Her reflection in the water was transient as she moved past each pillar.
Her feet stung against the flooded stone with each step she took, guided by the torches on the crumbling walls. The moonlight hit the water and highlighted her blurry figure in the river that troubled the castle floors.
The darkness that surrounded her threatened to swallow her whole as the rushing sound of water grew louder. However, it was no match to the pounding of her heart beat as it distorted her mind, her vision unfocused as she desperately tried to get a handle on her surroundings.
“— unfortunate, truly."
The unfamiliar voice stabbed through her and she stumbled as it met her ears with a painful hiss. Her velvety skin seared with pain and she felt burned by invisible flames, licked by the heat two words caused. They were venomous and inhumane, and a part of her knew she shouldn't understand them.
Her hand flattened against the wall next to her to catch herself and the falling crumbles of rock pricked her palm and fingers. Her breathing became haggard as the effects of the mysterious being stayed heavy in the atmosphere.
She glanced around and swallowed the lump in her throat. Her eyes fell to the water that covered her bare feet, following the trail of the moonlight.
“It's exhilarating, isn't it?”
She sought out the voice, tracing the destroyed castle with her eyes. Her chest visibly moved with her harsh breathing as she found every dark corner, wondering if the stranger was hidden away in each one.
With a quick, dull-witted decision, she stepped away from the wall, letting her warped face stare back at her as she followed the off-gray glow of the moon.
Everything seemed to move in slow motion as she walked, jumping at any noise that disturbed the silence. She held her breath, eyebrows furrowing as the water started to rise, hitting her ankles.
A mangled, clicky growl made her muscles lock up. The burning of her skin sank into her bones as she kept her gaze frozen on the ground.
“To hold such power inside you… “
Three seconds.
The three seconds of deafening silence should have warned her, but she stood still and waited. As soon as her brain caught up to the situation, it was too late.
A loud, terrifying hiss sounded, and she was pulled to the ground by her wrist. An agonizing pain shot into the joint and through her veins, scaling up her arm until her whole body started to writhe in the water.
The pain sunk into and set her aflame, melting into her lungs until she couldn't breathe. Through the white of her vision, the castle flashed, faded, and slowed like a camera.
She could feel the scream she let out, it set her chest ablaze, but all she could hear was the sound of the fire coursing through her body.
“How does it feel to bear the fragility of life? To hold it in your hands and know you could destroy it so easily?”
Her cries were silent, and for a moment she could feel the water soak through her clothes, the stone of the castle floor harsh against her back. The rising water made her panic grow, making the blinding ache spread faster.
Through the pain, her eyes flickered, alarmed. They raced around the castle in blurry flickers before landing on her wrist, and though her sight was obscure, she could make out the puncture wounds that formed two lines— something bit her.
It wasn't a fire. It was a toxin streaming through her, searching for her heart. An ignition that wouldn't dwindle with the murky water.
There was something almost poetic about it, to feel the scorch of a venomous blaze while drowning. To be on fire, begging to be put out, but not even the satisfaction of the water could diminish the flames.
The water moved like waves over her face as she fought to hold her breath, letting the kindling inside ruin her. If she were to die, she'd welcome the fire like an old friend – a lover's breath against her cheek. It was painful and slow, but it's what made her know she was still alive.
Footsteps in the water made her insides cling to her impending death. She could hear his breathing, could feel his presence hovering over her like an icy breeze.
“I must say I couldn't get enough of it…”
Through the water and dust, and past the burning of her name, a delicate touch of a stranger's hand brushed her chin. His slid behind her head, entangling in her hair as he lifted her head out of the flood.
She instantly tried to gasp for fresh air, but it was like her chest had a lock. No air was allowed inside her and there was no key to let it. Her lips trembled. She didn't want to die…
Her eyes widened as his fingers brushed her dirty, wet hair out of her face. Her breathing was sharp and uneven as her lungs deteriorated inside her.
The man holding her was older, possibly by a few years. He was blurry, and his movements made her dizzy, but she could make out his pale skin and dark hair and eyes.
She tried to speak but all that came out was a choked, raspy wheeze. His thumb and pointer finger pinched her jaw as he held her face.
Maybe it was the way her eyes burned from the dirty water, or maybe it was her consciousness slipping away – but for a moment, it was like a painting came to life. His skin was porcelain, faded like a vintage canvas. Against the moonlight and the starry night, he was nearly angelic.
The fingers turned her head and his dark eyes were as poisonous as the bite in her wrist. While his touch was soft, his eyes were void of any gentleness. His irises were darker than ink and colder than a tundra. If she wasn't already paralyzed, she was positive her skin would be violently frozen.
“But you… You, the reflection of my very soul —”
His hand squeezed her neck, cutting off any remaining air flow. A ringing went through her head and his words were lost in a muffled buzz as the room spun.
The venom started to win and slowly, she felt life leave her. She couldn't feel his sickening touch or hear his silent words. She couldn't even feel the fire as it destroyed her. She couldn't feel the water in her lungs. All she could feel was a cold sensation as the pain left, and then nothing as her head fell back.
She was completely numb, and she was terrified. Why was she alone? Why was she dying in the arms of a stranger, one who was gladly watching her fade away?
The dismantled ceiling of Hogwarts spun and lost color as her gaze locked on it. Pieces fell down and splashed into the water. Her head was light and she couldn't feel her body. Maybe she was already dead and was just another ghost floating around the dark halls.
