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etiennepaddywrites · 1 year

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The Curse by Etienne Paddy: Chapter Two

Later that week, I accompanied three of my friends to St. Stephen’s village for some shopping the afternoon they arrived back at school. After a long day of retail therapy in the quaint tudor-esque shops, we settled in The Powdered Newt, the local pub, to feast and play catch-up. That being said, I did not have much of an appetite for eating or merriment in the wake of my sudden singledom.

I clocked the group of Kiltrasners across the room, with the addition of two girls. One white blonde, weapons-grade beauty was nestled under Rafael’s arm, purring into his ear, and a pixie-faced redhead was draped over Asp.

As far as I was aware, Rafael had been linked romantically with Anousheh Fatemi for the past six months or so, who was still in Iran for the break. I imagined she wouldn’t be too happy with the scene unfolding before me. I wrinkled my nose and turned away.

“Honestly, I’m gonna boke,” said Irena, delicately as ever in her thick Northern Irish accent. As I looked at her she gestured towards the group with her fork, mimicking a gagging noise. Janie and Henry, our other companions, also followed her motion.

“Isn’t Rafael seeing someone?” Janie asked, brushing her blonde hair out of her round, pink face. “Why’s Delphine Draxton clung to him like a limpet?”

I tried not to roll my eyes at Janie’s innocence in the face of such flagrant infidelity.

“Delphine Draxton’s done quite a lot of clinging to boys this year, so I’ve heard” Irena sniggered. Janie looked scandalised, where Henry scrunched his nose in distaste. “Irena, please.”

Irena often carried herself with the decorum of a streaker pelting through a funeral service.

“Where do you guys think he and Ariadne have been all this time?” Henry asked in a hushed tone, peering at us through his tight brown curls. I braced myself for Irena’s standard inappropriate comment but she remained silent, her pale blue eyes searching each of ours with raised eyebrows, waiting for our suggestions.

“Who knows— they’re Duclairs. For all we know they may have just been on a long, expensive family holiday,” Janie offered, always prepared to cast anyone the benefit of the doubt.

Irena scoffed loudly. “Don’t be a dope, Janes. They’ve obviously joined the Reapers — everyone’s been saying it.”

“You don’t know that” Janie pointed out stubbornly, her cheeks flushing. “The Duclairs basically fund the school, they can take time off whenever they want. That makes far more sense than kids joining the Reapers.”

Irena gave us a look of don’t be so sure, and I ruminated on it for a moment, my finger tracing the rim of my forgotten drink. I was inclined to agree with Janie. Rafael was only sixteen, like us, and Ariadne, his cousin, was a year older. Far too young to join the terrorist group, even if their uncle was — unofficially — at the helm of it all.

Irena shamelessly ogled the group across the room before raising an eyebrow at us. “Well if one of us could get his kit off, we’d know for sure.”

Even after years of Irena’s lewdness, we still awkwardly avoided each others’ eyes.

“You know they say they all have those marks on their chests—” she expanded with a giggle, tracing a circle over her left breast. “I, for one, would happily volunteer.”

We all sighed in weary unison and the conversation then moved on to all the boys Irena thought were ‘rides’ this year. After ten more minutes of pushing my food around my plate and listening to the various positions Irena would like to practice with a burly Longfield boy in our year, I decided to excuse myself. I wasn’t in the mood to hear about Irena’s romantic endeavours, imagined or otherwise.

“Aw Fleur, it’ll get easier,” Janie said kindly.

“Edward didn’t deserve you. He was an absolute snooze,” Irena chimed in, helping me hoop my scarf around my neck and giving it a little pat when she was done. I crinkled my nose. She’d kept that assessment quiet over the past couple of months.

I said my goodbyes and left, making my way over to a low wall opposite the building, savouring the smell of peat fire smoke as it bloomed out of the pub’s wonky old chimney. I leaned against the jagged stone, taking a minute to myself before I made the journey back up to school.

The creak of hinges drew my attention to the rickety wooden door where Rafael was shrugging on a black cloak just beyond the threshold. He slid a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket with long, thin fingers, throwing a glance over at me. I quickly looked away, embarrassed to have been caught staring.

