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Gabriel: My life... and death by Feanaro

Format: Short story
Chapters: 2
Word Count: 3,695
Status: WIP

Rating: 12+
Warnings: No Warnings

Genres: Horror/Dark, Romance, Angst
Characters: OC
Pairings: Hermione/OC, OC/OC

First Published: 10/06/2007
Last Chapter: 02/05/2008
Last Updated: 02/05/2008


"I will dedicate this work to my friend, love and victim; Hermione. For the first time in my life (and unlife) I will write down my story... as a vampire."

His life began over 200 years ago and it will last for all eternity. You might call it immortality, but can you really be immortal when you are already dead? Nevertheless, nothing comes for free... even immortality.

- Thanks to Tiara at the Dark Arts for the banner!

Chapter 1: In the beginning...
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A/N This story is actually a sequel to upcomming story, which explains how Gabriel and Hermione first met. But since this is a separate story of Gabriel's life, I'm taking the risk and posting it first. I hope you'll enjoy it.

A huge thanks to padfoots girl, Shadow Danzer and others who took my challenge and started to wrote the prequel. You enthusiasm has inspired me to write this story (perhaps someday I'll write the story as I imagined it...). Also a big thank you to snow white and tllyc from Hogwarts Extreme.

DISCLAIMER: Alhough this story is set in J.K. Rowling's amazing world of Harry Potter, I have taken the liberty to alter her vampires and add some aspects from White Wolf's tabletop rpg series; the World of Darkness. Some of the used vampyric names and terms belong to White Wolf. Otherwise Gabriel as a character is 100% mine.

I want to start this thing, by saying that this wasn’t my idea.

Well, not at first...but since Hermione kept asking me to tell her my story, I finally gave in... As unreal as it sounds, I actually gave in.

Mostly just to shut her up.

I’m kidding Hermione, but you do tend to talk (and ask) much too much, or perhaps it’s just me who’s used to silence. I haven’t had this kind of social encounter for quite some time…

So I guess this is a dedication to my dear friend Hermione, a, somewhat complete, biography of mine.

But I’m doing it in my way - by writing it down.

I’m sorry Hermione, but it would take too many nights to tell you the whole story personally and you still need to sleep and study. In fact I’m watching you sleep while I’m writing this very line; I must say you look adorable when you are asleep, forgive me my selfishness, but this is the only way.

And the best way since you won’t be interrupting me with your endless questions…

So, where to begin? Probably from the beginning, I guess.

My life began in a small village near Lyon, France; the exact date was September 21st 1771. I can’t really remember the first few years after my birth but I don’t think anyone can.

Ironically I can remember everything after my death…

Those who might find this writing later may be confused by its strange look. That’s because it is strange, and horrifying. For wizards this won’t come as a surprise. For muggles, however, this might be quite shocking: I am a vampire.

No, I’m not joking or lying. And yes, you are reading it correctly: A vampire.

From what I’m about to do, will probably cause me a lot of trouble later, this writing will break many rules set by my kind. But as usual, I’ll ignore them and do what ever I want.

Don’t worry Hermione, if someone really wants to destroy me because of these writings, I’d be surprised.

I’d be surprised because mortals will go to incredible depths of denial. My race indeed exists and has existed almost as long as mortals’ have. The exact origin of our kind, however, is not known, Even the eldest of our kind don’t know where we come from, But mortals still can’t believe that we exist.

Of course this excludes wizards, but they are a different matter. Most of this denial comes from a successful lie, which has been told and strengthened by our kind (or Kindred, as we like to call ourselves): Vampires do not exist.

This false facade helps us Kindred to survive; it’s a lot easier to hunt among the sheep if you are dressed as one. You can think it as a Masquerade: you’ll never know who is behind the mask… It does help the Ministry of Magic as well, but that’s just a side effect. We don’t care about the wizards as long as they stay away from our business.

Forgive me Hermione, but since my kind lives much longer than yours, I need to think further into the future, someone else might find these writings later and I want to offer him or her, the same information that I have given to you. Well, perhaps a little less, since we have a bit more of a… closer relationship.

