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slytherinknowitall · 4 years

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To Bed A Death Eater

Chapter 2: Doubt

(Click here for chapter 1!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Less than ten minutes later, there was a timid knock at her door, and Hermione would have been lying if she had said that that sound did not make her heart skip a beat.

Putting aside the book she’d been absentmindedly flicking through, she walked to the door with a rather stiff and unsteady gait before pulling it open to reveal the familiar figure of the Potions Master.

“Professor Snape,” she whispered breathlessly, trying hard to ignore the sudden lump in her throat. “Um, please, come in.”

Stepping aside, she watched as the man hesitantly took one cautious step into the crammed room; and the unusual sight of his visible wariness made her mentally smack her own forehead.

Of course. He can’t see!

“Here, let me help you,” she offered, reaching out her hand without a moment’s thought. When she touched his forearm, he drew a sharp intake of breath. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you, sir.”

Snape did not say anything in response. For an agonizingly long time, they just stood like that in the doorway of her bedroom, her hand on his arm, the awkwardness in the air virtually palpable. It was only when there was suddenly the sound of commotion coming from downstairs that Hermione summoned up the nerve to pull him inside, locking the door behind them. Getting out her wand, she applied a silencing charm as well as some protective wards for good measure.

Better safe than sorry. It certainly wouldn’t do any good to have someone just barge in.

Turning back around to face him, she tentatively grabbed his elbow and guided him towards her bed. She could not help but silently cringe as she saw him there, seated on her tiny twin-size bed, thinking about what might be happening soon in that very spot. But alas, her small bedroom, which she had moved into a mere two months earlier, did not offer any other sitting accommodations. And so, though her heart was trembling so very terribly, she went and sat next to him.

For a while, neither one of them spoke. Kneading her fingers, the young woman struggled to ignore how uncomfortably close she presently was to her former teacher as she stared out the window overlooking the deserted street outside. Looking back, she could not have said with certainty whether it had only been a few minutes or several hours, but by the time the streetlights came on, she finally plucked up the courage to say, “I’m glad that you decided to come here so that we can talk in private.”

“I did not have much of a choice,” Snape admitted huskily. “Alastor practically pushed me upstairs while Albus tried to contain everyone else in the kitchen.”

“They’re still not very thrilled about this, aren’t they?”

He gave an affirmative grunt. “Most of them were ready to jump at my throat and kill me with their bare hands right there and then.”

“Oh …” Hermione had to swallow hard. “I’m sorry. They really ought not to treat you like that.”

“I don’t blame them. I truly have half a mind to turn my own wand on myself.”

A troubled frown creased Hermione’s forehead. There was an obvious hint of blatant self-hatred dripping from his words, and she did not like that. She did not like that one bit.

But before she even had the chance to respond, he continued, “I will be honest with you … I do not even know what to say to you right now.”

Vaguely tracing the diamond pattern of the quilt they were sitting on with one finger, she tried her best to sound nonchalant as she mumbled, “Well, why don’t you simply tell me whether or not you accept my offer.”

“Miss Granger, I –”

“Would you mind if we used first names?” she interrupted him. “Just for today. It’s just that formalities would make this whole thing even weirder than it already is.”

She saw him hesitate for a second.

“All right … Hermione,” he ultimately conceded, and it was so weird to hear him properly address her by her given name for the very first time – though she had to admit that it sounded quite nice coming from his lips. Something about that deep voice of his made her stomach clench up into knots. “As much as I appreciate it, I obviously cannot accept your proposal.”

“Why not?”

“Even forgetting the fact that you were my student for seven years and that I am a lot older than you, I could never in good faith make you endure such a thing. This, this curse,” he spat out the word with disgust. “Is a lot more powerful than you could ever even imagine. It would strip me of all control and force me to do unspeakable things to you that could very well destroy your sanity.”

He turned away from her in an unsuccessful attempt to hide his facial expression which was filled with nothing but self-loathing. “Even now, I can feel the dark magic coursing through my veins, tugging at my mind. It senses your presence. I can hear it whisper to me, bidding me to just rip off this stupid blindfold and take you right here. Merely sitting next to you already requires more will power than any time I have had to shield my mind from the Dark Lord.”

The witch’s breathing hitched in her throat. His crude confession made her heart beat so fast that it was almost threatening to break out of her ribcage. Willing herself to take a deep breath, she squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to stay put.

No. No, you can do this. For the Order. For Harry.

“I don’t believe that Professor Dumbledore would have sent you up here if he thought that there was a chance of me being seriously harmed,” she said softly, her eyes still closed. “And I also don’t believe that any kind of dark magic would ever be able to entirely overpower your morals and your good heart.”

He snorted with biting laughter. “Then you clearly do not know me well at all. Or him, for that matter. All that old madman cares about is the cause. We are all nothing but mere chess pieces in that little, rigged game of his he likes to play.”

“Don’t say that –”

“But it’s the truth! Don’t you see?” His tone gradually got louder and louder. “Any reasonably sane man in his position would have simply hired an unsuspecting prostitute, slipped her a couple of potions and then sent her back home with an altered memory and a nice, big bag filled to the brim with Galleons, blissfully unaware of any specifics. But not Albus. No, in his mind, raping the Muggle-born third of the Golden Trio is the perfect way to feign loyalty to the enemy and thus securing his plaything’s rank among the Dark Lord’s inner circle. Ha! As distraught as he might have acted, he knew from the beginning that you’d be the one to volunteer. Only you’d be foolish enough to let the greasy git of the dungeons fuck you in an attempt to save his pathetic, miserable life. You and your stupid saviour complex. So please, don’t be so naïve. This is all just a fucking charade to that bloody bedlamite!”

What followed that angry outburst was silence – complete and utter silence. Not even the rustling of the trees outside or the rapid palpitations inside both of their chests seemed to be able to penetrate their noiseless bubble. Hermione could feel her own pulse thumbing in her ears, and her mouth felt almost disgustingly dry. Wordlessly counting to a hundred, she at last opened her eyes and dared to cast a glance at the wizard. He was sitting in a hunched-over position, his face buried in his hands. Never before had she seen him like that, so evidently helpless, so vulnerable. For some reason, it nearly made her feel physically sick to witness him in such a state.

“I understand your apprehension, I really do,” she muttered gently. “I’m not quite keen on having to do this either. But I honestly don’t see any other way out of this mess. Somehow or the other, the curse must be broken … and time is running out.”

