Be Still My Geek Heart

The Cold Wolf - Lucius Malfoy x OC Durmstrang / Veela / Baba Yaga witch fic.

Most Recent Chapter!

The Cold Wolf Chapter 24 - fanfiction.net

The Cold Wolf Chapter 24 - A03

Chapter 24 previews below:

Preview:

It was the first time they had stood this close, essentially alone, without the buffer of a dozen Aurors or the formal distance of a courtroom since she’d last been trapped in his home... In the silence between them, the sound of the fountain’s falling water felt as heavy as the silence in the drawing room at Malfoy Manor.

Hermione felt the ghost of the cold marble floor against her skin. She saw the flash of the chandelier. For a second, the bustling Atrium vanished, replaced by the memory of the man standing over her while his sister-in-law held a knife to her throat.

Lucius saw it. He watched the way Granger’s pulse jumped in her neck, and for a fleeting moment, a strange sensation settled in his chest that he did not have a name for. He remembered the screams. He remembered the way he had stood by, paralyzed by his own choices, watching a girl who was clearly a genius be broken in his home. He looked at her now and saw a woman who had helped dismantle the world he’d built and, on a level he’d never admit to, he felt a flicker of respect for the sheer force of her will. He didn't trust her, and he certainly didn't like her, but he couldn't look at her without seeing the enormity of what she had survived in his house.

"Vassa, you’re here," Hermione said, her voice fast and bright, though it carried a slight tremor she couldn't entirely hide. "We’ve so much to do. Minerva’s serious about this. She’s looking for someone who can offer a real perspective on international defense."

Lucius stepped forward, his presence a dark wall between his wife and the younger witch.

Most recent update of Wrecked!

Chapter 14 - Archive of Our Own, here.

Chapter 14 - fanfiction.net, here.

Preview:

It was very clear that Klaus was not comfortable. Every time the grey characters shifted along his jaw, a tiny, involuntary twitch would pull at the corner of his mouth, his eyes darkening with internal resistance as he attempted to keep his mind shut against the entity lurking.

Caroline didn't say anything at first. She just kept her strokes long, smooth, and soothing, rubbing her palms up and down the uncorrupted meat of his shoulder, trying to use her own body heat to counteract the dead, river-ice cold that was radiating from the black veins.

“It’s getting thicker,” she whispered, her thumb tracing the edge of a grey loop just above his collarbone. “Klaus, the text... it’s moving toward your chest. It looks like it’s trying to spell something else.”

Klaus didn't look down at his arm. He stayed directly in front of her, his large frame blocking her completely from the rest of the tunnel, his breathing deep and disciplined, holding no trace of his previous physical panic. But as her fingers reached his shoulder, trailing just above the hard curve of his pectoral muscle where his shirt was torn through, his restraint didn't just slip — it snapped.

With a sudden, heavy rush of supernatural speed that didn't hold a single drop of the entity’s cold scent of lilies, Klaus caught her by the waist and hauled her directly into his lap. His hands wrapped behind her head, his fingers tangling through her damp, salt-crusted blonde hair with an urgency that stole her breath before she could let out a single word of protest.

He kissed her.

It wasn't the careful kiss of a man who was worrying about anything right now. It was a bruising, ravenous display of pure delight. His mouth opened against hers with a starved desperation that had been building since he’d first smelled her perfume on the carpets in her hotel suite. He rolled through her until she felt entirely consumed by him, his chest pressing hard into her breasts, his body heat pouring into her skin until the cold of the cave vanished completely.

The environment of the mine wasn't helping. The deep, heavy dark, the hypnotic pulsing in the stone — it was an atmosphere engineered to make lovers forget the world outside their own bodies. It was exactly what the Mother of Shadows needed to regain some strength. The moment their lips locked, the air between their faces thickened, turning hot, heavy, and weaponized with a wave of raw, physical desire that throbbed straight through Caroline’s core. She surged up into him, her fingers digging into his back, her fangs scraping his lower lip as she forgot about the boat, forgot about the rules.

“Look, you two gotta cool it,” Bonnie’s voice pierced the dark, sounding sharp, dry, and entirely unamused from five feet away.

The Cold Wolf - Lucius Malfoy x OC Durmstrang / Veela / Baba Yaga witch fic.

Most Recent Chapter!

The Cold Wolf Chapter 23 - fanfiction.net

The Cold Wolf Chapter 23 - A03

Chapter 23 previews below:

Preview:

Draco squinted into the dark. Ahead, there was only a void, a rectangular patch of absolute blackness that seemed to swallow the light of the moon. As they moved forward, the sensation of the invitation — the heavy, blood-red parchment he had accepted back at the hotel — pulsed in his pocket. It felt like a bond, a magical contract that had already been signed and sealed the moment he stepped across the boundary.

The Dracul-Tepes were obsessed with formal invitations, a quirk Draco had initially dismissed as the same sort of pure-blood etiquette his father lived by. But here, everything was functional. To be invited was to be bound. The magic of the grounds was a predatory system; by accepting the invitation, Draco had unwittingly offered a fragment of his own agency in exchange for the family’s protection or, at the very least, their temporary hospitality. But if Rurik had accepted without hesitation, then it was almost certainly safe enough… he hoped. 

"They are the masters of the Living Pulse," Yelena whispered, her hand brushing his in the dark. The memory of their kiss on the Koldun patio flickered in his mind, a brief spark of warmth in the oppressive gloom. "The Dracul-Tepes were once the kings of meat and blood. They don’t just rule; they consume."

As they neared the void, the house finally began to manifest. It was a staggering piece of architectural alchemy — an obsidian manor that appeared to be made of frozen smoke. It was Castelul de Oglinzi’s (the family’s true home in Transylvania) smaller, Moscow cousin, built from volcanic glass that didn't reflect the light but refracted it into a series of deceptive shadows.

Draco knew the legends. Every Pure-blood child in Europe heard the stories of Vlad III, even the Muggles were historically well acquainted, their version was just heavily abridged. Vlad had been the Sanguine Sovereign who had ruled Wallachia with a wand of blackthorn whose core purportedly flowed with the blood of the first vampire. In the Muggle world, he was a monster who impaled his enemies on wooden stakes. In the wizarding world, he was a pioneer of the most brutal form of stasis magic.

The "impalements" hadn't been mere executions. They were a massive, permanent stasis charm. Vlad didn't just kill the Ottoman wizards who invaded his lands; he had suspended them in a state of unending, conscious agony, their life force fixed to the ground by enchanted silver-and-wood spikes. These victims became living batteries, their suffering powering the blood-wards of his territory for centuries. It was a magic that turned the human body into a spiritual anchor, a physical and metaphysical imprisonment that the Dracul-Tepes had refined into an art form.

They weren’t allowed to do that anymore. Supposedly. But people were incredibly evasive and, somehow, simultaneously cavalier about things like that around here.