All warnings were given first chapter… please refer to it!
And.. um.. maybe I should have let you know this would be slow going? Sorry – I will try to pick up the pace a little! Here is a treat!
I also know I said "weekly" but that's wide open for interpretation as is everything in life~ like deadlines.. just don't take my word for it.
The Crow
(First Arc: The witch from another world)
(Part 03)
XxxxXxxxX
...
Her breath escaped in small puffs between delightful little mewls and embarrassed moans.
His larger hands, with his long fingers, traced the lines of her curves, caressing untried skin for the first time and alighting a fire inside of her and raising delightfully sensitive goosebumps all over her back.
Violet's inexperience was intoxicating, her body writhing above his as her own hands sought the planes of his chest to explore – Smiling, a dark, promising grin that had his young lover trembling in anticipating pleasure, he guided his hands and mouth to the peak of her breasts, kissing a tempting trail above flushing, heaving flesh until his lips met the junction between neck and ear.
A long, drawn out moan left her throat, the sound attractive and seductive. He sucked the moisture right out of her skin, lathering it with wet kisses.
He could feel his body responding to her, blood spouting where it should making him come alive beneath her lower body. She must have realized his desire, for her movements became a little more frantic, and her breathing just a bit more accelerated.
Love burned in his heart for this precious girl, spurring him to meet her in a heated kiss, hands reaming to her hips so he could gently guide their natural undulation - seeking her own pleasure now that she discovered the advantages of friction.
He could give her pleasure, plenty if she'd let him.
"Clow… please" Violet murmured against the shell of his ear, moist lips touching oversensitive skin. It took a lot of self-control not to come apart like an untried teenager, and a lot more of it to stop the urge to utterly debauch her.
"You don't know what you are doing to me" He ground out against her neck.
She's gotten the rhythm he set on her hips, grinding against him on her own as his hands mapped the expanse of the delicate curve of her back - rising to cup a slender, feminine neck and pulling at her hair until her throat was completely exposed.
The sweating, modest mounds of her chest were right at the level of his thirsty mouth.
Violet just keened most beautifully when he took a nipple between his teeth, rolling a wet tongue over it to sooth the sting as he continued to draw her into him.
"I think…" Violet struggled for words "…That I have an idea" she panted wetly.
"Oh no, precious one, you will only know when I'm nestled inside of you. When you are stretched tautly around my own flesh, when you're screaming out my name to the stars as I fill you over and over again"
"Clow!"
…
"… Clow… Master Clow…?"
One of his many servants is calling.
The butler.
He remembers a name and a face but couldn't be bothered with anything beyond that.
The haze he fell into took a while to lift.
'Was that a prophetic dream or just a wish?' The sorcerer wondered with bemusement for a single moment. 'Violet is awaken at last' He made the mistake of touching their bond. Whatever daydream he just had, Violet also experienced.
'It started from me' Clow realized soon enough. 'My desire for intimacy translated into the dream and spread from me to her, I hope she isn't too distraught' however benign his wishes were, his true feelings were beyond naughty in nature…
Heat just throbbed in his veins and it's difficult to control a more physical reaction when his very being aches for her… And he still had to deal with poor John.
"It's nothing, just a vision" Clow Reed could feel his body betray his portrayed nonchalance for a moment, though he couldn't help the smug, self-satisfied smile that stretched over his face. The servant shifted awkwardly, looking away, professional enough not to comment on the oddities of his master. "Is Miss Potter awake yet?" The question was redundant.
And yet…
His servants would be calling Violet mistress soon enough – a little whisper filled with mischief echoes around them mutely.
'Mistress Reed… Lady Reed…'
"I think so, sir, she's been calling out your name for the last hour"
That self-satisfied smile turned slightly predatory. The servant wisely kept himself silent.
The bond has finally come to life, established if not malnourished. Consolidated with his desires and her young hesitance, she'd come around to him eventually.
He'd be everything she ever wanted.
XxxxXxxxX
Violet Potter is the kind of girl who never expected a lot out of life.