“I know,” he croaked out, the words muffled by his hands.

“And for all his faults, Professor Dumbledore is right. We cannot put ourselves before the cause. Especially not during dark times like these.” She could not stop her face from twisting into an anguished grimace. “Besides, I dare say that you are being a bit naïve yourself if you think that tricking a stranger would not weigh heavy on your conscience, too.”

Snape slowly lifted his head a little, allowing his chin to come to a rest on the pressed-together tips of his fingers, which were horribly stained from years of daily brewing.

“I don’t think that you are fully aware of what you are getting yourself into here. This would not be like any of your previous sexual encounters, Hermione. There would be no romance, no pleasure, no satisfaction. It would be hard and fast and downright animalistic.” He squared his shoulders. “And though I have never made it a habit to keep up with my students’ private lives, I do not think that it would be wrong of me to assume that an ever-busy academic like you most likely has little experience with such things.”

Hermione felt the warmth creep into the apples of her cheeks as her whole body stiffened, and that movement did not go unnoticed.

“I mean, you do have some experience, right?”

No answer.

“Oh god, you aren’t still a virgin, are you?” Snape rasped despairingly before letting his head fall back into his hands.

Hermione shifted her weight with unease. “I do not attach any value to my virginity if that is the problem, sir,” she was quick to assure him, glad to know that he could not see how awfully red-faced she was at that very instant. “When you think about it, it’s really nothing but a social construct. Will I be a different person afterwards? No. Will you be dead should I refuse? Most likely. So the decision is easy, really. The only reason why I … why I haven’t done it yet is because such a situation has simply never arisen before.”

“No! No, this is deranged!” he cried out as his entire body seized up and started to shake. “How could I ever live with myself knowing that I took something like that from you?”

She bit her lower lip. “I very much doubt that it would be that much better to wait for my first true love or maybe even just a drunken night out to come around first,” she argued with furrowed brows. “Because even in that case, it would be awkward and fumbling and, in all likelihood, disappointing. With you, now, it would at least serve a bigger purpose. It would be special – in its own absurd way.”

“I can’t,” he whispered in a quivering voice.

Suddenly feeling bold, Hermione grabbed his wrists and pulled his arms towards her, forcing him to face her.

“You don’t have a choice,” she told him in a beseeching yet stern manner. “You are far too valuable to the Order to stupidly risk your life like this.”

Snape opened his mouth as though to say something in response, but then he quickly closed it again. Pulling free from her grasp, he leaned back until his shoulders were touching the wall against which her bed had been pushed. He looked like a picture of misery. His complexion was of a deathly pale colour, his jaw was clenched, and a few beads of sweat could be seen running down his forehead.

“I do not want to do anything against your will,” he insisted weakly.

“I wouldn’t be too concerned about that if I were you. I –“ She dithered for just a second. Come on, Hermione. Don’t lose him now. “I am rather physically attracted to you.”

His head jerked up in surprise. “You are?”

“Y-yes,” she replied bashfully, all at once feeling dreadfully shy. “I find you quite handsome, actually.”

She was not lying just to make him feel better either. Truth be told, she’d had a slight fascination with him ever since he took over the Defence Against the Dark Arts position during her sixth year, when his passion for the subject really started to shine through – particularly during his more physical demonstrations.

Still, she was glad when he did not ask her to elaborate any further. Watching as he ran a tremulous hand through his jet-black hair, she heard him say, “Surely you are aware of the fact that some men would not take kindly to the fact that you are not chaste anymore?”

“Good!” Hermione huffed exasperatedly. “If they truly measure my worth as a person by who I have given my body to, then I’d rather have them think of me as used goods and leave me alone all together.”

“And what about Weasley?”

She looked at him with confusion in her eyes. “What about him?”

“He seemed … very much opposed to the idea.”

“Oh, he can sod right off!” she snarled angrily, leaping to her feet. “I don’t want anything from him. I never have.”

Walking the short distance to her nearby dressing table, she pulled open one of its drawers and fished out a black hair tie which she then used to fasten her brown curls into a low ponytail at the nape of her neck. Checking her appearance in the half-tarnished mirror, she could see the man rub his hands across his thighs in obvious discomfort.

“It could hurt,” he said in what sounded like a last-ditch effort to keep from having to yield himself to his fate.

Turning around, her mouth twisted into a wry smile.

“I’m sure that I have experienced worse,” she told him calmly, and for a moment, neither one of them said anything. Hermione sat back down next to him. “But like I said, I don’t think you’d ever be actively out to hurt me. I trust you, you know?”

Even though they were mostly hidden behind the blindfold, she could still see his eyebrows lift in surprise. It was abundantly clear that even the mere notion of someone like her trusting someone like him seemed utterly unfathomable to the dark wizard.

There was another short moment of heavy silence. Then, a deep sigh escaping his lips, he finally asked, “Are you really sure?”

The tone of his voice nearly broke her heart. He was normally such an assertive and stern man, but now he just sounded so defeated. It made for an easy choice.

“Yes.”

(Click here for chapter 3!)

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fandom-necromancer · 5 years

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Fight of love and reason

This was prompted by the super awesome @aurea-b! Enjoy! Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900

'Nines? I have to- have to phhhh. Phhhhhhh. Phhcking tell you something!' 'Yeah, Gav, go for it!', Tina cheered the man who was barely holding himself together half laying on the table. 'I... I... I...' 'You?', Connor helped out giggling. 'Shuddup!', Gavin shouted, before getting back to finding words. They had been so clear just minutes ago, but now his brain was just a mass of alcohol induced idiocy. 'I... I don't phcking hate you!' He grinned like a madman, looking at Nines expecting an answer. Nines chuckled next to him. 'Big announcement for you, Gavin, but I knew that already. I think it's time I bring him home, he had enough. Before he starts telling us Kamski is his big brother.' 'He is?', Allen asked, and Hank nodded laughing. ‘'Tis true...' 'Well, we know who inherited all the intelligence then...' Nines was working on getting Gavin to his feet and ignored the nab at his partner. There was no need to defend him, he reminded himself. Gavin was rather intelligent, just not in the way he talked or handled other persons and that was perfectly fine. 'We'll see each other on Monday then', the RK900 said before taking his leave, Gavin hooked under. 'Take care!'

