thorfinns-on-a-rowle

[thorfinns-on-a-rowle]

belleza-immortale:

“I mean, if you don’t want to I’m sure I could find someone else” Amara said with a slight shrug of her shoulders, not missing the tone of his voice. She had thought that he might be happy at the prospect, but she hadn’t expected just how much it seemed like he wanted this. They both knew that she wasn’t particularly one for jokes. At least not jokes that were actually meant to be any kind of good. Gently, she rested her hand against his arm before repeating herself, “Kiss me, Thorfinn”

Thorfinn wasn’t sure how this had happened, but if there was one thing he was good at, it was doing what Amara told him to do. And of all of the things she had ever asked him to do over the course of the two knowing one another, this was by far the very best one. He nodded once, and then twice, and then a third time because he simply wasn’t sure what to say. He felt like he ought to say something, but there was practically nothing going on in his head, save for the whirling of dust. He looked down at her hand on his arm, and then up at her eyes, which were watching him. He nodded for the fourth time, and then finally managed to say, “Okay.” Before leaning in slowly. He stopped just in front of her lips, but only for one nervous second. Then, he closed the distance, and pressed his lips against hers. In his mind, all he could think about was what a wonderful beginning to the new year.

[thorfinns-on-a-rowle]

belleza-immortale:

Amara had spent hours buried in thought, trying to pinpoint the exact moment when it had become even slightly probable that someone who was supposed to be nothing but a mere henchman had been able to captivate any sort of special attention because much as she would love to delude herself into thinking that these feelings had popped up when they had kissed the more and more she thought about it the less likely it seemed. Was it because of the way he had always been there for her? Was encouraging her love of literature and being delighted by her intelligence enough to win her over? Or was it more likely to do with how he actually had looked good in the shirt he’d been wearing? Perhaps he wasn’t the most intelligent man, but there was no denying that he was attractive. She’d come to a point where she was defending him as well at some point during sixth year. Thorfinn Rowle was an idiot, but he was her idiot.

She shouldn’t have been surprised by the directness of his question, and she wasn’t. It was more a matter of surprise within herself at how little thought she had to put in to the answer. This, after all, had been what she had been on her way to Gryffindor tower to go talk to him about in the first place. “You don’t have to ask. Just do it” she replied in that usual commanding tone she used when she was with him. Her hands grasped at the inside of her robes as she bit back a smile to hide her delight at the revelation that he seemed to want this just as much as she did.

Thorfinn had loved Amara for as long as he could remember, but he had never, not once, considered that there could even possibly be any sort of reciprocation. Sure, sometimes he had dreamed of it, or fantasized over such a thing, but he had never believed with any sort of conviction that he would ever have a chance with her. She was the woman of his dreams, the love of his young life, and he would smash his fists into the face of anyone who dared tell him otherwise. Last night had thrown everything he had ever known onto its head, but it had also given him a newfound sense of empowerment. If Amara was willing to kiss him first, then obviously everything he thought he knew was wrong. He was fairly used to being wrong about everything he thought he knew, so it wasn’t a terribly difficult adjustment. Now, in the fallout of yesterday’s kiss, this all seemed delightfully easy. 

Just do it. Thorfinn broke out into another grin, before moving towards her. He was jumpy, a bit quick with his excitement, but there was a softness in his fingertips as he rested them against her arms. He was perhaps a little too rough with the kiss, pressing his lips against hers with a rush of impatience, but there was a delicate warmth to it as well, one that was pure impulse and happiness. He hoped that he wasn’t being too clumsy about all of it, because he honestly wasn’t sure how he had ended up here in the first place, and he most definitely did not want to ruin it.

[thorfinns-on-a-rowle]

thorfinns-on-a-rowle:

Don’t be scared, she told him. For probably the very first time since they had met one another, Thorfinn didn’t do as she told him to. He tried to listen to her, tried to do as he was asked, but he was failing. Try as he might to shove the feeling away, Thorfinn was terrified. He didn’t want to die! And while he knew that he couldn’t do anything about it, the tears continued to fall from eyes and the blood continued to pour from the gaping wound in his abdomen. He was dying. Really, and truly dying. Thorfinn had known he was not invincible, but he had always thought that he would die as an old man, not a boy who had yet to experience the joys of life. He gasped for air again, hating how difficult it felt to pull a clear breath into his lungs.

The pain was closing in on him, and so was the heaviness, and so was the darkness pulling on the edges of his vision. However, Amara’s voice broke through all of these, holding onto Thorfinn and keeping him tethered to the world of the living. Remember the day we met, she asked him. Of course he did. He would never forget it. It was news to him that her first thought about him had been that he had been perfect. Coincidentally, – although, not really – that had been his first thought about her too. How could she have not expected him to try to be her friend, when she stood there as smart, and witty, and beautiful as she was. He truly hadn’t minded her being smart. In fact, it was probably one of his very favorite things about her. She never hid that side of herself from Thorfinn, and he had always felt like he was being let in on a very big secret every time he heard her speak to intelligently. 

