Green and Gold

by PhoenixTakaramono

As a competent Head Auror, due to an alleged Death Eater sighting Harry was sent overseas to secure the Bone Eater's Well from desecration. During his investigation, he becomes the minder of a dog daiyoukai from a distant past. Aloof and flexible morals aside, he doesn't know what to make of the lord. Yet. Similarly, Sesshomaru is intrigued. SessxHP (MoD, epilogue compliant)

13. Question of Devotion

(A/N)- Ah, the length of this project has the potential to be grotesque. But wow! I am immensely grateful that you've taken your precious time to leave me your feedback. The overwhelming responses! Your PMs! They've been incredibly invigorating for me during the writing process. Thank you for being amazing people, for your incredible maturity, and for enduring the long waits and long A/Ns. My heartfelt thanks to: DarkRavie, Conpeki, Lina03, HelKat, Guest (3x), KimayceInk, TrenchcoatMan, Silvermane1, Oo. Summers. oO, melamariannie, mabdiso, w- easy enough, Nenagh, Psyka, Red on the run, JBubbles, aliengirlguy, royano, Kai19, Reaping-Vampire, Niji-neko, ArchaicSun, Sephiroth Cresent-Valentine, Merlenyn, tamashiyuki, TrueCanadianGirl, Lilyth369, and James Birdsong. Further accolades to jayswing96, pennameisblank, Genuka, forestreject, AnguisReginam, Suyii, you_arrogant_dick, malia, badwolfsvortex, enchanted_nightingale, itachisgurl93, and Antisen on AO3 (and to Merlenyn on the Art Masterpost)! By the by:

For the fandoms, which adaptation is "Green and Gold" more faithful to? Again, it's not strictly canon. But certainly feel free to contribute and share with us your valuable insight! I know this is a big concern for some of you. Especially the readers on this site. If you want, it's easier to just suspend your disbelief. But if you want to get down to the nitty-gritty, HP-wise, it's more the books and Pottermore's secret content I'd determinedly unlocked, because I'm more familiar with them. In other words, just assume everything is going by book canon. If somethings don't seem to jog your memory, I encourage that you check the books first. Or possibly look it up online first, if you need a point of reference? I'll be happy to explain my reasonings, but I think it's quicker if you fact-check things yourself. Because you can assume I'll be mostly referencing the book series instead. And if things STILL don't jog your memory, and it's obviously not coming from the film adaptation, you can now infer that I took creative liberties. And some JK Rowling's Twitter stuff. The movies will only factor in as long as they don't contradict (ex. where the Deathstick was put "back where it came from" in book-canon vs. the destroyed Elder Wand in movie-canon). I'll be cherry-picking which extra additions from the film adaptation will further the story. Bits from the upcoming Fantastic Beasts film (2016) and its planned trilogy will possibly be included. So excited to see how American wizards are interpreted! IY-wise, due to convenience, it's the anime and movies. I must reiterate, there will be canon divergences as Green and Gold progresses. Rest assured, important events of HP and IY canon won't be defied. There wouldn't be much of point of me setting up clues and foreshadowing for you otherwise. Again, I'll merely be taking some creative liberties—as we've already seen—so that we'll be having a relatively fresher story experience. But do keep a look-out for "Easter eggs."

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Green and Gold

Chapter 13

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Sesshomaru studied the calluses of his palms and the green glow emitted at the tips of his claws. His hands flexed once, twice—as if relearning muscle movement. Seated rigidly atop the edge of the exotic but simple English furnishing, Sesshomaru's gaze snapped up once the magical partition finally groaned open.

Tiny balls of light were glowing overhead like lethargic fireflies, glinting off wild dark hair and throwing shadows over Hari's face. He was leaning with his shoulder against the doorway, surveying the demon with a weighted gaze. Behind him was a matching English armchair. With the positioning of his arms folded across his chest, the language of his posture was akin to a magistrate deliberating a condemned man's sentence.

As seen over the sorcerer's shoulder, the room that had been in shambles before appeared to be restored to its original state. Everything seemed to be set back in their place, including the upturned fare and furnishings. And at the roundtable they'd converged around hours before—now back to being whole and solid, missing the holes from Sesshomaru's corrosive poison—sat an unconscious hanyou. Doge's mouth was emitting soft, whistling snores. The old man was propped upright against the hooped backrest, his jaw hanging agape and the muscles in his face slackened.

Just seeing his face alone made Sesshomaru sneer as he recalled the events that had transpired.

Sesshomaru remembered that immediately after having been assailed by a stream of green sorcery to the side of Doge's head, the hanyou had been too disoriented to prevent a red spell from striking him. In that moment, Sesshomaru had culled his poison claws once he'd seen the elderly wizard tip over.

With the hanyou motionless on the floor, if it hadn't been for the steady rise and fall of Doge's chest, Sesshomaru would've thought he'd witnessed a quiet kill at the hands of another inuyōkai—especially with the hefty size of his mokomoko-sama draped over Hari's shoulders supporting that imagery. (For a small moment he allowed to himself, he imagined what it would've been like if the foreigner actually were an inuyōkai.)

