Disclaimer: The following story is in no way, shape or form a claim to ownership of the Harry Potter franchise, or the existing fanfiction story My Immortal. Those stories belong to JK Rowling and Tara Gilesbie, respectively. This story is intended solely to be for entertainment purposes.
Author's Note: Well, look at this. Genma's finally posted something that's not Yu-Gi-Oh related. 'Immortals Never Die' is my spiritual successor to the story 'My Immortal', one that arose on the day I challenged myself to do something I never thought I'd be doing. It's one thing to write fanfiction based off Television or Literature; it's quite another to write a fanfiction based off another. So, without further adieu, I give you my take on the story that redefined 'bad' forever…
Chapter 1
Through the ancient, cracked and damaged stained glass windows of my room, the first signs of daylight began to filter in, landing upon the only part of my face still visible under the partly-closed lid of my coffin bed. Though at first I tried to will away the day's grasp, eventually I succumbed to the wakefulness daylight brings with it; and even as much as I despise the day, I pushed away the lid of my coffin and stand up.
The room in which I dwell is nothing like an average dormitory room. The old, pre-Victorian castle from which this academy is made make for faded brick walls, crystal chandeliers and exquisite bronze-work for the mirrors, desks and wardrobes. Stepping from the confines of my coffin, and seeing that the others with whom I shared by residence had since departed, I stepped towards the mirror and beheld my current, matted appearance from an alcohol, ecstasy and intercourse-fuelled night of sleep.
My name is Ebony Darkness Way, eldest and only daughter of a prominent family in the world of witchcraft and wizardry. The pale, almost deceased-looking white skin on my body was contrasted by my lumbar-length jet-black hair (my mother's hair, as my father has often told me; it was my being born with this black hair that gained me my rather unique name), complete with my own added purple streaks and scarlet tips. The yellowed, fades sclera of my eyes were bloodshot, matching with the scarlet irises and slit-like pupils they accompanied.
Six years ago, my parents enrolled me in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in England, where my natural talents and my – shall I say, unique, personality – earned me a reputation as the queen of my dormitory: Slytherin. The order of the serpent, those of a potent and volatile persuasion. Other than rival Gryffindor, we hold the strongest members of the school; though unlike our brothers and sisters there, we have the dubious honour of representing the more sadistic and malicious students.
Looking to my left, I noted that the bathing room across from the beds was vacant, and that a single dry towel remained within. Stepping into the small area, I closed the door behind myself, not bothering to lock it because to my knowledge no one else was there. Reaching for the corset-like drawstring of my black silk nightgown, I pulled loose the bow holding it together, causing the article of clothing to fall at my feet, revealing the form of my body in the ceiling-to-floor mirrors.
My body if the envy of many other girls at this school. There is almost no fat on my body, allowing the curves of my female form to show prominently. Though I am not muscular by any means, my body has enough of a build to it that I have an athletic appearance, speaking to a certain level of physical strength. My family also always liked to point out my great cheekbones, rounded face and plump, healthy-looking lips; but of course, true to their bastard nature, the boys at this school are interested only in my D-cup breasts.
Stepping into one of the showers, I pulled closed the silk-like shower curtain behind me and reached for the levers for hot and cold water. The warm, sensual water suddenly and blissfully began to fall and coat my body, causing me to gasp at first before my goose bump-covered skin adjusted and relaxed. While my hair became wet and less matted, I reached for a bottle of shampoo and conditioner sitting on the ledge of the shower, working it into my hands and then using to lather up my hair. Feeling the dirt and oil of the night begin to loosen, it eventually fell away with the lather, leaving my hair completely clean.
With my hair now cleaned off, I quickly reached for the taps and pulled them back to the closed position, bringing the flow of water to a stop. Pulling away the curtain, I stepped back out into the bathing room… and gasped when I discovered that I had apparently overlooked something. I was, in fact, not alone.
Standing in the doorway of the large room, leaning against the doorway with her arms crossed over her black leather corset-like top, one of my closest friends and an ex-lover of mine stood, smirking at the sight of my dripping, naked form. Seeing my reaction to her presence, she reached to the side and grabbed the dry towel, throwing it to me so I could cover my body. "For Goth's sakes, Mary," I hissed, trying to sound frustrated but failing to hide my own amusement.
