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hogwarts-riddle · 4 years

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Eternalism: Chapter VII

Night had fallen by the time they reached Hogsmeade Station. Hermione was the first to awaken, rising with the sound of the groundskeepers' call for the first years. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she went to get up, only to stop short as she realized that she couldn't exactly move. Not only was the book they had been reading still laying open on her lap, but there was a sleepy dark-haired boy sleeping with his head on her shoulder.

Craning her neck to glance over at him, she couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips. The fact that he had let himself fall asleep on her could only be seen as a sign of trust. She doubted that the typically paranoid boy would do such a thing with anyone else. It was endearing. He looked so innocent and peaceful. Sometimes she forgot about the man that she knew he would become one day.

Not on my watch, she thought.

And then there was Abraxas. Stretched out on the opposite seat, she was torn between loathing him with a passion and blushing like a lovesick schoolgirl every time he winked at her. She preferred the former.

Why, oh why did she have to get stuck with a Malfoy? And a flirty one at that! What was wrong with him? He was only eleven-years-old for crying out loud! Draco certainly wasn't like that at that age, or at least not that she had ever noticed. Though, she supposed it could have been different because unlike Abraxas, Draco actually knew the truth of her parentage.

As tempted as she was to just tell him the truth, that she was a muggleborn, sending him running for the hills, she knew that wasn't the wisest course of action in this particular situation. Tom was going to be surrounded by Slytherins just like Malfoy who would probably gladly hex her for being a muggleborn. For the sake of her own safety, as well as her mission, she had decided to keep her true parentage a secret, passing herself off as a half-blood instead.

"Calling all first years!" the groundskeeper's voice called out.

The light of the groundskeepers' lantern shone through their window, shining right in their eyes and awakening the sleeping boys.

"Have we arrived?" Abraxas asked with a yawn.

Hermione nodded her head as she got to her feet and began stretching out all her stiff muscles.

Thankfully they had all changed into their robes before they fell asleep otherwise they would have been left scrambling.

"Please leave your luggage on board!"

Climbing out of the compartment one by one, they had to fight their way against the stream through the crowd and over to where a group of first years had gathered around a grimey looking man in a pair of bright orange suspenders, or maybe they were yellow. It was hard to tell in that light. He hardly compared to the jolliness of Hagrid, but he looked friendly enough.

"If that's all of you, then we'll be on our way," said the groundskeeper whose name was Ogg.

It was a long trek up the path to the clearing and most of the students were moaning and yawning through most of it, still half-asleep, but unlike the others, Hermione had never felt more awake, for she knew that Hogwarts was waiting for them at the end.

And there it was…

A chorus and ooh's and ah's filled the night air as the students took in the sight for the first time in their lives.

Set atop of a majestic mountain was Hogwarts Castle itself with its many turrets and towers. The only thing separating them from the castle was the glistening waters of the Black Lake, the boats already waiting for them by the shore to take them across.

Hermione recalled her own first time seeing it. Seeing the castle that she was going to be living in for the next seven years of her life, she couldn't help but feel as though she was living in one of the fairy tale books her parents used to read to her, like a princess who was rescued from her tormentors and brought to the safety of a castle where no one would hurt her.

That was how she had felt at Hogwarts, with Dumbledore still alive and offering them an unspoken sense of protection against all dark forces. The castle had always seemed impregnable. Oh how her eyes were opened when Dumbledore died…

She shook that train of thought from her mind, willing herself to enjoy the evening and not ruin it with thoughts of the future.

Ogg led them to the boats by the shore, holding them firmly in place as the children clambered in, four to each boat.

"Allow me," Abraxas said as he offered her his hand to help her in.

As off putting as it was to have a Malfoy treating her with respect and courtesy, it was also kind of nice. No one had even offered to help her, or any of the other girls for that matter, get into the boats back in 1991. In fact, if she had fallen out of the boat and into the lake, she was pretty sure that most of the boys, Harry and Ron included, would have burst out laughing. Here, there wasn't a girl that went unaided. It was strange, but most certainly in a good way.

No sooner was she settled, then she was joined by another girl, followed by Tom and Abraxas.

With everyone securely in their boats, Ogg climbed into his own at the head of the group. "Forward!" he called out the magic word.

Just like that, the boats started moving on their own, ferrying them across the glassy lake and through a dark tunnel on the side of the cliff under the castle. It wasn't a long journey, spanning a whole fifteen minutes from the lake shore to the underground harbour.

Once again the boys proved to be gentlemen as they got out first to help the girls. This time, it was Tom who extended a hand to help her, beating Abraxas to it. The white-haired boy seemed a bit put out by that, but soon recovered as he went to help the other girl.

Who would have thought that she would have boys fighting over who got to help her out of a boat? It was almost too ridiculous to be funny.