The alpha had been as still as a statue, looming over his quarry with an unfamiliar and eerily calm scrutiny, his wand still fizzling at the tip. The sorcerer had stalked toward the motionless figure, the toe cap of his leather footwear stopping only at a scant distance away from the body.

Sesshomaru didn't quite know what he'd been anticipating, but it certainly wasn't witnessing Hari drop down to a knee and listening to him chastise the hanyou underneath his breath, sounding both rueful and critical. Hari had been massaging the bridge of his nose.

With slight concern and no small amount of curiosity, Sesshomaru had made to approach his counterpart, when he'd been promptly ordered to cease his movement. A seat had been conjured up in the middle of the distance between them, nearly startling Sesshomaru from its sudden appearance.

Doge had been levitated into the air with two quick wrist movements. Without confirming to see if his request was met, Hari had told him to take a seat while he went to clean up the mess. He rattled off an estimation of how long he'd be preoccupied. Then he'd charged Sesshomaru to stand guard and distract himself from observing what was to be done, for security reasons. To think the sharp brusqueness of Hari's command—so similar to the resolve Chichi-Ue would've shouldered upon calls to wage warfare, stalwart against the cries of both yōkai and ningen alike—had been enough that Sesshomaru's unthinking compliance had been instinctual….

His gaze traveled back from the body that had disappeared along with the Head Auror into the chamber for some time, away from the room where Hari was one-handedly bringing his chair over in his march toward him. The harsh, scraping sound of wooden chair legs being purposely dragged across stone grinded in Sesshomaru's sensitive hearing, setting his nerves on edge.

With steel inset his shoulders, Hari said, "So. A few words with you. If you'd please."

The legs dropped back down onto the floor with a strident clatter. Gloved hands pivoted the chair around so that the back support was facing the dog demon like a blockade. Swinging a leg over, Hari straddled the chair, fingers tightly laced underneath his chin in rumination. His vantage point had a direct line of sight to his associate, whereas Sesshomaru faced the direction of the closed entry.

A small frown made itself known on Sesshomaru's face. But Hari's uncouth sitting posture aside, he had the sorcerer's undivided attention. He analyzed the cleaned gloves before his eyes slid back up to Hari's face. It was just too bad that Hari's alpha front—the distinguished general who cared about exercising his governance—was the man he was presently to be engaged in conversation with and not the solemn lord himself.

Kindness was put aside. Instead of unsure smiles and an impression of quiet indulgency, intimidation and presence had replaced them. This wasn't the man who'd confided in Sesshomaru that he sought companionship over being a trophy Mate. This was not the man who could inspire a wondrous loss of composure. This wasn't exactly the aristocrat whose chaste touch could spread heat down the tail of Sesshomaru's spine, enkindling arousal and making him harden underneath his lacquered kusazuri and silk hakama.

The longer Sesshomaru scrutinized the angular planes of those foreign features, and the shadows below the dips and curves, memories that had been handed down from antiquity began to stir inside him.

He thought he'd long forgotten this hunger, this physical thirst in the company of a desirable yōkai. The aftertaste of blood he'd licked from Hari's neck retained a trace of its coppery flavor, reminding him as it sat heavy on his tongue. His fangs ached to break skin in the penultimate ritual of Mating. Unlike the time before, the column of flesh below Hari's jaw was unmarred, like it hadn't been grazed in the first place.

Delineating the difference between memory and reality, Sesshomaru quickly clasped his hands over his lap, forcing his face back into stoicism. Only ingrained habit had him attempting to ignore his baser impulses.

"First and foremost, can you recall the specific incantation I'd used?" The pocket watch was slid out of his attire and snapped open with consummate care. With two familiar flicks of the wand, the ticking clock face was hovering up along the side of them. His wand held loosely down in one hand, Hari asked firmly, "If not, then can you recall the wrist movements? Or is it both?"

Sesshomaru's brows dipped. Lifting his gaze from the drawn weaponry, he said coolly, "Your inquiries hold the semblance of an interrogation. Why would this be a significant concern?"

The sound Hari released was a cross between a self-deprecating huff and a chuckle. "You sound so defensive. I only want a simple yes or no. Can you or can you not?" His humor fractured off. "Listen. Please, this is important for me to know before I say anything else. If it's a definitive 'no' for both, then there's honestly little complication."

Impulsively Sesshomaru countered, "The complication only exists within your mind. He did not comply with your demands. You resolved the situation. What difficulty could possibly remain?"

"Probable aiding and abetting, if you've mistaken the situation as easily Doge had." Hari grimaced. "On that note, on behalf of me and the British Ministry, I have to apologize."

Sesshomaru raised a brow. He remained silent.

"What happened shouldn't have happened. It was a poor representation on our part. I ask that you try not to hold it against us. But regardless of the prior incident…." His sight was now preoccupied with the floating clock, as if it held a higher significance over the dog demon. He mumbled, "Doge isn't a bad man, entirely, faults and all. Knowing him, he most certainly thought you were a genuine risk. That or he wanted revenge, since we've both antagonized him from before."

