summary: in which y/n is a vampire and harry is human and he accidentally stumbles upon her desolate home in the woods
11k words
warnings: vampire stuff!
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(Y/N)'s been around for a long time.
She's seen the seasons change from cold to warm and warm to cold over four hundred times. It's the same thing every time. She assumes it's the most consistent thing in her life besides herself.
As the years pass, people go away, the world changes every day and it all happens so quickly she barely has time to catch up. But at the very same time, eternity is slow and unmoving at times.
There's not much (Y/N) does anymore.
She doesn't visit anyone, no one visits her. She stays inside pretty much all day, only going out for quick trips to get something to eat. If she absolutely has to go into town, it will be on gloomy days when it's raining and gray and not many people are out. It's just easier that way.
But just because she secludes herself does not mean she doesn't keep up with the outside world. She has a computer and often studies the new and everchanging world in order to keep up with trends, so when she does leave the house, she isn't wearing something outdated or speaking in a way that would make her look suspicious.
Normally, she moves around a lot. She's acquired quite a bit of wealth over the years and is able to sustain four houses across the world. So, every forty years or so, she'll move between the houses and pretend she's brand new to the neighborhood or the granddaughter of the owner of the house. And the neighborhood always accepts her with open arms. It's quite funny to her actually.
Even though it's lonely sometimes living in complete and utter solitude twenty-four seven, (Y/N) prefers being alone. There are no others of her kind that she wants to fraternize with in the first place. She's . . . different, to say the least. They didn't really jive last time she was around them.
So, she has little to no friends. It doesn't bother her much anymore. She's accepted that she's going to be alone forever and there's nothing she can do about it.
Today is a particularly sunny day, so she decides to tend the plants in her extensive backyard. Since (Y/N) is dead, she figures she should take care of something living. As long as it doesn't have a pulse, there should be no problem. No pulse means no heartbeat. And no heartbeat means . . . no blood. And she's very specific in where she gets her blood.
She dressed in a pair of jean shorts, and since it's a little humid outside, she decided also on one of those cropped shirts that all the young girls wear. It's strange how fashion trends change.
People used to cover up head to toe only a couple years ago, only letting their spouses see them in less than that, but now, there is much more freedom. (Y/N) loves that. And (Y/N) fucking loves crop tops. It's so liberating. It's the closest she's felt to alive in four hundred years.
Once she slips on shoes, she hums on her way to the shed in the backyard. It's some new song she found on her phone. She barely knows how to work the thing, but accidently, music played from it and she's been entranced every since. She tried to find the song on her computer, something she is much more proficient in, but the phone screen is so tiny, it frustrates her. She can't remember how she got to it.
So she hums the loop of the song she does know and not much else. She favors classical ballads more than anything, but this new song is so catchy, how could it not get stuck in her head?
By the time she stuck her hands into gloves and got down in the soil, she felt much better. With her garden, she feels a sense of purpose and responsibility. If not for her coming in and watering the plants diligently and speaking to them like they'll speak back, she's not sure they would be as thriving as they are. At least, she hopes that's how it works.
