BORN TO DIE

𝐕I   HOME COMING
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Esmerelda tightly held onto Evan's arm as they strolled through the bustling train platform in London. Their arrival had only been a few minutes ago, and Evan insisted on greeting Esmerelda's parents.

Whispers escaped Evan's lips as he uttered, "I can't wait to see you at the ball, love."

Esmerelda mustered a forced response, "Me, as well" she muttered as her hands began to turn clammy.

As they approached Alaster and Natalia, Esmerelda bowed her head and greeted her parents with a mix of nervousness and respect.

"Father, Mother," she said softly. Natalia, with open arms, smiled politely and beckoned Evan closer.

She embraced him warmly,"Evan dear!" Natalia exclaimed happily. It was no secret the woman adored the young wizard.

Alaster extended a hand for a shake, and Evan reciprocated with a smirk, greeting him as "Sir."

Alaster couldn't conceal the hopefulness in his eyes as he posed a question, "Evan, are we expecting to see you and your family at the ball?"

Evan responded with assurance, "You will indeed, sir. We are looking forward to it. But if you excuse me, it seems my parents are calling me over." He glanced at the adults, leaving a gentle kiss on Esmerelda's cheek before making his departure.

Alaster extended both of his arms, signaling for the two women to grasp them tightly, ready for their apparition to Nott Manor.

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Esmerelda's body was tense as she sat at the dining table, the air heavy with anticipation. As her mother idly pushed the food around on her plate, and her father's intense gaze bore into her, Esme couldn't help but feel a mixture of fear and curiosity about what awaited her.

Would her punishment be the excruciating agony of the cruiciatis? It certainly seemed like a possibility. Perhaps banishment would be a kinder fate, offering an escape from the suffocating weight of her family's expectations. And then there was the ever-present threat of the imperious curse, hanging over her like a dark cloud.

But as unsettling as these possibilities were, Esmerelda found herself contemplating something even more extreme. Death, she whispered to herself, almost as if it were a secret wish. In that moment, the thought of it seemed almost desirable compared to the uncertainty and turmoil that surrounded her.

The coldness of Nott Manor seeped into every corner, its desolate atmosphere enveloping the entire estate.

Despite the meticulously trimmed garden and the protective wards, it seemed as though no one could truly call this place home. Instead of love and fond memories, the manor was haunted by a sense of melancholy and despair.

Esme, burdened by the weight of her yearning for peace, knew that tonight would be particularly unbearable. As the silence stretched on, Alaster became the first to shatter the stillness, his fork crashing onto the table with a harsh clang that reverberated through the expansive dining room.

Though Natalia kept her gaze fixed upon her hands, Esmerelda's unwavering expression betrayed her father's disruptive act. In that moment, she made a silent vow to herself: never break, never allow satisfaction to be gained from the pain they caused.

Alaster's gaze bore into Esmerelda, unwavering as he posed the crucial question. "So, Esmerelda — are you going to deny the accusations?"

Despite his pensive demeanor, his face appeared to be a mask of stoicism, betraying nothing of the torrent of emotions raging within him. Yet, his eyes told a different story entirely; it was as if they harbored the fury of seven hells, threatening to spill over and consume everything in its path.

Esmerelda could feel the weight of his stare, the immense pressure it exerted on her soul, but she knew she had to answer. In this tense silence that hung between them like a thick fog, even a single word could carry enough power to alter fate itself.

With a trembling grip, Esme set her fork down on the fine china plate, the clang echoing through the spacious dining hall. "No father," she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper, "although there is reasoning behind my actions." Bravely, she looked into her father's piercing eyes, as she clasped her hands together tightly in her lap. The tension was palpable as everyone around the large oak table held their breath, awaiting her father's response to her bold statement. Each second that passed felt like an eternity until he finally spoke. "do tell."

Clearing her throat, she began to speak. "I was struggling, constantly attempting to perfect the draught of living death," Esmerelda said hesitantly. "Then, Professor Slughorn asked the... the mudblood," she paused, hating herself for using that term, "to teach me." She tried to continue with a steady voice, explaining her weaved trail of lies.

"I wanted to refuse — I really did, but I was threatened with detention if I didn't comply." Her voice took on a hint of desperation as she relayed the second part of her fabricated tale. "As for the blood traitors — Potter has somehow developed an unhealthy obsession with me. And Sirius Black? He's simply his loyal lap dog that follows him at every turn." Esmerelda was skilled in concealing her emotions when necessary, but even she found it difficult to lie so smoothly.

The words felt like poison on her tongue as she navigated this twisted narrative; using derogatory terms and betraying those she cared for just to save her own skin. Time seemed to slow down as she finished speaking—each word weighed heavily on her conscience, compounding an ever-growing sense of guilt and inner turmoil.

Alaster stared intently at his daughter as he slowly nodded in acknowledgment of the misdeed she had confessed. His expression shifted from understanding to sternness and resolution, signaling that he had reached a decision. His hand quickly shot out to grab his wand that lay innocently upon the table, swiftly removing it from its resting place. Holding the wand firmly, Alaster pointed it with purpose at his daughter, his eyes never leaving hers for a moment.

"Children must receive consequences," he declared in a tone that conveyed the weight of the lesson he was about to impart.

Esmerelda's heart began pounding like the distant roll of thunder, and she felt her eyes brim with pleading tears that threatened to spill over. Her own fears manifested in her hands, betraying her as clammy sweat pooled in her shaking hands. Esme wanted to dearly to plead, reassure her father that she had not wished to associate herself with such beings but she couldn't find the words as vile raised in her throat.