He was obviously a complete tool, but he’d grown up to be devastatingly good-looking. The last summer holiday had been kind to him, his boyish youth having become sculpted and refined. Here he stood, willowy and toned, with ear-length hair so dark it swallowed the light, falling effortlessly in loose curls over heavy black eyebrows. It was no wonder he had a harem.

I realized then that I was staring at him and quickly moved to redirect my gaze. Not, however, before he’d noticed.

To my utter horror, he sauntered over to me. I didn’t know what to do with my face in case this was one of those situations where you think someone was waving at you, only to wave back and realize you were entirely mistaken. He stopped next to me, leaving a little room. Leaning back against the wall, he took a drag on his freshly-lit cigarette, his golden signet ring glinting in the sunlight.

“Everwood” he greeted me smoothly whilst I gawped at him, mute. “Sorry about Verner earlier. He’s become a bit of a dolt of late, hasn’t he?” His musical voice was so beautifully modulated that all I could think of was how I longed to hear him speak again. “Or a colossal twit, was it?” He chuckled as he brought his cigarette to his lips. “It was a pleasure to see a glimpse of that forked tongue of yours again. More’s the pity it’s so seldom.”

“What’s it to you? We haven’t spoken in years,” I pointed out bitterly, finally finding my voice.

“Now, now, play fair,” he chided me.

“By all means, correct me.”

“It’s been a fractious time.”

“You mean your uncle?”

“No, the weather,” he said, sliding me a contemptuous look.

Being from an elite, ancient family, any whiff that Rafael had anything to do with someone as inferior as a halfling would indeed cause an uproar.

I did understand that, but I couldn’t forgive it.

“And the change in weather means you’ve decided to acknowledge me after so long?” I snipped as I pulled my cloak tighter around me and filled my lungs with the cold, January air.

After burying our friendship in the garden of our youth, I couldn’t believe his shameless impudence in unearthing this familiarity as if things had never changed.

Standing here with him now, I could still feel the lump that’d been lodged in my throat as I’d torn up the aeditrium’s stone staircases three years ago. I’d been struggling to fend off the oncoming tears after a run-in with a group of Kiltrasners when I’d heard a voice out of nowhere.

I stopped and listened, before realising that I hadn’t actually heard anything with my ears.

It was a strange sensation, and even stranger to process the connotations of what was indisputable: Someone’s voice was in my head.

I heard the cry again and stopped, trying to discern where the voice had come from. I deliberated for a moment before closing my eyes and succumbing to the peculiar feeling. I didn’t know how, but my body just knew what to do. After a deep breath, I let my consciousness peter out of my body, rooting around for the source of this voice. I found that its shaking wrath was like breadcrumbs in the air, leading me directly to its master.

It was my first true encounter with him. We’d shared a few classes at this point but had never spoken beyond pass the book, although hisnoble lineage and pleasing face had always made him a person of note to me. Upon pinpointing his mind, I couldn’t restrain my curiosity. Working actively against my better judgement, I decided to probe.

Who’s there? GET OUT OF MY HEAD, Rafael bellowed, as soon as I’d entered, the words reverberating around his mind like a scream in a tunnel.

I recoiled in shock, before collecting myself and shouldering in once more. How did you know I was here? I asked obstinately, determined to work out how he’d identified an intruder. It would be just typical for me to discover this rare new skill only to find I was useless at it. All my other abilities had required such hard work to be considered noteworthy in this world, after all.

Because I’m not stupid.

An unseen force began to scoot me out. Nevertheless, I clung on.

Training? I asked, groping for answers — willingly surrendered, or otherwise. Training would make sense. A powerful family like the Duclairs wouldn’t risk enemies infiltrating their minds or those of their children, no matter how unlikely that would be given that telepaths were a dead breed if the media was anything to go by. Which, I supposed, it wasn’t.

The very mention of the word ‘training’ swung open a door in his mind that confirmed my theory. A hazy vision of a young Rafael next to his older brother Sacha, being instructed by a private tutor in blocking telepathic invasion. A Professor Demonstras. Rafael didn’t like him. Sacha loved to wind him up.

I flinched as the door slammed shut on Sacha’s face.

If you won’t leave, I’ll eject you, he warned, and I didn’t doubt it. I did wonder, however, how I’d managed to gain entry in the first place considering his obvious extensive coaching.

