AN: I like there to be little connecting things in themes. If any reader would like to guess as to the origin of the coffee shop's name, they are free to do so.

Feather Sixty One

Walter helped more than she had first thought, both psychologically and physically.

One shouldn't underestimate how much being able to vent helped, no matter how small of an issue or how little detail there was in said venting.

"Y'seem better," Connor greeted with a lazy smile. They sat at the coffee shop – Vilon's Manna – that Ana worked at, though she wasn't working at the moment. Siobhan gave a smile to the trio – Connor, Murphy, and Rocco; Ana was with her family, and the other twins were . . . not here – and took a seat.

"I feel better," she admitted. Ana's birthday had come and gone, then she had her discussion with Walter, and then Alannah had taken it upon herself to begin Siobhan's healing. The aches of her muscles were already better, and they had just begun the day prior.

Siobhan watched with mild amusement as Rocco and the twins bantered, sipping on her usual – chai tea latte – when it arrived.

Walter had helped with her injuries – had asked to look at them, and she let him because she was beginning to trust him – had shown her stretches to keep the scars from being restrictive. She did them because they were something physical to do. Siobhan hadn't felt this energetic since – since before the fall of Hogwarts.

For now, the witch enjoyed her time with her friends, recovering and readying herself for future battles. She didn't feel alone anymore. (She did regret, though. Regretted that she couldn't stay for far longer. But she wouldn't leave anyone to die. Not again.)

Feather Sixty Two

Asbjørn and Alannah were furious when they found out Walter had been getting her to practice fighting (never mind the fact that Walter didn't force her to do anything she didn't think she could do) despite them forbidding her.

Siobhan's tutors had found out when Alannah noticed the aggravated state of her injuries, as if she was just a hair's breadth from going too far physically. After they had properly told her off, they had 'asked' her to take them to Walter. Siobhan complied – it wasn't like Walter would stop. He wouldn't let them bully him into that.

"You have no right to be doing our jobs!" Alannah bit out angrily, ranting at Walter. Thankfully, Natalya and Ana weren't present.

"What jobs?" Walter grunted, looking to Siobhan.

"They're my tutors. For the fighting," Siobhan admitted stiffly, "But they were going too slowly and wouldn't hear a word about going any faster."

The red-haired man turned back to her tutors, studying them. Siobhan suddenly wondered if this had been such a good idea, introducing Walter to not just her, but two additional magic-users . . .

"Why?" he asked of them.

"'Why', what?" Asbjørn rumbled, glaring over thick facial hair.

"Why can't I teach her?" Walter clarified, features unmoving.

"Because she's ours to teach! Not you, not a – " Alannah cut herself off. The red-haired man's eyes sharpened, focusing on the woman.

(There are, Siobhan thought despite the situation, despite Alannah almost calling Walter a 'mundane', A lot of red-haired people in my life. Alannah, Natalya, Ana, Walter, and Malachi. I'm almost positive Bonnie used to be red-haired, as well.)

"You aren't involved in this. I suggest staying out of it, while you can," Alannah continued, a threatening lilt to her voice.

"Well, that's my choice, isn't it?"

Feather Sixty Three

"You would put your wife and kid in danger?" Asbjørn growled, gesturing vaguely at one of the pictures.

"No more than you do by taking it so slow with Siobhan," Walter bit out.

The witch glanced between the trio, trying to ignore the sudden jump of fear in her heart. (It wasn't like they would turn on her, not in a physical fashion, anyway. They were here to help her. . . Right?)

"It doesn't matter," Siobhan said, overriding any other words, "Because I need all the help I can get. Walter offered his assistance, I accepted. You guys can work something out or just ignore each other, but don't try and dictate what you think I can or cannot do if I offer otherwise."

"We only meant –" Alannah started.

"You thought you knew best, and wouldn't think of maybe she's right," Siobhan said to Alannah and Asbjørn, "I know my body fairly well, and I would like to at least try to do something just to see if I could. To test my limits. What the both of you have been having me do doesn't make me exhausted. It does not push me to my limits. What Walter has been doing, does."

Alannah and Asbjørn exchanged looks.

"Fine," the Norwegian grumbled, "We'll do this your way, lass." Lass. People really say that? Siobhan thought, bemused. Asbjørn had only used 'girl' or 'Potter' when addressing her so far.

"Thank you," the young witch said to them.

To be fair, though. . . It had taken some time for Siobhan to realize they weren't going as quickly as they could have been. That her original tutors weren't exactly helping push her limits as far as they could go. Walter had just come in at the right time.

Feather Sixty Four

It had been nearly two months since Siobhan had heard from Laketta and Tianna.

"D'ya know where they are?" the young witch asked Ana in early February. The ginger blinked, then frowned in thought.

"They said they were going to their parents' home for the holidays." The waitress checked the date, frowning more. "I'll call them," she offered resolutely. Siobhan nodded, going back to her cake.

"Now, are you going to tell me what you and my father are doing every other day?"

The witch stiffened, surprise making her eyebrows dart upwards. She wasn't sure how to reply to the statement.