Ever since she could remember, every time she's built expectations around something or other, something or other would go wrong. It's not a matter of happenstance, it's a surety that followed Violet for years.
And yet…
The Dursleys would make up all sorts of ridiculous things she's supposedly responsible for and punish her, the Teachers wouldn't let her change classes away from Dudley, Aunt Petunia would kick the puppy who followed her home from the dumps back into the dumpster… and later, when she's found magic and allowed a little spark of hope to shine in her heart, Violet wasn't really disappointed when it all came crashing down on her.
She's almost glad it did.
It means at least that little bit about her is still the same.
She thought she could be just another little girl in the magic school – before, she was Dudley's troubled cousin, or the girl who always got in trouble, or the girl who anyone would pick in the courtyard. Never just another girl – Violet Potter discovered she'd never be just another girl, she's the Girl-Who-Lived, after all.
So really, the moment her guard dropped and she dared to dream of a Voldemort-free world… she's literally kicked out of it.
"Unfair doesn't exist for people like you, Violet, you need to take your future into your own hands and decide for yourself what is really of worth" Luna told Violet once upon a time, when the blond, spacey witch found Violet in the train, hidden under her invisibility cloak after Pansy, Draco's little bitch broke her nose and a rib, then petrified her leaving the green eyed witch for dead.
Violet expected a very painful night, listening to her own rattling breath and trying to contain a cascade of angry tears.
She was at least hopeful that a house-elf or a station worker would stumble upon her eventually, she's not really afraid of dying or of pain… she's spent worst nights curled up in her cupboard after Uncle Vernon pulled out his belt.
'Freaky girl! Don't you dare step a toe out of line again!' – The snap of the belt was heard before she felt the pain. Always the sound before the pain.
But Luna came…
The last thing to confirm that fate had it in store for Violet was that right after she managed to get a fair one on one against Voldemort, and win, she's yet again had her world turned upside down – unable to reap the joys of her victory or mourn for those who fell. 'I don't even know who survived!'
It hurt.
As she lays on the comfortable bed, looking around the richly decorated room which obviously belonged to a wizard's house from the faintly drawn runes all over the walls and the open floating flames instead of lamps – Violet forced her mind to remember.
Voldemort's wand crossed against hers – her seemingly naïve Expeliarmus spell casting a bright, strong red light that clashed against the vicious deadly green from her nemesis' killing curse.
'Silly, naïve, stupid Potter. Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, thrice is a conspirancy' Three times Voldemort hurtles killing curses in her direction. She survives the first two, the third is wide open for debate.
A shift in her perception was all it took for Voldemort to get the upper hand – the sickly green was almost upon her, she could feel her own doom – accepted it even. But then she thought of her friends, the family she made and suddenly, it wasn't the green which dominated their circle in Hogwarts' courtyard, but the red - proud and strong.
It rolled over Voldemort, pushing his own foul magic back in his direction.
Overhead, behind the castle' skyline, a storm brewed ferociously, fed by the wild magical energy pouring from the dozens of duels happening simultaneously – attracted by the breaking point in history – it was a chapter about to be written.
Little nodes, made of tears, blood and sacrifice.
It could happen either ways: How Violet Potter dueled the Dark Lord Voldemort and won, freeing the wizarding world from his demented reign of fear and death.
Or.
How the Dark Lord Voldemort dueled Violet Potter and won, revolutionizing the wizarding world and putting the muggles in their place.
History written by the victor…
'Will I even have the chance to write my own story?'
The wind picked up, time stopped as green eyes met furious red. Violet pushed her magic to its limit, and in the end, she might have been the only witness to Tom Riddle's last, desperate expression as he was consumed by his own rage in death.
Rain started falling.
Clouds swirled with wind and lightning as Voldemort's followers fell to their knees in surrender. She had a minute in which everyone stared at each other as if wondering what was coming next… And then, with a crack of power and light, Violet's world turned white.
Next thing she knows?