Ogg led them out of the underground cavern and up into the school. The children began to chat happily among themselves as they made their way across the Entrance Hall and up a couple flights of stairs, discussing topics varying from Quidditch to the ride to Hogwarts.

Glancing over at the boys, she found that Abraxas was telling Tom all about how he planned to try out for the Quidditch team next year, hopefully earning the position of seeker. Rolling her eyes in annoyance, she chose to tune them out. One thing that never seemed to change, no matter what time she was in, was boys and their love of Quidditch.

Instead, she turned to the girl standing beside her, the same girl they had shared a boat with. "Hi, I'm Hermione."

"My name is Druella," The girl smiled back at her.

There was a hint of an accent in her voice, but it wasn't overly noticeable, as she spoke excellent english.

"Are you by any chance partially french?"

Druella nodded her head, her golden ringlets bouncing around her face as she did. "Yes, my family originally came from France, but we've lived in England for most of my life," she explained. "My mother and father were debating over whether they should send me to Beauxbatons or even home-school me themselves, but in the end they decided to send me here, and I'm ever so happy that they did.

"What about you?"

Hermione bit her lip nervously. This was the first time she was speaking about the backstory she had made for herself. She hoped that people would believe it. She wasn't known to be the best at lying, though she liked to think that she had improved with everything that had happened. After all, no one had questioned her story so far.

"I've always lived in London. My parents died rather recently in a tragic accident. They never told me about Magic or anything, though I suppose one of them must have been magical. My mother always got angry at me when I made strange things happen. I only found out the truth when Professor Dumbledore came to the orphanage. Everything made sense after that."

Druella gave her a look of genuine sympathy, "So, you're a half-blood then? I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

"Muggles are a danger to the wizarding world," Abraxas cut into the conversation. "My father has always said that our two worlds ought to be completely severed from one another."

While she did understand that view and where it came from, she didn't entirely agree with it. Not all muggles were bad, just like how not all wizards were good. She opened her mouth and was just about to tell them as much, when they came to a halt, gathering at the top of the landing.

"This is where I leave you," Ogg said as he turned and started back down the way he had come.

Standing in front of the tall double doors leading to the Great Hall was none other than Albus Dumbledore, dressed in a flashy red robe. The usual twinkle was once more in his eyes as he gazed upon all the eager children before him.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Dumbledore greeted them. "The start-of-term banquet will commence soon, but first you must all be sorted into one of our four different houses; Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin."

He launched into the usual speech about how your house was like your family and how your actions would both win and lose points for your house. Hermione wasn't exactly paying attention, as she had heard it all before, and instead took the opportunity to search the group of children around her to see if there was anyone she recognized.

There was a girl with bright red hair who reminded her of Ginny, and then there was a boy who looked somewhat similar to Neville. Aside from that, she didn't recognize too many students. A part of her hoped she wouldn't recognize too many people, as the reminder of her old friends made her sad, but at the same time she knew it couldn't be helped. She was bound to encounter the ancestors of all sorts of people she had known. It was just something she was going to have to get used to.

"Now, if you will all form a line, I shall lead you into the banquet."

With a calming deep breath, Hermione took her place in line with Druella in front of her and Tom and Abraxas behind her.

The Great Hall was just as impressive as it always was during the opening feasts with thousands of candles floating above their heads with the night sky in place of the ceiling.

"I thought for sure there was a ceiling there," Druella remarked.

"It's not real. It's just bewitched to look like the sky outside," she explained. "I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."

She suppressed the urge to giggle as she recalled how she had said the exact same thing the first time around. Perhaps it wouldn't be as hard to act as though she was eleven-years-old as she had initially thought. All she had to do was imitate her real eleven-year-old self. Though, maybe she would try to tone herself down a bit. She didn't want to scare everyone off this time.

Coming to the end of the Great Hall, they gathered in front of the long table in front of them that was reserved for the professors. She had to admit that it was weird to see Dumbledore conducting the sorting ceremony and not seated at the very center of the table. Of course, Dumbledore wasn't the headmaster yet. If she recalled correctly, the current headmaster was a much older wizard by the name of Armando Dippet, a former Ravenclaw.

Many of the teachers were different. The only one she knew, aside from Dumbledore, was Slughorn, who sat at the very end of the table with a goblet of wine, chatting away with a professor who currently had his back turned to her.

A stool was placed in front of them and on top of it was the heavily-patched sorting hat. All the other first years starred in shock and confusion as the hat began to sing to them.

'Oh, you might not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.'

Tom glanced over at her with a look reminiscent of when they had been told to run straight into a wall.

She merely shrugged back at him.

The Hall roared with applause, mixed in with a bit of laughter from a couple of boys who thought it hilarious. The hat smiled widely as it bowed to each of the four tables before turning stiff again.

