hole through her skull, yet as upsetting as that sounded, she can't deny the fact that she enjoyed the attention.

Nathalia liked the feeling of knowing someone desired her, but never enjoyed feeling a strong desire for someone else. Maybe it made her a selfish person, the dark-haired witch never really cared. She knew how it felt to have your heart completely shattered, so she avoided giving anyone her heart at all. It was always easier for her to fix the mess she made than it was to fix someone else's, Nathalia had learned.

The Spellman's mortuary wasn't far away, and Nat has the route memorized like the palm of her hands. She was so ecstatic to leave that hell-hole, feeling like a bad omen had lifted off her shoulder. From afar, she could see her house standing tall from behind the trees. The sound of the wind blowing through tree branches was so soothing to her. It was almost nostalgic.

"Nathalia!" Aunt Hilda called as she waddled towards the young girl.

"Auntie Hilda!" Nat chuckled, embracing her aunt.

"Oh dear, you must be starving!" Hilda beamed, ushering the Sharpe girl into the house almost too eagerly.

As she entered the house she called home, Nathalia found herself helping Hilda cut up some fruits for breakfast.