Book #1: Loving You Is A Losing Game (Remastered)

Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling Merlin (TV) Dracula Untold (2014) Van Helsing (2004)
F/F
F/M
Multi
G
Book #1: Loving You Is A Losing Game (Remastered)
Summary
Before Voldemort's reign of terror, before the prophecy between two wizards from the dark and light side have to battle to the end. Tom who even though many claimed couldn't feel love did the impossible. Every villain has an origin story. There is a secret among the original death eaters and no one dares to bring up her name in front of their Lord if they wish death as punishment. The monster was once a man. A man who had learned to love too dearly and buried his last remaining heart with his sleeping elegant flower, Aurora Belmont.*****The spark of fire that starts this long series that's filled with twists and turns. Being guided by an author that decided to make too many crossovers in the future T-T.Update: I'm editing this entire story: IDK when the next chapter is coming out so yea... (5/22/23)
Note
Update (9/29/24): Author is a liar when it comes to updates and has zero motivation to post.
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Born With Thorns, Crimson Flaws

 

Aurora Belmont (Age: 5)

Aurora Belmont (Age: 5)

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

 

They say that murder is when you intentionally attempt to kill someone. When you take the life away from a person with your bare hands. But do the rules still apply if the murderer killed someone by simply living? That was a question young Aurora asked herself her entire life.

 

It must be, right?

 

That's what her father addressed her as, when under the curse of a broken Veela bond. You see, her late mother, Queen Marie ‘Belmont’ LaRue, was the once crowned Ruler of France in the Wizardry World. She was a pureblood Veela while her father King Consort Arthur IV Belmont, CEO of Belmont Enterprise, is a pure blood wizard. 

 

Part witch and Veela, Aurora was gifted with the physical traits of her mother's having pale skin that shimmers in the moonlight, white from the roots till it leads to a beautiful gold on the tip of her hair, lips dark as blood and the heart-shaped face with large eyes filled with wonders. The only physical trait she gained from her father was his ice blue eyes that turned gold when saying an incantation.

 

The only knowledge of her mother that Aurora was capable of obtaining was through the house elf, her father when he was not under the influence of the curse. There was only one source of imagine that could help her know how her mother looked like which was from the hand-painted portrait her father has locked up in his office.

 

The only reason why she even knew the portrait existed was because she snuck inside the room curiously one fateful night when she was struggling to fall asleep and couldn't find her way to the kitchen. The office's door was slightly open, she can see just a flicker of lights through the creak of the door. Curiosity overcoming her young five-year-old mind she tiptoes her way to the open door. Her pink dress swayed gently as her bare feet pat the freezing stone floor.

 

Placing her small hands on the door she shoves the door open using her whole body. Barely managing to move the door Aurora shoves her way inside the room. Upon entering the room it felt dark and eerie. A sense of sadness clouded the room but Aurora at the time couldn't understand why. There were many books on shelves that could be countless files from her father's work connection with the Ministry and the Belmont Enterprise, a billion-euro company that sold dragon merchandise of all sorts, and behind the oak desk was a large fireplace.

 

It was there where she saw the portrait above the fireplace.

 

But she couldn't see the portrait well for it seemed to blend with the darkness. For the curtains in the room prevented the moon's light to illuminate the room that reeks of sorrow. Aurora approaches the fireplace and as she has done a few times with the candles in her room.

 

She puts her hand towards the flame.

 

Now one would think it would burn her, for any normal individual it would have. Even the thought of doing a dangerous thing would scare someone, but not Aurora. You see the flames don't hurt her, in fact, it just tickles lightly on her skin, but that is all. Aurora felt natural as she pulled her arm out of the flame now bending the small flame on her palm with the gentle movements of her fingers. She then put her hand above her making the ball of flame to rise higher and higher.

 

Finally, till she saw the face of the mysterious person. 'She is beautiful', Aurora thought mesmerizing the woman who looks just like her.

 

Trapped in memorization of how identical this woman in the portrait looks like her, her father barged through the door. The loud noise of the impact made from the door to the wall frightens young Aurora making her break the incantation with the flame. The once-dark room was illuminated by the candles of the room and for every step her father took, the candles would be lit.

 

He marches his way to her gripping her shoulder, his nails pierced deep into her pale smooth skin. He has an oval slimmed face, his once bright ice blue eyes full of life now dull with black bags from restless nights, his hair was wild black curls, and wearing the usual suit that he wore for the Ministry in France. He had a resentful look on his face but Aurora wasn't surprised for he had always looked at her that way.

 

"Qu'est-ce que vous faites là !"  ("What are you doing here!!") He yelled at her.

 

His tan face was quickly turning a deep shade of red. The black veins on her father's neck, which Aurora started to take notice of three days prior, began to spread again rapidly on his neck. His eyes were wide and held such a murderous look like a switch was flipped inside his brain. As if the father who had gifted her a new set of clothing and flowers in the morning disappeared.

 

Her father's random outburst always left her puzzled.

 

For one moment he could be speaking to her in such a soft sweet tone and then the next it's like he simply didn't care about her well-being. Aurora glared at the black veins that branded themselves under her father's skin.

 

C'est la faute de cette chose. C'est la faute de cette maladie qui l'a blessé'. ('It's that thing's fault. That disease's fault for hurting him.')