Plucking the hat from the stool, Dumbledore pulled out a long roll of parchment and began to read out the names.

"Avery, Malcolm!"

A pimply-faced boy with short sandy hair stepped forward and put on the hat.

"SLYTHERIN!" the hat shouted after a couple of minutes.

One by one students went up to try on the hat. Hermione was surprised by how many names she actually knew or had at least heard of. Shortly after Avery came a Cygnus Black. At first she thought he might be Sirius' father, but then she remembered that Walburga was currently in seventh year. No, that couldn't be it. Still, there weren't that many members of the Black Family. This boy had to be related somehow.

"SLYTHERIN!"

A couple of Hufflepuffs came after, followed by an Augusta Fairweather who went into Gryffindor.

It was at that point when panic started to set in. What if the sorting hat decided to put her back in Gryffindor again? Her whole mission would be ruined. Sure, Tom might try to go out of his way to talk to her at first, but it wouldn't take long for the house rivalries to set in, making them enemies in no time at all. Everything she had gone through would be for nothing!

"Granger, Hermione!" Dumbledore called her name.

With a gulp, she stepped up to the stool and sat down. Dumbledore must have noticed that she was nervous because he gave her a small yet reassuring smile as he set the hat down on her head. The Great Hall faded from view as her eyes were covered by the scratchy dark material of the sorting hat.

"Hmm, how interesting," a voice said in her ears. "A time traveller? I haven't encountered one of those in a very long time. And a former Gryffindor as well? I should have known. It takes a great deal of courage to take on such a task as yours… But it seems you don't want to be a Gryffindor anymore. Very difficult… Where to put you?"

She had been struggling to figure that out herself. Hufflepuff was out of the question. Not that it was a bad house, she just didn't think it would suit her. Originally, the sorting had had debated over putting her in Ravenclaw. That was certainly one of her better options. Slytherins and Ravenclaws didn't hate each other or anything, at least not as far as she knew.

"Yes, you certainly have the brains for Ravenclaw, but you have a cunning streak in you as well. I can see it in your head… Already you are attached to the boy, and will do anything to keep him from falling into darkness… Lying… Manipulating… Tsk, tsk, Miss Granger. What would your old friends think if they could see you now?"

A lump formed in her throat. As much as she'd like to think that they would understand, she knew that, had Harry and Ron been able to see her… Well, they probably wouldn't like what they saw. There was no use lying to the sorting hat. The life she had created for herself was based on lies that she used to her own advantage to secure her place in this world and at Tom's side.

As for Tom… The sorting hat was right about him as well. He had become something of a friend to her, and there wasn't much that she wouldn't do for her friends.

"I think it's safe to say that you belong in…"

"SLYTHERIN!"

Cheers erupted across the Hall as the sorting hat was plucked from her head. Her eyes were immediately met with the sight of her new friends smiling back at her, clearly happy with where the hat had put her.

Hopping down from the stool, she made her way over to the Slytherin Table who were, much to her surprise, waiting eagerly to welcome her. Perhaps it was just because she had never been in Slytherin before, but she hadn't expected them to be so… friendly towards her.

She sat and watched as the rest of the sorting ceremony unfolded. A couple of students after her were sorted into Ravenclaw and another into Gryffindor. The red-haired girl she had seen earlier turned out to be Berenice Prewett, who went into Gryffindor along with Cecil Longbottom and Louisa Briggs.

As expected, Abraxas was sorted into Slytherin after a Romulus Lestrange. The very name gave her goosebumps. She had to remind herself that he was only related to Bellatrix through marriage. The terrifying witch wasn't even born yet, and with any luck she would never have the displeasure of seeing her again.

Then came the moment she was waiting for.

"Riddle, Tom!"

Tom strode forward, eyeing the tattered hat with distrust before sitting down. The sorting hat had barely touched his head when it yelled out "SLYTHERIN!"

Hearing that, he practically sprinted over and sat down next to her, a smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned over to whisper in her ear. "I'm glad we're in the same house."

"Me too," she smiled back at him.

Of course, she had known all along that he would be sorted into Slytherin, but she was still happy nonetheless.

The sorting ceremony was finished not long after and Druella joined them in Slytherin, much to her delight. Druella seemed like a nice girl, and she figured it might be good to have a friend who was a girl for a change. Someone to talk to about girly things and complain to whenever Malfoy was being a prat.

With the sorting ceremony out of the way, the feast could finally begin. She hadn't realized just how hungry she was until the food appeared before her eyes. There were piles of boiled potatoes and platters full of all sorts of meat and cheese. After having been forced to get by on orphanage food for the last several months, she was overjoyed to have Hogwarts food.

Tom must have felt the same way, as his mouth was practically watering as he piled his plate with some of everything.