And as I said before, I’m doing it my way, ok?

Where were we? Oh, right, the village.

I will not name the village, out of my respect towards it. I still love that village since I was born there. It has been a long time since I visited it… Perhaps, you could come with me next time, Hermione…?

I was born into a low rank noble family, my father, Bernard, always said that we were once one of the richest families in all of France.

But later I learned, that our ‘riches’ had worn out many generations ago, only the pride and arrogance was left.

I had four brothers and a sister. My mother, Josèphine, died soon after my birth, my father never really recovered from his loss and even today, I feel like he had been blaming me for her death, but nevertheless, he took care of us the best he could.

However, at that time it wasn’t very certain to even live past one’s first five years, And so when I was four Lucas, my second and oldest brother, got into a fight with a few peasants and was stabbed with a pitchfork. He died a few days after the fight. My father was furious, he tried to hunt those men down but they had fled right after they heard of Lucas’ death. They were never seen in that village again.

Perhaps, the saddest thing happened one winter, when I was six years old, my only sister, Marie, who was only a year older than me, fell ill. Her fever rose terribly and lasted for three agonising weeks.

My father tried to do everything he could, but it seemed that the forces of nature were against us, as, soon after my sister got sick, a fierce snowstorm rose and lasted over a month. Since we lived in an old castle away from the village, it was impossible for us to get help, we send two of our trusted servants to search for a doctor but they never came back. They were found in spring when the snow melted, they had frozen to death.

And my sister, devoid of medical care, slowly withered away…

I know it sounds horrible and sad, but that’s how it was back then, Hermione.

More and more people were dying at that time, due to the extreme weather and lack of advanced medical care or efficient medicines. We were lucky enough, to even have a real doctor in our village.

Luckily, things have improved since that time. You live in a much happier time, Hermione. Just try, and bare with it, ok?

As I had written before, our family wasn’t much respected.

Of course the commoners still showed some respect, even fear upon hearing our family name, but the days of glory had long gone…The castle where we lived was a very old one, not like the ones with beautiful high towers and clean straight walls. No, the castle was in appalling shape, many parts of the walls were collapsing or had already collapsed. We had only two towers, and they weren’t even lofty ones, even the local church was a competitor to us.

The corridors were always dark and cold and without the fireplace in my room, I probably would have frozen to death during the winters, and having a cold during the winters was customary, but I even had one in the summer!

Of course, our servants tried their best to repair the damage, but I bet even a miracle could not have saved the castle.

Although, when I had last heard about my castle, it was still upright… In a bad condition… but standing, none the less.

And yes, I said my castle, I’ll explain it later…

So, I guess my childhood wasn’t that blissful… but at least I had food and shelter, and moreover I survived my childhood alive, That’s something that not all the children in my time could boast about…

My father raised my brothers and me to be proud of our family name; He did everything he could possibly have done, to raise our family from the mud it had sunk to. It took almost all of his time, which was good, since he was a strong believer of physical punishment and so, the more he was concerned about making contacts or buying and selling the land, the less he paid attention to us.

But when the oldest of us, Jacques, turned 17, it was time to find a suitable bride for him. Since our village was quite a long way from other villages, the number of choices was low; but somehow, my father was able to persuade one of the village’s richest merchants to give his daughter’s hand to Jacques, The same happened, when Jean and Louis turned 17, they got into rich marriages, all thanks to my father.

I was soon, next in the running to be wed, but I had something else in my mind…

Ever since my father had taught me how to read, I had been constantly spending my time in our little library. The book collection was rather minute, but there were some of my mother’s old adventure books, which I just could not resist. My head was overflowing with exciting lands, odd people and miracles, although the age of knights and dragons was long gone, I was very fascinated with the idea of free travelling.

So, as you see Hermione, I wasn’t ready to be married, not by a long shot. Even though, the girl who I was supposed to marry was very pretty, the idea of being stuck in that trivial village for the rest of my life was just too unbearable for me. I was still young and I wanted to see the world, to have exciting adventures and meet new people, and so, at the age of 16, I left my family behind and went on my very own adventure.