Where are you? I asked, blinking back to my own consciousness before trying a few doors around me.

In here, his voice carried through the ether, and a door materialised at the end of the corridor, embedded in the stone wall that encased the Bell Tower. I gasped, eliminating the distance with a few strides before closing my fingers around the door handle.

The exertion of mind-hopping had my head thumping and a prickle gathering in the corner of my eye. I daubed at it with my forefinger and brought my hand back before me, the tip of my finger now glistening red.

I smeared the blood on my black habit and entered the room. My mouth swung open as I glanced around in awe. The gothic windows looking over the grounds reached up to a vast ceiling adorned with cobwebs. The room itself was enormous, allowing for the bells in the room above, the mouth of each presumably the size of a small boat judging by the width and depth of the space. Not only that, the room itself was filled with forgotten oddities and an eclectic assortment of shabby furniture.

I could see the residue of magic clouding the room in the light from the window, like dust in an attic. There were boxes of trinkets thrumming with mystical properties, mounds of clothes and hundreds upon hundreds of books. It was like a hoarder’s trove.

“It’s you,” Rafael breathed in surprise. I ignored him, instead reaching to touch a little silver box on the table next to me which emitted a squeak and shot off the edge. He sneered. “Pick up your jaw, it’s only a load of old rubbish.”

I was shocked by his lack of amazement. I still harboured a childlike wonder where magic was concerned. Where everyone around me considered these incredible things par for the course, I wanted to rifle through everything, to learn more about this captivating world I was so lucky to be a part of. But a Duclair? I suppose his lack of interest wasn’t actually shocking at all.

“Are you okay?” I asked, turning my attention to him, which he promptly swatted away like a meddlesome fly.

“Why are you here?” he deflected imperiously.

I processed his words, remembering the heated call with my father in the phone room and the vicious glee on Woodrow Kilbrook’s face as he’d eaten up my humiliation and left no crumbs. I bit my lip, the degradation washing over me afresh.

Rafael’s face changed dramatically. He clearly hadn’t meant to incite a breakdown, yet here I was, eyes watering and lip a-quiver.

“I— I—” he stammered, his shoulders tumbling out of their aggressive stance as he floated awkwardly over to me. “I’m sorry.”

“False etiquette doesn’t suit you” I managed, focusing on the floor as I schooled my twitching face back to neutrality.

“I am,” he said with sincerity, stiffly putting a hand on my arm— although I imagine he’d meant to be comforting. At this age, Rafael hadn’t quite developed his intoxicating hold over women and his touch lacked the self-assuredness that would soon inform his every movement. Too soon, arguably.

We stood there for a moment, standoffishly regarding one another, both unsure of how to proceed. I was aware of the things he and his friends said about me behind my back, which made me wonder why he was bothering to feign kindness now.

“You know that’s rare?” he offered. “Your ability?”

“A magical halfling?” I snipped. “Yes, I’m painfully aware, thank you.”

There were only a handful of halflings in the entire world. According to everything known about magic and DNA, it shouldn’t be possible to have magical halflings at all— all other children born to inter-magical parents possessed no abilities whatsoever. You’d think I’d have been revered as a medical marvel, but halflings had always been scorned, even before the birth crisis. Our teeth were less sharp, our movements more sluggish, our senses less refined… We were considered a blight on the race.

Rafael frowned at me. “No, I meant the telepathy — even amongst magiceans, it’s very rare. Does anyone know you can do it?”

“No” I admitted. “I didn’t until just now.”

“That’s quite remarkable for a —”

He caught himself before he uttered the slur dancing on the tip of his tongue.

“Fleur?” Rafael asked as I snapped back to the present, breaking forth out of my reverie and back to The Powdered Newt. The wafts of cigarette smoke and the crisp chill of the day settled once more upon my senses. I nodded, inviting him to continue.

“We’re not children any more” he reiterated, giving me an icy look.

“Sorry?”

“You’re a halfling, your father a race traitor, no less—”

“We were friends,” I said, and he flinched backwards slightly, as if I’d sworn at him. The corners of my mouth began to twitch, threatening to tug downwards. “Why does any of that matter? No one ever knew!”