A lump was beginning to form in his throat, a lump that he managed to swallow with very great difficulty. He didn’t dare look away from her. He could feel it coming, the moment of his death, and he wanted to spend every last minute of his life staring into her eyes. He was supposed to have years to do this; years in which he could smile with her, laugh with her, protect her. Instead, he had only minutes, and damn it if he wasn’t going to make them count. He found himself frowning as she continued to speak. With a massive amount of difficulty, Thorfinn managed to find his voice. “Hey, that’s my best friend–” He coughed, a bit of blood flying out in the form of spittle, “– that you’re talking about. Be– be nice.” He couldn’t manage to say more, but he also couldn’t stand to hear her say that he had deserved a better friend. He hadn’t, not really. But she was his friend anyways, and that was more than he had ever earned.

The dull, burning pain in his abdoman began to subside. It was replaced by a much more terrifying feeling: cold numbness. Thorfinn didn’t know much about how bodies worked when death began to set in, but he knew it wasn’t a good sign when the pain left. That meant that the end was near. Black pulled even further at the edges of his vision, and he let out a harsh, gasping cry. He felt himself being pulled away, down in the darkest most deepest parts of himself. This was it. It was time to go. To his surprise, he didn’t feel scared anymore, not like he had just moments ago. Ready or not, it was his time, and with that knowledge, he found it hard to feel scared. 

Seconds passed as he laid there, and Amara’s voice sounded like it was getting further away with every ticking moment. He stared at her for one moment more, his eyes watching as he lips curled around the words, I love you too. Good, that was all he needed. He could go now. His eyes fluttered closing, and he was encased in total darkness. Merlin, he was so tired. Amara loved him, and while the timing had been awful, he could die happily now. He smiled, eyes still shut, before the features of his face fell with gravity, giving him an almost sleep-like expression. His eyes, lined with laughter and love and anger and sadness, did not open ever again. There was a snapping feeling inside of him, and Thorfinn rushed towards something greater than the sum of all of his parts. 

His fragile human heart beat one more time, before going still in his chest.

It was as if a cold, icy hand had reached into her body and pierced straight through her heart. She wasn’t sure if her breathlessness was left over from the explosion and harsh falls she had experienced or if it was the way that his hand had gone limp in hers. Her instant desire was to dissolve into tears and scream until her lungs could no longer stand it but the pounding of footsteps stopped her. Through the whole thing they had been close by. Though it felt like a long time, Thorfinn had not taken long to die and the lead he had had on them had not been a significant one. Shakily, she rose to her feet.

Wands were pointed at her before she could raise her own. How she managed to not be hit she wasn’t entirely sure, but that wasn’t of any importance right now. All that mattered was that they suffer for what they had done. Amara couldn’t even tell what spell it was she was casting, but a flash of light jetted from her wand hitting the first man squarely in the chest and dropping him to the snow like a sack of potatoes. The second man’s eyes widened as his comrade fell, a newborn ferocity in his eyes as he brandished his wand at her.

Everything around them was enveloped in sparks of color. Blues, reds, and greens bursting from wand tips and creating craters where they hit instead of their intended target. Her opponents eyes kept jetting to the man she had cursed, but he remained immobile in the snow. Part of Amara knew he would never rise again. Prior to today she wouldn’t think herself capable of such things, which was perhaps the largest indicator of the way things had changed. It was during one of the moments when he glanced away from her that she finally managed to get him. It was with a mix of satisfaction and horror that she watched as the man before her turn to stone. With one final flick of her wand she watched as the pieces of the human statue rained down onto the earth at their feet.

Amara knew that she had to keep going. There would be others and she couldn’t just stay behind no matter how much she wanted to. She forced her feet to turn away from him and run until her lungs burnt from the exertion. “Goodbye” she whispered as her body once more collapsed into the snow. Forcefully, she pushed herself to her feet. No one else would die here so long as she was able to help them. She’d fight for Thorfinn, because he would have done the same for her.

[thorfinns-on-a-rowle]

belleza-immortale:

If he truly wished to accompany her, then she wouldn’t be the one to stop him. Truth be told it would likely be nice to have a familiar face that wasn’t a) biologically related to her and b) some pureblooded boy her parents were trying to set her up with. Sure, she would prefer the company of Hestia but Thorfinn would do. At his question she looked around the room. Most people seemed to have coupled off and she ascertained that it was in anticipation. “I’m not sure” Amara admitted, “just wait until everyone in the room starts kissing and that’s when we can take these shots”. Her eyes darted around the room, really taking in the fact that everyone had found someone. Amara was not exactly a follower, but standing out in this particular instance would make her seem more pathetic than anything else. Glancing back at Thorfinn she knew what she had to do, “Actually, scratch that. At midnight I want you to kiss me”

Amara didn’t say anything else about Thorfinn’s suggestion, so he wasn’t quite sure if she was completely on board with the idea of him accompanying her or not. Either way, he would keep asking her. The idea of staying here, without her, sounded absolutely awful. Anyhow, if he left Hogwarts with her, then he could protect her. The war was heating up, and the Dark Lord had plans in motion. Thorfinn couldn’t bare the idea of Amara getting hurt. And, she could protect him too. She was a lot smarter than he was. She could help the Dark Lord, he figured, she would certainly be a big boon to the movement. His attention was drawn to the other people in the room, and he squinted his eyes to see if any of them looked like they were kissing. So far, it didn’t seem to be the case. Before he think more, or say anything, Amara said something that completely threw Thorfinn for a loop. 

