Lenthiril



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    "Mr. Malfoy," the healer began gravely. "Selective amnesia is characterized by forgetting only some of the events during a certain period of time," he looked at the chart in front of him with intensity. "But you haven't remembered anything connected with Miss Granger for three years now."
    Draco was silent and then let out a low laugh. "What are you trying to tell me?"
    "We've been together for nearly three years," Granger's voice was small, scared. Draco aligned his eyes with hers. "Last Saturday you asked me to marry you."
    And his gaze fell, from the hazel irises to the sparkling ring on her finger.

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    22 Sep 2025

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    Everyone had two marks, one for class and another to identify a soulmate. She only had one: green rings on her finger, proof she was part of the laboring class. It made matters lonely, but never unbearable.

    Until she met him. He had two sets of marks—had a soulmate—and she did not.

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    18 Jul 2025

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    And just when she was getting some serious attention from the teachers at the start of the last, pivotal year of school, he came along with his effortless perfection. She hated him.

    Right up until she met him, that is.

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    The flowers that bedeck her skin don’t lie—ballet dancer Rey is in love with her partner, Ben. But the years go by and his skin stays resolutely, devastatingly blank.

    He doesn’t love her. But when his hands are on her body, she can pretend.

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    14 Jul 2025

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    Dr. Dameron shifts and slides a manilla folder across the desk to her. “Under ordinary circumstances, I’d let you keep the folder. I hope you’ll understand why I can’t do that this time around.”

    She opens it and stares.

    She stares and stares and stares.

    Dr. Dameron has to be kidding. There have to be hidden cameras here, this has to be some elaborate prank. That’s why it’s him here and not Dr. Wexley—that was his name. Dr. Wexley.

    But instead of getting to her feet and tossing her hair and saying he was cruel for playing with her heart like this, all she does is ask, blankly, “So...Ben Solo is my soulmate? Our new president is my…”

    She swallows.

    And Dr. Dameron nods.

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    14 Jul 2025

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    “I hate to intrude,” Alfred said, somehow utterly coherent despite being in his dressing gown and slippers, as he stuck his head into the kitchen. “But I would advise checking your voicemail.”

    “Who was it? Lucius?” Bruce muttered into his mug.

    “No,” Alfred said, and for the first time in months, a note of something like pressing urgency crept into his crisp accent. “A certain Miss Belgrave.”

    “Who?” Bruce looked up, scowling. “Is she one of Dick’s teachers?”

    Alfred arched a single eyebrow.

    …“Hi Bruce… if this is actually your number…” A woman’s scratchy, uncertain voice filled the silent kitchen. There was a quaver of nervous, watery laughter, as if she were on the verge of tears. “I just thought I should… um, let you know… I waited until I could see my obgyn, so you wouldn’t think this was some- well, you probably do, but- I’m pregnant. And I know you would probably want a paternity test, or whatever, so that’s happening… Oh, shit, I just thought I should let you know I’m keeping it. Um. That’s decided.” Her voice shook so badly for a second he thought the voicemail had dissolved into static. “Bye!” She hung up.

    Bruce stared at the phone for so long his tea grew cold.

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    09 Jul 2025