“We could never be friends” he asserted with a scowl, twisting that final word over his tongue like it had a bad taste.

“Oh, well thank the gods you sought me out to make that clear.”

“I just thought I’d check on you. Don’t read into it” he said brusquely, casting away his cigarette butt.

I suddenly felt a burning desire to strike him. “I don’t know why you scorned me all of a sudden. I’m just as bright as you” I snapped. “All this talk about halflings being less magical is rubbish and you knowit.”

“Even so,” he said, refusing to meet my eyes, “but facing a birth dearth? Half-br—halflings shouldn’t be allowed in magical circles— race treachery cannot be condoned. It sets a bad precedent and it won’t help the crisis.” He took a step towards me, lowering his voice. “You might be able to navigate your obvious physical drawbacks,” he said, pulling his wand out of his pocket and spinning it around his fingers with impossible speed to embellish his point, before snapping it to a stop, “but no amount of practice will ever have a magical child quicken your womb. And now, that’s what really matters.”

Anger flared in my chest. “You didn’t seem to mind me being here when we were helping each other with our homework.” I hissed. “Last I checked, my womb didn’t even come into it.”

The look of utter insult that flashed across his face was interrupted by the Kiltrasner rabble bursting out of the pub. Asp stopped to assess our proximity. “Raf, is that mule bothering you?” he called over. Rafael recoiled from me.

All I did was frown and curl my mouth, but it was enough. “What was that, Never-Would?” Asp fired at me. “Nothing smart to say today?” The lanky boy stalked over to us as Rafael slowly backed away from me towards his friends.

Hot tears began to pool in my eyes as I put my hands up to bat Asp away, but he was too quick. “Just you wait you little half-breed”hespat, grabbing my upper arm as I shrank away from him, afraid. “Once the New Order is underway we’ll be a supreme race once more. Our lands will be reclaimed and you’ll be cast out of this world where you belong,back to that Unspirited dung heap you hail from. I, for one, hope they slit your throat at some altar, like they used to. Either way, enjoy your days here, for they’re numbered.”

He shoved my arm back and I massaged where his fingers had gripped me. Each sore spot was like a button pressed, and fury began to swell within me. I wished I could slap him. I wished I could muster the courage to punch him right between the eyes. “Any success you’ve had has been 99% perspiration and don’t you forget it.” He held a finger up to my face. “True magiceans do not sweat.”

“Don’t play with your food, Vern,” Rafael lectured in a bored tone. “It’s so bloody common.”

Asp scowled, but quickly directed his vexation at me. “You should know better than to approach him. Do you need a reminder of your place here?” He spat at my feet.

“And yet you’ll have me linger” Rafael stated impatiently, turning on his heel. “Get a fucking move on.”

“Mark my words mule” Asp warned as he began to back away. “You can’t hear it now,” he raised his hand to his ear and twitched his fingers menacingly, imitating raindrops falling from the sky, “but the thunder is coming.”

I clenched my teeth, trying to govern my swimming eyes. I waited until the boys were over the hill and out of sight before I let the tears escape.

#yafantasy #yaromance #yafiction #writersoftumblr #regulusblack inspired #regulusblack #ex-fanfiction

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etiennepaddywrites · 1 year

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The Curse by Etienne Paddy: Chapter One

Present

I had decided to labour away at school over December break instead of heading home to celebrate the winter solstice like the rest of my friends. With sixth-year exams looming, it was a more useful application of my time. Plus, I vastly preferred schoolwork to being lodged in the crossfires of my parents’ divorce, particularly when surrounded by sarcastic jubilations of the season.

That’s not to say it wasn’t lonely. Unexpectedly lonely. My half-brother was spending the holiday with his mother and my boyfriend of a few months, Edward Minnulwood, had dumped me the night before he’d journeyed home.

And that’s how I found myself alone in the school library one day in early January, sniffling into my Herbalism notes like an idiot.

A group of Kiltrasner students barged into the library and slung their bags over the far end of my table. The cause of their excitement became apparent when a familiar figure was ushered in through the heavy oak doors like a champion, with a friend’s arm over each shoulder.