“You... you want me to kiss you?” He didn’t even bother to hide the hope that burst through his tone and voice. He couldn’t have if he had tried. This was everything he had ever wanted, and he was actually going to get it. He tilted his head, peering at her uncertainly. “Is this a joke?”

[thorfinns-on-a-rowle]

belleza-immortale:

“Don’t be scared” she said, her voice coming out as scarcely more than a whisper. Amara repeated herself, trying to use the more assertive tone she always used when she spoke with him but failing absolutely miserably. He wasn’t just her underling anymore, he was someone that she had foolishly failed to recognize as so much more than that. She wanted so desperately for him to be happy again, even if for just a moment. Thorfinn was the last person in the world deserving of so much pain. Happier thoughts sprung readily to her mind and she couldn’t help but to share them with him. Maybe the memories would ease his pain a little.

“Remember the day we met?” she asked, giving his hand a light squeeze, “My first thought about you was that you were perfect. I still think that, but it’s a bit different now I guess. Back then you were someone who wouldn’t mind me being smart, because you needed it. Honestly, I didn’t expect you to try and be my friend. I could have pushed you away. I don’t know why I didn’t, but I am so glad that you stayed. Hogwarts would be so different without you”

The more she spoke the more strength her words gained. “And what about the following Summer?” she asked, letting out a fond laugh, “our father’s actually got along! That was the first time I realized that we have more in common than I had ever thought we could”

Amara drew her lip between her teeth, her eyes never leaving his as she spoke, “And the first time you defended me. Thank you. I will never understand why you did it back then. I was so mean to you. I’ve always been so mean to you, and you could have done so much better than me if you wanted to. You deserved a better friend. Someone who wouldn’t push you away or use you like I did. I’ve always adored that about you. You’re so strong. Physically and emotionally. You always came back for me”

For a moment Amara lost her train of thought because the tears in her eyes kept threatening to spill over at any moment and her throat began to feel incredibly thick. If her will wasn’t as strong she would have been sobbing, but she just couldn’t let that happen. Thorfinn wouldn’t be happy if she cried. He’d always worked so hard to make sure that she was never hurt and she couldn’t let him know that what was happening to him right now was the final nail in her already fractured heart.

Before he left her she needed him to know the words that had been repeating themselves over and over again in her head for the past couple of days. Words she had fought against so hard after finally recognizing them, and for even longer in the years before she had realized what this emotion was. “Please don’t be scared” she said softly, “I love you too. I’m sorry for not realizing it sooner”

Don’t be scared, she told him. For probably the very first time since they had met one another, Thorfinn didn’t do as she told him to. He tried to listen to her, tried to do as he was asked, but he was failing. Try as he might to shove the feeling away, Thorfinn was terrified. He didn’t want to die! And while he knew that he couldn’t do anything about it, the tears continued to fall from eyes and the blood continued to pour from the gaping wound in his abdomen. He was dying. Really, and truly dying. Thorfinn had known he was not invincible, but he had always thought that he would die as an old man, not a boy who had yet to experience the joys of life. He gasped for air again, hating how difficult it felt to pull a clear breath into his lungs.

The pain was closing in on him, and so was the heaviness, and so was the darkness pulling on the edges of his vision. However, Amara’s voice broke through all of these, holding onto Thorfinn and keeping him tethered to the world of the living. Remember the day we met, she asked him. Of course he did. He would never forget it. It was news to him that her first thought about him had been that he had been perfect. Coincidentally, -- although, not really -- that had been his first thought about her too. How could she have not expected him to try to be her friend, when she stood there as smart, and witty, and beautiful as she was. He truly hadn’t minded her being smart. In fact, it was probably one of his very favorite things about her. She never hid that side of herself from Thorfinn, and he had always felt like he was being let in on a very big secret every time he heard her speak to intelligently. 

A lump was beginning to form in his throat, a lump that he managed to swallow with very great difficulty. He didn’t dare look away from her. He could feel it coming, the moment of his death, and he wanted to spend every last minute of his life staring into her eyes. He was supposed to have years to do this; years in which he could smile with her, laugh with her, protect her. Instead, he had only minutes, and damn it if he wasn’t going to make them count. He found himself frowning as she continued to speak. With a massive amount of difficulty, Thorfinn managed to find his voice. “Hey, that’s my best friend--” He coughed, a bit of blood flying out in the form of spittle, “-- that you’re talking about. Be-- be nice.” He couldn’t manage to say more, but he also couldn’t stand to hear her say that he had deserved a better friend. He hadn’t, not really. But she was his friend anyways, and that was more than he had ever earned.

The dull, burning pain in his abdoman began to subside. It was replaced by a much more terrifying feeling: cold numbness. Thorfinn didn’t know much about how bodies worked when death began to set in, but he knew it wasn’t a good sign when the pain left. That meant that the end was near. Black pulled even further at the edges of his vision, and he let out a harsh, gasping cry. He felt himself being pulled away, down in the darkest most deepest parts of himself. This was it. It was time to go. To his surprise, he didn’t feel scared anymore, not like he had just moments ago. Ready or not, it was his time, and with that knowledge, he found it hard to feel scared. 

