#gravemagicks

@gravemagicks

What had just happened?

Beau’s short term memory was fuzzy, confusing. He remembered fighting alongside his husband and a flash of light—but there had been constant flashes of light from spells and hexes. Had one hit him?

And now he felt as though he were floating. Why?

His surroundings came into focus, and—oh. Oh no. No.

Beau was floating. High above the battle. And there, on the ground below him, he could see Percival kneeling, cradling what looked like...oh, Dieu miséricordieux, was that...him? No. No, that couldn’t—it couldn’t be—it was. It was his body. Limp and lifeless, staring sightless at the sky.

That couldn’t be right. He couldn’t be dead. He wasn’t ready to die yet. He had to—he couldn’t just—

In an instant, he was there with Percival, trying desperately to reconnect with his body somehow. But he couldn’t. Every attempt just went through the limp form lying in his husband’s arms. He couldn’t even touch Percival without his hands slipping through his shoulder, his arm.

“No no no no no no no...”

He couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t be. Their anniversary was tomorrow. He’d had plans for it. He’d had so much he wanted to do for Percival--so much to do with Percival. This couldn’t be the end. He couldn’t be dead.

And Percival...Dieu miséricordieux, he was shattered. Beau could see his husband’s heart breaking, could almost feel the shards of it pierce him. And his surroundings were starting to fade away again.

“No no no...Percival, mon vaillant, I’m here. I’m still here. I’m right here beside you. Please, mon vaillant, please hear me. Please look at me. See me. I’m right here. I’m not gone. I’m not--please don’t let me fade like this. Please.”

Could spirits cry? Could they shed tears? He couldn’t remember ever seeing the ghosts at Hogwarts crying. But he felt like he was crying. And he knew he would be if he was back in his body.

Then it all faded away.

Beau didn’t know how much time had passed when he could see his surroundings again. When he realized he hadn’t faded from the world entirely and gone wherever the spirits who didn’t become ghosts went to. But he knew it had to have been a day, at least, because instead of the street where he’d been last--where he’d died--he now found himself at home, in the doorway between the foyer and the den of his and Percival’s apartment, looking into the den.

He turned at the sound of the front door opening, and his heart hurt to see Percival cross the threshold, looking so very worn out.

So it was still possible for a heart to break after it had stopped beating.

From the look of it, Percival had just returned from a funeral. From Beau’s funeral, no doubt. And Beau’s heart shattered anew upon the realization.

He wanted so badly to hold his husband, to comfort him--but how could he, when he couldn’t even touch him? Still, it hurt too much to see his beloved so grief-stricken, so exhausted, and to not even attempt the semblance of comfort. So when Percival sank to the sofa and dropped his head into his hands, Beau sat beside him--how strange that he could stand on the floor and sit on the sofa without sinking through them--and wrapped his arms as close around his beloved’s shoulders as he could without sliding through him.

“I wish you could see me, mon vaillant. Wish I could speak and have you hear me, touch and have you feel my touch. I wish there was some way I could let you know...I’m still here, mon amour, mon vaillant. I’m still with you, I promise. I’m not gone. I’m--I’m...dead, but I’m not gone. I’m still here.”

He carded a hand through Percival’s hair and pressed a kiss to his temple. Or rather, performed some approximation of the gestures, at least.

rules: tag 9 people you want to get to know better!

tagged by @gravemagicks

relationship status: Married, polyamorous and have a crush on someone. favourite colour: probably Red lipstick or chapstick: uh, I don’t wear either except chapstick when my lips are super dry? but only when it gets to the point of like, bleeding. last song you listened to: Not In Love - Crystal Castles (ft. Robert Smith) last movie you watched:Swiss Army Man, would recommend.

top 3 characters: Newt Scamander | Lance McClain | Viktor Nikiforov

top 3 ships: Gramander |Klance | Otayuri | Victuuri 

i couldn’t choose just three books you are currently reading: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Making my own revisions cause its so. Bare.  top 5 musicals: Wicked | Sweeny Todd | Sound of Music | Lion King | Mulan? I mean it has singing and is the best movie ever so...

@gravemagicks

Continued from here

A new scent caught Beau’s attention as he approached: Blood. Fresh blood. The intruder upon his pack’s territory was injured. That could mean he’d been followed–though it was a rare occasion when any human entered Thornclaw Pack’s territory, even when chasing another.

The man sat awkwardly in the grass, half curled around a bundle held tight to his chest. A bundle from which Beau’s sharp ears caught the sound of soft whimpering, and from which the first scent he’d caught–that scent that smelled so alike to Belle’s–seemed to originate.

A pup. A newborn pup. Only a day old, at most, judging by the scent.

Why was the pup not with its mother, if it was not even a day old? Where was Belle, if not with this pup that must have belonged to her? And why had this man–a Druid, if the petrichor scent of magic that clung to him was to be believed–brought the pup here, to Thornclaw territory, rather than wherever Belle had taken up residence after her banishment?

