[tom riddle x oc | slowburn | enemies to lovers | angst]
Darkness was edging its way into the forests of Finland. Deep in the heart of these woodlands, the native magicians practised ancient magic long forgotten by the outside, concealed and unaware...
"I am a dreamer. I know so little of real life that I just can't help re-living such moments as these in my dreams, for such moments are something I have very rarely experienced. I am going to dream about you the whole night, the whole week, the whole year."
━━ WHITE NIGHTS
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•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••
Inkeri was back on the Hogwarts Express. For once, she felt no avid emotions towards the destination for which she was headed— no hint of excitement, or fear, or wonderment. Just a slight sorrow weighing her heart down at the prospect of more months away from home.
She drew her legs up to her chest and curled up on the seat, settled in the corner and staring unseeingly out of the window. Inkeri couldn't tell if it was the train's speed or her own unshed tears that made the landscape blurry.
Thankfully, nobody interrupted her brooding, and she reminisced over the two weeks of absolute bliss. Things had been far from awkward with Mathias after that first night— instead, they'd made use of every second alone doing exactly the same thing, and stealing glances when in company.
Then, just like last time, she'd slipped away silently without telling him, because it was too difficult, and too much of a fuss. She knew that he would forgive her no matter what, and she took advantage of it.
Inkeri's brief conversation with Ora shortly before her departure had left her feeling uneasy, and as much as she tried to put it out of her mind, she couldn't.
The Church was more ravaged than last time. Ora's fury had only coiled more tightly around the structure, squeezing it so harshly that the brick walls had begun to slowly crumble. There were new, long slashes in the carpeted floor, as though talons had been dragged across it.
He sat peacefully in the midst of the carnage, unmoving as ever, eyes closed. She would never become accustomed to his gruesome appearance, with the translucent flesh, bloody runes, and exposed veins.
"You've almost demolished this place," Inkeri noted, and he opened his eyes to watch her with that intent gaze.
Ora's hood was up, casting a shadow over his forehead but the darkness made his purple eyes glow all the more intensely. Inkeri recalled wondering whether he slept with the cloak on. Or if he slept at all. "Not on purpose," he said with an almost humanly sigh. "My magic has a mind of it's own sometimes."
She'd never seen his magic, but was surprised that his abilities ventured beyond just being a Seer. He seemed to notice her surprise, and changed the topic. "Why are you here? I did not call for you."
Inkeri had hesitated, before slowly pulling out the locket which had been burning a hole in her pocket for him to see. It twinkled in the darkness, with the engraved Selwyn seeping into the gold like black poison. "This trinket you used as a Portkey," she said carefully, "where did you get it?"