In pace to the ticking, his wand was drumming against the backrest. Hari continued muttering under his breath, "I just hadn't thought he'd have a prejudice against Dark Creatures. I'd thought—I would've never thought he'd have it in him. He said he'd wanted to repent—triggered by the obvious stressors and repeated mentions of Dumbledore. Motives are never just one thing. The Headmaster was kind to him in his childhood after all. In hindsight…."

Sesshomaru had opened his mouth to interject, but the idle tapping stopped when Hari trailed off, eyeing Sesshomaru as if he'd just remembered that he had an audience.

His look of hardness ebbed a little. Hari sighed, "Apologies. This'll happen a lot; I'm sorry. I've been fighting to maintain professionalism, to control this in a manner that I know I can. You have no idea how grateful I am for your cooperation. I only request that you continue to trust me." His hand shot up, his palm facing Sesshomaru once he saw his expression. "It's a tall order, I know. But I'll be taking responsibility for him and for my decision. I will not be so arrogant as to claim responsibility for the whole, because that'd be demeaning of the courage Doge had demonstrated—however undeserved and utterly foolish it was. Still, as precaution, it's better that you remain unapprised."

"You think of me as a child? It's useless to attempt to keep this Sesshomaru unaware."

"Please listen to my rational first," Hari entreated, armed with an intentional smile. To Sesshomaru, seeing that was like glimpsing a peek of a crescent moon over a tall mountain range. He continued, "I actually don't think of you as anything patronizing. I'm thinking from a logical standpoint. That's all."

His fingers curled down to two fingers, which he used to briefly tap the side of his temple. "I'm assuming you don't have a natural resistance to our Legilimency. Would I be correct in this line of thinking, Lord Sesshomaru?"

Sesshomaru sat up straighter. The return to formality rankled the dog demon a bit—seeing as they no longer were in public eye—but he instead observed aloud, "This Sesshomaru cannot corroborate the authenticity of that claim."

"Yeah, not without experiencing it firsthand. Probably. Ideally we would test this, but my method of extracting information is specifically for conducting formal interrogations. It isn't exactly tailored toward gentleness, you could say." His expression appeared regretful. "I'm not subtle about it. Also, I wouldn't intentionally put you through that.…"

Hari trailed off. His attention slid sideways to peer over Sesshomaru's shoulder, as if seeking someone else.

A muscle in his cheek jumped. The chair creaked under him as Sesshomaru brought his face a little bit closer, snatching back Hari's awareness. He posited, "The actions you have taken…what you've done, the implication is not lost on me. The hanyou did not listen to you. He'd raised his hand to me, disregarding your orders. He was obstinate from the start. Yet you'd spared his life."

Hari's gloved fingers twitched. "And you still haven't answered my question," he growled, "which I've noticed you've been trying to avoid. But yes, I did. I would have the legal authority to cast Memory Charms when I see fit—f—ing bollocks!" His face slammed into an upturned palm, muffling any further vulgarities.

Sesshomaru recoiled, both from the crassness spewed out of that mouth and from his accidental admission. He demanded, "You've altered his memory?"

For a while, Hari remained quiet. After another peeved exhalation, Hari said into his palm, muffled, "Plan B; fine, I see how it's gonna be." Shifting his position into a more casual stance, with the side of his face now cradled, he demanded, "Was that question a genuine concern for Doge? Or are you asking if it'll happen to you?"

"Surely you do not mean to say your original extension of goodwill matters little," he challenged, muscles taut. Time and time again he was promised Lord Hari meant him no ill intent. But without sworn fealty to him, the suspicion lingered in the back of his mind. "Do you intend on breaking your pact with me, when this Sesshomaru has done nothing but exercise restraint?"

"There are consequences when a wizard goes back on an oath. So, no, I won't. Ours isn't official, but I don't like people who make idle promises. They're a waste of time. So the principle still stands." Hari released a long, ragged sigh that sounded like it originated from the depth of his soul. "Let me try this again: what'd happened between you and Doge, prior to my return? If my hands are tied, I might not be able to protect you."

"Has your mind been affected as well? You yourself have witnessed this Sesshomaru's prowess firsthand. This Sesshomaru requires no protection." Conveying its owner's displeasure, the pelt tightened around Hari like a noose.

"You misunderstand me, Lord Sesshomaru." Without much thought, Hari thwacked mokomoko-sama with two patronizing pats, as if signaling for Sesshomaru to calm. His gaze flitting down toward Sesshomaru's blistered fingertips, he soothed diplomatically, "There are no doubts about your physical or magical aptitude. You're not helpless. You can handle matters yourself. In fact, I would worry for your opponent. What I'd meant was I can't always turn the other cheek when it comes to you. If other parties are involved, while I won't be actively seeking antagonism, you'll be putting me in a tight spot."

His ego was marginally appeased by the flattery. Still Sesshomaru growled, as a warning.

Hari was undeterred. A chin jerked toward the direction of the unconscious man. "The clues are there. I can theoretically piece together what'd happened…though to be honest, this is more a request for a peace of mind than making a fair, informed judgement. Did you give him added incentive to react hostilely? Your actions could've provoked him even further than what we said before I'd left. People have their breaking points."

