366 Days Challenge - Day 1

_{You alone can make my song take flight
Help me make the music of the night...
~Music of the Night, from Phantom of the Opera~}

And so it begins o-o

Here's the story if you can't read it... I meant to keep it short but it didn't happen xD;


<sub>Vitale frowned to himself as he played, wishing he really knew what the song was. He felt it was familiar but after his... vacation at home, his mind had been scattered and twisted around. Before Professor Daemyn had added the mandatory music classes to the the curriculum, he hadn't even realized that he had an affinity for music.
Then again, he had a good feeling that it was his parents' fault that he felt that way. But what was he to do about that?
He closed his eyes. Singing. He could hear singing. He could feel the memory right on the edge of his grasp... a stage with people on it. People seated all around him. The song he was playing being sung by a professional.
And softly, he started to sing too. The lyrics flowed from his lips as easily as his fingers floated over the piano keys. He couldn't remember where he had learned to play, learned to sing, but he finally remembered wanting it. This wasn't something his parents had given him. This was something new.
A name crossed his mind and he stopped playing suddenly, frowning to himself. "Sophia..." he said under his breath, shivering at the emotion that ran through him at that simple word, that name. Who was she? Who had his father wiped from his mind?
The constant headache he'd had since he'd returned to school from winter holiday worsened, but he ignored it.
He looked up as Professor Daemyn came into the room. "Vitale, we're having class in the other room today," he said softly.
Vitale blinked but nodded, the emotionless mask back while he got up to follow the older man.

~*~*~*~*~

Sophia watched Vitale carefully as the two of them headed to the front of the class, closing her eyes for a moment when he started reading the scripts they'd been handed. Vitale's voice was well-suited for Shakespeare. If only he would remember her, what he meant to her and what she'd thought she'd meant to him.
"... See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! O, that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek..."
She opened her eyes, realizing it was her turn to speak, glancing briefly down at the script. "Ay me!" she sighed, resting her hand on her cheek.
They continued on with the Romeo and Juliet scene, and Sophia reflected on the irony of it all--how very fitting it was that they were reading this piece of Shakespeare after everything they'd gone through.
Or, well, still going through.
He turned away. "By a name, I know not how to tell thee who I am." He sighed, bitterness entering his tone, the same bitterness he'd had so long ago over the exact same problem Romeo was having. "My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, because it is an enemy to thee; had I it written, I would tear the word."
"My hears have not yet drunk a hundred words of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound: Art thou not Romeo and a Montague?" she asked carefully, just a touch of hope there.
He looked at her again. "Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike."
"How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, and the place death, considering who thou art, if any of my kinsmen find thee here."
"With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls," he smiled, "for stony limits cannot hold love out, and what love can do that dares love attempt; therefore, thy kinsmen are no let to me."
She looked worried for him though. "If they do see thee, they will murder thee."
"I would not for the world they saw thee here."
He chuckled. "I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight; and but thou love me, let them find me here: My life were better ended by their hate, than death prorogued, wanting of thy love."
She nearly stumbled over at that, losing character for a second. "By whose direction found'st thou out this place?"
"By love," he smiled once more, "who first did prompt me to inquire; he lent me councel and I lent him eyes. I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far as that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea, I would adventure for such merchandise."
She gave a faint smile, blushing. "Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face, else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek for that which thou hast heard me speak to-night fain would I swell on form, fain, fain deny what I have spoke: but farewell compliment! Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,' and I will take thy word: yet if thou swear'st, thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries then say, Jove laughs," she murmured, stepping closer to him. "Oh gentle Romeo, if thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully: or if thou think'st I am too quickly won, I'll frown and be perverse an say thee nay, so thou silt woo; but else, not for the world. In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond, and therefore thou mayst think my 'havior light: but trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true than those that have more cunning to be strange. I should have been more strange, I must confess, but that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware, my true love's passion: therefore pardon me, and not impute this yielding to light love, which the dark night hath so discovered," she finished up almost in a whisper, standing right in front of him then. She wasn't sure, but suddenly the script didn't feel so unnatural. It was too much like her life.
He gave a soft smile. "Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear, that tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops--"
"Oh, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circled orb, lest that they love prove likewise variable." She frowned up at him.
He raised a hand, resting it on her cheek, no longer in the classroom and, it seemed, no longer the Vitale that had come back from holiday, but the old one she knew. "What shall I swear by?"
She smiled, leaning against his hand. "Do not swear at all; or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, which is the God of my idolatry, and I'll believe thee."
"If my heart's dear love--" He began to protest.
"Well, do not swear." She looked up at him. "Although I joy in thee, I have no joy of this contract to-night: it is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden; too like the lightning, which doth cease to be ere one can say 'It lightens.' Sweet, good night! This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, may prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. Good night, good night! As sweet repose and rest come to thy heart as that within my breast!" She said, turning away from him, stepping away.
"Oh, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?" he asked, that longing returning, reaching out for her.
"What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?" she challenged.
"The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine," he said simply.
"I gave thee mine before thou didst request it: and yet I would it were to give again." She turned back to him.
"Wouldst thou withdraw it?" He stepped closer. "For what purpose, love?"
"But to be frank, and give it thee again." She smiled. "And yet I wish but for the thing I have: my bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep, the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite." She glanced at the script before stepping back, pretending she heard something. "I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu! Anon, good nurse! Sweet Montague, be true. Stay but a little, I will come again," she promised, darting off.
He turned his back to her, shaking his head. "Oh blessed, blessed night! I am afeard. Being in night, all this is but a dream, too flattering-sweet to be substantial."
"Three words, dear Romeo, and good night indeed!" Sophia said, stepping forward once more. "If that thy bent of love be honourable, thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow, by one that I'll procure to come to thee, where and what time thou wilt perform the rite; and all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay and follow thee my lord throughout the word." She skipped over the section with the nurse, reaching out to take his hand. "To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief: To-morrow will I send."
He shook his head, holding her hand tightly, stepping closer. "So thrive my soul--" he started, so tempted to kiss her.
"A thousand times good night!" She gasped in her hurry to get back 'inside,' starting to pull away. He didn't let her go though, dropping his script and pulling her back to him, pulling her into a deep kiss.
Sophia closed her eyes before wrapping her arms tightly around him, hugging him close.
"V," she whispered. "V I miss you."
"Sophia..." A few tears appeared in his eyes. "I... I love..." He seemed to pause. "... Help," he breathed weakly before he collapsed against her.</sub>

This is actually based on two OC characters from a Harry Potter roleplay/story I've been working on. Vitale is the son of Voldemort and Bellatrix Lestrange raised away from the Death Eaters after the War ended, and Sophia is a Ravenclaw whose parents don't approve of her relationship with the son of the most evil wizard of all time (though he's nothing like his father at all). Over the winter holiday of their seventh year, Vitale was kidnapped by his parents and brainwashed. When he came back the current headmaster, Professor Daemyn, included an arts class in the curriculum to try and bring Vitale back to himself--because Vitale was raised around the arts and taught to appreciate the magic the Muggles could create with it. This is at the end of his brainwashed period, when Sophia is finally able to bring him out of it...

And you'll find out what happens next in tomorrow's deviation. ^^

I didn't put this in Fan Art because it really doesn't have any of the original characters in it.

Drawing referenced from: by *Falln-Stock

Vitale Riddle (c) *InEternalDarkness
Sophia Galbraith, Professor Daemyn (c) *TotosFantasy
All things Harry Potter (c) J.K. Rowling