It was something of a blur how he had gotten into the car, but now that Gavin was alone with the android in an enclosed space, his sight was clear as day again. Why hadn't the android answered with the right words? What had he said just minutes ago? Ah, shit that hadn't been what he had meant to say... 'Hey, Nines?' 'Yes Detective?' 'Where we driving to?' 'I'm bringing you home. You are inebriated and the headache tomorrow will be bad enough.' 'Oh, that's nice', he lulled and forced his last braincells to think about what he wanted to tell him. It was something he couldn't say when sober but needed that perfect stage of drunk but sane for. That stage he had far passed already. Nines halted the car not much later, helping Gavin up, who only got back to full awareness when he was laid on his bed, tucked in like a child. 'Nines, I really have to tell you something!', he said in a last attempt, but was shut down immediately: 'Sleep, Gavin. Sober up and tell me on Monday, okay?'

Of course, Gavin, didn’t tell him on Monday. What he wanted to say to him was… ridiculous at best. The damn android would laugh at him, tell Connor and the whole world and they would all laugh at him together. Okay, no, that wouldn’t happen, but it would be what he would feel like when Nines rejected him in his usual factual and polite manner. Because there was no way he would say yes. No way he would want to be friends afterwards, too. Gavin knew he was overthinking again, staring at his empty coffee mug just not to look into this face, this perfectly modelled android face… No. He couldn’t tell the man when sober. It would be a challenge doing so when drunk. Maybe he just wouldn’t do It at all and wait until his feelings subsided.

‘And then the asshole tried to kick me!’, Tina cried out pretended to be deeply hurt by the memory. ‘But then Chris here’, she elbowed the man in the side, heavier than expected apparently, because he immediately folded in on himself holding his side. ‘Chris came to my rescue! I swear, if I was interested in men, that would have been such a moment.’ Laughter branded over the group and Gavin felt weirdly detached all of sudden. He had cut back on the drinks, planning to really talk to Nines this time. He just had to let the alcohol melt his damn walls down, so he could finally do it. He even annoyed himself already, being trapped in that endless loop of wanting and denying himself over and over again.

‘Hey, how about drinking games?’, Sixty proposed. ‘You can’t even drink!’, Tina claimed and looked down on her glass. ‘But you can. And seeing the most advanced organic species on the planet get positively wasted is always amusing to watch.’ Tina shrugged and nodded: ‘Good enough of a reason for me. Chris? Gavin? You up?’ Well, so much for staying abstinent this evening…

‘Niiiines… Have I ever told you, you are beautiful?’ He was half hanging in the android’s grip, looking up to him as he closed the door to his apartment behind him. ‘No, you haven’t. And I won’t count this in either, Detective, you are drunk.’ ‘Nah, you can count that shit in. People are more honest when intoxicated’, Gavin slurred, shuffling off to the bedroom. ‘I believe humans are just more talkative and not really themselves in that state, Gavin. You are the best example. You are far more likeable when you are not throwing curses at everyone unfortunate enough to be in hearing distance.’ ‘Aw, cooome on! You like that, deep down!’ Weren’t Gavin so drunk, he would have seen the slight blue blush rising up on Nines cheeks. ‘You should sleep, Detective.’ ‘Don’t wanna… Wanna tell you something. Come a bit nearer!’ Surprisingly, Nines did, just slightly turning his face not to get spammed by analysing prompts of the man’s breath. ‘‘M gonna tell you a secret. But don’t tell anyone!’ Nines nodded, smirking. ‘You smell like a new car. I like that smell.’

Yep. Again, not what he had wanted to say at all.

‘Shots! Shots! Shots!’, Tina was chanting much to Gavin’s chagrin. ‘Nah, go wild Tina, but I’ll stay with beer.’ That had the whole table’s attention on him. Tina, Chris, Allen, Sixty and Nines were all staring at him as if he had just pronounced to never swear ever again in his life. ‘What? I have something important to do this evening, okay? I can get drunk, but not too drunk.’ ‘Gav, you getting boring?’, Tina asked disappointed. ‘No, just today, okay?’ Sixty sighed. ‘Don’t worry, Allen will play along.’ ‘I’ll do what?’

Again, Gavin had drunken a bit beyond that line of control. But he was still able to think and maybe that was just the right amount to finally throw his brain away and talk to Nines. The android sat next to him in the car again, driving to his apartment. Their drive had been silent, but somehow Gavin wanted to break it. He just didn’t know how to. In the end it was Nines: ‘I appreciate you drank less today.’ ‘Yeah?’ ‘Yes. It has me less worried about your prolonged lifespan.’ ‘Awwwww, so youuuu are worried about meee?’ ‘Forget what I said, you should drink even less next time.’ ‘Come on, admit it. You like me drunk.’ ‘I don’t… I don’t appreciate you playing with your health. But it’s true your personality becomes a bit more bearable.’ ‘Heh, good point, toaster’, Gavin laughed, as Nines parked his car. 'You need me to help you up there?', Nines asked, and Gavin nodded. Partly because it was easier to talk to him when he was with him at home, partly because he really needed the help. Walking a straight line was a challenge.

They walked up to the building and took the elevator this time. Stairs would have been a bad idea in this situation. They entered Gavin’s apartment and Nines already guided him to the shower. But other than normal days, Gavin struggled. ‘Gavin, please. You can’t go to bed like this. You smell of booze and sweat.’ ‘Noooo, Nines, I gotta tell you something! Really do it this time!’, Gavin near whined. ‘Don’t worry, drunk you already told me I look good and that I smell nice, I don’t think I can take any more compliments.’ ‘Fine, I’ll shower. But you will be there when I get back, right?’ Nines sighed. ‘I will be, Gavin. I’m going to feed the cats for you.’

Gavin hurried to the bathroom, dropping his clothes to the ground to jump under the stream. Shit. Now was the time to do it. He had to confront Nines once he was finished. But how? Nines, look at me, I’m your boyfriend now! No. No, no, no, no! Phck. Hey, I got a mad crush on you since forever. Too phcking direct! Hey Nines, all the time I told you we had to talk? I wanted to say I love you but was too much of a chicken-shit to do it. Yeah hell no. Goddamnit. He punched the wall, knocking some bottles of shampoo down in the process. Phck. ‘Gavin? You okay in there?’ The man sighed upon the worried call. ‘Yeah, everything is fine. Won’t take much longer!’ He let the bottles lay on the ground and held his face into the stream, wishing it could wash his thoughts away. Just be spontaneous! You have asked out people already, this is no difference! Except it was. That had always been just hook-ups, this with Nines was… real.