"Be you selfish or fair, nothing this Sesshomaru has said was an untruth." Feeling the ghost of those pats against the small of his back, perhaps more petulantly than he cared he folded his arms into his sleeves. He griped, "All this trouble, from just an old hanyou. Were my words unclear? This Sesshomaru did not think of you as hard of hearing. This Sesshomaru does not waste time on unnecessary battles."

For a moment, Hari stared. "You'd implied." Subsequently he said, "You still hadn't given me any indication that I'd made the right decision by choosing you."

Their conversation had suddenly left the precipice and dropped into uncharted waters.

Sesshomaru was struck by a sudden case of lightheadedness. It took all he could to remain expressionless as his resentment abated, and an unanticipated torrent of thoughts besieged him. From a distant awareness, he could sense mokomoko-sama slipping loose around the warm body it held, which even Hari had felt the momentum of it spilling down one of his shoulders and he'd made a motion to grab it from hitting the stone floor.

It was incomprehensible; those words should not affect him to such a degree, yet Sesshomaru found himself searching the downturned face for any relay of falsehood. Allowing himself the free fall, in a low rough inflection that grinded in his ears like gravel, he recited, "This Hari…has chosen this Sesshomaru."

The same indecipherable expression—when Hari's hands had settled over his moments prior—was there across the man's features when he looked up, making Sesshomaru think the ragged tone of his voice gave away more than he had mayhaps intended. His claws clenched underneath his sleeves.

The intensity of his gaze was that of a cautious hunter creeping up to their prey, waiting, searching for any openings. Hari said delicately, "That does...seem to be the case. I don't—I mean, his memory of this meeting is gone, you see." A hint of guilt crawled into existence. Hari gently reallocated mokomoko-sama onto a circumspect spot. "So there's honestly no point of asking him. I can only ask you follow-up questions."

Silence descended upon them, that the steady ticking of the clock and the pulsing of Tenseiga rung louder than any resonance Sesshomaru has heard in his life. Much louder than the beat in his chest and in his throat, that he wished he could reach inside himself to stop them from incessantly pounding in his ears. He studied the soft indents left in his fur, where gloved fingers had released their grip from mokomoko-sama.

With a deliberate upward tilt of his head, tucking the long hair that fell forward behind a pointed ear, Sesshomaru murmured, "Your devotion is unexpected."

Hari's brows rose. "'Devotion?'" he repeated, as if he'd heard wrong. After another pause, he spoke, "I suppose...I wouldn't use that intense of a term. He's a workmate. You're my responsibility. While not a felony or an act of misconduct, I can be held accountable for both of you. So think of these inquiries as formality and as a genuine concern."

"As this Hari has stated, the hanyou took preventative measures against this Sesshomaru."

"Yet your first instinct was to attempt strangulation."

"He is still among the living," Sesshomaru snapped, unappreciative of Hari's tone. "Do you think of me rash and hotheaded? It requires much more to strike my ire. Shameful as he is, he is not deserving of a death by this Sesshomaru's hands. Incidentally, the meddlesome cur cannot keep his wits about him. Any fool can see bravado had overtaken his senile faculties."

"Well, you weren't exactly presenting yourself under a favorable light, Lord Sesshomaru. You should count your good fortunes that Doge has a lousy track record." Despite valiant effort not to, Hari's mouth formed into a reluctant smirk. "I did a quick investigation. From what I saw, I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt. Thank goodness you kept a level head, even when he was being antagonistic. No one died a needless death." He suddenly resumed his restless tapping.

He was muttering, "It's no direct cause-and-effect I can point to, really, but I'll admit to being partially responsible." Raking a hand through his hair, he was chastising himself: "I'd like to say this could've been avoided entirely, but what's done is done. I'd called him a coward, knowing that it'd inadvertently goad him into being upset. Honestly, I should've seen it coming. I was being a bully."

"He lacks honor," Sesshomaru stated contemptuously. The heat in his voice had died down though as he assured, "Any grudge you have toward him is sensible. His disgrace plagued him, that even he realized he must regain favor for his misdeed. The only way to truly make amends is by dying honorably. He was undeserving of your compassion."

"I know that." Hari expelled a frustrated sound. "But at the same time, I know better than that. I'd let old pettiness override my good judgement. I was entirely capable of rising above—!" Drifting off, Hari was looking at him strangely, until a thought dawned upon him. Under a much softer volume, Hari breathed, "No, I understand now. Harakiri and seppuku. Someone like you would be offended."

Before he could press him on what he'd meant, Sesshomaru noticed that the sorcerer stole another sidelong glance away from him. Switching topics, Hari remarked, "You'd never answered my first question. Can you or can you not recall the incantation or wrist movement I'd used?"

"Do you think of this Sesshomaru as equally senile?"

"I'm not saying that." He reached out and closed a hand over the floating timepiece. "So I'm assuming you do remember then. I was intending for it to be kept confidential. Keeping you uninformed was to lessen your involvement as an accessory to this incident. But that's out of the question. So it'll have to be handled."