It seemed that all manners were tossed aside when it came to boys and food, as evidenced throughout the entire Hall. She even caught Malfoy stuffing his face. It was amusing to see the typically graceful and aristocratic boy acting in a less than dignified manner.

Her and Druella shared a glance, rolling their eyes at their behaviour.

Once everyone had had their fill and were too full to eat any more, the food vanished from sight just as quickly as it had appeared and the students were dismissed to head to bed.

The first years were instructed to follow the fifth year Slytherin Prefect, Magnus Tolle, down to the dungeons. Hermione made sure to pay close attention to where they were going so that she could find her way to and from her new common room without trouble. This was completely new territory to her, as she had never been to the Slytherin Dungeons before. The last thing she wanted to do was get lost.

Eventually they came to stop in front of a bare stone wall. There was nothing to indicate that there was a secret entrance around, which she supposed would make sense for Slytherin's, but still made it difficult to try and remember which wall was the right one.

"Potentiae Magnitudine."

With those words, the wall opened up to reveal a dark passageway. In a single file, they followed after the Prefect through the passage and into a large green tinted room.

For all intents and purposes, it looked no different from your average common room with couches and chairs scattered, save for the fact that the windows looked directly out into the Black Lake. She wasn't sure if it was just a trick of the light, but she thought she saw a tentacle swim past. The idea of having the Giant Squid spying in on them wasn't the most pleasant thing in the world, nor was the thought that their entire dormitory could be flooded if ever one of the windows broke.

She quickly shook those thoughts from her head. The windows were probably reinforced with magic to make sure that would never happen.

Magnus then went on to explain that the boys dormitories were through the passage to the right while the girls were through the passage to the left. While everyone else headed straight towards their respective quarters, Tom stayed behind, motioning to Hermione for her to stay as well.

He waited until everyone was gone before speaking. "Why did you lie to Abraxas and Druella? You said so yourself that your parents were both muggles."

So, he had noticed that after all. She had wondered if he might.

"Do you remember what it said in that book we read about the founders of Hogwarts?" she answered in a hushed tone.

He seemed to ponder on it for a second before he caught on to what she was referring to. "Salazar Slytherin thought that those of muggle parentage ought not to be taught magic," he quoted.

"Can you imagine what the other Slytherin's might do to me if they knew I was a muggleborn? I hate the thought of lying to them, but what else can I do? I just want them to treat me decently, not as though I'm dirt beneath their feet."

If anyone could understand that feeling, it was Tom. He had spent his entire life treated the exact same way by Mrs. Cole.

"Don't worry, it'll be our secret," Tom promised. "I won't let anyone hurt you."

There was something ominous about the way he said that, but she tried not to think too much and just appreciate the fact that he was willing to keep it a secret. It was a sign that all was not lost. He knew that she was a muggleborn and didn't hate her because of it. There was hope for him, and that made her smile.

"Thank you, Tom. I really appreciate that."

Then she did something that she never thought she would do. Reaching out, she wrapped her arms around him and gave him a hug. Yes, that's right… She hugged Tom Riddle...

His body stiffened in her arms as though he had suddenly been petrified. That thought made her laugh. As if he would be petrified by his own basilisk. However, the more she thought about it, the realization dawned on her that he had probably never been hugged before. His mother had died within an hour of giving birth to him and it was highly unlikely that Mrs. Cole would have ever hugged him.

With that in mind, she hugged him tighter, as if to make up for all the hugs he had deprived of.

After a few moments, Tom seemed to regain control of his body and his arms slowly wound themselves around her to return the hug. It was a rather awkward hug to be honest, but it was still a hug and she was determined to make sure that he got used to them.

Unfortunately, the hug was short-lived as a sudden cough coming from behind them, alerted them of the fact that Magnus had come back to collect them.

"You do realize that you'll see each other in the morning, right?" he asked. "It's not like you're being sent away to two different parts of the world."

Stepping away from each other, they each had a tint of redness to their cheeks. She made a mental note to hug him somewhere more private next time.

Wanting to escape from the intense glare of the Slytherin Prefect, she muttered a quick goodnight to Tom and scampered off towards the girls dormitory.

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arthurs-wife · 5 years

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Forever - IV

New Hanover, 1899

Jedediah’s last several encounters with Molly had been no better, he kept seeing the woman already dead or just out of his reach. He had spoken to the woman for perhaps 20 cumulative minutes in his seven hundred years of life and he was madly in love with her, his bones ached every night of his existence.

Sometime in the 1600s (he couldn’t tell you when) the Irish civil wars broke out and Molly was the leader of one such band that was completely demolished by the English. Jed had found them slaughtered.

In the 1700s he devoted his life and time to helping the poor as they starved at the hands of their rulers.

She was starving, dying, shot, stabbed, trampled. She was everywhere.

He moved around Ireland as much as he could go before he couldn’t stand it anymore, convinced the woman was following him.