Mary Smith is a close cousin of the Gryffindor girl Hermione Granger, and just like her is a truly awe-inspiring witch born from the filth of muggle blood. When she came to Slytherin, she was finally able to be her gothic self as she always wanted; and because of that, we all started calling her "Bloody Mary", a name which she enjoys very much. "Come on now," she replied cheekily. "It's only been what, two weeks since I last saw you without your clothes on? With that long-stemmed rose of a friend of yours, Willow, wasn't it?"
Both Bloody Mary and I began to giggle at the implicit but ultimately true statement given. Yes, I had gained notoriety for having had multiple girlfriends, and nearly as many boyfriends, in my seven years at this school. Wrapping the towel around myself, I return my face to a more sombre and straight expression, one more like the image of Gothic rebellion my friends and I represented. Our message was simple, effective and to the point; that the society-following sheep, or "preps" as we called them, had no value and did not belong. The hatred we held for those kinds of people were as great as hatred among the wizarding community for… He Who Must Not Be Named.
Reaching into the black leather bag around her shoulder, Bloody Mary produced and tossed me a set of my own clothes, so that I could get dressed then and there. Handed to me were a black lace bra and matching thong, which I slipped on in practically no time; then, I adorned a black leather corset-like top with lace back and scarlet trim, a black leather miniskirt with chain link belt and red mesh trim, a set of fishnet stockings, and black leather combat boots.
"Here," Bloody Mary added, tossing me a smaller fabric bag. "You need to out on your makeup so you don't look like such a fucking poser." Giving my friend a snarky expression, I nonetheless stepped up to the mirror and pulled from the bag first black lipstick, then black eyeliner, white foundation, and finally a dark purple eye shadow. I wasted no time in applying some foundation to hide some of the imperfections in my skin; then, I proceeded to apply the other products, tossing them back to Bloody Mary less than a minute after receiving them.
"Come on," I instructed, turning and walking past Mary. "There's no telling what those preps might do without us around." The very thought of leaving people like them to their own devices made my blood boil; the last thing I wanted was to walk into a classroom with pink on the walls and ridiculous pop music blaring in my ears. I'd sooner rip my own ears off than endure that vile shit they dare call music.
Stepping out of the girls' dormitory, Bloody Mary and I reached the first staircase down to the floors below, where I simply jumped up onto the stone banister and slid down, a daring smile looking up at Mary. Instead of taking my silent challenge, she simply opted to walk down the stairs; but by the time she was even one-quarter of the way down, I had reached the bottom and stood back up.
"Hey, where the fuck is everyone?" I questioned, my echoing voice on the walls and Mary's footsteps the only sound in the entire hallway. Shortly after that, though, I heard the sound of somebody shushing me; and turning to my right, I saw the form of that disgusting troll of a man, Mr. Filch, and that flea-ridden rat he dared call a cat, Norris. Turning to the repulsive-looking figure, I cocked my neck and head into an expression of contempt, while also raising my right middle finger at the man. Glaring back at me, Filch simply turned and left, while Mary reached the bottom of the stairs.
"Ebony, everybody's probably headed for their classes by now," she responded, at which point I snapped my neck back to look at her and convey my frustration at that idea.
"What? Why the fuck didn't you wake me up?" The thought that my own best friend would leave me in that sort of position infuriated me; but rather than show any remorse, she simply looked back with her own look of conviction.
"I thought vampires didn't sleep at night," she responded accusingly, referring to my alcohol-induced black out. Indeed, I had probably had a bit too much to drink last night; but I still needed to get where I was going.
"Hey, look, it's that prat of a vampire," the voice of a male suddenly rang out, followed by two sets of footsteps. Coming from the direction of the great hall, I saw two figures approaching me: Crabbe and Goyle, two of the most idiotic boys I'd ever had the displeasure of meeting. How I wanted to ring their necks and stick them like pigs, lapping up their blood as some feral wild dog; but instead, under the watchful eyes of all the enchanted paintings, I simply restrained myself and stood glaring at them.
Stepping up in front of me, Goyle pulled out a handful of pounds and stuck them in my face, and then asked me, "is this enough for a lap dance, or are you even cheaper than that?" Immediately both he and his friend began to snicker and giggle like two schoolgirls over an older boy; so to snap them out of it, I grabbed Goyle's pudgy arm and twisted his wrist, causing his money to fall to the floor and his to grunt out at the pain.