Upon hearing those words, Sesshomaru's muscles instinctively tensed. In his opinion, the sorcerer was making too much of it. Dissent was often sowed among political parties—allies included. "You've expressed that the action you've taken is not considered of any wrongdoing."

"It's not. Authorized Obliviators selectively remove memories from Muggles if they witness something related to us. But Doge is not a Muggle." Switching the pocket watch to his other hand, with his freed appendage he held up a finger.

"Nor did he violate the Statute of Secrecy." A second finger went up.

"Every action has a trade-off. He's a colleague, someone of import in our British Ministry. But I chose you over him. He's a wizard. You're a magical creature. That's not even taking into consideration your magical alignment. And not only that, I sided with someone from another continent, over my countryman. There's the rub."

By the time he'd concluded, all five fingers were extended. "I'm not sorry for defusing a potentially dangerous situation. I'm sorry that it had to be done. I pray that you understand the distinction, Lord Sesshomaru." His expression was grim. "There are underlying political matters afoot I don't want you to be involved in. There are people I know who'd be elated to use this to spark controversy. People love to complain, even when there's little to make a huge fuss about. The Minister and I are not in the mood to deal with that, just because the public wants a sensationalized conspiracy...albeit your existence here kind of is. "

Sesshomaru claws dug deeper into the inside of his elbows. "Not everything is going to bend to your will."

"No. There doesn't need to be scandal, that's all I'm saying. The Wizengamot—magical Britain in general can't afford unnecessary distractions." His fingers withdrew to resume a new count, as visual emphasis. He ticked his fingers off: "We already have the Trials, military tribunals, the controversial ICW resolutions, the Minister's campaign for the upcoming election, ongoing investigations, and my wizards on Tour or on assignment. Then we have your magical time traveling accident, which we'll somehow have to resolve as soon as possible. We'll have to figure out a way to get you at the other side of your country's monument and back in your time."

It was bizarre. The connotation of Hari's surprisingly fastidious claims was a growing surge in his forethoughts. Unease radiated off of him. Instead of being proud that a daiyōkai of his station remained in control and hadn't let his yōkai side to get a better of him, Hari was uncharacteristically thinking as a statesman, strategically placing importance on the political ramifications over the afterglow of a decisive victory.

Sesshomaru would not have thought of him as an overly cautious warrior, from what he had seen from their interrupted spar earlier this morning. Nor would he have thought of him as methodical. Aloud, he managed, "It's not an act of treason. Yet this Hari doesn't want unnecessary trouble."

"Right, constant vigilance. I'm more concerned about controlling the fallout than having it be overblown into extraordinary magnitudes. We'll want no part in it." His mouth curved crookedly into a tight-lipped, enigmatic smile. "I will not be careless; not for a stupid misunderstanding."

He watched Hari begin to clip the watch back onto his apparel.

"So now on the off-chance that someone does riffle through your memories, you'll need a point of view that won't accidentally exacerbate the situation into something that it isn't." He sounded resigned. The chair underneath Hari creaked as he leaned back to make proper eye contact. "Keep this in your thoughts, and repeat it until you have it memorized: we'd done nothing wrong. Instead of confrontation, I settled the dispute as nonlethally and as quickly as I could without either parties deteriorating into mindless violence. He was being uncooperative. Repeatedly. Thus, I'd made the executive decision that I'd thought best in that moment."

Hari's vision was drifting away again. Rolling the silver chain between his thumb and pointer finger, he said, "Try to remember that when someone tries to navigate through your head. I've already shared with you of our preventative methods. Break direct eyesight. Or get someone's help. You should soon be able to identify which wizards are of my men by color or design of their robes."

For a moment, Sesshomaru was silent. Then he said, "If it would assuage your mind, this Hari showed considerable grace. His head did not roll." When Hari continued to look fairly disconsolate, he dared to voice, "This Hari is under no obligation to answer, but has there been something else on your mind? You've been inattentive in the span of this entire conversation."

That earned him a startled glance. Proud as Sesshomaru was that he was developing a finesse for catching him off-guard, he waited patiently while Hari brooded over disclosing further information.

Just as Sesshomaru thought that the sorcerer was going to rebuff him, with a minute frown Hari dropped the delicate metal link. Careful not to disturb the hefty pelt draped over him, Hari scooted back in his chair before getting up, swinging a foot over the seat to join his other leg. He apologized, "I'm sorry if it'd seemed like I was a million miles away sometimes. It's not related to this at all."

Sesshomaru cared little about its relevancy. His arms unwound from his sleeves as he stood up, as the chair dissipated behind him. "It must be a matter of significance if your yōki has been this tightly wound up."

"It has?" Aiming an ambiguous look down at his wand and then back up, Hari shrugged. "It pertains to my investigation. I was testing something. And giving my department and the others time to gather results." He stalled. Around his wrist, he opted to fiddle with a small precious gemstone—one among of his collection of cufflinks, as Sesshomaru had been told—as red as a drop of blood against a snow field.

Sesshomaru tilted his head, waiting for the sorcerer's indecisiveness to pass.

