18+ READERS ONLY! Virulence contains sexual, graphic, and gruesome scenes! I will try to put warnings before chapters I feel may be triggering for some, but this is your blanket warning! Please read at your own discretion.
This combines the HP magic...
When I was four, my favorite word was hippopotamus. Not the animal - no, phoenixes earned that title after my parents took me to Mr. Zunibar's Traveling Wonders that same year - just the word. Hippopotamus. I liked the way the P's popped in my mouth like those crackling rock candies my dad used to buy by the truckloads from the muggle candy store back home. I'd say it over and over again, bringing it into conversation with nearly every person I met, which is a fairly difficult feat because how many people do you know talk about the word hippopotamus instead of the actual animal? I'll answer for you. Zero. But I did. Over and over again - hippopotamus, hippopotamus, hippopotamus...until one day, the P's lost their pop and my excitement in saying the word faded.
I'm still waiting for the same thing to happen with my new favorite word, hoping the more times I say it, the less meaning it'll have. But I've spent countless days and nights repeating the two syllable name and I care more about it now than I ever did for any other word in the dictionary.
In fact, I'm thinking about it right this secondand it's making my heart pump faster, palms sweatier, breath deeper, and, though I feel dizzy and a little nauseous, I don't ever want it to stop. I'm addicted. And I've come to terms with the fact that I always will be.
A salty breeze snaps me back to reality as it coasts past me, whipping a few frizzy waves loose from my ponytail. It cools my skin as it dances around me and I close my eyes, enjoying the fleeting moment. In a little over a week, I'll have to leave this place. Trading tranquility for bustling chaos the beginning of the school year will surely bring and, though I'm excited to start my seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I'm never happy to leave this place...our place.
Hidden by large boulders covered in twisted vines with bright fuchsia and teal flowers, our secret haven resides on the outskirts of the beach behind my family's cottage. The sole way in is through a rocky cavern we charmed a few summers ago to only reveal itself when whispered the password: Secretum Portum, and, once inside, the stony entryway opens to a heavenly cove with a private beach and breathtaking view of the sunset each night. Animals and sea creatures scurry along the white sand and wade in the sparkling water, ignoring the two humans visiting their home every morning and evening of the summer.
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It's obviously incredible here - only a basilisk or an acromantula would find it unappealing given the warmth and sunshine - and yet I often wonder if the reason I love it so much is because of its serene beauty or the person I come here with.
It's definitely the beauty.
Another gust of wind kisses my cheeks and, though I know I'll regret it later when I'm brushing out all the knots, all I want in that moment is to feel it glide through my hair. I slip out the elastic loosely holding my long waves and lean back on my palms, shaking it free. I breathe in the thick air as a group of pelicans dive one by one into the ocean for their next fishy feast. A pod of dolphins jump and play in the distance, the littlest one of the five speeding ahead to chase the hungry birds' meal further into the ocean. Warmth blooms in my chest and flickers its way to my fingers and toes.