Seconds passed as he laid there, and Amara’s voice sounded like it was getting further away with every ticking moment. He stared at her for one moment more, his eyes watching as he lips curled around the words, I love you too. Good, that was all he needed. He could go now. His eyes fluttered closing, and he was encased in total darkness. Merlin, he was so tired. Amara loved him, and while the timing had been awful, he could die happily now. He smiled, eyes still shut, before the features of his face fell with gravity, giving him an almost sleep-like expression. His eyes, lined with laughter and love and anger and sadness, did not open ever again. There was a snapping feeling inside of him, and Thorfinn rushed towards something greater than the sum of all of his parts. 

His fragile human heart beat one more time, before going still in his chest.

[thorfinns-on-a-rowle]

belleza-immortale:

“You would actually leave the country for me” Amara replied, trying to hide how pleased she was by the notion of her underling (and friend of sorts) foregoing his own future to follow her in the pursuit of hers, “You wouldn’t know anybody but me there, and perhaps Ricardo. Aren’t you afraid of getting lonely?” she asked, surprising herself by actually being interested in what his response was going to be. As they approached the bar she grabbed two shots and discreetly slipped back into the corner of the room where she had spent a good portion of the evening, turning to gesture for him to follow her. “At midnight we can take a shot together” she whispered as she handed him one of the shot glasses. 

“I’d do anything for you, Amara.” Thorfinn said, as if such information were extremely obvious. He thought that he had made that quite clear; that his adoration of her knew no bounds? He would happily kill for her, eagerly die for her. So yes, he would actually leave the country for her. “Who else do I have in this country besides you?” He asked, smiling. He wasn’t unhappy about that fact -- and it most certainly was a fact. No, he didn’t mind. If he had Amara, did he need anything else? Of course, there were the Death Eaters, but he could figure that out later, probably. He was pulled from his thoughts by the motion of her handing him his shot. “Do you know how much longer until midnight?” He asked, cocking his head.

[thorfinns-on-a-rowle]

cassandrawilkes:

Cassandra watched as the younger student ran away, arms crossed in front of her chest, before reverting her attention to the boy in front of her. She couldn’t tell if he was already drunk, just dumb, or both, but clearly, he didn’t understand how parties were supposed to work. “Well if it gets shut down because you beat the crap out of a kid, it would be your fault.” She raised a brow, looking him over. “And if that kid runs and blabs, Ludo’s gonna have a hell of a time trying to sneak another one of these under the Professor’s noses. You don’t want to complicate things for him, do you?”

Thorfinn hadn’t thought of that. He turned, looking after his fleeing victim. He had ran much too far for Thorfinn to attempt to call him back. He would have to hope that the student didn’t run off and snitch. It would be a lot of work to chase after him now. He glanced back at the complaining girl. “If that kid runs and blabs, then he’ll have the entire school after him.” He said, thinking of the storm that Emma Vanity would rain down should anyone be so foolish. Thorfinn crossed his arms, his eyebrows pulling together in confusion. “Why do you care so much anyways, you don’t even go here, do you?”

[thorfinns-on-a-rowle]

belleza-immortale:

Could I leave with you? The question repeated in her head as she made a quick analysis of it. That would mean leaving Hogwarts before he was able to finish his education and move to a country where he didn’t know the native language. Would he actually do that for her or did he not fully know what it was that he was volunteering himself for? On one hand it would be amazing to have him with her. He could ensure her protection and provide company in a place where all she had was family she very rarely spoke to. Her father likely wouldn’t mind it either. Gianluco actually liked Gaius Rowle. On the other hand Thorfinn wasn’t of age. “I don’t know if your family would let you do that” she replied with a shake of her head, “not unless there was something in it for them, and there isn’t”. Her hand slipped from his shoulder and she began walking once more, headed towards the bar. She had no plans for when midnight hit, so she might as well bring in the New Year with a shot or two. 

Thorfinn didn’t really care that much if his family would, or would not, let him do it. They were disappointed in him from the very first moment of his birth, so why should he care if he added to that just a little bit more? Gaius Rowle didn’t really look at Thorfinn very much these days, preferring to drown his sorrows in alcohol. His grandfather would probably be angry, but nobody expected much greatness from him anyways. In truth, it seemed completely rational to leave school to accompany Amara. “Well, even if they don’t like it, I’ll be of age.” He said, his voice sounding uncharacteristically logical. “So I can do it either way.” He paused for a moment, thinking briefly on what it might be like to travel with Amara. “It’d be fun!” A smile lit up his features as he thought about it. Yes, yes. This was a much better idea than school.

[thorfinns-on-a-rowle]

belleza-immortale:

There had to be something that she could do. There was a spell for this. Or a potion, or something. No one would make this kind of spell without there being some sort of way for it to be reversed, right? People weren’t brutish for the sake of it, were they? Amara had read so many books and learned so many things that this had to be in there somewhere. This could kill him, and if she didn’t find the answer or someone else who did then it would. She wanted to fight it when he asked her to stay, but she could see the effort it had taken him. If he slipped away while she was gone she would never forgive herself. No one deserved to die alone. 

Even if his words hadn’t of done the trick, the look in his eyes would have. That look brought Amara to her knees, heart clenching painfully in her chest. It had taken him so much effort just to look at her. Her Thorfinn, her protector, was fading away and with each passing moment she realized that there was less and less she could do to help him. Sobs threatened to choke her, but she bit them back down. These were Thorfinn’s last moments. He deserved happiness., All the happiness in the world, and she was going to do her damnedest to give it to him. 