A/N So there you have it: my first story. I hope you enjoyed reading the first chapter as much I enjoyed writing it. Please, write a review once you've read it?

Chapter 2: A whole new life
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A/N Once again, thank you Snow White for beta-reading my story.

Oh, how foolish I was back then…After two centuries, it’s easy to condemn all the idiotic things I have done. They say that history repeats itself, but what can you do when you are damned to live the impervious age for eternity? How do you react, when everything changes around you, while you remain unchanged? After two very long centuries, I have realized, that time doesn’t matter. Time is an illusion invented by man…or, should I say mortals. For Kindred, however, time isn’t the same. But this will be discussed later.

Do you see Hermione? A good writer always keeps the readers in his hold, although, I indeed, do prefer to have a physical hold…if you know what I mean.

It didn’t take long for me to realize, the bitter difference between books and real life. There were times when I was starving, freezing without any shelter. Luckily, I encountered a travelling group of actors and performers, who were kind enough to take me with them. They were on their way to Paris, as I heard their destination, my heart jumped. At that time, Paris was almost as magical as it is today, even more, perhaps. So you can imagine how thrilled I was when they told me where their destination would be.

During that trip, I was able to learn a lot from different arts, poetry and music. As odd as it sounds, actors really are very versatile. They possess many different skills, and try to use as many of them as possible during shows. I was very gifted with instruments, and they encouraged me to learn more, little did I know that, those skills would later save my life, and later curse me my demise…

Yes Hermione, I’m somewhat talented with music instruments. I used to play the violin very fluently and I even played the piano. But don’t be expecting anything from me. I only play when I’m in the mood, when my feelings…convert into music. But my mood died a long time ago. Nowadays I rarely even think about music not to mention playing an instrument. Later you’ll learn why.

Bah, enough with this! Let’s continue…

As we finally came to Paris, I had to say goodbye to them. With heavy hearts we parted ways. Our journey had been a joyful one and I owe them greatly for giving me this experience. Nevertheless, there I was in the big city. Although it wasn’t as crowded as it is today, at that time it was huge. But at that time the city wasn’t a happy place to live in. No, people were suffering from unemployment and hunger. Taxation was heavy and grossly inequitable. The state was near bankruptcy because of wars and international debts. The king, Louis the XVI, was a weak king; He tried to solve the problems of a dying country, however he never really had the chance to do it: a great change was about to happen.

But all of this didn’t really matter to me. The only thing in my mind was where to live? And moreover, how to feed myself?

Since I didn’t possess any money, the only option for me was to steal food and sleep on the streets. It wasn’t a very comfortable way of living, but I had no other choice. I was a run away; I had no money, no apartment and most importantly no work experience. I had no hope.

But one day, fate gave me a chance. While I was wandering the streets I happened to meet an old man, a rich man. He was having a rough day: one of his servants had dropped some of the bags and boxes he was carrying. The man was now beating the poor servant with his black cane.

”You maggot! Pick them up! Pick them - no, wait just leave them - LEAVE THEM! Your services are no longer required. You’re fired”, the man said.
“But sir -”
“ENOUGH!” the man yelled and raised his cane. The servant fled immediately. Then he happened to notice me. First I though he was going to beat me, just for being there, but instead…
“Hey! You! Would you like to earn a few sols? Help me with these bags and boxes and I’ll pay you well”, he said. I looked at his cane and quickly picked them up.
“Good man. Now bring them to the carriages”, he said.
“Y-yes sir!” I said and hurried towards the carriages as he walked behind me leaning heavily on his cane. He did look rather old but I think the main reason for his walking problems was the large belly he had to carry all day with him. To be honest, he was very fat.

When we reached the carriages he asked me if I wanted to work for him as a servant. I quickly agreed since I didn’t know if there would be this kind of chance for me ever again. He told his name was Patrick, Patrick Giscard d'Estaing to be exact. Now I had shelter and food, although I had to work for it for the first time in my life. The payment wasn’t much but at that time it was a miracle to even acquire a job. You could say that because of him I was saved from certain death of starvation.