He walked out of the shower, rubbing himself dry and put on something comfortable to sleep. As he walked outside, Nines was standing at the door smiling at him carefully. ‘Are you okay? Your stress levels are exceeding…’ The android let the tone ring out at Gavin’s stare, misinterpreting it dearly. ‘I’ll, err… I’ll take my leave then.’ ‘No!’, Gavin was quick to call out and sounded all too eager, too. Maybe that did it, because the RK900 closed the door again. ‘I mean, err… Would you like to stay for a bit?’ ‘Why?’ ‘Oh, just… You know. Talk a bit? Watch a movie? Only if you want to, of course.’ Nines was thinking, but then nodded. ‘Okay, I’ll stay for a bit. What do you want to talk about?’

Ah shit, this was the moment now. All in or run away again? No, there was only forwards now. Else he would never do it. He closed his eyes and pressed out whatever came to his mind in record time: ‘HeycrushatmeItalkyourlovenow!’ Phck. Nines’ LED quickly changed to red, the android closing in on Gavin to grip him by the shoulders. ‘Gavin, everything alright? Did you hit your head in the shower? Is this a seizure?’ ‘Nines, no’, Gavin just sighed weakly. ‘I’m just super bad at this.’ ‘Calm down, okay?’ The android guided him to the sofa and sat down next to him. ‘Calm down. What do you want to tell me?’ ‘I want to- Ah, goddamnit Nines, swear you won’t laugh at me?’ ‘Never.’ ‘I… I think I love you.’ He wanted that to be the only thing he said, but as the milliseconds ticked by his thoughts ran for their lives, thinking the shortly stretching silence was equal to deep appal and disgust. ‘I mean, kinda ever since you came into the precinct you were smoking hot and you know, I like tall dudes, but you were also terrifying at first, so I just thought this was my end, but then we got partnered up and I got to know you and I found out I really, really liked you and I-‘ ‘Stop.’

It was as if Nines had ripped out his heart and held it in his hand now, inspecting it to try and figure out whether to hold it dear or let it drop to the ground laughing. But of course, he wouldn’t be so cruel, right? This was Nines after all. ‘Gavin. I need you to take a breath. All these times when you drank and told me you needed to talk to me, this was what you meant?’ ‘Yes?’, Gavin answered weakly, the word itself just another insecure question. ‘Fuck me…’ It was spoken under his breath, not supposed to be heard, but the apartment was silent and had Nines just sworn?

‘So, err… What do you say? Am I a total idiot? Because that would be totally okay with me, if you don’t feel the same I can just push this shit down, we can still be friends, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable and-‘ ‘Shut up, Gavin, please.’ Oh yeah that was just the worse, why couldn’t Gavin just let it be? He had just sabotaged everything dear to him. Nines looked him in the eyes and grinned. ‘I mean, yes, you are a total idiot, but that I knew before. I never would have thought for you to feel the same.’ ‘Wait, what?’ ‘I… Ever since becoming a deviant I started to really feel… I mean, emotions were there since the beginning, but… It just gets so much more real once it isn’t just simulated but real. And I always felt guilty, because you didn’t like androids and you didn’t ask to be partnered up with you and… I think – I know – I’m in love with you, too.’

‘Wow. Okay, that’s super cool!’ Gavin knew his cheeks had to be a deep red, but he still couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. ‘But you aren’t just saying that, are you? You mean it?’ ‘I mean it.’ ‘Then why didn’t you say something?’ ‘Why didn’t you say something, Gavin? I never expected you to fall for me, so I felt guilty feeling like I did. I weighted our friendship more important to risk it this easily.’ ‘God, we’re both total idiots, then.’ ‘Just another thing to share’, Nines answered and laid his arms around Gavin, carefully as if testing the waters how much he would allow. But as Gavin didn’t do anything to stop him, he basically melted against him, holding him closed murmuring: ‘I imagined doing this for so long…’ And Gavin raised his hands too, to let them meet in Nines back, resting his head at the android’s collarbone. He would never admit he had this fantasy too, along with many others. Because this shit felt too good and words just couldn’t do it justice. This was perfect.

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #Gavin Reed #RK900 #Gavin's last two braincells: Listen don't you phyk this up we need to conquer this man! So here is the plan now let's think how to-#Gavin - drunk: Yeah I got this!#Gavin - drunk and an idiot: time to keysmash!

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bloomsoftly · 7 years

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5 for Darcy/Sam (Falconshock, I think?) Please and xoxoxoxo!

oooh thanks for making me try something new, Dres! I’ve never written Falconshock before, but I absolutely love Sam. Hopefully I do it justice.

(warning: there’s a very mild description of someone beginning to panic ahead.)

“I thought you were the sane one!” Darcy yelled as he landed. Sam took his goggles off and opened his mouth to reassure her, but she didn’t let him get an word in edgewise. Before he could so much as blink, her lips were on his. It was messy and fervent, a kiss to prove he was still alive.

She had absolutely no technique as she pressed her mouth against his, sliding their tongues together in a sloppy dance, but she didn’t care. Her heart had taken a dive when he’d jumped off the rooftop, and it hadn’t had a normal beat ever since. Not even when she’d seen him go sailing safely by, cackling like a madman, in the pursuit of Captain America. As always. She didn’t dislike Steve, of course; it was impossible to dislike Steve.

She just wished that their idea of hanging out was more like watching explosions on TV rather than starting the explosions that ended up on the nightly news.

As her hands came up around his neck, Sam snapped the wings on his suit closed so they wouldn’t accidentally cut her. He returned the kiss with equal passion, hands coming up around her waist and to her back, pressing firmly between her shoulder blades. Eventually, he broke away to mutter soothing words in her ear. “Breathe, baby,” he said, spreading his palm wide and taking deep, even breaths to guide her. She hadn’t even realized that her breath was coming in hitches and gasps, but he helped her even it out. Their eyes stayed glued to each other the entire time.

When he felt her heart rate slow and her breathing even into a steady tempo, Sam grinned in relief. His lips found hers again, teasing and tasting with a much slower pace than before, drawing her into a steady simmer that lingered under her skin. As he kissed her leisurely, like they had all the time in the world, his hand slowly drifted to where her shirt had ridden up in her haste to reach him. He lightly stroked the bare skin there, making her gasp in an entirely different way. His touch was electric, as always, and she sank into his firm chest with a nearly inaudible groan.

Sam’s hand kept up the motions, lips moving up to press against her forehead, until her whole back felt like it was on fire from the scorching touch. “Better?” he asked quietly.