With the egress of Irish folk to America, Jedediah wondered why he just hadn’t left Ireland yet. The woman haunted him and he wondered if it wasn’t because he had slaughtered villages in his Norman days. It was his eternal hell. So he emigrated to the last place on earth he thought he would go.

In the 1850s, he held a brief position as a constable in London, the only town worth living in, in his opinion. He was amazed by the technology, the contraptions they had created in the last 700 years. Towers, bridges, stagecoaches?

The reprieve from his ghost was short lived as during 1850, there was a rash of killings focused on prostitutes, one including the familiar red hair.

Was no place on earth safe?

Of course he had tried to take his own life several times, none of it worked. He kept waking up like the stubborn bastard he was. He wondered where on earth there was a volcano to throw himself into and came up on Hawaii, which was on the opposite side of the colonies.

So he sailed across the ocean to start his new life in New Hanover in 1898, hoping to shake himself from the curse.

He settled in a town called Valentine, too weak to move onto Hawaii. He was tired, it had been almost 50 years since his encounter with Molly. He checked his nonexistent watch, only 50 to go.

America surprised him.

By the road one evening he found a girl, almost as tired as he was but far younger. For the first time in many, many years he felt hope, a purpose. Her name was Izzy and he loved her dearly. It all fell apart when they came to Horseshoe Overlook for shelter with the Van Der Linde gang.

There she sat, miraculously alive and unharmed, in the arms of the ring leader himself, Dutch.

He couldn’t help but stare.

“Arthur who are your friends here?” the man boomed, good naturedly but Jed detected a hint of testiness.

“Jedediah,” the man he had come to know as Arthur grunted, “his daughter, Izzy.”

His heart warmed, it was the first time someone had said it out loud. He held his daughter close, kissing her head.

“Will you be staying with us, Mr. Jedediah?” Dutch asked, moving up to him slowly as if sizing him up.

Jed’s eyes were continually drawn to Molly and he eventually nodded.

“For as long as you’ll have us.”

As Jedediah rocked Izzy to sleep that night in front of the fire his heart raced. Would they be attacked tonight? What hell would happen to them? What misfortune had he brought upon these fine people?

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up, startled.

“She asleep?”

It was the same flawless Irish accent he had heard in 1333, the same bird song voice flowing through his soul. She had on a sweet smile that reached her eyes. Jed looked down at Izzy and chuckled.

“Out like a light.”

“Susan set up a tent for you two,” she gestured to the front of camp, “if you’d like to set her down there.”

Jed nodded and stood up carefully, scooping up the sleeping child in his arms and following Molly and her swaying dress to the new tent. Setting her down gently, he pulled a blanket up to her chin and straightened, turning around to face Molly, who had not left.

“Molly O’Shea.”

God.

“Jedediah Porter.”

“It’s nice to meet you Jedediah.”

“Please, miss, just Jed.”

She smiled, the sun became a little less bright.

To Jed’s complete surprise, Molly O’Shea stayed beautifully alive over the course of the next few months, although the gang went horribly to shit. It was punctuated with brief peaks of leading Molly out into fields as she cried over Dutch, his inability to love, and why couldn’t I have met you sooner, Jed?

Oh, Molly.

He remembered picking a flower, a bright white orchid, pale as her skin, and tucking it behind her hair. He had grown to know her as much as he could in three months, the longest he had ever had the pleasure of being with her. She stitched his wounds, caressed his scars, his many, many scars.

“What’s this one, Jed?” she asked one night in Shady Belle. She was drunk, as per usual, trying to forget the man who was slowly descending into chaos, tracing the edges of a particularly nasty scar on his forearm.

This was when I poisoned you, dear.

“Steel accident,” he lied, “bit broke off when I was tempering it and… came off and cut me.”

She seemed to believe it and continued tracing, moving up to another scar, and another one, until she reached his neck, his jawline. They stared at each other a long moment, the sun sinking behind them. It set her hair alight, waving in the breeze like seagrass. He pushed some out of her eyes, thankful he had the chance to feel something so gentle between his fingers.

“Jed, I…”

Breath caught in his throat, chest tight, he waited, yes my love?

A scream from camp brought them both back to earth, a headless man on a horse jerked them all back firmly to reality. They could not stay here any longer.

Jed never got the chance again to be alone with Molly, and after several more months by her side she stubbornly clung to the unravelling leader of their gang.

In deceit, Jed was able to find Izzy a new home in Saint Denis after most of their gang had fallen apart. She clung to his leg as her new underground home took her in.

You’ll be safe here baby.

It’s not safe with me anymore.

He still heard her cries in his ears as he lay down every night.

It wasn’t long after he lost Izzy that Molly fell apart. Jed admired her loyalty to the man, her unwavering pledge to stay by his side through the darkest of times. Jed found himself on a rock looking out over a waterfall in their new camp in Ambarino, more alone than he had ever been.