"Shiv, you can tell me anything, you know you can, right?" Ana asked, worry furrowing her forehead.

"Not unless it endangers you," Siobhan replied, opting for honesty – vague honesty, yes, but not lies, not to Ana.

"Endangers me?" Ana asked incredulously, "But you're with my father, how can that not endanger me?"

"You not knowing specifically what we are doing protects you from retribution," Siobhan explained, then quickly added, "We aren't involved or anything, but what he is helping me with is something he knows very well. That's all I can tell you without endangering you."

The older woman studied Siobhan, concern etched into her features. "I didn't think you were involved," Ana offered quietly.

"I had to make sure," the witch stated, "Doubt . . . Doubt and distrust can begin with small things. And I do trust you – but you cannot defend yourself against what I am going against. It's enough of a risk involving Walter."

Ana made a small noise of dissatisfaction, but thankfully stopped pressing.

AN: Yay, another cameo. This one's not going to be nearly as heavily involved. They'll meet occasionally in the coffeeshop – though probably not actually mentioned in the story.

Feather Sixty Five

Siobhan was stiff and sore as she sat at a table in Vilon's Manna, nursing a rather large cup of 'Hot Chocolate Bianco' – rich white hot coco with whipped cream on top – as she tried to relax, slowly but surely making her way through the Tanakh the priest had given her what seemed like so long ago. The young witch had yet to even make it halfway, being inexperienced with the language in general.

"Hey."

It took Siobhan a few moments to realize someone had spoken to her. Once she had, she glanced up, brow furrowing in confusion. The brunette hadn't recognized the voice. It was another woman – also brunette, though possessing long waves of dark brown as to Siobhan's shoulder-length mop of black, and having hazel eyes to Siobhan's green. They could almost, perhaps, be mistaken for sisters.

"Mind if I sit here?" The woman didn't wait for an answer before plopping down in the seat across from her. One of the waitresses stopped by a few moments later, placing a chocolate-y looking drink as well as a bagel sandwich before the stranger. Apparently she's a regular, or perhaps ordered before sitting.

"May I help you?" Siobhan asked, more confused than irritated at the moment.

"Nope."

The witch arched an eyebrow in disbelief, gingerly leaning back to give the woman an expectant stare.

Said woman rolled her eyes and gave a put-upon sigh. "I'm Darcy. I'm just taking refuge from the dudes back there who think I'm an easy lay." 'Darcy' indicated out the window, where a small group of men – boys, really – loitered, casting glances into the coffeeshop.

"Alright," the witch said amiably, going back to her reading.

AN: His appearance is inspired by Aiden Pierce of the yet-unreleased 'WATCH_DOGS' video game.

Feather Sixty Six

Siobhan eyed the strange man cautiously. She had been brought to the precinct by a pair of police officers – they had asked, something in relation with an ongoing investigation. Kian had been reluctant to let her go, but she had opted to comply with them, and convinced him to let her do so.

Currently, the young witch was waiting in one of the interrogation rooms, waiting for the man across from her to speak. She took the time to study him. He had green eyes, dark hair, straight nose, thin lips, and a strong jaw; he was also clad in a thigh-length brown leather coat, and a crème sweater or long sleeved shirt, from what she could see.

Her ears almost involuntarily perked when he sighed and leaned forward.

"Miss Potter, correct?" He had a rough voice. Siobhan tilted her head, waiting.

"For the record," he started again, "You are Siobhan Juniper Potter?"

"Yes," she stated.

A nod from the man. "I am Operative Kuche."

'Dog'. Was it an unfortunate name, or something chosen purposefully? Siobhan wasn't sure.

"You are noted in the contacts of both Tianna and Laketta Grant. May I ask your relationship to them?"

Oh.

"What happened to them?" she asked softly.

His eyes flickered briefly, but the witch was unable to discern the emotions – she never had been good with eyes, only body language and words.

"Laketta and Tianna Grant were found severely injured three days ago. Yesterday, Laketta Grant passed away due to her injuries. Tianna Grant will pass on soon as well, due to the extent of damage both to her body and her mind," he finally allowed.

AN: I forgot to mention: 'kuche' is the Romanized Bulgarian word for 'dog' (куче).

Feather Sixty Seven

Siobhan didn't know how he saw her reactions. Rage was burning in her, as was sorrow.

"Have you contacted their family and other friends?" she asked, wondering if her voice sounded as stiff and strange as it seemed.

"Of the Grant girls' status, yes. However, the nature of these attacks compel us to seek out those with magic and who had been in contact with them. Namely, you," the Dog – that's what he was, the USA's magical enforcement that was so feared – explained curtly. The name is unlikely a coincidence, she finally decided.

Siobhan's lips thinned. "They died via magic? Or due to a creature or being?" she inquired, narrowing her eyes.

"Yes. Do you know anything?"

The young witch scowled. "About who or what would have attacked them? Aside from the Death Eaters of Britain – of whom I doubt you would allow entry into this country – no. I don't know. As far as I am aware, Laketta and Tianna were in no way associated with the less mundane side of society, exempting myself."

