Supernatural (Tom Holland x Reader)

13. The Book

A/N: Happy Sunday, my loves! Just a little note to say T/N means "Town Name"...I figured you could make it up.

I sat in the theatre room on the second floor, watching Harry Potter on the 80-inch flatscreen (that, frankly, looked extremely out of place in the ancient atmosphere of the manor). While I watched Quidditch players on broomsticks zoom across the television screen, I focused on my powers. I rewinded the movie a few scenes with my fingertips, and then made Daniel Radcliffe do the "Macarena" across the screen a few times to amuse myself. Being a witch sure was fun! More than once I had to remind myself that it wasn't about fun...that lives were endangered.

"Hey," someone said quietly from behind me. I paused the television with my mind and turned around to face Harry Holland, wrapped in a blanket and his sleepwear: an oversized T-shirt and some plaid flannel pants.

"Can't sleep either?" I asked, grinning kindly. Harry shook his head in response.

"Mind if I sit?" Harry asked me

"The more the merrier," I chuckled. The clock on the wall read three in the morning. We had one full day left until Apathy Hardstrune's return. There was no way I was getting to sleep that night. Especially if I knew Tom would want to talk to me about what he overheard at dinner...I'd felt him in there somewhere when I'd said it. Harry sat in the velvet chair next to me as I unpaused the movie with a snap of my fingertips.

"So you really aren't crazy, are you?" Harry asked, so quiet I could barely hear him. I paused the movie again and looked at him.

"No, I'm not. At least I don't think." I smiled at him.

"I don't deserve that from you," Harry sighed. He wouldn't meet my eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"That...that kindness. I've been nothing but horrible to you. Sam and me both have."

"I know. But I don't think anyone deserves anything other than kindness. You two are just dealing with grief in a different way. I understand that." I conjured him a bag of gummy worms out of the sky and handed it to him. "I think I'm getting pretty good at that," I chuckled nervously. Harry looked at me a little warily for a moment, but the look soon evaporated.

"I'm sorry about your brother," he said after a minute of silence.

"I'm sorry about yours," I replied.

"You can really see him, then? You and Paddy both? And talk to him?" Harry's eyes welled up.

"Yeah. He really misses you all," I sighed wistfully. Harry nodded.

"I guess we owe him an apology too. Sam and I...we discussed it before bed. We should've been kinder to you. You're right about everyone deserving that."

"I'm sure it's what Tom wants," I told him.

"Why didn't he....why hasn't he tried to talk to us?"

"Oh, he tried for a good long while," I replied, popping a truffle into my mouth from out of nowhere. "Can't imagine what that must have been like...not being able to talk to your family."

"I feel right awful."

"Don't, it's not your fault. You're just not wired like Paddy and I." I shrugged casually.

"We're not going to sack you, by the way," Harry laughed half-heartedly. "Actually, of all of the governesses we've had, you're the best."

"Thank you." I smiled nicely at him. I wondered for a moment if I ought to tell him about how I suddenly became a witch or about the evil one after him and his family, but I figured I'd better talk to Tom about it first.

Just then, Paddy came in. He climbed into the chair on the other side of me. "Can't sleep?" Harry and I asked in unison. Paddy shrugged.

"I didn't mean to scare you earlier," I admitted to him. "I didn't really know about my powers myself until then."

"That's okay," Paddy replied, shrugging. "You're still you. And it's no weirder than being able to talk to dead people." Then, he leaned over and hugged me. "I'm sorry I avoided you."

"It's okay, Pad. I understand." I conjured another bag of gummy worms from who knows where and handed it to him.

"You're not still going to tell Mum and Dad about her, are you, Harry?" Paddy looked at his older brother with wide eyes.

"No, of course not."

POV SWITCH

"Y/N! Y/N! You'll never guess what I found!" I laughed wholeheartedly. I was rushing so much that I forgot the book I was carrying was a solid object, and it fell out of my hands when I tried to go through the wall. What a curse...I could touch all the objects I wanted, but never a single person.

I found her in the entertainment room, sitting on the window ledge and changing the seasons with circular flicks of her dainty wrist. I paused in the doorway a moment, just to stare at her for a while, but she'd sensed my presence and turned around thusly to face me. I flushed, having been caught staring (though, I don't think she noticed), and set the book down on the coffee table in front of the tiny sofa behind the piano.

"What'd you find?" Y/N asked. I was surprised when instead of walking over to me, she floated. I must have been staring again, because she said "Neat, huh? I learned that just this morning! I've been working on my powers all night. Now I can float like you!" She flew in a few circles around my head.

"Yeah! That's great! But I think you're going to love what I found too!" I sat down on the couch next to her and plopped the book in her lap. She traced the moldy cover with her finger.

"Witchcraft in the Eighteenth Century: T/N, Ireland...where did you get this, Tom? It's brilliant!"

"In the Archives...perks of being a ghost, I guess," I laughed. "And look..." I flipped open the old book "It's a record of everything witch-related that happened here in the 1700s. There's spells, family trees, everything!"

"Tom, that's incredible! I could kiss you!" Y/N exclaimed.

"W-what?" I stuttered, my eyes widening.

"It's an expression, silly," she laughed.

"Oh, right, how thick could you get?" I chuckled nervously. She just smiled.

Y/N stopped flipping through the pages at the inner back cover of the tome. "What's this?" she asked. I leaned over her shoulder.

"'Four hundred orbits to the year, a second duel will commence here. A wicked king will lose his crown to she whose family ere renowned. Forgotten, though her blood may be, she will prevail, 'tis mine decree.' It sounds like a prophecy!" I shrugged, thinking nothing of the subject, but Y/N seemed to be more interested.

"Huh. Right. Well, thanks for finding this, Tom! It might just be what saves us."