Molly had disappeared shortly after Izzy. Jed had searched and searched for the woman he had been avoiding his entire life but had come up empty. Maybe she would come back. Voices brought him back to the camp and he turned to see Micah dragging Molly into camp, stumbling around in her pretty green dress, disheveled to hell.

“Found her drunk in a bar in Saint Denis,” Micah said triumphantly, throwing her to Dutch and smirking. Jed rushed up in a rage but held back. He didn’t want the wrath of Dutch to come down on him, though he didn’t think the man would care much now anyway.

“Miss O’Shea,” Dutch sighed, “how jolly.”

“It’s Molly, you sack of shit!” she cried, losing her footing as Micah let go and stood back, “oh Master of everything, the lord almighty!”

“Calm down,” he spat, hatred in his eyes. The camp gathered around at the commotion, staying back as Jed did.

“I won’t be ignored, Dutch van der Linde!” she said, pointing heartily at him, standing up for herself finally, “I ain’t him, I ain’t her, I ain’t any of your stooges! You don’t owe me nothing, I don’t owe you nothing! I’ll spit in your eye!”

Dutch stood there calmly, muttering various “calm downs” and what have you but it seemed to make her worse. The poor woman had reached her breaking point. When this was over, maybe she could finally be convinced to leave with Jed, make a break for it on their own. Get Izzy back and start again.

But then she fucked up.

“I told them!” she yelled, and the camp when silent.

“I’m sorry?” Dutch whispered, threatening to be lost in the wind as everyone held their breath.

No, Jed thought, not Molly… Molly wouldn’t betray the location of their camp to the Pinkertons… would she?

“Yeah I told them,” she repeated, “and I’d tell them again! Now I’ve got God’s ear!”

“You told who what?” Dutch stated calmly and Jed saw the rage bubbling up red from the man’s collar.

“Mister Milton, and Mister Ross,” the woman rattled off, pacing, “about the bank robbery, and I wanted them to kill you!” It wasn’t hatred coursing through her voice, but sadness. All the lonely nights she spent in the grass, Jed knew not a word she said was true. He exchanged glances with Arthur, who just shook his head slightly.

“You did what?” Dutch’s voice had finally risen and he pulled out his pistol, aiming it dead at Molly. She didn’t seem to care.

“I loved you, you god damn bastard!” she cried, curling her fists and shaking them at him, “go on, shoot me! Kill me!”

Jed’s heart broke in pieces, eyes welling up with tears. Arthur stepped in, putting a hand on Dutch’s shoulder and trying to reason.

“She’s crazy,” he shook his head, agreeing with Jed, “she ain’t worth it.”

Dutch shook him off, but lowered his gun anyway, taking a step towards her. Jed breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe this would work out.

“You told on me?” Dutch said, “you betrayed me?”

“Oh,” Molly barked a laugh, “you’re not so big now, are you?”

“Quiet!” Arthur snapped, turning to Dutch and lowering his voice, “just calm down.”

“Arthur?”

“She’s a fool,” he repeated, “get her out of here.”

“You know the rules,” Dutch warned.

“Not so big are we now, your Majes-”

A shot cracked out and Molly reeled, blood spurting from her stomach and heart as she fell back and hit the ground. Bill cried out and Jed whipped around to see Susan holding a shotgun, Susan who set his tent up for Izzy. Susan, who now looked murderous. Susan, who didn’t bat an eye at Jed when he rushed to Molly’s side.

“She knew the rules, Arthur!” she snapped coldly, “what the hell is wrong with you?”

Dutch seemed surprised as Jed rushed over, gripping his gun tighter.

“Jed?” he hissed.

“She was lying, you cold bastards!” he shouted to no one, “all she did was love you. And all you did was push her to the side!”

Dutch raised his gun and aimed it at Jed, who didn’t flinch.

“Go on, you coward.”

He had been stabbed, shot with an arrow, even poisoned once, but Jed had never been shot before. The white hot, searing pain through his chest sent him flying back next to Molly and he screwed his eyes shut, feigning death for the thousandth time.

“Get these bodies out of here and burnt!” he heard Susan cry, “and get back to work!”

He was heaved up by someone and carried away into the forest. After a while he was thrown down roughly and he heard Molly thump next to him.

“I got this, Bill,” he heard Arthur’s voice say calmly. Footsteps thundered away from him. Jed cracked an eye open and saw Arthur kneeling next to Molly, doing something like praying but not quite. He sat up and held his chest, watching as Arthur did a double take and push himself back.

“No, no, wait,” Jed said quickly holding his hands up, “please don’t… please don’t go anywhere.”

Arthur fixed him with a strange look but stopped.