The boy in question tossed an airy look my way before turning his attention back to his friends. The reminder of his unsettling beauty triggered a knee-jerk animosity within me. A dislike that had me grating my teeth against the blow as though he’d thrown me an insult and not just a glance as the rabble approached. I tensed, gripping my pen and quickly dabbing my eyes with my sleeve.

“Duclair’s back!” the boys chanted before being shushed by Madam Padfield, the librarian, as she disappeared into the dark labyrinth of towering shelves in the seemingly endless ancient room.

I kept my head firmly downward, pretending to be absorbed in my work but really just praying they’d ignore me. I wondered what had kept Rafael from school this past term and hoped it had nothing to do with the rumours circulating about the nefarious activities of his uncle.

Whilst the majority of the group ruffled Rafael’s curly hair and slapped him on the back, Verner Asp, Rafael’s rat-faced, mud-haired and thoroughly sadistic sidekick took stock of his surroundings and pieced away from the crowd. He sauntered up the long mahogany table towards Freddie Jameson, a third-year Carisbrooke student, who had consequently turned a rich crimson.

“Oh, that was clumsy of you, Jameson. Why did you do that?” he asked in mock concern. The blonde boy looked up at him quizzically before Asp cast his arm out and swiped all of his belongings onto the floor.

I shot my gaze back to my work, hiding behind the curtain of dark brown hair fanning over my notebook. If he was picking on someone else, it only meant he hadn’t spotted me yet.

Asp’s cruelty knew no bounds and I could attest to that from experience. I really didn’t want to get involved, but Rafael was watching and that made me nervous. His right-hand man had become ungovernable of late and was clearly hoping to cling to some semblance of dominance now Rafael had returned. I sincerely hoped Jameson was not about to get caught in the middle of a chest-beating contest, but if that was the way it went, well that was the way it went.

I was skimming the page of my book, taking in nothing, when Asp found me.

“Ah, look who it is! Fleur Never-would.”

I loathed how my heart sank even though I’d heard the cruel play on my surname before — a nod to my supposed lack of allure.

Sitting up straight, I reluctantly met his eyes and forced myself to sound bold. “Do you ever tire of being such a colossal twit?”

The group roared at my embarrassing choice of phrasing and I instantly regretted opening my mouth. I noticed Rafael surveying me and I turned to meet his curious gaze. He frowned in surprise, as though he’d just remembered I even existed.

As far as everyone else was concerned, though, we had always been complete strangers. In public, his eyes had only ever slid over me as if I weren’t there, my presence no more significant than that of a door or a light switch in a room. But when he’d stopped meeting me, the finality of his absence had felt like the loss of a limb. They say taking poison in small doses can build immunity, but I’d still struggled to stomach that bitter pill when the time officially came.

To now see his attention fall upon me with purpose and interest made me feel strangely anxious, like I didn’t know what to do with myself. Judging by the way his eyes were roving over my body, I surmised that my emergence through puberty was the only reason he’d deigned to take note of me now. I folded my arms over my chest, my jaw set.

Asp swooped in once again, not yet content with the scale of my humiliation. “I’m surprised you haven’t lost your voice after a whole term of ‘Please, sir, pick me, pick me!’” He imitated me, jumping up and down with his hand in the air as everyone howled at his impression.

Cheeks hot, I clambered over the mahogany bench and made my way down to help a frozen Jameson collect his things.

“Thank you” the boy whispered, and I tried not to notice the tears in his eyes as I crouched down to pick up a stray textbook.

As I reached for it, Asp kicked it hard from under my hand, shooting it into the wall, eliciting an echoing thud for the whole library to hear. The Kiltrasners erupted once more into laughter and jeering. Burning with shame, I scooped the rest of Jameson’s belongings off the wooden floor, emptying them into the waiting cradle of the trembling boy’s arms.

“Oh dear, Everwood,” Asp tutted, his amber eyes saturated with malice. “You know what they say” he addressed his friends, “half-breeds are pretty slow.”

Feeling Rafael’s eyes on me, I steeled myself against the prickling heat of embarrassment. He’d not looked at me properly in years, only now to stand here and observe how cripplingly pathetic I’d become.

Red hot fury flew into my brain out of nowhere. It barrelled through all logic, caution and sense and I found I was withdrawing my wand before I even registered my intention.