Eventually deciding to hell with it, Hari murmured, "Honestly, I was...half-hoping it'd be simple to reclaim lost or possibly stolen property. It's a bit worrying about what they stole, whether intentionally or not. But if it's been this long already since I left and it still hasn't come, I might as well face reality."

He must be referring to this White Tomb, Sesshomaru determined, throwing his memory a little further back. Still, he had to ask: "This Hari is referring to the gravesite, where you and your vassals fought...these 'Death Eaters?'"

A shadow passed over Hari's face. He allowed, "My unit and I officially apprehended a Snatcher. The assumption was that they'd all died off, so I had to make sure before I leapt to wild conclusions." He made an irritated, clicking sound. "There was a recovered armband sent to Analysis. That turned out to be a complete waste of time and resources. If we apprehended Decio, then it's quite possible there are other Snatchers. Their status is just MIA or in hiding, than being killed off like we'd thought they were."

"They stole the earth where his skeleton rested?" Sesshomaru speculated, bemused. There had been that other miko whose smell of graveyard dirt and clay clung to her skin, which had left the inuyōkai little doubt as to her circumstances. Just the thought of someone disrespecting a final resting place made his blood curdle. Remembering the showdown long ago between him and Inuyasha in the border between this world and the next—and Naraku's impudence to dare desecrate their father's remains in order to collect the last jewel shard—he surmised, "Or perhaps it were…your mentor's bones? To perform a resurrection?"

"I don't know if it was a Death Eater or a Snatcher. But if it'd been his bones, then all of magical Britain would know by now and be roaring for us to take up arms. So it's a little more complicated than that. It would've been less problematic had my summoning spell worked. Considering the circumstances, I'd assumed it would've."

Hari stopped again, standing up straighter and looking elsewhere. With a swish of his wand, the chair he'd been sitting on flew into the distance, so that it completed the furniture set where he'd retrieved it.

Sesshomaru gauged the short distance between them. It required two—perhaps three—strides to bridge the gap. His gaze lingering on the imagery that his mokomoko-sama made on the sorcerer's shoulders, he prompted, "Such as?"

His question hung in the air as Hari's eyes lowered to the Tenseiga briefly, before raising to meet Sesshomaru's reserved ones.

Sesshomaru kept his expression neutral—neither antagonistic nor eager, but not entirely uninterested—when he saw that Hari's arms were crossed and his body like a rigid wooden post. From that stance, it looked like this was where he was to draw the line of confiding with the dog demon.

Eventually Hari succumbed once more. He exhaled deeply, his demeanor clearly indicating that he might as well acquiesce to an innocent question. Tucking his hands into his pockets, he allowed, "I'd left a Peverell relic with Dumbledore, to pay my final respects." His mouth curled. "A bit sentimental, I'm aware. Many people, including Dumbledore, coveted it. But its history...let's say it's a little ironic."

"This Hari willingly bequeathed a family heirloom to a deceased man," Sesshomaru restated skeptically. "To a person who would have no use of such treasure? If it was taken, you have no one to blame but yourself. There should've been precautions taken."

"I did take precautions, after Voldemort's stint. So what you're saying—while I understand completely—to be forthright with you, grandeur has little appeal to me. Very few knew I had it or were aware that it existed. This isn't something a lot of people would know. Only Voldemort would've had the gall to disturb someone's final resting place. And only my Office has the legal authority to order an exhumation. Only the extraordinarily daring would dig through a celebrated hero's remains, knowing very well they'd incur the ire of many authorities."

Sesshomaru canted his head. He laid a steadying hand on the trembling hilt of Tenseiga. "Why would this relic of yours be coveted? Aside from it belonging to your family's legacy, there would be no purpose in pillaging what rightfully belongs to you. They could seek extortion or purposely use it as a declaration of war against you."

"That's surprisingly what someone else had suggested to me too." The close-lipped smile broadened. "If I wanted to, I could file a property theft report and have the appropriate parties launch a formal investigation into recovering it. But I've no use for it. I'm inclined to believe its disappearance might've been circumstantial, for reasons I won't fully get into. This is only a minor setback."

"The existence of grave robbers isn't a rarity. Nor are they scarce. They're a blight to every country."

"If it really were grave robbers who'd unethically unsealed his tomb, common sense wouldn't make them think that it'd be mine. They'd naturally assume it'd belonged to him, because of a tradition we have here. I'd figured it'd be considered as a standard object I had buried with an extraordinary man. Besides, what good is acquiring a wa—weapon, when it's designed to ideally work for only one person? As a trophy? It's ridiculous to go through the trouble—and I'm getting ahead of myself again, aren't I?" His eyes squeezed shut. "All in all, this is something I'll need to confer with Hermione and...oh, sweet Merlin, you haven't met her husband yet face-to-face."

Sesshomaru raised a brow. "Her Mate."