"Cruico!" He bellowed with a fearsome intensity, channeling every ounce of his aggression and hatred into the incantation.

A surge of chaotic energy gathered at the tip of his wand, soaring in a red spark that shot forward in a terrifying, large stream toward his target. When it struck Esmerelda's skin, it was as if she had been branded by the fiercest flames. Her nerves were immediately set alight with searing pain that tore through her like wildfire, wracking her body with uncontrollable spasms.

As her tormented scream tore from her throat, the sheer intensity of her suffering forcing it out in an involuntary cry, her body's cohesion failed her - muscles weakened and coordination shattered by the invasive force. Her grip on the chair that had once been her refuge slackened, and her feeble attempts to maintain some connection to its support were only met with cruel failure: in a moment that seemed to stretch on forever yet pass entirely too quickly, gravity claimed her weakened form as she withered against the stone flooring.

The pain was excruciating and almost unbearable, as if every bone in her body was being methodically snapped one by one, followed by a relentless crushing into fine powder. She clenched her teeth, attempting to hold back the agonizing screams that threatened to escape her lips. Simultaneously, her entire being was assaulted by a searing heat that felt like a thousand white hot branding irons pressing against every inch of her skin without mercy.

Each passing second stretched into what seemed like an eternity as she lay there trapped in a tormenting cycle of suffering. Muscles clenched and twisted with spasms as sweat poured from her fevered brow, beads of it forming rivulets along the contours of her face. The appalling circumstance that surrounded her was so intense and overwhelming that even the strongest will might have faltered under its weight. And yet, she persisted, driven by an indomitable spirit and determination that refused to surrender while facing such agony.

Esmes knuckles had spit from her clenched fists as she fought against the excruciating pain. Her whole body arched off the floor, the agony feeling like an eternity.

But finally, the curse relented, and Esme collapsed, completely drained of energy. She laid helplessly on the ground, tears silently streaming down her face. It was as if her spirit had been shattered along with her body. The weight of the ordeal had taken its toll, leaving her unable to move a muscle. The room filled with a heavy silence, broken only by the sound of her quiet sobs and the rhythmic beating of her exhausted heart.

She could only watch as her father departed from the room, his footsteps loudly thumping against the wooden floors — leaving Esme and Natalia frozen.

She felt her mother brush her hair back; a simple touch set shockwaves of pain that radiated through her skull. Natalia called for their house elf Hokey, ordering her to apparate Esme to her room and prep her for bed.

She didn't care though. The pain lingered in her veins — she wished she was dead.

In the depths of her despair, she found herself at a crossroads between the unbearable weight of her suffering and the flickering hope that resided deep within her soul. The weight of her pain was similar to a heavy fog that clung to her every thought, suffocating any sliver of optimism that dared to emerge. But despite the overwhelming darkness that surrounded her, she refused to succumb to the darkness completely.

With each passing moment, she became aware of the battle waging within her, a battle for her very existence — for her freedom. The pain that coursed through her veins was a constant reminder of her destiny, a reminder that she could either let the pain consume her or rise above it.

In those moments of agony, she sought peace in the fragments of hope that still endured. She clung to the memories of brighter days, when laughter echoed the grounds of Hogwarts with her friends and those she considered family. These memories became her lifeline, a beacon of light pleading her to hold on and keep fighting.

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The sun had risen slowly. Esme's whole body ached from the night before. Her back was pressed roughly against her door to prevent any unwelcome visitors. Esmes brother and his wife would be arriving today — the ball was tomorrow and it was  an old, tiring tradition for the heirs to stay in their home the night before.

Esmerelda thought Casper Nott was sent by Merlin himself. He was the moon on a stormy night, the light at the end of the tunnel. He was someone who — no matter what, never failed to bring her back from the darkness that seemed to drown her.

Marjorie, Casper's wife, was known for her extraordinary kindness. Her pure and hopeful nature made her stand out in their family, where darkness and spite often prevailed.

Marjorie and Casper were filled with joy as they awaited the arrival of their unborn child. Casper, deeply aware of his complex upbringing, made a pledge to himself and his wife — to break the cycle of hurt and raise their child in a nurturing and loving environment. Despite the challenges they would inevitably face, their shared determination to provide a better life for their little one served as a beacon of hope, guiding them towards a future filled with limitless possibilities.

Esmerelda although wouldn't be bothered by her parents today — Casper possibly, if he deemed necessary to check on her before the ball might barge into her room in fear brotherly fashion, unwelcome but appreciated by Esmerelda. Yet, Alaster and Natalia always left the girl alone after a consequence. It was partially due to Natalias reasoning that less people would notice if she looked well rested, but Esmerelda's dreams were plagued with nightmares and death.

Nightmares that awoke the girl regularly with her own screams or the aches that raomed her body, it was a cursed cycle she hoped to break once she bared children of her own.

If she bared her own.

She couldn't stay here forever. Her life would be damned by cruel, endless suffering that would eventually kill her. Esme understood why Sirius left — she always had, but at times where the pain and suffering grew larger she felt herself begging to find solace somewhere that was not where she was bared and raised.

She didn't want to continue life thinking about what could've been. What should've been.

She refuses to die in a house she grew up in.

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RIN SPEAKS

Little Noah kahan sneak in at the end.

This chapter is dark and heavy and I completely understand if you struggle to read things like this but i gave warnings at the start of the book.

Also first few thoughts of leavingggg