Through hazy eyes, she was able to see the silhouette of a man – he wore glasses and had long dark hair – his voice was kind, though the last thing she wanted to hear.
"What… who are you…?" Violet rasped, magically drained and utterly exhausted. She's been dead only a scant minutes before and now… now she has no idea what's going on.
'Is Hermione alright, is Ron? Is Neville? Did Luna escape? Did Remus…? Did I do it? Is Voldemort dead?'
She vaguely saw the man's expression soften while his eyes glinted through the shadows cast on his face.
"All will be answered soon, precious one, sleep for now"
Violet fought the command. Resisted and struggled the call of sleep as valiantly as she could. 'I want to know what happened to my friends! Where is everyone!?'
But just as part of her hesitated, another part, buried deeper and instinctual ceded – in the end, Violet fell asleep despite not wanting to.
Wondering absently why the man felt so familiar.
XxxxXxxxX
When Violet woke up the first time, she was utterly lost and confused enough to forget herself.
It hurt so bad…
All she wanted to do was curl into a ball in the back of her dark cupboard and cry.
She remembers crying her eyes out on a stranger's arm, and that his kind soft words were slightly comforting, if not infuriating at the same time.
'And he's here, sitting right beside me!'
There was this burning melancholic halo around the man she found sitting at her bedside, staring at her through dark blue eyes that shifted to darkened silver every now and then.
Now, under better light she could appreciate his features better – Long black colored hair that fell in straight locks gracefully down his shoulder. Slight Asian features easily seen through his slanted, almond shaped eyes and elegant, high cheekbones. He looked to be on his late twenties or perhaps early thirties, though with magical people it was hard to gauge true age.
The man seemed tall, though he was sitting down.
Violet could appreciate his stature through long legs hidden by the wizard's bulky robes. She could also easily see his House's colors – his clothes and the color theme around the room were done mostly in dark blue, gold or black.
Broad shouldered and powerful, his very presence sent Violet on edge and made her toes curl at the same time.
Predator.
Her mind whispered, acknowledging the bigger threat in the room. Gaining confidence by noticing his benign disposition, the young witch struggled to a sitting position so they'd be on equal grounds before uttering a faint and utterly ground breaking:
"Who are you?"
His deep eyes softened as he regarded her fully.
The smile that stretched his lips was breathtaking.
Violet could be forgiven for the sputtering beats of her hearts because – dimples. His pale face was luminous, and his expression open and friendly. Something in her chest relaxed minutely just as a breath left her lips.
"My name is Clow Reed, precious one, can you tell me your name?" He said with a certain expectation, as if waiting to be recognized.
Did he do something noteworthy or wrote a book recently?
Hermione would know better except she isn't here and he still wants an answer and oh Merlin, please don't let this be another Voldemort follower.
And then came 'Who does he think he is to call me that?' That rebellious fire lit in Violet when she thought of how Dumbledore had manipulated her for years with his grandfatherly poise and harmless eyes.
It chaffed.
She ached.
It hurt.
"... Violet Potter...And I'm not your precious one" Violet corrected, a little hastily and freaked out. Who's he to call her by a pet name? But she swallowed her sudden discomfort and continued questioning "how - how did I end up here? Where am I"
Through lightning, light and noise and power. 'Clouds swirling in the sky and swallowing me whole and-' Clow Reed's face fell into a frown. He should be smiling – Violet pushed that train of thought violently out of her head 'I barely know him' she told herself confusedly.
"I'm sorry, that's a question I cannot answer right now... I can tell you where you are though; we are in my estate, a few dozen miles north of London. You fell from a Storm"
-Cold, so cold, hurtling through the rain hopelessly until she was caught by warm, strong arms and cradled protectively against a gentle chest.
"Oh..." Violet breathed out, assaulted by images, colors and sensations. She was marginally aware of a protective hand caressing her own in slow, drawn motions - making her heart skip another beat and shivers run down her spine – it was pleasure.
She wanted comfort and pleasure right now – but is Voldemort gone? Is Hermione alright? Is Ron? Is everyone? – And Violet didn't feel she deserved comfort, so she drew away, ignoring the faltering look mysteriously alluring Clow Reed sent her.