Only a few feet away, now, Beau purposefully trod upon a fallen branch to alert the Druid of his and his scouts’ presence–as the man seemed entirely preoccupied with the pup in his arms.

And if that didn’t catch his attention, the sharp cracking and reforming of Beau’s bones as he melted from lupine to human form certainly would.

Beau couldn’t stay holed up in his nest with Percival for much longer. A little more than a week--the duration of a heat or rut--was all that could really be allowed for the chieftain of a flock to stay away from their duties. He didn’t want to leave Percival alone when he was still exhibiting heat symptoms--whatever Grindelwald had done to him was really messing with the poor Omega’s system--but he couldn’t leave his flock without their chieftain.

He had maybe a day or two before he absolutely had to get back to work. For the moment, he would do his best to keep Percival comfortable and help him through what he could.

Beau glanced over his shoulder with a fond smile at the Omega sleeping in his bed. He knew it was dangerous territory to have grown fond of Percival so quickly, but could he really be blamed for it? He’d just spent a week with Percival. A week of constant contact and intimacy--and, quite frankly, amazing sex after Percival had gotten sufficient rest for Beau to allow it.

It was going to be tough to let Percival go when he eventually had to. After all, the other Alphas would want their turn with their war prize.

@gravemagicks

Beau pressed the heel of his palm against the scar on his throat with a grimace. The damn thing throbbed as though it had a life of its own, and he knew he was getting close to his latest mark. And, if he was lucky, closer to the vengeance he so desired.

Vengeance. Revenge. It wasn’t a thing he’d ever imagined himself pursuing. The man he’d once been wasn’t vengeful. Not until--

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth to stave off the tears he could feel burning behind his eyelids, his hand drifting to close around the watch in his pocket. Percival’s pocketwatch. The one he’d charmed to correspond to his two-way mirror. The glass was cracked, and the hands no longer moved around the watch face. It hadn’t worked since President Picquery had returned it to him.

“Percy would have wanted you to have it back,” she’d told him.

Beau couldn’t bring himself to try to fix it.

 His current companions--though he couldn’t really call them good company--didn’t get why he carried the broken watch with him everywhere, checking it every so often as though it might start ticking away again if he just looked at it often enough. They thought he’d gone off the rails. They didn’t care, though, as long as he pulled his weight. They didn’t understand. It was his anchor.

It wasn’t only vengeance he sought--it was closure.

It had been two years since he’d lost the man he loved--lost him to a foe Beau couldn’t even remember. Percival was gone, and Beau had no memory of what had happened. All he’d been left with was the imprint of a vampire’s fangs in his flesh and a hole in his heart where once there had been love.

Two years of hunting, searching for answers, and he was no closer to them than when he’d started.

His latest lead had brought him to a little town in the West German Rhineland, where he’d met up with a group of vampire hunters he’d worked with periodically since leaving MACUSA. They’d heard the same stories he had regarding the area. Tales of a vicious killer slaughtering people and livestock, savaging them and leaving them drained of blood. The townsfolk didn’t seem all that concerned, though. They simply continued on with their lives as though it wasn’t obvious there was a vampire residing in the fortress across the field from the edge of town. Those he’s spoken with even seemed...grateful to the creature.

Beau suspected they were in the vampire’s thrall.

@gravemagicks

Continued from here

Hearing his words so quietly repeated, seeing Percival’s features return to their usual apparently human state, Beau relaxed slightly.

But he froze as Percival’s hand grasped his wrist, every instinct suddenly screaming, ‘Run! Danger!’ and, for that briefest instant, Beau feared a trap. That the hunters’ arrival had somehow thrust his beloved into some untrusting and untrustworthy state. But, no, Percival’s grip was loose, tentative, the light caress of his thumb gentle, and Percival’s gaze was as confused and frightened as his own. This was no trick, no trap.

“Oh, merci Dieu.” Beau went almost completely slack in relief, his head falling to Percival’s shoulder with a heavy sigh, and he stayed like that for a good, long moment.

Until a soft whimper from behind him reminded Beau of exactly why he’d had to pin Percival in the first place.

He turned to the girl--and, oh, Dieu miséricordieux, the fear and confusion and concern in Velia’s dark, violet eyes was absolutely heartbreaking. Beau crossed to her and knelt, reaching up to gently cup her face in his hands.

“Are you all right, minette?”

Velia nodded, sniffling. For all that she’d grown in the few years since Beau had seen her last, she was still just a child--and a horribly frightened one, at that. “You’re hurt.”

As though her words had summoned it, pain flared in Beau’s injured arm, but he ignored it. “I’ll be all right, minette. But what are you doing here, Velia? And why with a pack of hunters?”

@gravemagicks

Continued from here

“That’s it, easy now,” Beau crooned. “Keep breathing nice and slow, little Omega.” His grip on the Omega’s nape loosened, turned into a soft, repetitive stroke from the base of his skull to the top of his shoulders. “There you go. That’s a good boy.”

Seeing the submission in the Omega’s posture and hearing that soft whimper and whine, the urge to protect protect protect reared its head, and a rumbling sound akin to a purr started in his chest.