Darcy only nodded, not trusting herself enough to speak.

“How about we go get some Ben & Jerry’s and watch a movie for a little while?” He asked, clearly concerned about her anxiety levels. This was why she loved him. He was always so sweet and considerate. But her terror was turning into adrenaline of a different kind, now that she knew he was safe and sound, and all she wanted was him. Naked, in bed. And she intended on telling him so.

“We can do that later,” she said, tugging him to the elevator. “I still need to make sure you are fine. And that requires an examination. A thorough one,” she added with emphasis, in case he hadn’t understood her.

Sam’s hand stayed at the small of her back as he kept pace with her. The gentle strokes of his fingertips was driving her crazy, and she willed the elevator to arrive faster. He grinned that mischievous, handsome smile and his eyes twinkled—he knew exactly what he was doing. His wings folded closed with a snap. “Anything to make my girl feel better.” He was so good at giving her what she needed. Both in and out of the bedroom.

“I love you,” she said as the elevator doors finally opened. Darcy broke eye contact to step inside and push the button, but when she looked back at him his whole face was shining with affection.

“I love you too,” he said, stroking his fingers through her windblown hair and leaning down for a tender kiss.

send me a kiss prompt!

#falconshock #darcy x sam #darcyland #writing prompt #kiss prompt #dresupi #reply

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readbookywooks · 7 years

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LETTER, MINA HARKER TO LUCY WESTENRA