“I saw you get shot in the heart,” he said quietly, looking at the tatters of Jed’s shirt.

“Yes, I…” Jed started for the second time in his long life, “unfortunately I can’t die.”

“Well,” Arthur finally said after some internal discussion, “wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen you die with my own eyes. How long have you…” he gestured to Jed.

“About seven hundred years.”

“And you’re not bored?”

“I’m getting there, Arthur,” he chuckled, wincing at his shoulder.

“I’m sorry about Molly,” Arthur said, “I know you two… got along.”

“Yeah we did,” Jed sighed, looking over at her, “would you mind if I took her and buried her? She doesn’t deserve this.”

“Sure,” he said, standing up and holding out a hand to help Jed, “what about you?”

“I will be long gone after this,” he replied, groaning as he stood, “trust me, you won’t see me again.”

“Didn’t think I would,” Arthur nodded and coughed heartily. Jed frowned. Arthur had looked just like his old brother, Banon, many years ago. Was everyone he met doomed to die? Well, yes, considering he’d outlive them all.

“Save them, Arthur,” Jed pleaded and shook his hand one last time.

He watched as Arthur sped off back to Beaver Hollow, and began digging his love’s grave again.

#molly o'shea #jedediah porter #my fics #hhhhh

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lilyswritings · 7 years

Text

Hold On To Me

Author’s note: Okay so this fic spawned from a few different requests I got, but in the end I kind of ignored the requests and did my own thing?? Sorry guys. But anyway, ever since I saw Wonder Woman (the day it came out lmao) and then the two other times since then (bc I’m trash) I’ve been developing this idea and yeah. Hope you guys enjoy! Also! Please listen to ‘Heart’ by Sleeping At Last, as that’s the song I listened to while writing and it kind of fits!

Summary: You joined this godawful war alongside your brother and his best friend. As a female pilot, already under stress due to your gender, the war became too much, ripping away everything you loved - but Steve was always by your side. Then he disappeared, and you had nothing left. So when he turns up out of nowhere with a stunning warrior goddess by his side, there are mixed feelings that arise. But you cannot let yourself get distracted by feelings that may or may not be reciprocated - there is still a war to be won.

Part One / Part Two / Part Three

Steve Trevor x Reader

The first time you met Steve Trevor was back in 1916, the year you’d been assigned to British forces. You were waiting for your brother to return from a flight, so that the two of you could celebrate the fact that you’d finally been assigned a mission, and your pilot’s license - an incredibly difficult feat, due to the fact that you’re a woman. You were stood in the middle of the large hangar when something hurtled into you.

The two of you were sent sprawling, your flight suit barely giving much protection from the concrete floor of the hangar. Groaning, you sat up, pulling off your helmet in order to be able to think properly, your eyes catching sight of the blonde man scrambling to pick up some of his papers - your eyes also caught sight of the small Captain badge on the lapel of his jacket.

“I’m sorry I-” The man started, but stopped when he saw your face. “Oh.” His comment simply made you roll your eyes - since you’d gotten your pilot’s license, men seemed to always have the same reaction to you; incredulity and amusement at the thought of a female pilot.

“Here.” You replied, holding back a snarky comeback (this man was your superior, technically), while handing him some of the papers he’d dropped. It was then that you took in his appearance - handsome face, boyish blond hair, bright blue eyes...

Nevermind that. He took back the papers, still staring at you, and you rolled your eyes and took the bait. “Can I help you with something?” You tried desperately to sound polite.

“Nothing, just - have we met?” He asked, and you furrowed your brow. “You remind me of someone.” You opened your mouth to reply but stopped when you spotted someone jogging towards the two of you.

“Andrew!” You shouted, heart swelling at the sight of your brother who promptly barreled into you, pulling you into a smothering hug and lifting you off the ground.

“How was the first day of official flying?” Your brother asked, finally letting go of you and pushing his hair out of his eyes. He then paused as he noticed the man besides him, glancing between the man and you. “So you’ve met Steve, then.” When his words were followed by silence he laughed, gesturing to the blonde man.

“Steve, this is my little sister, Y/N. Y/N, this is Steve Trevor, a good friend of mine.” Although you rolled your eyes at the use of ‘little sister’ rather than just ‘sister’, you nodded at him.

Your eyebrows raised as you remembered the letters your brother had written you about his previous missions. “So this is Steve, as in ‘saved your life from the Germans’ Steve?” You asked, and your brother nodded and clapped his friend on the back.

“The one and the same.” He said, and you noticed the admiration in his eyes as he looked down at Steve.

“Well then, glad to finally meet you. Thanks for keeping an eye on my flyboy of a brother.” You said, outstretching your hand to shake Steve’s.

“It was my pleasure.”