With an aggressive flick, I sent the book hurtling towards Asp’s head. The laughter died on everyone’s tongues, with Asp barely having time to think before I jerked the book to a sudden halt, a hairsbreadth away from his throat.

“Quick enough for you, dickhead?” I quipped through gritted teeth.

The unmistakable cadence of Madam Padfield’s sharp footsteps had all students blanching, the threat of detention thundering towards the commotion. I stood there frozen, faint with shock. My fingers still gripped my wand, ready, as if one further wave could take it all back.

The boys all grappled for their bags as the footsteps reached their climax, and they dispersed promptly the minute the fiery librarian rounded the corner.

Rafael had stayed put, studying me like he was trying to unravel a difficult equation, before turning and following suit.

#yafantasy #yafiction #yaromance #writers on tumblr

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etiennepaddywrites · 1 year

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The Curse by Etienne Paddy: Prologue

[Ex-Regulus Black fanfiction turned original work. Let me know your thoughts]

Three years prior

“Fleur? What’s wrong?” Rafael asked me, shooting to his feet as I burst into the Bell Tower in tears one evening. The wooden door banged shut behind me, fizzling out of sight to blend back into the stone wall. I took a moment to catch my breath before acknowledging my companion, smearing my tears away with the back of my hand.

As my heart rate slowed, my cheeks began to prickle with embarrassment. The sensory overload of all the students gathered in the aeditrium’s echoing dining hall already felt like a whole lifetime ago.

I met his eyes, noting the worry clouding his features. He was usually quick to erase his immediate reaction to anything, but he’d left this one there. Stood rigid amongst the piles of shabby furniture in the forgotten storage room, he waited for my explanation.

He was tall for thirteen. Tall and wiry, like he’d grown too quickly — stretched on the merciless rack of puberty. His pale face was starting to thin, but the innocence in those clever green eyes was still there. One day, though, it would vanish overnight.

“He wants to take my wand,” I wailed, scraping my errant dark hair out of my face with one hand, waving the letter I’d just received with the other. “My father told me to send it back or he’ll come and get it — I can’t do wandless magic!”

“Not many third years can, it’s difficult,” Rafael said in a guarded alarm, skirting around the wooden trestle table he’d been occupying to meet me. He was in front of me in a second, closing his long fingers around my wrist and plucking the note out of my grip with his other hand. He squinted at my father’s rough script, shaking his dark hair out of his eyes. “Gods eat me, this is totally illegible.” He curled his nose, his eyes flicking back to me. “What happened?”

My father had been so affronted by my 60% mark in Conjuration that he’d decided I was unfit to own my wand — a wand crafted from the bones of my magical ancestors. I had no means to replace it and he would certainly see his threat through.

Rafael guided me into a seat and listened carefully as I caught him up. He was unnervingly silent as I ranted, nodding occasionally, studying the floor. He had one hand on my arm and the other on his knee as he crouched before me, like a subject humbling himself before a monarch— the irony of which was not lost on me.

When I’d finished and he’d finally looked up at me, he’d had such a pitying look on his face. It had been so knowing, so intuitive, like he understood how it felt to be at the mercy of unstable parents. “He won’t win” he’d said slowly and carefully, as though by tasting every syllable he could command my fate to heed his will. “We’ll make sure of it.”

He’d sat with me for weeks past curfew to review our syllabus, explaining concepts I’d struggled to grasp with astonishing patience until I’d finally mastered the course. I’d still had to send my wand home, but the day I did, I’d received a brand new one in the post the very same day. Anonymous, of course.

“I’ll curse him,” I’d declared that day, whipping my wand out of my pocket and making Rafael jump as I’d leapt to my feet, almost knocking our table over. “I’ll give him horns so he’ll look like the devil he so loves to emulate!” I brandished my wand in jest, legs apart, knees bent and bouncing on the balls of my feet like I was fencing. “I’ll hex him so his manhood shrivels and he’ll never again torment another child!”

My performance startled a laugh out of my companion and the tightness in my chest loosed, like an arrow into I cared not where.

I was glad; I’d tried to make him laugh. Making him laugh was better than wallowing in misery.

Making him laugh was better than everything.

#yafiction #yafantasy #regulus black inspired

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