Operative Kuche sighed, rubbing his neck briefly.

"Very well," he finally said roughly, "Thank you for your time, Miss Potter. You're free to return home. If I have need, is it alright if I contact you again?"

Siobhan felt her brow furrow. "You. . . want my permission to do your job?" the witch asked, confused.

A nod. "I. . . Yes, you can contact me whenever. Just – try not to stoop to stalking?" she half-asked, half ordered. A snort came from Kuche.

"Alright. One of the officers should be waiting to take you home. Here's a number – should you actually find evidence of malicious magical activity, please report it."

Siobhan took the number, wandering away in something of a daze.

Feather Sixty Eight

I have to tell my friends, Siobhan realized, pausing midstep in McGinty's.

"Shiv?" The young witch looked at her grandda, wondering if she looked as worn as she felt. I have to tell my friends that their own friends are dead. Again.

Siobhan was horrified to feel tears building up in her eyes – she should be used to this, used to people around her dying. It had been happening since she was a child.

The witch stumbled up to her room, head down.

How am I going to explain this? Connor and Murphy know, but I don't think Rocco does, and Anna. . . Anna doesn't.

"Siobhan?"

"Laketta and Tianna were murdered," she stated, not turning around, "They called me in to ask if I knew anything." Use that. Just. . . Just use that. Any further details are classified, she thought distantly.

"Oh, no. . . Siobhan. . ." The sorrow in her grandda's voice almost broke the dam holding her grief at bay.

"I'd like to be alone. Please."

Kian sighed softly, but he complied. "If yeh need anythin'. . ."

"I'll call for you," she lied.

He left quietly.

After so many people being murdered around me, you'd think I'd be used to it. It never gets any easier, though. Fucking shit. Why them? Who – what – killed them?

Siobhan found herself staring at the card Kuche had given her, sitting almost listlessly on her bed.

Why them? Why not some other girls? she thought, then was appalled by her own selfishness.

She wouldn't – shouldn't – wish that upon anyone innocent.

Feather Sixty Nine

Anna was told first. She had been horrified and had broken down crying. Siobhan tried to comfort her – she had experience, after all – but hadn't seemed to be effective in any form.

Rocco was told separate from the twins – There's only one set of twins now. Only one. – and he hadn't broken down like Anna, though it seemed to be a close thing.

He had demanded to know where Tianna was, so he could say his goodbyes, though, which Anna had not – not yet, anyway. Siobhan admitted she didn't know and that it was likely classified for Tianna's safety.

"Safety? What safety will save her from dying?" Rocco has spat out. Siobhan remained silent, her eyes falling away from the Italian as she was unable to answer.

The Twins, of course, were next. They had been rather close to Tianna and Laketta, and the young witch dreaded their reaction.

"Holy shit," Murphy cursed, hands gripping his hair tightly, pain becoming clear on his face.

"How th' fuck did this happen?" Connor demanded of her, "How're they – How?"

"One of the Dogs told me it was from – my half of the world. Not. . . Not yours," Siobhan admitted, willing away her own urge to cry. Not in front of them.

"D'th' others know?" Murphy asked hesitantly.

"I. . . I told Anna and Rocco that they're gone, but not. . . how."

She hadn't wanted them to blame her. That's what happened in grief. One found something not too far off to blame, instead of the out-of-reach cause. It's happened before, and would happen again. The witch just didn't know if she could take that, in addition to the danger she'd be putting them in.

"Thanks, Shiv. For tellin' us," the dark-haired twin offered.

"Yeah. . . No problem."

Feather Seventy

Something must have been off in her voice. That was the only reason Siobhan could think of for the arms wrapping her up tightly.

"W-Why are you . . .?" Yes. Something was off with her voice. It was strained with emotion, clogged even.

"Shh. 'S okay, Shiv. Jus' let it go," Murphy said quietly.

"I – I don't. . . What are you trying to do?" Siobhan asked. Were they trying to comfort her? To get her to cry, to release her loss? She had done that to some of her friends. To some of those who wished to bottle up their grief.

"Y'think we'd just forget tha' they were yer friends, too?"

The witch had, actually, thought that they wouldn't think of that.

"That yeh had to come'n tell all'a us about this?" Connor added roughly, placing a comforting hand on her back.

Siobhan let her head burrow into Murphy's chest, merely trying to soak in their strength. She didn't want to cry in front of them, and was quite content to just lean on them.

"Thank you," she mumbled into the dark-haired twin's shirt, a sigh of relief leaving her when Connor started to rub circles in her back.

"'S'th' least we could do, yeah?" Connor offered, uncertainty in his voice.

"This is all I can ask of you," the witch replied quietly.

A single silent presence was worth a million bluffers, after all. And Siobhan felt like she needed this.

It wasn't like anyone ever just offered to be there for her. Her friends hadn't realized just how comforting being hugged by them was for her.

Maybe her new friends would.

Maybe they wouldn't.