Could she really seek survival if it was already taken from her?
She felt another wave of dizziness wash over her, and her vision started to go black. She tried to focus, but everything became darker and darker.
A sense of calmness came over her as exhaustion seeped into her bones. She didn't realize how tired she was. Her muscles relaxed as she closed her eyes. It was a bad idea — she didn't want to die, but it feels like she's been fighting for years, and she just couldn't do it anymore.
She was just so sleepy.
As she slowly let sleep take her, she came to a conclusion.
Death is peaceful once you stop fighting it.
—
“Ms. Granger?"
The soft, feminine voice pierced through Y/N's trance, making her jolt in her seat. She squinted her eyes, blinking as she pushed herself up. Her gaze scanned her surroundings and she felt her finger tips go numb at the multiple sets of eyes staring back at her.
Her chest burned as caught her breath, recognizing the classroom as she pushed herself up.
Her teacher gazed at her with concern and curiosity from the front of the room, making her heart race. She instinctively reached for her necklace, a habit she had developed whenever she was nervous. Her skin burned as her classmates snickered at her lost expression.
"I um... I’m sorry. I didn't hear you, Mrs. Atkinson," she stammered, her cheeks darkening. "Did you ask me a question?"
Mrs. Atkinson gave her a sympathetic, bittersweet smile. She tucked a stray strand of platinum hair behind her ear and tilted her head slightly.
“That’s alright, sweetheart. It’s time to turn in the assignment…" Her amber eyes flickered from the textbook on Y/N’s table to the clock. “Please pass it forward, hun.”
Y/N swallowed and nodded. She reached for her bag on the ground, eyebrows furrowing as she dug through the organized notes and pages. Her face prickled as she mentally cursed at herself, pulling the assignment out of her bag. She gave it a once over before handing it to the student in front of her.
"Sorry,” she muttered again as it made its way to the front.
Once the paper was in Mrs.Atkinson’s possession, the older woman examined it carefully. She raised her brows before placing it on the pile with a soft ‘thank you’, and gave Y/N another gentle smile.
Y/N returned it, watching her spin around to face the blackboard, erasing the nonsense they were learning. She grinded her teeth together as she bit back a groan, shaking her head. She propped her elbows on her desk and dropped her face in her hands.
Her shoulders tightened as she clenched her jaw. There was no reason to cry, she reminded herself. Everyone just thinks she spaced off. If they saw her tears, she'd never hear the end of it.
Her fingers trailed down her face as she released a quiet breath. She lifted her head and looked out the window next to her, rolling her burning eyes. She observed the glass as it frosted over from the cold, her warm breath clearing the fog. The ice returned in tiny crystal’s and she bit the inside of her cheek.
She pulled her sleeve over her hand and wiped the thin ice off the window, dampening the purple material. Her reflection stared back at her as she watched snowflakes flutter in the air, twirling like little ballerinas.
They landed on the ground, creating a duvet of white that blanketed everything in sight. The trees were bare, and the branches reached like skeletal fingers, haunting through the thickening fog of winter.
A sharp, stabbing sensation pinched her wrist and she wrinkled her forehead. She looked down at the moist sleeve and pulled it away from her skin.
Her eyes widened as she brushed her thumb over the angry, red v-shaped cut on her wrist. She pushed her sleeve down her forearm and nearly choked as she noticed the blood that trailed down with it.
It felt like she swallowed her tongue as she felt the air leave her lungs.
‘–yanked her wrist and dragged her down.’
‘–the imprint of the teeth left two lines of punctures.’
A hiss left her when she shakily traced the wound, the skin of her fingers irritating the tear on her arm. This wasn't possible.
'The pain sunk into and set her aflame, melting into her lungs until she couldn't breathe'
The bite mark throbbed insistently, a cruel reminder of its existence. Two punctures, like twin fangs, marred her skin.
"This isn’t possible,” she whispered, her voice trembling. The room seemed to close in on her, walls pressing against her chest. Her eyebrows furrowed, and her fingers—once warm and familiar—now turned icy, numb. She flexed them, desperate for sensation, but they remained unresponsive.
Her toes fared no better. She wiggled them, but they might as well have been carved from ice. The floor beneath her feet felt distant, unreal. Wasn’t it supposed to be solid? She blinked, vision blurring, the edges of reality fraying like old parchment.
“This isn’t real.” The words escaped her lips in a breathless rush. She clung to the bedpost, knuckles white. The room spun, a carnival ride gone awry. She sucked in a breath, tasting the metallic tang of panic.
I'm still sleeping.
With a gasp, she jolted forward, her throat and chest burning. She blinked, disoriented, her surroundings shifting. The classroom dissolved, replaced by her dimly lit bedroom. Sweat-soaked sheets clung to her body, and her hair plastered itself to her tear-streaked face.
Her heart raced, a wild gallop against her ribs. She reached for her wrist, fingers trembling as they explored the unblemished skin. No blood, no sign of the bite. Just the lingering ache, the memory of teeth sinking into flesh.
Across the room, her silver-coated cat stirred, its eyes half-open. He had been there all along, a silent witness to her nightmare. She swallowed, throat dry, and met the cat’s gaze.
The room smelled of fear and desperation, mingling with the faint scent of her mahogany shampoo from her pillow. She pressed her palms to her temples, willing the panic to subside. The dream had felt too real, too visceral. But dreams didn’t leave marks, did they?