Her heart thundered back to life, beating painfully in her chest when his hand found hers. Amara’s gave it a squeeze before lifting it and brushing a kiss across his knuckles. It had taken him so much to just look at her. He had always been so strong, he’d always taken care of her - even now - and she couldn’t imagine the toll that it was taking on him. 

“Stay with me, Amara” 

“Always” she breathed, resting her cheek against his fist for a moment but not daring to close her eyes. 

The dull, throbbing pain continued to burn in his gut. It was starting to feel warmer down there, and a heat began to flare from the carnage, flaming like a barbecue full of coals. So this was what dying felt like. That’s what it was, right? That’s what it has to be. He had come to accept that now. Dying. He, Thorfinn, was dying. He wondered what might come next. Would it be a black, empty nothingness? Would it be bright and warm; the perfect afterlife? Would it be somewhere in the middle? It was too much for him to wrap his brain around in the best of circumstances, but he supposed he ought to try his hardest since the time was fast approaching. He heard what, to him, sounded like the engine of the Hogwarts Express. He realized a second later that it was only him, panting. 

Always. He felt relief burst through his pain like a lifesaver. Just as he might if he were drowning, Thorfinn greedily latched onto it. Yes, he was dying. And yes, it was painful. And yes, he definitely didn’t want to die this way. But at least Amara was here, next to him. Amara was here, holding his hand to her cheek, and promising him that she would stay. Things could always be worse, as the saying went. If he had to die, then at least he could do it next to the woman he loved. Honestly, what more could a man want? 

Thorfinn was the untraditional child of an extremely traditional magical family. Despite how different he was, he had grown up with a lot of the same teachings and attitudes as his pureblooded brethren. Thorfinn had never been very good in his lessons, no matter the subject, so he often had a hard time following the guidance of his grandfather. One of these teachings was the place of women. Thorfinn had been taught that women were to stand behind men, and while maybe he might say that because it was expected of him, he had often had a hard time truly believing it. Thorfinn was fascinated by girls, and quite frankly, found them to be very, very lovely. Amara had been the first girl he’d felt this way for. Besides his cousins, Thorfinn didn’t know very many girls. But he’d met Amara and she’d shown him the way. 

Thorfinn gasped for air, suddenly finding it more difficult to breathe. He kept thinking, (I’ll either pass out, or I’ll die. Either way, the pain is going to stop. It has to.) The pain didn’t stop, not yet anyways. The heat was continuing to spread, burning him down to his very bones. This was very, very bad. 

“It hurts,” He found himself whining. He tried to tell himself that his voice sounded like a man with a bad cold, but he couldn’t. He knew what he sounded like. He sounded like a dying man. His mouth tasted like wet copper. He coughed, spitting out half-congealed blood. He was starting to feel numb. Strangely enough, the numbness somehow still managed to be warm. He seemed to be losing peripheral vision, which wasn’t good. He blinked heavily, continuing to look at Amara. Her face helped him more than she could ever possibly know. His vision continued to close in; now he seemed to be peering through the slit underneath a door, or from the mouth of a tunnel. For a moment, it reminded him of being young, crawling through the yard with his cousins. He felt very strange. 

“Amara.” He gasped her name, fingers tightening around hers. He was beginning to feel scared. “Amara, I love you. I love you, and I’m so scared.”

[thorfinns-on-a-rowle]

belleza-immortale:

When she had woke this morning Amara had not expected that her world was going to splinter. It had been blissful. She would meet Thorfinn and everything would be okay. Everything would be safe. From the tall windows of Ravenclaw tower she had even admired the pristine beauty of the pure white snow. Never would she be able to look at it the same way again - not after seeing it painted with the blood of friends and foe.

Spending time with her cousin had been fun, but the time ticked by so slowly. Amara had been anxious to get to Thorfinn. She hadn’t expected a rampant Expulso to blast the building she had been passing. The force of the blast knocked her to the ground, winding her. Thundering foot falls barreled towards her, and she forced herself to her feet. The face barreling towards her was unfamiliar but stole her breath more than the blast. He looked murderous, his wand aimed at her. “Petrificus Totalus!” she yelled, not waiting to see if she had hit him before making a run for it.

Amara wasn’t sure precisely how far she had run. Her lungs were burning and her mind was spinning from the lack of oxygen. The ground was fast approaching. If she was of sound mind the witch would be thankful that no one was around to watch as she stumbled into the bushes. Air rushed into her lungs as she rested against the dirt and snow. From this vantage point she could see what was going on around her. The sound of footfalls filled her ears once again as a very familiar face filled her vision. A very familiar face running. A very familiar face being hit by an unidentified spell. A familiar face falling to the snow. Falling and then clutching something. It took another moment for it to register precisely who it was.

Thorfinn?

Thorfinn!

NO!

Her vision cleared and it fully registered what had happened. She forced herself to her feet, eyes trained on his organs spilled across the snow. There was so much blood. So much. The sight filled her with terror - but her feet knew what to do. They got her just close enough that she was able to collapse back into the snow beside him. “Thorfinn” she whispered, her hands trembling as she realized that she was kneeling in a pool of his blood, “I - I’m going to get you help” she told him, fingers brushing his jaw for a moment before she tried to stand again.