"What is the last thing you remember?" His voice had a cadence Violet found almost criminal. Velvety soft and deep, a voice that commanded attention, made to sing rhymes and call out spells. But through this all looks really obvious, is he really a wizard?
'Can I trust him? Won't I get in trouble?' The witch hesitated, simply because she had no fond memories of the Ministry and held no wish to be court martialed a second time. ' I can even read the letter "Miss Violet Potter, you were caught exposing the Enclaves to a muggle. Kindly give up your wand so we can try to break it again and kick you out of Hogwarts' "
"A-are you a... um..." Clow Reed smiles encouragingly as she search for words "...Wizard" she settles for.
'But would it be a bad thing if I received a Ministry owl? At least I'd know they still exist!'
"Indeed, Miss Potter, though I am considered more a Sorcerer due to the scale of my powers" Reassuring. "Can you say what is it you remember last?"
'Oh yes, I can'
He takes her hand again, this time more cautiously. Violet allowed the contact if only because her mind was playing her last minutes on Hogwarts' grounds with feverish fervor…
… And the last thing she wanted was his kind, soulful eyes boring into her when she was bathed in memories of blood and spellfire, watching as her home fell under siege and her not knowing the fate of her friends.
"I... I was at Hogwarts" She started to say, only to notice his faintly inquiring eyes. When people talked about Hogwarts, their eyes always gained that sparkle of life so inherently familiar. Clow Reed doesn't know what Hogwarts is. Its utter madness "You don't know what Hogwarts is? But you clearly have magic!"
'Am I going insane? Is this another afterlife? I'd rather have Dumbledore, please. Thank you'
However dark her thoughts were, Clow Reed chuckled.
A deep, resonating sound that made her feel as if he was patronizing her in some way. Yet as his eternally gentle eyes regarded her as if she was a precious, priceless, irreplaceable gift, Violet relaxed.
He isn't mocking.
"And can you say for yourself that you know all there is to know about the world?" Well, no "We don't even know from where you came from, my dear, finish your tale"
"Right... right" And once more, images of frightening spells flying overhead, of listening to the cries of the others, of praying her friends would be alright. Tom Riddle's Avada Kedavra breaking against her chest, his corrupted and malicious magic filling her every pore with death…even the texture of Hagrid's robes when she woke in his large arms with tear droplets sliding down her neck from the gentle half-giant's eyes.
Violet didn't realize she was crying until Clow Reed had her pressed against his side. 'Why can't things go my way for once?'
"Shh... You're safe with me, shh... don't cry my dear one, nothing will not reach you here, you are alive-" The scent of parchment, tea and magic filled her senses, calming her down as much as his words and gestures did.
Inexplicably, the half-forgotten memory of an afternoon spent in potion class, with Slughorn prompting everyone to take a sniff of amortentia. Violet, moody and sad after Sirius' death gave a halfhearted attempt at participating, and was only a little disappointed that she didn't recognize the smell she got.
Not entirely.
It didn't make sense then, but it does now.
The combined smell of foreign spices mixing with the addicting tang of magic – unfamiliar and dark, it curls in her nostrils for a second or two, before giving way to a softer aftertaste of tea.
"Is-is Voldemort gone?" She asked half coherently, forgetting she hadn't actually told him anything. Her mind a haze she couldn't make heads nor tails of.
"I don't know, but I can find out" through the haze of her tears and the roaring of blood in her ears, she heard his words and drowned in them "Would you like to rest a little before we talk more?"
'I need to know more.'
'A couple of things don't add up'
like the fact he doesn't recognize her, and the classic decoration that looks brand new. The air smells clean, cleaner than even at Hogwarts, as if pollution didn't have the time to creep into everywhere yet.
'No technology visible… even from Draco's house we could see the electric street lamps'
"No… I'm fine. First, what year is it?"
There is no dreading the question now.
…
XxxxXxxxX
TBC!