Bite You in the 'Mourning'

(get it, it's a pun.)

First Chapter Lengthy Author's Note

Start Here :D

First of all, I don't own anything. Literally, I don't own anything. I don't own the OCs. I don't own the out-of-character tendencies of Draco. I don't own the plot of this story. Don't even blame us for the plot. We don't own the plot. If you hate the plot, you don't hate us. We don't own that. I don't even own the title of this fanfiction, so I think it's extremely safe for me to say I in no way own Harry Potter or the characters from it.
Now that we got that cleared up, let's start with the author's-y note part of this, shall we?
First of all, as I have established, this story isn't ours. This is a yet again rewritten (but followed plot and characterization) version of My Immortal, what I would like to call one of the most notoriously, and horribly written fanfiction of all time. Secondly, Kaitlyn, kkjoy, and I—I'm Olivia, oh hi—are attempting to improve the all-around quality of this website by improving this story because we simply have nothing better to do and kind of enjoy entertaining your souls. I'm taking the odd chapters, she's taking the even chapters, so bear with us here. And now, enjoy… maybe?

Chapter 1

I suppose I am what you would consider to be 'gothic.' I acknowledge this as well. I know a lot of things that you, my reader, do not. I know of the burdens of immortality, and I know too well of giving into temptation and the consequences of my decisions. I know the young tend to be foolish and are temporarily blinded by their bodily desires that they forget to see people for who they really are. I see how easy it is to lose your values in this corrupted system of a society. I realize how one could believe love could conquer all. This is how I was so long ago in my seventh year of Hogwarts. So blinded. So naïve. So youthful. So wrong.
I'm sure living forever must sound—nice, for lack of a better word. How wonderful to never worry of sickness, death, or aging. It is not, let me tell you. To live on your mistakes forever is more of a wretched curse than it is luxury. Your generation leaves you behind, and yet you still remain youthful, disguised amongst the oblivious new generations, on the outside when you really know you do not belong.
I feel I never really belonged in my particular secondary school. My name was something like a curse you'd hear old-times clergy cursing witches with: Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way. Not a shred of hope, light, optimism, or lack of disease—if we are being technical—even in my name. Plus, the annoying apostrophe splitting Dark from ness causes ridiculous hindrances in the already impossible-to-pronounce full name of name. Students tend to start looking down upon you with what I would consider as fair, assuming stereotypes like Goth, punk, and rebellious.
I tend to believe I lived up to the stereotypes as I grew older though. Naturally, being accepted into the gothic community was not an exceptional challenge as I was born a blood-sucker, and the stereotypes of the gothic community basically detailed my natural, ghostly appearance. I found myself streaking my unnaturally long, dark hair with vivid shades of red and vibrant variations of violet. My eyes were naturally a devoid, fading blue as even my pupils did nothing to try and 'pop'—or contrast, if you will—from my disgustingly, pale skin. My signature vampire fangs were not a noticeable spectacle in routine despite common legend, as they were hidden beneath my pearly-white, straight teeth.
So long ago, I faded to what I was fairly accused of being: Goth—in case you could not tell. It also stemmed to the clothes I wear—everything from ghoul gray to bad-ass black—to the shops I bought them from, Scottish spin-offs of Spencer's and Hot Topic. This fashion sense follows me even today. One particular day, for example, I remember wearing something like a dark corset with matching black lace and miniskirt with the added accessories of torn, pink fishnets and black combat boots. I found myself applying crimson eye-shadow and unnecessarily-thick eyeliner with that of deathly dark lipstick and white foundation simply because I could. I think it particularly struck a nerve that I applied paper-white foundation all over my blemish-free, perfectly pale face which did nothing but maybe whiten my skin not that much more, and then, I managed to justify doing so by the redundancy of fitting it to the gothic community.
Beside the stupid epiphany of that day, there is also another important reason I brought up that day. It was a nice day for a vampire on Hogwarts campus that day, so logic deemed that it was horrible weather for mortals or things that idealized sunlight correlated to happiness. There was something of a delightful chill in the air. Rain clouds synchronized with that of winter snow creating bizarre slosh deposits around the campus so typical of incredibly cold winter weather of Scotland. The preppy students around campus stared, as they were wondering why I was not wearing my standard, school uniform and how I could even dare of defying the Hogwarts rules. In turn, I gave them the middle finger: a crude but effective gesture in dealing with judgmental, prep students. You should try it sometime.
"Hey Ebony!" I had heard my name called from across the hallway and was suspicious. Most of the kids here didn't mess with Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way (mainly because they couldn't all remember my name, and when they did, the name suggested darkness and paralyzing of the brain: two things that usually don't bring you normal friends in secondary, wizarding school.) I looked up. It was… Draco Malfoy.
"What's up, Draco?" I ask, trying to keep my cool. Even though he has been one of my best friends since the first year of this hellhole most call 'Hogwarts,' I still act hardened toward his friendly nature. I acknowledged the stupidity and potential vulnerability that a genuine relationship with Draco presented me in. The most pathetic thing was that even as I understood the risks of depending on someone, I still did. Draco was different. Draco cared about me.
"Nothing." He said shyly. Just as I was about to reply with something hard and blunt, I had heard my other friends calling me from across the corridor chanting my full name to receive my attention, and then I had to leave him there…
-Olivia