 

However, young Aurora didn't know how to help her father from his demons and could simply freeze in place. No matter how many times she goes through this situation the words can never leave her mouth. Tears swell in her eyes but she tries desperately to seal her lips not letting any noise come out. She knows answering him is useless. She had to learn from her past mistakes that no matter what she says or does, he will never listen.

 

Her body is the proof of that.

 

Thousands of scars are branded on her skin, many are small, and some are big. A sharp pain overcomes her left cheek as she is slapped by the back of her father's hand. The rings on his fingers are now covered in blood. Aurora's body felt numbed again she could no longer feel the blood pouring out of the cuts on her cheek. She is kicked down to the floor harshly and curls herself making sure to protect her head this time. She hears her father repeatedly saying the same words that haunt her in her dreams as he landed more blows with his belt.

 

"TOUT EST DE TA FAUTE !!!"   ("IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!!")

"TU L'AS TUÉE !!"   ("YOU KILLED HER!!")

"INUTILISABLE ! !!"   ("WORTHLESS!!")

"JE SOUHAITE QUE TU NE SOIS JAMAIS NÉ !"   ("I WISH YOU WERE NEVER BORN!!")

 

Leather met flesh in every word he spoke. His voice sounded more demonic than when he had put her to sleep reading her a bedtime story hours before he left for work when she slept.

 

'Papa j'ai peur.' ('Papa I'm scared.')

 

A cut on her upper shoulder marks her skin.

 

'Papa reviens-moi.' ('Papa come back to me.')

 

Another wound marks itself on her hands.

 

The once-pink dress rapidly spread to a deep shade of crimson.

 

Aurora kept her mouth sealed constantly telling herself, 'Ce sera bientôt terminé. Tenez bon. Ce n'est pas mon père, c'est le terrible sort qui le rend ainsi.' ('This will be over soon. Keep holding on. This isn't my dad, it's a terrible spell that's making him this way.')

 

Shutting her eyes she pictured in her mind in desperate distraction from the painful reality of a boy. The same boy she kept constantly dreaming of. He had dark black hair like a raven, similar dark brown eyes, and pale skin although not as pale as hers.

 

For some reason, she felt safe and warm whenever she saw him in her dreams even though she never met the boy herself. But he must be the same age as her. She always found herself in a beautiful field park underneath a tree surrounded by daisies and he will be there leaning onto a tree with a book in his hand. It's like he felt her presence since he will look up at her but before he says anything, she wakes up.

 

Fire course through her veins. She was in a blurry daze the dry tears marked on her cheeks. Looking everywhere around her, she acknowledges the familiar pale walls surrounding the place. The blankets underneath her as her head is laying on a pillow she owns. Groaning in pain she attempts to move upwards but small pairs of hands prevented her from moving.

 

Following the trails of where the hands lead are the gentle wide blue eyes of the magical creatures who look after her father's mansion. They have long dopey ears and ragging tattered clothes. The sweet elves always look after her especially when her father suddenly turns aggressive against her. Without them, she would have died as a baby.

 

Some of them had their eyes closed concentrating deeply on closing the wounds on her as they had done many times before. Aurora can feel their magic coursing through her as she sees an elve teleport themselves into her room with a tray filled with soup, a piece of chicken, cook potato, rice, and a glass of water. Once they were done healing the once open wounds are now left as scars.

 

Another harsh reality of the disgusting persona that lies in the House of Belmont.

 

Not everything is what it seems.

 

The elf who brought the food helped feed her since every muscle in her body screamed in pain. The smell of food so close to her awakened a sense of hunger that she ate and drank desperately. The warmth of the soup spread rapidly trying to beat the freezing temperature of the room. Her foggy breath can be seen every time she exhales seeing that some of the elves who healed her quickly made their way to the fireplace.

 

The other elves were making sure to fill up the tub with warm water and once done the male elves all left leaving her with the female elves. They help her out of the bloody dress and use a spell to lift her up in the air. Then guiding Aurora's body with gentle care onto the water and they made absolutely sure to clean off the bloodstains.

 

The red marks of her blood washed away and instead stained the clear water. Aurora pulls her knees to her chest and put her arms around them once the elves were done cleaning her body. She doesn't hold them back as they finish cleaning her hair and then helping her put on a dark green pajama dress.

 

Once the final strain from her hair became untangled the female elves bid the young heiress a goodnight. Although, they knew that the moment they left she will cry herself to sleep. It broke their hearts to see her so broken and feel powerless to protect her from their master curse. They can only pray to Merlin that time moves faster so that she may come of age and leave.

 

Aurora curls her bruised body inwards, removing the pillow from her head and putting it in front of her giving it a tight squeeze. Succumbing herself to the beauty of darkness the young dark-haired boy laid down next to her in a bed similar condition to hers. Though this time it looks like they are in an orphanage and he reaches out to her pulling her tightly against him.

 

Aurora's heart beats loudly in her ear as she closes her eyes and imagines his touch, smell, and how his heart would sound against her ear. Gentle and strong. She glances up at him as she uses her remaining strength to whisper, "Bonsoir" ("Goodnight") and before she completely falls asleep she swore she heard the boy's voice reply back, "Goodnight, snow."

 

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