Heavy, that was what he noticed. He felt heavy. His eyes stared, entirely transfixed, at the bloody mess of flesh in his hands. So these were what insides of a person looked like. He’d seen pictures, seen the insides of animals, but he had never seen anything like this. It was oddly fascinating, in a morbid sort of way. Unfortunately, he was now beginning to feel the pain of the spell, and he didn’t find it fascinating anymore. It was a strange kind of pain. It wasn’t white hot, sharp like he might have expected. It was a dull throbbing, like someone was gnawing at his insides. He wondered if there was something he could do, something to help. This, by all observations, was an extremely dire circumstances. Unfortunately, he was lost at what to do. He knew a lot about fighting, but he had never learned how to do it for his life. Merlin, he didn’t even know any healing spells.

He took in a heavy breath, his fingers shaking underneath the mass of tissue in his hands. Was he really holding his own stomach? Was this real? Was this actually happened? He blinked his eyes, staring in disbelief. Perhaps he could put them back? Perhaps he could-- His head collapsed back into the ground, so he could no longer see the disgusting catastrophe that was his abdoman. Damn, Grindewald’s Army. Thorfinn felt tears burning at his eyes. On a normal day, he would have wiped them away, laughing at how extreme his emotions could get. But this was no normal day. If things were going the way he thought they were -- and really, it seemed that way -- then he was going to die. And if the weakness in his neck and limbs were any indication, it would be very soon.

Thorfinn Gaius Rowle had never given much thought to last wishes, not in his sixteen years of life. To be quite frank, the going ons in his brain were much less... sophisticated, though quite possibly, just as morbid. Still, he had never thought about what he would want to see on his death bed. That had always seemed quite far away. But now, now that he was lying on the doorstep of Death himself, Thorfinn began to think about such things. He didn’t wish for his muggle-loving father, nor his devilish cousins. They had never done anything but bring him misery. He didn’t wish for his muggle mother, despite her being one of the few people he had tender memories with. He didn’t wish for his friend Barty, and he didn’t wish for a single one of his fellow Gryffindors. No, there was only one person in his mind, and her face was shining in his brain like it had been given light by the sun itself. Weakly, but surely, his lips formed the word. “Amara.”

It was just... it was just so unfair. She had finally begun to look at him. He’d been feeling lost all of his life, and for these past four days, he had been found. That kiss in the Room of Requirement was supposed to bring in a year of good things... Instead, he would end it like this. In a bloody heap on the ground, with his intestines scattered all around him. He just wanted the universe to do something for him, just once.

Luckily for Thorfinn, it seemed the universe was listening, because in that precise moment, his every wish came true. He saw her legs first, because his head was facing the side, and he was finding it far too heavy to move. The first thing he noticed was his blood, staining the fabric of her pants. “Wait--” He started to say, forgetting that this was his actual death, and that Amara was probably not very concerned with the look of her clothes. Her voice was heavenly in his ears, a far cry more pretty than the screams and shouts he had been listening to prior. And then her hand brushed his jaw, and he felt filled with such a longing, such a despair, that he felt that that would be the reason he died, not the spilling of his insides onto the streets. But then, she was starting to stand, and that longing was filled by a terrifying panic. In a sudden display of strength, he turned his head so that he could meet her eyes. “Amara, please-- please don’t go.” He wasn’t going to survive this encounter, and the thought of Amara leaving him was inacceptable. What if his eyes closed, and she wasn’t there for him to see one more time?

He pulled together every ounce of willpower, every bit of hidden courage. He was a Gryffindor, dammit, and even if he might have resented that at sometimes, he knew that it made him strong. With an exertion resembling that to lifting a building, Thorfinn lifted his hand. He dropped it in Amara’s laps, and his fingers curled around hers like she was his only tether to life. In full actuality, she very much was. “Stay with me, Amara.” He said again, refusing to tear his eyes away from her.

[thorfinns-on-a-rowle]

WHO: Thorfinn Rowle and Amara Zabini WHEN: January 4th, 1978. 12:10PM WHERE: Hogsmeade Village

Thorfinn had begun the day feeling on top of the world. Only four, glorious days ago, he’d been given the pleasure of kissing the love of his life, Amara. Then, just a day ago, he’d received yet another blessing in the form of Amara admitting that she may have feelings for him too. Needless to say, there was nothing that could get him down.

Even when the attack started, Thorfinn maintained a smile on his face. He had always loved a good fight, and this gave him an excuse to draw blood with no repercussions. He only bothered with his wand occasionally; he always had been better with his fists. His fist smashed into the red painted face of one of Grindewald’s soldiers, and Thorfinn gleefully relished the look of the blood spraying from his nose. Some of it even got on his face, but he didn’t even mind. 

He needed to find Amara. He was her self-appointed protector, and he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if she ended hurt without him there to kill anyone who dared touch a hair on her head. He sprinted around the corner, stumbling a bit over a spot of loose gravel. “Dammit.” He cursed, looking over his shoulder. That little fall had allowed a few of Grindewald’s soldiers to gain distance on him. He sensed a spell flying at him, and he ducked away from it. The red signified that it had been a Stunning Spell. Then, he dodged another spell, this one a bit nastier by the looks of it. He was hoping that his luck would last long enough for him to dodge the third spell, but the universe had a funny way of destroying one’s hopes.