The pub is already a mess. You have never been a heavy drinker - far from it, actually - but due to the harrowing letter you’d received, telling you to assume the man that meant the most to you in the world was dead... A few drinks couldn’t hurt. Besides, it gives you an excuse to look after- Oh Christ, where’s he gone now-

"CHARLIE!” You shout over the noise filling the bar, watching the Scotsman be picked up by the shirt and punched repeatedly. You shove your way through the crowd, planting yourself firmly in between Charlie and the fist that was hurtling towards him. Instantly, the owner of said fist stops, narrowing his eyes at you.

"Out of the way, girlie." He growls, finally letting go of Charlie's shirt. You roll your eyes, lacking the energy or willpower to fight this man and turn to tug your friend over to your table - when the brute reaches for your arm. You respond by whipping around and kneeing him in the groin, watching him fall to the ground with a clenched jaw as a hush falls over the bar.

“Didn’t think so.” You mutter, pushing your drunk friend over to the table where Sameer was sitting a few minutes ago, only to stop dead in your tracks. Your eyes widen, face turning white - and ironically, once could say it looks like you’ve seen a ghost. It takes a couple seconds for you to realize your feet have started moving, but when you do you’re hurtling towards the American man standing next to Sameer.

“STEVE!” You shout, abandoning Charlie and engulfing Steve in your arms, breathing him in. He wraps his arms around you, squeezing you tightly, and you barely hold back a sob at how real and alive he is. “You were dead.” You mutter, your eyes blurred slightly by unshed tears.

"I'm so sorry, I would have contacted you if I could have.” He mutters into the crook of your neck, squeezing you once more before letting you go. “Y/N, this is Diana Prince. She pulled me from my sinking plane.” You turn and widen your eyes immediately, taking in the definitely-not-British woman standing by Steve.

“Diana, this is Y/N, the best damn pilot around.” You shake your head despite the small smile on your lips, glancing back at Steve, who you still can’t believe is alive.

“He’s exaggerating, but hi. Y/N Y/L/N, at your service.” You hold out your hand and she shakes it, her grasp incredibly strong, and you watch as a twinge of confusion passes through her expression as she glances between you and Steve. “What?” You ask, and she pauses.

“Why are you not out fighting right now?” She asks, her accent continuing to mesmerize you, and you frown slightly.

“I, uh... I’m no longer in the forces.” You state, your gaze falling to the floor, but Diana persists.

“If you are such a great pilot why would you leave?”

You sigh, glancing at Steve who has a solemn expression on his face. “I guess... It wasn’t meant to be.” You reply, deciding to leave it at that. “So, Diana, what brings you to jolly old-” You’re cut off by the butt of a gun being shoved in your face.

“Not so tough now, are you?” The man slurs, and out of the corner of your eye you see Steve lunge forwards, but stop when Diana steps in front of him. With amazing speed, she shoves the man back, pulling the gun out of his hand and kicking him, sending him flying across the bar and into a pile of chairs. Then she hands the gun to Steve. Silence, and then-

“Steve, can I borrow you?” You don’t wait for an answer, grabbing the arm of his jacket and tugging him to the side. “Okay, I need answers,” You start. “First, you go undercover as a German pilot, which I found out because Etta told me, not you; then every single person you work for tells me you’ve gone M.I.A. and that I should just assume you’ve died - which I do;”

You watch his expression turn solemn but continue. “Then, you show up with a really oblivious foreign woman who looks like she fell from heaven, and can disarm a man in about four seconds flat, with absolutely ZERO explanation!” You shout, and he grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Look, it’s a long story-” His reply makes you scoff, jaw clenching.

“Steven Rockwell Trevor don’t you ‘long story’ me after making me think you’re dead.” He rolls his eyes, glancing back at the group, where Sameer is very obviously flirting with Diana and Charlie is nursing yet another drink.

“Fine, okay? Her name is Diana, she pulled me out of my sinking plane after I crash landed on her hidden island full of Amazonian warrior women where she happens to be the princess, and she came with me because she believes can end the war by killing the Greek god Ares.” He explains, and you narrow your eyes.

“Hm. Okay.” Is all you say, and he raises an eyebrow.

"What, that’s it? You believe me?” He sounds incredulous and you smile slightly.

“You promised me you’d never lie to me. I trust you, Steve. I don’t fully believe it, but I believe you’re telling me the truth.” You state, expression softening as you look up at him and meet his cerulean eyes. “If anything I’m just happy you’re alive.”

He chuckles lowly. “Yeah, me too.” Steve mutters, pulling you into another small hug and turning back to the table. You sit next to the newcomer, eyes darting over Sami and Charlie, and turn to her.

“Diana Prince, huh?” You ask, and she nods. “Welcome to the gang.”

#steve trevor #steve trevor imagine #wonder woman imagine #Wonder Woman #Diana Prince #diana prince imagine #dceu #dc imagine #dceu imagine

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