"Hey, what the bloody 'ell's that's for?" Crabbe asked, as though I'd assaulted the both of them out of nowhere. "If you don't want jokes like that about you, then you shouldn't dress like Paris Hilton in a leather bar." Enraged by this comment, I proceeded to grab the smug oaf by his throat and pull his face closer, his eyes looking into mine, and I saw the look of terror on his face.
"Don't. You. Ever. Call. Me. Paris. Fucking. Hilton." With these words out of my mouth, I took the miserable bastard and threw him, single-handed, against one of the walls of the castle. He immediately hit the wall with a thud and fell onto the floor, after which one of the paintings on the wall fell onto his head with a resounding "clunk!" The figure in the painting began to grumble at his mistreatment, so Mary simply stepped over and put the painting back up on the wall, as though nothing had happened.
"If you ever make a remark like that, comparing me to some prep bitch again," I scathed, making sure to open my mouth wide enough to show him my hook-like fangs, "I'll bite off your manhood and shove it down your throat. Am I understood?" Crabbe's best response in his condition was to muster up a brief and wobbly nodding of his head, before he simply fell back and passed out against the ground. Turning back to Goyle, I grabbed him by the scruff of his collar and hoisted him up, his head far above mine. "If you'd like, you can compare me to Amy Lee all you'd like."
"Who the bloody 'ell is Amy Lee?" he questioned, continuing to snark me even despite his condition. To show him how utterly unamused I was with his ignorance, I set him back down onto his own two feet before thrusting my closed fist into his face. The sound of his nose cracking after the motion assured me that I had done exactly as needed; then, grabbing him again, I simply threw him aside and Issued,
"Just stay the fuck out of my way." The boy immediately rushed over to his friend to see if he was alright; meanwhile, I simply started off in the direction of the great hall, to get a measure for where everything was in the passage of time. Rushing to catch up with me, Bloody Mary reached my side; and as I could tell she was ready to speak I told her, "Don't bother with the speech. I won't do it again, provided that prick stays outside my reach."
"Crabbe! Goyle! Here did you two run off to?" A voice echoed from around a corner, getting louder. Stopping in my tracks, I watched the form of Darius Malfoy, the younger brother and successor to Draco Malfoy; he looked just like his brother, with bleached-looking blond hair and blue eyes like sapphire. "Oh, it's you, bitch," he responded smugly, looking upon me with the sarcastic smile only a true friend gives you.
"You should keep your two pit bulls on a better leash, Malfoy," I scolded him playfully. "I almost had to euthanize the pair of them for chewing at my skirt." Giving me a look of complete amusement, he nodded at me and simply walked past me, still looking for the two buffoons.
Darius Malfoy was my conquest. In my time at Hogwarts, my reputation had rivalled that of the great Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, an elite individual and the only female of the three. With the two of them no longer within this school, that left me as the only remaining crown-holder among the student body. Everybody wanted to be friends with me, and nearly as many to sleep with me; and once I dug away at the preps and posers among them, I was established among the goth community of the school. Only Darius made any attempt to evade me in that way; and while part of that was from him being new to the school (having only just joined after last year), I knew he thought himself superior to a female. Fucking sexist.
Eventually Bloody Mary and I made out way outside the doors of the school, walking towards our Care for Magical Creatures class. What little sunlight there had been earlier was now eclipsed behind a veil of cloud; and from that covering, a slow and sparse sprinkling of wet, soft snow fell, turning to water on our clothes and bodies and rolling off us. "Fuck, this is gonna ruin my eyeliner," I pondered, watching Mary's predictably amused expression at my statement.
"Oi, Ebony, what the fuck took you so long bitch?" another voice called out to me from the top of a hill. Looking up, the silky-haired and black-cloaked form of my friend Willow descended from atop a hill, pulling back her hood to expose her dark grey eyes and the sharp lines of makeup along her cheeks.
"Does it really matter?"I asked, turning to her with the frustrated face to match my mind at that point. "We have to get to that fucking class; there's no way I'm missing an encounter with a Lethifold." No longer willing to wait for my friends to respond, I simply turned and started off in the familiar direction, a smug smile of imminent triumph plastered over my face…
*Well, that's all for Chapter 1 for now; after all, I don't want to show my full hand until I know what people think. So go ahead and review, preps.*