BLOOD AND CHOCOLATE - REMUS LUPIN

𝑜𝑛𝑒 ℎ𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑦 𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑒.

The sky was neither a cerulean blue nor an iron grey as it usually was, instead a balanced mixture of the two. It was the piercing color of a bruise that hadn't healed in far too long as if the heavens had decided that today it was going to be full of nothing but persistent hurt. This color was especially visible because of the total absence of any sort of clouds from the sky. Not a single clump of condensation was placed across the blank canvas, nothing from fluffy titanium spurts to stringy stormclouds pouring rain down onto the earth. This empty slate looked down upon an enormous pine forest that stretched on and on for miles in every direction as far as even a sharp eyed eagle could see. Every shade of green imaginable was present in the rocky patchwork of trees, from the deepest emerald so dark that it was almost black to a color that was as bright as a new fern frond uncurling at the beginning of spring. Wind howled and whistled through the pine needles like a shrill flute, mingling with the sound of a chirping robin calling out to her tiny chicks to wake up, the day was starting. The chirps and wind mixed with the crunching of a doe and her fawn pacing through the packed snow over the frosted forest floor. The towering trees shooting up around the animals or hosting them were covered in a crisp layer of fresh snow from the previous night, coating the forest in what looked like heaps and heaps of sweet powdered sugar.

Right in the center of this pristine, peaceful scene, a dark manor of sprawling midnight marble cut through the whites like a splotch of spilled ink into ruining a clean new roll of fresh parchment.

In the northernmost courtyard of this manor, the cold seemed to plummet even lower than the already frigid temperatures. As if nature itself had sensed a foreboding presence, no creatures made their residence in the marble maze. Because of this, all of the comforting noises of kind hearted animals vanished, and the only sound left was the wind. Outside of the forest and in the manor's courtyard, the wind no longer seemed like it was an instrument singing its tune. Instead, the tone was now like a knife being sharpened. Menacing and not to be reckoned with without any consequences resulting.

The clean and breezy smell of the outside pines disappeared within this courtyard, replaced by something equally as sharp but in a much more cruel way. The air was full of a metallic scent that could be recognized as blood by anyone unfortunate enough to recognize the iron smell well enough. Curiously, there were nothing similar to a wrought iron gate that could gave been giving off this aroma, nor was there a steady drip on crimson liquid pouring out from a wound.

No, there was only this smell left in the air from generation upon generations of evil nature that lingered along this manor. And no amount of strong wind could sweep evil away.

Instead of a normal garden that might have paths made of mossy cobblestone or loose and smooth and round pebbles in every shade of silver, this particular place there was no such room for error. Large pieces of icy, slick marble as black as the devil's eyes herself swathed where uneven earth way have previously been. The frozen, clear coat almost acted as a mirror to the cloudless sky, reflecting the light color.

But nothing could completely block out the ancient, shiny stone's darkness that lurked beneath the surface.

In the strictly methodical rectangular cutouts in the marble, hedges nearly ten feet tall shot out like brutal yet graceful spikes from the ground. These precisely trimmed bushes were made up of hundred of fir colored leaves that tapered off into sharp points, as if the bush was made of a thousand tiny knives ready to attack at any moment. Distributed along these towering, constricting plants were many carved structures made up of the same marble that covered the ground with an even surface.

A benched slithered through a semi circle clearing like a python that had been frozen and time and imprisoned in it's marble cage forever. On the base of this long seat, scenes of the past were carved on with a skilled hand. Deciptions of dragons breathing fire in the mountains or luring travellers into their dens represented a balance of both cruelty and cunning that the huge monsters possessed. This serpentine bench with it's cousins engraved on it was as frigid as if it was made drawn from a enormous, frigid, block of snow itself, retaining no heat and only taking the the freezing and darkness in the world.

Sitting on top of this glacial bench, a girl with inky black hair and light brown skin was the only speck of warmth in the sea of cold. Her deep eyes seemed to be made of pure fire that sparked a bit of mischief and rebellion in the courtyard only neatly composed of alarmingly precise straight lines and strictly circular curves. The girl's very presence radiated a warmth full of compassion, as well as endless wit and cleverness.

Her numb fingers flipped the page of a novel with a cover made of tattered dark magenta dyed linen gently, as if the book was the most precious thing to her in the world. As if it was saving her, the girl's only escape. This scratchy sound of a page turning filled the air previously devoid of any light with a flame of hope.

Most people would usually be taking shelter indoors during this sort of polar weather, but in the manor it was just as cold inside as out. It wasn't, perhaps, because of the actual temperature, but more because of the atmosphere.

Within the marble walls, shadows of dark hoods and echos of raw sobs haunted the corridors. Around every corner was a devastating memory waiting to be reminisced, a hint of trauma that would only take a few seconds of lingering to be relived in full color and senses. All it would take was the brush of a fingertip against an oriental carved silver handle to get sucked into a time warp, one full of cutting speels and potions that made veins light on fire. If the girl was to let her bare foot pad softly against the dark marble, the contact on her skin would slowly creep over all of her body like a disease of the past. As a cut throat reminder of where that ice cold floor had touched other places besides her feet after being thrown onto the ground by harsh hands and powerful blasts from raised wands.

The exact place that the girl was supposed to call home had turned into her worst nightmare. And as strong as her warmth and kindness could reach, nothing could truly warm the freezing, undead pulse of evil that lurked beneath the black marble surface like a constant warning.

NEXT CHAPTER GONNA BE TEAAA

did you guys like this?

this was experimental - but i really feel accomplished

and yes im aware of how unusual this is for fics - don't come at me

that was like stepping into a portal for me

this was one of my favorite chapters to write like ever

why was this so emotional to write - i might cry

there was no diolauge, no proper nouns, no nothing - yet i feel like you can just feel like you're there

1.2k words

what do u wanna see?

VOTE! - it rly helps