the inventor ➝ fantastic beasts

1925

Florence Averia had gone home the night she visited Erin Crowley rather drunk. 

She made it home safely, checked her reflection in shop windows for any traces of Erin's lipstick on her lips, and generally made sure to cover her tracks. There was no reason for Victor to twig she had kissed someone else that night. 

But what she hadn't considered was what returning home from what she had told Victor was a meeting intoxicated and barely able to walk straight would look like.

So as she walked through the door, with a smile and her arms open for her lover, expecting him to fall into them, he instead greeted her by delving through her thoughts to find out where she had been. He was a Legilimens, and he exclusively used his abilities for his own benefit rather than for good.

He froze in shock when he found the woman's memory of kissing Erin. 

His shock turned to red hot anger in seconds, and there was nothing Florence could do except try to escape as Victor used the curse on her over and over, blocking out her screams, his stony face set. 

He didn't stop until she fell silent and crumpled to the floor. But still, she made one last effort to get away, dragging herself by the tips of her fingers across the wooden floor toward the door . With a sigh, Victor shook his head. 

Then, he spat the final curse, and Florence collapsed.

This time, she didn't try to escape again.

---

Erin didn't hear about what happened to Florence for three days. 

She celebrated the New Year alone, but she couldn't have been sad, as she was still riding on the utter euphoria of that damn kiss. She went back to work with a smile, half distracted as she replayed it over and over, nearly sawing on of her fingers off as she cut the wood for her latest invention - blissfully unaware that the woman who had given her the kiss hadn't lived to see the sun rise one last time.

But as the third day came, just as Erin had taken a sip of her first drink, as it was getting dark, there was a knock at her door.

She started a little, sputtering on her drink, and made her way over to the door as fast as she could.

She expected it to be Florence. Of course she would. Who else could it have been? She grinned, and even though she tried not to, she prayed Florence was back to kiss her again, or - she was ashamed to think it, but - maybe more than kiss her.

But as she opened the door, the grin slid from her face and her eyes grew cold as she took in the gentleman at her doorstep.

If Erin hadn't known instantly who he was, she would have called him handsome. He had thick, dark, curly hair, push up with so much gel that it shone. His long, hollowed face had admittedly notable bone structure with high cheekbones and a strong jaw, which had a little stubble. 

He towered over Erin (which most people did anyway, as she was so short), and his slim, lanky body was filled out a little by a bespoke suit. He was pretty enthralling - if intimidating. It was his eyes that caught Erin's attention most of all. She had never seen such stony, damn near murderous eyes. 

"You're Victor, aren't you?" She said conversationally, as politely as she could muster. He didn't return the formalities, and a muscle flickered in his jaw.

"Victor Umbrus," he muttered, tilting his head down a little. His voice was a low New York drawl, and didn't remotely mirror Erin's attempt to be civil. In fact, it was ever so slightly threatening.