At night, 31st December, 1892 — Forbidden Forest
Two months. It had been two months, to the day.
Years had passed faster than this. Decades, actually. If he had stayed to watch Inez-Azazel for longer after turning her, Ishmael would have bet his worthless life she would have been much worse – but even with Monty, for whom he had supposed he had infinite patience, Ishmael was now feeling long-suffering. And a little self-pitying. And bored.
A vampire who hadn’t learned to live as a vampire yet was not, apparently, much fun.
And he wasn’t supposed to have left the cavern, for that matter, because he wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near people – and Monty might have lost track of the date, after the tumultuous change he’d faced, but Ishmael hadn’t – and tonight, on New Year’s, Hogsmeade was going to be full of drunken revellers until well past dawn. Monty and people did not mix just yet. Ishmael was going to have to get him a leash.
Because Ishmael had left for fifteen minutes, and he’d gone. It was the middle of the night, the forest blanketed in dark, so at least Monty wasn’t going to get burned alive... small mercies. Ishmael still rolled his eyes as he traipsed through the trees, listening closely.
“Monty?” He called, at last turning on his heel as he heard a telling sound. “Monty! Where the fuck are you going?”
Years had passed faster than this. Decades, actually. If he had stayed to watch Inez-Azazel for longer after turning her, Ishmael would have bet his worthless life she would have been much worse – but even with Monty, for whom he had supposed he had infinite patience, Ishmael was now feeling long-suffering. And a little self-pitying. And bored.
A vampire who hadn’t learned to live as a vampire yet was not, apparently, much fun.
And he wasn’t supposed to have left the cavern, for that matter, because he wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near people – and Monty might have lost track of the date, after the tumultuous change he’d faced, but Ishmael hadn’t – and tonight, on New Year’s, Hogsmeade was going to be full of drunken revellers until well past dawn. Monty and people did not mix just yet. Ishmael was going to have to get him a leash.
Because Ishmael had left for fifteen minutes, and he’d gone. It was the middle of the night, the forest blanketed in dark, so at least Monty wasn’t going to get burned alive... small mercies. Ishmael still rolled his eyes as he traipsed through the trees, listening closely.
“Monty?” He called, at last turning on his heel as he heard a telling sound. “Monty! Where the fuck are you going?”