Thorfinn had seen people injured, and he had seen people die. He had always assumed that it would never happen to him. After all, isn’t that what most people did? They assumed bad things only happened to other people. Unfortunately, like most people, Thorfinn learned the hard way that it was not the case. It was such a strange sensation, being hit with that spell. He saw the light reflecting behind him, and absentmindedly wondered what it was. When it hit him, he didn’t feel any pain, not at first. But he very quickly learned what the spell was. How did he know? Well, he saw it go into action. He fell to the ground first, but his eyes were drawn to the slight pressure he was beginning to feel in his midsection. His stomach was beginning to look strange, and weird. “Wha-?” He managed to say, before he lost all ability to think. The skin of his belly erupted, and the contents of his insides emptied out right before his eyes. His eyes widened in horror, and he clattered to the ground, his face landing hard against the stone streets of the village. He choked a little, unable to make any sounds in this moment. His hands, shaking and wavering, moved to the source of trauma, but he still could not feel anything. What had happened to him? What was in his hands? Oh. Oh. He felt like he wanted to vomit... only... he couldn’t, for he held his very own stomach in his hands.

An Entrail-Expelling Curse. How gruesome. 

@belleza-immortale

[thorfinns-on-a-rowle]

belleza-immortale:

Usually puzzles were something that she greatly adored, so much so that deciding to not at least attempting to solve it was deeply out of character. That should have been the very first sign to her - to anyone watching them, no doubt - that her bullheadedness had kept her from believing that there was something more than what she thought she wanted between them. Hours had ticked by as the memory of hailing in the New Year played over and over again in her mind. 

At first she had tried to convince herself that it was a fluke. Thorfinn had kissed a girl before, right? Maybe he was just an extraordinary kisser! That had to be the explanation. It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that it had actually felt nice to just be held by him for a moment or that she had felt a lot more than just safe. All of those thoughts quickly melted as she whispered, “I want to kiss him again” into her silken pillow, as if saying the words aloud was more of an affirmation. 

After this realization she had just stared at the ceiling, not at all sure with what to do with this new information. When had her feelings changed? What were her feelings really? And what were his? 

The sun woke her. Amara hadn’t even realized that she had fallen asleep. At some point she would have to go and seek Thorfinn out and actually talk about whatever had happened. She took her time getting ready, making sure her robes looked sharp and her prefect badge was pinned on straight. She had decided that she would make her way to Gryffindor tower and wait for him. Her curious mind wouldn’t rest until she had all the pieces to this puzzle. 

She hadn’t been expecting to see him waiting for her. Amara could only imagine how surprised she must have looked before she was able to compose herself. For the very first time in her life Amara Zabini was actually nervous. “Hey” she finally managed, “were you waiting for me?”

Amara was the most beautiful girl in all of Hogwarts, of that, he was certain. Oh sure, there were lots of pretty girls, but they couldn’t hold a candle to her beauty, to her intelligence. In that, she was unrivaled. No one could dare try to stand against her. When she emerged from the Gryffindor Common Room, Thorfinn quickly straightened up, pulling out of the slouching position he’d found himself in just a moment ago. He wanted to look sharp for her, to show her that he could be someone good for her. He knew that she was in a league he could only aspire to be, but he would always love her, and he would always protect her, and what more could someone want?

“Yes,” He answered slowly, wondering if that was a good or a bad thing. What if she hadn’t wanted him to wait for her. What if she had wanted him to stay far away? Had she regretted the kiss. Oh, Merlin, he had been so certain that she hadn’t. Unable to help himself, he stepped closer towards her.

Thorfinn had always been a man full of fire, passion. He was exploding in his emotions, whether that was for better or for worse. So, he was completely at the mercy of his emotions, when he held a hand out towards her. “Amara, I wanted to talk to you. I wondered if you might let me kiss you again?” He figured it would be best to just come right out and ask. There was no use beating around the bush.

[thorfinns-on-a-rowle]

Amara’s hand on his shoulder sent a flurry of electric shocks racing through his bones. Oh, he would give anything for her to touch him like that one more time. He felt a rush of affection warm him down to his very bones; such was normal when Thorfinn Rowle found himself basking in the spotlight that was Amara Zabini. She was everything he had ever wanted in a person. She had been kind to him when he was young, looking past his filthy half-blood to see the person within. She had made him feel special, wanted even. He had never felt that way before, not at least since he was a little boy. He remembered loving his mudblood mother, but that was so far in the distant past that it hardly seemed real anymore. Amara had become his good thing, when all else was bad. He would do anything for her, should she require it. He would even die, should it come to that. When he recovered from the haze her touch had forced him into, he finally processed what it was she was saying. “Oh.” He said slowly, before laughing. “Oops. Sometimes I forget.” Then, he frowned. “Wait, that’s sad. I don’t want you to be gone for an entire year, while I’m stuck here.” Perhaps he could drop out? It wasn’t like school was his calling anyways. No, the Death Eaters would take him farther than Hogwarts ever could. If leaving school early meant he could be by Amara’s side, then surely it would be worth it. “Could I leave with you?” He asked, tilting his head to the side.