But now, as I think again, that kind of fate perhaps would have been a lot less painful for me. You see, it was because of him I met the one person who has caused me all the loneliness, pain and sorrow I’ve had to carry with me for over two centuries. Because of him I met…Lillian.

As we headed to my new master’s home, I was quickly introduced to the rest of the family. Roxanne, the wife of monsieur Giscar, and their daughter Lillian. When I first laid my eyes on her, she stole my heart forever. She was my first and only love that I had in my life and afterlife.

Don’t get me wrong Hermione. Even though you are a very special person to me… you are not her. I have probably said this before already but you do look a bit like her – no, a lot like her. Only your eyes are different; she had greenish blue eyes. Nevertheless your great resemblance to her only makes things worse for me. Sometimes it’s hard to remind myself that she truly is gone when you sit next to me as I feel at this very moment.

I stop writing for a moment and tell you to stop peeking at my writings and remind you that writing takes time.

Keep in your mind that this is my problem, not yours, to carry. Perhaps the burden will ease up a bit after I write this down. But mark my words: I am NEVER going to do this again, ever. It’s already hard for me to even think about the things that happened… leave alone writing them down.

It was that day when I saw her in her full bloom of beauty and grace. She was like a delicate rose among the lilies. Her hair was flowing wild like a gentle morning breeze. Her body was so tender and small, ever so fragile and her voice…

I’m sorry Hermione; I have to take a break.

I remember her white dress, slightly creamy, with pearls and white ribbons. I remember she always tried to impress everyone around her even though she didn’t really need to. She had a beautiful face, caring and perfect. Everything about her was perfect. Except that she was a bit short, which she absolutely couldn’t stand. I always teased her about it. That was a bit after we get to know better each other of course. She had quite the temper really!

So there I was, a young servant boy enchanted by a noble girl. Sounds like something from a romance novel. Luckily I was smart enough to hide my feelings from her father. He would have beaten the hell out of me if he had caught me there fancying his daughter, his precious jewel.

Over the next few months I learned how to work for my meal. As I wrote before I had never really done any physical labour before so you can imagine how hard it was for me at first. But I was determined not to give up so easily and always tried to do my very best. Well, occasionally I did slack off but every servant did it. I was always nice to Lillian and she began to like me as well. She hated always being trapped inside the house like a pet animal. Her father was too overprotective in her opinion. But I secretly agreed with her father since the condition of Paris and all of France was getting worse by the day. The people were dissatisfied with the monarchy and the king. Rich people and nobles were hated and envied very much for their wealth and appearance. Things were getting dangerous in Paris…

Lillian soon discovered that I had run away from my father but I never really told her where exactly I came from. I guess I was a bit ashamed of what I had done and I led her to believe that I was from a lover class family. But if she actually believed that I can’t say. I remember she always asked me to tell her about life outside of Paris and she listened to every word I said about my little adventure.

She soon discovered though that I could read and write well among other things. She was amazed how widely knowledgeable I was in history and poetry and asked me to teach her. In order to do that we had to negotiate with her father but to my great surprise monsieur Giscard agreed almost instantly. Perhaps all fathers are weak against their daughters’ pleas.

Lillian played the piano pretty well already but she still took lessons from a teacher. After the lessons when her teacher had gone, she always asked me to come and sit next to her and play the piano with her. I was a quick learner and very soon our little duet became very pleasant indeed. Sometimes my hands did get a bit lost on her body but she really didn’t mind, instead she kissed me and moved a bit closer to me. In the end… well you can very well imagine what happens between a girl and a boy who are in love. We spent one passionate night together and woke up in each others’ arms. I will never forget that night… Fortunately her father never caught us. I knew I was playing with my life but I was still young and arrogant. At that point I thought I could do anything and nothing would ever separate me from my love. How wrong I was back then.

Those few months were my happiest time alive. But soon a message came that shattered my world.

My father was dying.


A/N: Reviews are more than welcome!