Buda-Pesth, 24 August. "My dearest Lucy, "I know you will be anxious to hear all that has happened since we parted at the railway station at Whitby. "Well, my dear, I got to Hull all right, and caught the boat to Hamburg, and then the train on here. I feel that I can hardly recall anything of the journey, except that I knew I was coming to Jonathan, and that as I should have to do some nursing, I had better get all the sleep I could. I found my dear one, oh, so thin and pale and weak-looking. All the resolution has gone out of his dear eyes, and that quiet dignity which I told you was in his face has vanished. He is only a wreck of himself, and he does not remember anything that has happened to him for a long time past. At least, he wants me to believe so, and I shall never ask. "He has had some terrible shock, and I fear it might tax his poor brain if he were to try to recall it. Sister Agatha, who is a good creature and a born nurse, tells me that he wanted her to tell me what they were, but she would only cross herself, and say she would never tell. That the ravings of the sick were the secrets of God, and that if a nurse through her vocation should hear them, she should respect her trust.. "She is a sweet, good soul, and the next day, when she saw I was troubled, she opened up the subject my poor dear raved about, added, `I can tell you this much, my dear. That it was not about anything which he has done wrong himself, and you, as his wife to be, have no cause to be concerned. He has not forgotten you or what he owes to you. His fear was of great and terrible things, which no mortal can treat of.' "I do believe the dear soul thought I might be jealous lest my poor dear should have fallen in love with any other girl. The idea of my being jealous about Jonathan! And yet, my dear, let me whisper, I felt a thrill of joy through me when I knew that no other woman was a cause for trouble. I am now sitting by his bedside, where I can see his face while he sleeps. He is waking! "When he woke he asked me for his coat, as he wanted to get something from the pocket. I asked Sister Agatha, and she brought all his things. I saw amongst them was his notebook, and was was going to ask him to let me look at it, for I knew that I might find some clue to his trouble, but I suppose he must have seen my wish in my eyes, for he sent me over to the window, saying he wanted to be quite alone for a moment. "Then he called me back, and he said to me very solemnly, `Wilhelmina', I knew then that he was in deadly earnest, for he has never called me by that name since he asked me to marry him, `You know, dear, my ideas of the trust between husband and wife. There should be no secret, no concealment. I have had a great shock, and when I try to think of what it is I feel my head spin round, and I do not know if it was real of the dreaming of a madman. You know I had brain fever, and that is to be mad. The secret is here, and I do not want to know it. I want to take up my life here, with our marriage.' For, my dear, we had decided to be married as soon as the formalities are complete. `Are you willing, Wilhelmina, to share my ignorance? Here is the book. Take it and keep it, read it if you will, but never let me know unless, indeed, some solemn duty should come upon me to go back to the bitter hours, asleep or awake, sane or mad, recorded here.' He fell back exhausted, and I put the book under his pillow, and kissed him. have asked Sister Agatha to beg the Superior to let our wedding be this afternoon, and am waiting her reply. . ." "She has come and told me that the Chaplain of the English mission church has been sent for. We are to be married in an hour, or as soon after as Jonathan awakes." "Lucy, the time has come and gone. I feel very solemn, but very, very happy. Jonathan woke a little after the hour, and all was ready, and he sat up in bed, propped up with pillows. He answered his `I will' firmly and strong. I could hardly speak. My heart was so full that even those words seemed to choke me. "The dear sisters were so kind. Please, God, I shall never, never forget them, nor the grave and sweet responsibilities I have taken upon me. I must tell you of my wedding present. When the chaplain and the sisters had left me alone with my husband-oh, Lucy, it is the first time I have written the words `my husband'-left me alone with my husband, I took the book from under his pillow, and wrapped it up in white paper, and tied it with a little bit of pale blue ribbon which was round my neck, and sealed it over the knot with sealing wax, and for my seal I used my wedding ring. Then I kissed it and showed it to my husband, and told him that I would keep it so, and then it would be an outward and visible sign for us all our lives that we trusted each other, that I would never open it unless it were for his own dear sake or for the sake of some stern duty. Then he took my hand in his, and oh, Lucy, it was the first time he took his wifes' hand, and said that it was the dearest thing in all the wide world, and that he would go through all the past again to win it, if need be. The poor dear meant to have said a part of the past, but he cannot think of time yet, and I shall not wonder if at first he mixes up not only the month, but the year. "Well, my dear, could I say? I could only tell him that I was the happiest woman in all the wide world, and that I had nothing to give him except myself, my life, and my trust, and that with these went my love and duty for all the days of my life. And, my dear, when he kissed me, and drew me to him with his poor weak hands, it was like a solemn pledge between us. "Lucy dear, do you know why I tell you all this? It is not only because it is all sweet to me, but because you have been, and are, very dear to me. It was my privilege to be your friend and guide when you came from the schoolroom to prepare for the world of life. I want you to see now, and with the eyes of a very happy wife, whither duty has led me, so that in your own married life you too may be all happy, as I am. My dear, please Almighty God, your life may be all it promises, a long day of sunshine, with no harsh wind, no forgetting duty, no distrust. I must not wish you no pain, for that can never be, but I do hope you will be always as happy as I am now. Goodbye, my dear. I shall post this at once, and perhaps, write you very soon again. I must stop, for Jonathan is waking. I must attend my husband! "Your ever-loving "Mina Harker." LETTER, LUCY WESTENRA TO MINA HARKER. Whitby, 30 August. "My dearest Mina, "Oceans of love and millions of kisses, and may you soon be in your own home with your husband. I wish you were coming home soon enough to stay with us here. The strong air would soon restore Jonathan. It has quite restored me. I have an appetite like a cormorant, am full of life, and sleep well. You will be glad to know that I have quite given up walking in my sleep. I think I have not stirred out of my bed for a week, that is when I once got into it at night. Arthur says I am getting fat. By the way, I forgot to tell you that Arthur is here. We have such walks and drives, and rides, and rowing, and tennis, and fishing together, and I love him more than ever. He tells me that he loves me more, but I doubt that, for at first he told me that he couldn't love me more than he did then. But this is nonsense. There he is, calling to me. So no more just at present from your loving, "Lucy. "P.S. - Mother sends her love. She seems better, poor dear. "P.P.S. - We are to be married on 28 September." DR. SEWARDS DIARY 20 August. - The case of Renfield grows even more interesting. He has now so far quieted that there are spells of cessation from his passion. For the first week after his attack he was perpetually violent. Then one night, just as the moon rose, he grew quiet, and kept murmuring to himself. "Now I can wait. Now I can wait." The attendant came to tell me, so I ran down at once to have a look at him. He was still in the strait waistcoat and in the padded room, but the suffused look had gone from his face, and his eyes had something of their old pleading. I might almost say, cringing, softness. I was satisfied with his present condition, and directed him to be relieved. The attendants hesitated, but finally carried out my wishes without protest. It was a strange thing that the patient had humour enough to see their distrust, for, coming close to me, he said in a whisper, all the while looking furtively at them, "They think I could hurt you! Fancy me hurting you! The fools!" It was soothing, somehow, to the feelings to find myself disassociated even in the mind of this poor madman from the others, but all the same I do not follow his thought. Am I to take it that I have anything in common with him, so that we are, as it were, to stand together. Or has he to gain from me some good so stupendous that my well being is needful to Him? I must find out later on. Tonight he will not speak. Even the offer of a kitten or even a full-grown cat will not tempt him. He will only say, "I don't take any stock in cats. I have more to think of now, and I can wait. I can wait." After a while I left him. The attendant tells me that he was quiet until just before dawn, and that then he began to get uneasy, and at length violent, until at last he fell into a paroxysm which exhausted him so that he swooned into a sort of coma. . . . Three nights has the same thing happened, violent all day then quiet from moonrise to sunrise. I wish I could get some clue to the cause. It would almost seem as if there was some influence which came and went. Happy thought! We shall tonight play sane wits against mad ones. He escaped before without our help. Tonight he shall escape with it. We shall give him a chance, and have the men ready to follow in case they are required. 