[thorfinns-on-a-rowle]

WHO: Thorfinn Rowle and Amara Zabini WHEN: January 2nd, 1978, Day after the Party. 2PM WHERE: Outside of the Ravenclaw Common Room

Thorfinn thought the trek from Gryffindor Tower to Ravenclaw Tower was awfully long. He had thought for quite awhile, but he would always make the journey anyways. Ravenclaw Tower was where Amara stayed, and he would always make the journey there if meant that he was able to see her. 

Last night had been something straight from a dream in Thorfinn’s mind. He had been given the best gift he could have ever asked for: a kiss from Amara Zabini. Sure, it had been for New Years, but Thorfinn had felt something, and he could have sworn that Amara had too. He hoped that wasn’t wishful thinking on his part. He’d been in love with Amara for as long as he could remember; since the first day he stepped foot into Hogwarts, probably. Obviously kissing her was everything he had ever wanted. But... he still couldn’t believe it had happened. He really had kissed her. He couldn’t help it. He had to find her, he had to see if anything had changed.

Thorfinn finally made it up to Ravenclaw Tower, only to be reminded of the blasted riddle that he could never, ever guess the answer to. He sighed, crossing his arms and slumping back against the wall. It seemed that he would have to wait for her. The minutes ticked past -- rather slowly in his opinion -- and finally, Amara appeared.

“Hey!” He said, his eyes lighting up. “Amara! I thought I was going to be stuck waiting out here for hours. But you’re here, wicked!”

@belleza-immortale

[thorfinns-on-a-rowle]

Thorfinn hadn’t meant to stare, not really. Sometimes he just did that, staring off at nothing. He had perfected the art of looking into space for extended periods of time. History of Magic was his favorite place to practice. He’d found himself in The Three Broomsticks, having walked most of the way there with his roommate, the American boy. He still had another hour or so to go until he was set for his meeting with Amara, so he figured he would just pass the time in here. When Rita spoke in his direction, he snapped to attention. “Oh-- er, okay.” He said slowly, moving to take a seat next to her.

Who: Rita Skeeter and anyone

When: January 4th, 1980

Where: The Three Broomsticks

Hogsmeade outings always proved to be exciting for the student population, and Rita was sure that with the added volume of parents and siblings, something interesting would happen as the day went on. For now, though, she sat in a booth, notepad and quills laying haphazardly as she looked up. “Merlin, if you’re going to stare, you might as well sit.“

[thorfinns-on-a-rowle]

Thorfinn had enjoyed two hot and steaming mugs of hot chocolate at The Three Broomsticks, but he had eventually grown a little warm and claustrophobic in the pub’s rather stuffy environment. His hair was swept aside as he stepped into the snow, blown to the side by icy gusts of wind. He wrapped his arms protectively around his form, and began to make his way down the street in the direction of Honeydukes. It had been awhile since he’d had a proper sweet, so he figured he may as well head over. He was nearly there when Narcissa turned around just a few inches away from him. He startled slightly. He hadn’t seen her there either.

“Narcissa!” He said in surprise, “Sorry, I didn’t notice you there either.”

“Oh, Darling, do I look like I’d be shopping for items that are half-price. I may be reasonable but I’m not desperate. Especially for clothing that looks like something anyone and their Muggle mother could purchase with spare change,” Narcissa spoke to the student who asked her if she would be taking part in the sale at the store. “No, my dear,” she said - loudly enough for anyone to overhear. “I much prefer custom clothing, not mass-produced cookie cutter robes I wouldn’t even give a freed House-Elf… For their own good.” Her tone held contempt, although she’d shopped at the store before, she had had a severe lack in judgment on New Year’s Eve and had a lot of damage control to do. Repairing her image as heartless and naive. 

“Oh!,” she said as she turned away from the Fifth Year who had tucked her Gladrag’s bag behind her back before scurrying off. “I didn’t see you there!” 

[thorfinns-on-a-rowle]

belleza-immortale:

Oh Merlin. She would absolutely not blush. Amara was used to receiving compliments. From a young age people had remarked on how beautiful she was, but she had never been called the most beautiful before - and with so much sincerity. “No” she replied, trying desperately to organize her thoughts and not show that she was even the slightest bit flustered by his kindness - that would never do, play things could not know your weaknesses - rushing on quickly to say, “wear it whenever you want. Preferably when it’s clean. And let’s not worry about leaving just yet. It’s not even midnight, and my book will be waiting for me when I return. Down this for me so we can get something new?” she asked, passing him the wine she had been nursing all night

“Right. Clean, but whenever I want. Got it.” Thorfinn nodded, like he was receiving extremely important directions. He took the wine that Amara pushed into his hands, peering into it curiously. “Thank you!” He said happily. “I knocked an entire table of drinks over earlier, and Bagman told me I couldn’t have anymore, so thanks for this.” He lifted it to his mouth and finished it in just two gulps. He examined the now empty cup for a moment, before setting it down on a random table. Whoever cleaned up these things could handle this. He pushed a few students out of Amara’s path, so that she might find it a little easier to walk. “Can you believe it’s almost a new year?” Thorfinn asked, motioning for her to walk ahead, “I feel like it’s gone by so fast! We’ll be seventh years soon, you know.”