"…You've met Hermione. She's the Deputy Head of our department. Her husband, Ron, is one of our seasoned Aurors. You've seen two of his siblings already—Percy and Ginevra. Two of the five. I'm not even taking into account their parents and…." He breathed a sigh. "Hermione and Ron work well together. We're good friends. Which reminds me; I'll need to discuss with those brilliant nutters about something important." His vision was now upturned to contemplate the ceiling. Armed with a dark glare, Hari resumed, "We'd heard of the relic's existence at the same time, very long ago. People desire it for the supposed power you'll get out of it. What's troubling is that if anyone did know, besides us, then I suspect they'll attempt to gain the final reward."

"What could be more worthwhile than attaining this rumored power?"

"Many people can't help being defined by their greed. It's only natural." Hari was rolling his wand between his fingers. "So I'd say it's quite the certain title and the implication accompanying it. There's a story that comes with; one of our more obscure legends, if you will."

This time Hari's smile was all teeth. "It's just too bad they won't be able to attain true mastery. Not without fulfilling certain prerequisites. Any effort they'd make would anyway be in vain."

Nostalgic anticipation flooded through Sesshomaru, upon hearing that ominous promise. He marveled, "So you are aiming to reclaim your family possession."

"I suppose that'd be a lovely thought," Hari remarked casually, his meaning evasive. He was withdrawing a purple square piece of paper from his pocket. His vision traveled the distance between the exit and the conjured partition where Doge laid ahead. "But first, the priority is getting Doge to leave. We wouldn't want to cause the Wizengamot worry. Rest assured, I won't—we won't let anyone stand in your way. The well will be secured, ready to send you back home, Lord Sesshomaru. If not...we'll address that issue when it comes."

Sesshomaru's lips slightly parted, as a tendril of homesickness struck him deep into his chest upon hearing that. He was reflecting on how that particular inflection miraculously spun a memory of his youth, as he watched Hari turn away from him to begin confidentially striding back to his countryman.

XXXXXXXXXX

When Doge regained consciousness, aside from the initial bewilderment of their surroundings, he retained none of his hostility. Nor could he seem to recall the entirety of their meeting prior to having his memory erased.

Doge's vision was slightly out-of-focus and his expression vacant, when Hari fed the hanyou an alternative account—sticking as close to the truth as possible—in the narrow window that they had before Doge's higher-cognitive functions returned. Hari even divulged the Disapparition, although he'd told Doge that when he'd returned he found Lord Sesshomaru in an annoyed mood; that with Doge knocked-out, the pair had been inconvenienced. Hari simply omitted a few details such as the animosity between Doge and Sesshomaru, what had happened when Hari left, and what took place after his return.

Hidden behind his back, his wand was glowing.

A sharp claw clattered idly against the pommel of Bakusaiga. Hari's mannerisms and continued competence under stress bespoke of willpower and experience. For someone who had just shared his grievances with Sesshomaru about the man, the sorcerer was oddly benign and civil—albeit reduced to stilted sentences.

Throughout the narration, Sesshomaru lingered in the background, moodily stroking his soft pelt which had been forcibly returned to him preceding Doge's reawakening. Watching the sorcerer interact with whom Sesshomaru thought now to be an eyesore, pensively he recalled the purple crane Hari had sent off, which he'd been informed was a memo to alert Shacklebolt of the incident. With little else to do aside from selectively listening in and watching Hari handle the situation, Sesshomaru had the luxury to further analyze the memory that was dredged up.

At any time the Inu no Taishō was away or preoccupied, it would be Haha-Ue and Sesshomaru alone with their vassals in the castle in the sky. A constant presence on the grounds would be the serene, distinguishable sound of the gakusō, a thirteen-stringed zither imported from the Central Continent. Sometimes by the time he'd completed his daily lessons, Sesshomaru would catch the last reverberations of what had been the bored, tentative plucking of silk strings in the direction of his parents' imperial bedchamber.

In privacy, Haha-Ue never cared much for Japanese social convention; that, as female, wealthy or not, she was going against tradition. Overlooking their large garden, trying to mimic the latest composition heard, Haha-Ue would be seated primly on her knees on the tatami floor with the musical instrument in front of her. Her playing would be reminiscent of Chinese or Korean court music she was fond of requesting from any visiting traveling troupe—various yōkai of prestigious musical families wearing magnificent costumes—that were intelligent enough to exploit one of her few known weaknesses, to perform their ensemble at their Royal Castle.

Music and dance were among the few observations of curious human rituals that demons didn't object to as much, and most yōkai refused to adhere to the ningen's trade embargo—erected due to unforeseen pirate raids—between Nippon and the Ming Dynasty. Mortals' plights and prohibitions were often considered beneath their concernment.

When he'd been little, he remembered cuddling up to her on the cushion, watching her lithe fingers stumble inexpertly over the long wooden instrument. It was one of the few times his mother dulled the edge of her sharp tongue—which she would carelessly stab like a poisoned needle in their court audience, eliciting provocation—and she relaxed her guard. The glow of the moon would bathe their silhouettes, sometimes eliminating the need for lighting lanterns. Her dark blue outer wrap would be loosely gathered around them, the soft fur keeping them warm in the night. Her scent would be soothing and familiar, and her long silvery hair would be down and unornamented.