23 August. - "The expected always happens." How well Disraeli knew life. Our bird when he found the cage open would not fly, so all our subtle arrangements were for nought. At any rate, we have proved one thing, that the spells of quietness last a reasonable time. We shall in future be able to ease his bonds for a few hours each day. I have given orders to the night attendant merely to shut him in the padded room, when once he is quiet, until the hour before sunrise. The poor soul's body will enjoy the relief even if his mind cannot appreciate it. Hark! The unexpected again! I am called. The patient has once more escaped. Later. - Another night adventure. Renfield artfully waited until the attendant was entering the room to inspect. Then he dashed out past him and flew down the passage. I sent word for the attendants to follow. Again he went into the grounds of the deserted house, and we found him in the same place, pressed against the old chapel door. When he saw me he became furious, and had not the attendants seized him in time, he would have tried to kill me. As we sere holding him a strange thing happened. He suddenly redoubled his efforts, and then as suddenly grew calm. I looked round instinctively, but could see nothing. Then I caught the patient's eye and followed it, but could trace nothing as it looked into the moonlight sky, except a big bat, which was flapping its silent and ghostly way to the west. Bats usually wheel about, but this one seemed to go straight on, as if it knew where it was bound for or had some intention of its own. The patient grew calmer every instant, and presently said, "You needn't tie me. I shall go quietly!" Without trouble, we came back to the house. I feel there is something ominous in his calm, and shall not forget this night. LUCY WESTENRA'S DIARY Hillingham, 24 August. - I must imitate Mina, and keep writing things down. Then we can have long talks when we do meet. I wonder when it will be. I wish she were with me again, for I feel so unhappy. Last night I seemed to be dreaming again just as I was at Whitby. Perhaps it is the change of air, or getting home again. It is all dark and horrid to me, for I can remember nothing. But I am full of vague fear, and I feel so weak and worn out. When Arthur came to lunch he looked quite grieved when he saw me, and I hadn't the spirit to try to be cheerful. I wonder if I could sleep in mother's room tonight. I shall make an excuse to try. 25 August. - Another bad night. Mother did not seem to take to my proposal. She seems not too well herself, and doubtless she fears to worry me. I tried to keep awake, and succeeded for a while, but when the clock struck twelve it waked me from a doze, so I must have been falling asleep. There was a sort of scratching or flapping at the window, but I did not mind it, and as I remember no more, I suppose I must have fallen asleep. More bad dreams. I wish I could remember them. This morning I am horribly weak. My face is ghastly pale, and my throat pains me. It must be something wrong with my lungs, for I don't seem to be getting air enough. I shall try to cheer up when Arthur comes, or else I know he will be miserable to see me so. LETTER, ARTHUR TO DR. SEWARD "Albemarle Hotel, 31 August "My dear Jack, "I want you to do me a favour. Lucy is ill, that is she has no special disease, but she looks awful, and is getting worse every day. I have asked her if there is any cause, I not dare to ask her mother, for to disturb the poor lady's mind about her daughter in her present state of health would be fatal. Mrs. Westenra has confided to me that her doom is spoken, disease of the heart, though poor Lucy does not know it yet. I am sure that there is something preying on my dear girl's mind. I am almost distracted when I think of her. To look at her gives me a pang. I told her I should ask you to see her, and though she demurred at first, I know why, old fellow, she finally consented. It will be a painful task for you, I know, old friend, but it is for her sake, and I must not hesitate to ask, or you to act. You are to come to lunch at Hillingham tomorrow, two o'clock, so as not to arouse any suspicion in Mrs. Westenra, and after lunch Lucy will take an opportunity of being alone with you. I am filled with anxiety, and want to consult with you alone as soon as I can after you have seen her. Do not fail! "Arthur." TELEGRAM, ARTHUR HOLMWOOD TO SEWARD 1 September "Am summoned to see my father, who is worse. Am writing. Write me fully by tonight's post to Ring. Wire me if necessary." LETTER FROM DR. SEWARD TO ARTHUR HOLMWOOD 2 September "My dear old fellow, "With regard to Miss Westenra's health I hasten to let you know at once that in my opinion there is not any functal disturbance or any malady that I know of. At the same time, I am not by any means satisfied with her appearance. She is woefully different from what she was when I saw her last. Of course you must bear in mind that I did not have full opportunity of examination such as I should wish. Our very friendship makes a little difficulty which not even medical science or custom can bridge over. I had better tell you exactly what happened, leaving you to draw, in a measure, your own conclusions. I shall then say what I have done and propose doing. "I found Miss Westenra in seemingly gay spirits. Her mother was present, and in a few seconds I made up my mind that she was trying all she knew to mislead her mother and prevent her from being anxious. I have no doubt she guesses, if she does not know, what need of caution there is. "We lunched alone, and as we all exerted ourselves to be cheerful, we got, as some kind of reward for our labours, some real cheerfulness amongst us. Then Mrs. Westenra went to lie down, and Lucy was left with me. We went into her boudoir, and till we got there her gaiety remained, for the servants were coming and going. "As soon as the door was closed, however, the mask fell from her face, and she sank down into a chair with a great sigh, and hid her eyes with her hand. When I saw that her high spirits had failed, I at once took advantage of her reaction to make a diagnosis. "She said to me very sweetly, `I cannot tell you how I loathe talking about myself.' I reminded her that a doctor's confidence was sacred, but that you were grievously anxious about her. She caught on to my meaning at once, and settled that matter in a word. `Tell Arthur everything you choose. I do not care for myself, but for him!' So I am quite free. "I could easily see that she was somewhat bloodless, but I could not see the usual anemic signs, and by the chance , I was able to test the actual quality of her blood, for in opening a window which was stiff a cord gave way, and she cut her hand slightly with broken glass. It was a slight matter in itself, but it gave me an evident chance, and I secured a few drops of the blood and have analysed them. "The qualitative analysis give a quite normal condition, and shows, I should infer, in itself a vigorous state of health. In other physical matters I was quite satisfied that there is no need for anxiety, but as there must be a cause somewhere, I have come to the conclusion that it must be something mental. "She complains of difficulty breathing satisfactorily at times, and of heavy, lethargic sleep, with dreams that frighten her, but regarding which she can remember nothing. She says that as a child, she used to walk in her sleep, and that when in Whitby the habit came back, and that once she walked out in the night and went to East Cliff, where Miss Murray found her. But she assures me that of late the habit has not returned. "I am in doubt, and so have done the best thing I know of. I have written to my old friend and master, Professor Van Helsing, of Amsterdam, who knows as much about obscure diseases as any one in the world. I have asked him to come over, and as you told me that all things were to be at your charge, I have mentioned to him who you are and your relations to Miss Westenra. This, my dear fellow, is in obedience to your wishes, for I am only too proud and happy to do anything I can for her. "Van Helsing would, I know, do anything for me for a personal reason, so no matter on what ground he comes, we must accept his wishes. He is a seemingly arbitrary man, this is because he knows what he is talking about better than any one else. He is a philosopher and a metaphysician, and one of the most advanced scientists of his day, and he has, I believe, an absolutely open mind. This, with an iron nerve, a temper of the ice-brook, and indomitable resolution, self-command, and toleration exalted from virtues to blessings, and the kindliest and truest heart that beats, these form his equipment for the noble work that he is doing for mankind, work both in theory and practice, for his views are as wide as his all-embracing sympathy. I tell you these facts that you may know why I have such confidence in him. I have asked him to come at once. I shall see Miss Westenra tomorrow again. She is to meet me at the Stores, so that I may not alarm her mother by too early a repetition of my call. "Yours always." John Seward LETTER, ABRAHAM VAN HELSING, MD, DPh, D. LiT, ETC, ETC, TO DR. SEWARD 2 September. "My good Friend, "When I received your letter I am already coming to you. By good fortune I can leave just at once, without wrong to any of those who have trusted me. Were fortune other, then it were bad for those who have trusted, for I come to my friend when he call me to aid those he holds dear. Tell your friend that when that time you suck from my wound so swiftly the poison of the gangrene from that knife that our other friend, too nervous, let slip, you did more for him when he wants my aids and you call for them than all his great fortune could do. But it is pleasure added to do for him, your friend, it is to you that I come. Have near at hand, and please it so arrange that we may see the young lady not too late on tomorrow, for it is likely that I may have to return here that night. But if need be I shall come again in three days, and stay longer if it must. Till then goodbye, my friend John. "Van Helsing." LETTER, DR. SEWARD TO HON. ARTHUR HOLMWOOD 3 September "My dear Art, "Van Helsing has come and gone. He came on with me to Hillingham, and found that, by Lucy's discretion, her mother was lunching out, so that we were alone with her. "Van Helsing made a very careful examination of the patient. He is to report to me, and I shall advise you, for of course I was not present all the time. He is, I fear, much concerned, but says he must think. When I told him of our friendship and how you trust to me in the matter, he said, `You must tell him all you think. Tell him him what I think, if you can guess it, if you will. Nay, I am not jesting. This is no jest, but life and death, perhaps more.' I asked what he meant by that, for he was very serious. This was when we had come back to town, and he was having a cup of tea before starting on his return to Amsterdam. He would not give me any further clue. You must not be angry with me, Art, because his very reticence means that all his brains are working for her good. He will speak plainly enough when the time comes, be sure. So I told him I would simply write an account of our visit, just as if I were doing a descriptive special article for THE DAILY TELEGRAPH. He seemed not to notice, but remarked that the smuts of London were not quite so bad as they used to be when he was a student here. I am to get his report tomorrow if he can possibly make it. In any case I am to have a letter. "Well, as to the visit, Lucy was more cheerful than on the day I first saw her, and certainly looked better. She had lost something of the ghastly look that so upset you, and her breathing was normal. She was very sweet to the Professor (as she always is), and tried to make him feel at ease, though I could see the poor girl was making a hard struggle for it. "I believe Van Helsing saw it, too, for I saw the quick look under his bushy brows that I knew of old. Then he began to chat of all things except ourselves and diseases and with such an infinite geniality that I could see poor Lucy's pretense of animation merge into reality. Then, without any seeming change, he brought the conversation gently round to his visit, and sauvely said, "`My dear young miss, I have the so great pleasure because you are so much beloved. That is much, my dear, even were there that which I do not see. They told me you were down in the spirit, and that you were of a ghastly pale. To them I say "Pouf!" ' And he snapped his fingers at me and went on. `But you and I shall show them how wrong they are. How can he', and he pointed at me with the same look and gesture as that with which he pointed me out in his class, on, or rather after, a particular occasion which he never fails to remind me of, `know anything of a young ladies? He has his madmen to play with, and to bring them back to happiness, and to those that love them. It is much to do, and, oh, but there are rewards in that we can bestow such happiness. But the young ladies! He has no wife nor daughter, and the young do not tell themselves to the young, but to the old, like me, who have known so many sorrows and the causes of them. So, my dear, we will send him away to smoke the cigarette in the garden, whiles you and I have little talk all to ourselves.' I took the hint, and strolled about, and presently the professor came to the window and called me in. He looked grave, but said, ` I have made careful examination, but there is no functional cause. With you I agree that there has been much blood lost, it has been but is not. But the conditions of her are in no way anemic. I have asked her to send me her maid, that I may ask just one or two questions, that so I may not chance to miss nothing. I know well what she will say. And yet there is cause. There is always cause for everything. I must go back home and think. You must send me the telegram every day, and if there be cause I shall come again. The disease, for not to be well is a disease, interest me, and the sweet, young dear, she interest me too. She charm me, and for her, if not for you or disease, I come.' "As I tell you, he would not say a word more, even when we were alone. And so now, Art, you know all I know. I shall keep stern watch. I trust your poor father is rallying. It must be a terrible thing to you, my dear old fellow, to be placed in such a position between two people who are both so dear to you. I know your idea of duty to your father, and you are right to stick to it. But if need be, I shall send you word to come at once to Lucy, so do not be over-anxious unless you hear from me." DR. SEWARD'S DIARY 4 September. - Zoophagous patient still keeps up our interest in him. He had only one outburst and that was yesterday at an unusual time. Just before the stroke of noon he began to grow restless. The attendant knew the symptoms, and at once summoned aid. Fortunately the men came at a run, and were just in time, for at the stroke of noon he became so violent that it took all their strength to hold him. In about five minutes, however, he began to get more quiet, and finally sank into a sort of melancholy, in which state he has remained up to now. The attendant tells me that his screams whilst in the paroxysm were really appalling. I found my hands full when I got in, attending to some of the other patients who were frightened by him. Indeed, I can quite understand the effect, for the sounds disturbed even me, though I was some distance away. It is now after the dinner hour of the asylum, and as yet my patient sits in a corner brooding, with a dull, sullen, woe-begone look in his face, which seems rather to indicate than to show something directly. I cannot quite understand it. Later. - Another change in my patient. At five o'clock I looked in on him, and found him seemingly as happy and contented as he used to be. He was catching flies and eating them, and was keeping note of his capture by making nailmarks on the edge of the door between the ridges of padding. When he saw me, he came over and apologized for his bad conduct, and asked me in a very humble, cringing way to be led back to his own room, and to have his notebook again. I thought it well to humour him, so he is back in his room with the window open. He has the sugar of his tea spread out on the window sill, and is reaping quite a harvest of flies. He is not now eating them, but putting them into a box, as of old, and is already examining the corners of his room to find a spider. I tried to get him to talk about the past few days, for any clue to his thoughts would be of immense help to me, but he would not rise. For a moment or two he looked very sad, and said in a sort of far away voice, as though saying it rather to himself than to me. "All over! All over! He has deserted me. No hope for me now unless I do it myself!" Then suddenly turning to me in a resolute way, he said, "Doctor, won't you be very good to me and let me have a little more sugar? I think it would be very good for me." "And the flies?" I said. "Yes! The flies like it, too, and I like the flies, therefore I like it."And there are people who know so little as to think that madmen do not argue. I procured him a double supply, and left him as happy a man as, I suppose, any in the world. I wish I could fathom his mind. Midnight. - Another change in him. I had been to see Miss Westenra, whom I found much better, and had just returned, and was standing at our own gate looking at the sunset, when once more I heard him yelling. As his room is on this side of the house, I could hear it better than in the morning. It was a shock to me to turn from the wonderful smoky beauty of a sunset over London, with its lurid lights and inky shadows and all the marvellous tints that come on foul clouds even as on foul water, and to realize all the grim sternness of my own cold stone building, with its wealth of breathing misery, and my own desolate heart to endure it all. I reached him just as the sun was going down, and from his window saw the red disc sink. As it sank he became less and less frenzied, and just as it dipped he slid from the hands that held him, an inert mass, on the floor. It is wonderful, however, what intellectual recuperative power lunatics have, for within a few minutes he stood up quite calmly and looked around him. I signalled to the attendants not to hold him, for I was anxious to see what he would do. He went straight over to the window and brushed out the crumbs of sugar. Then he took his fly box, and emptied it outside, and threw away the box. Then he shut the window, and crossing over, sat down on his bed. All this surprised me, so I asked him, "Are you going to keep flies any more?" "No," said he. "I am sick of all that rubbish!" He certainly is a wonderfully interesting study. I wish I could get some glimpse of his mind or of the cause of his sudden passion. Stop. There may be a clue after all, if we can find why today his paroxysms came on at high noon and at sunset. Can it be that there is a malign influence of the sun at periods which affects certain natures, as at times the moon does others? We shall see. TELEGRAM. SEWARD, LONDON, TO VAN HELSING, AMSTERDAM "4 September. - Patient still better today." TELEGRAM, SEWARD, LONDON, TO VAN HELSING, AMSTERDAM "5 September. - Patient greatly improved. Good appetite, sleeps naturally, good spirits, color coming back." TELEGRAM, SEWARD, LONDON, TO VAN HELSING, AMSTERDAM "6 September. - Terrible change for the worse. Come at once. Do not lose an hour. I hold over telegram to Holmwood till have seen you."

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