Occasionally he would fall asleep to Inukimi's whispers and humming of drawn-out lyrics of the high-pitched variety, her favorite lines belonging to the more romantic tales. Her strong lilting voice would fade into their view outside, carried away by the eventide breeze.

The nostalgia that'd surfaced from recalling that memory surprised even him. Emerging from his reflection, Sesshomaru studied the scene from across the room. If he stretched his imagination, he thought he could hear the tiniest grate of exhaustion seeping into Hari's modulated accent. It conjured remembrance of light rainfalls bleeding into a carefully cultivated garden—and in his mind, of the pattern of roiling sea crests raked into uniform white sand and finer gravel—as Hari's explanation winded down.

"Are you…." Doge hesitated, now capable of returning conversation than his parroted, one-word rejoinders. Licking dry lips, he repeated, "Are you quite certain?"

"Quite so," Hari reassured. The dull glow dimmed, and the wand quietly slid back into the holster. He held out Doge's hat, which Doge took and nervously adjusted onto his smooth head. His voice deepening into a somewhat patronizing tone, Hari said, "It's embarrassing. I know. Honestly, I was let-down by you. In front of my witness, really?"

Doge's face reddened. Refusing to look at the creature, he insisted to the wizard, "It doesn't happen often. Actually, no, I don't think it's ever happened to me before." The wrinkly skin scrunched up. Rubbing his forehead, he mumbled, "Though, I suppose fainting spells are something to look forward to when you get to be my age. I'm not that weak-minded, y'know. Y'know?"

"I'm sure you aren't. If you were, more people would hear. Imagine that. You might want to consider bedrest, Mr Doge. Or perhaps retirement finally."

Doge's mouth twisted. He hissed resentfully, "I am not the coward or the invalid you seem to think I am, Mr Potter."

"Believe me, I can think that no longer," Hari appeased. "You're a surprisingly strong wizard; I'd be gobsmacked if you'd need hospitalization. A shame if you're that weak of heart. And of mind. Although, I insist it might still do you some good." It was misdirection, and a challenge.

The bags under Doge's eyes grew more pronounced as he squinted. "You've grown to be awfully cheeky." His voice was low and whispery. Even he could discern that his competence was being called into question.

"Am I? I meant no disrespect." Hari stood up. His eyes swerved toward their exit briefly. Seemingly inspired, he prompted, "We were talking about Umbridge, correct? That's the excuse we're going for, when you report to the Wizengamot."

"I…suppose?" His forehead was creased with lines. Suddenly his features lit up. He blurted, "Would you be willing to be a character witness on the prosecution's side? Everyone knows there's no love lost between you two. But your disfavor is actually justified."

Hari and Sesshomaru kept their expressions straight, both refusing to let slip the déjà vu they felt upon this familiar line of exchange. It held enough of a similarity to the original's, that one might've suspected the elderly wizard to have practiced beforehand.

They saw Doge's expression turning apprehensive, as if a thought suddenly occurred to him. Doge had turned his face up to peer at Hari's carefully neutral one. In a quieter volume, the wizard asked, "That is, if it's not that traumatic for you, Mr Potter?"

"And why would it be traumatic?" His voice held the barest hint of tension.

Doge swallowed, his neck and chin retreating down into his cowl-like garment. "Of course it wouldn't. You're a survivor. You're the one in high position. She's detained in custody. The accused can't do anything to you."

"Doge." When he saw the hanyou flinch, Hari relaxed his tone. He said, "Mr Doge, I agreed to your offer much earlier. But you hadn't answered my question about whether or not my testimony would be seen as damning evidence. You know the barrister is going to call me into question during the cross-examination. Are Pensieves even admissible in trial?"

"They'll want to see the alleged incident. We'll have a much stronger case if we have solid evidence to back it up."

Hari considered him with a weighted gaze. He said slowly, "I could bottle my memories for you and have it to your office tomorrow. Would it be necessary to bring people to support my claims? I've heard of a few old schoolmates who might've underwent the same grief. Y'know what I'm talking about."

"We already have people that can attest to several witnessed crimes. So, no. If they show up in the Pensieve, it's not necessary, I should think."

For an inexplicable reason that Sesshomaru could not ascertain, he could see Doge's eyes were once again fixed on Hari's clenched hands, as if harboring a morbid fascination with those body parts.

Doge started, "I'll try to tell our prosecutor to be sensitive. But, just be aware. It might come to that. I know you're a proud wizard, Harry, but—!"

"You just told me there'll be other witnesses brought in, Mr Doge." Hari's tone was clipped. "The quantity is substantial. I want her in Azkaban for life. If my Aurors aren't seeing her in their prison rotations by the end, then I can't fathom how badly it went tits up. This is essentially a trial by media. We have a pile of evidence against her."

Doge leapt to his feet. The sudden vertigo of the action seemed to throw him off, but he held onto the edge of the table to steady himself. He croaked, "You know the press can be held in contempt of court, after formal arrest, for any coverage influencing public opinion before a trial. There are regulations. It may be Umbridge, but the cow still deserves fairness. You of all should know. You'd advocated for the Malfoys."

He gave Hari a searching look. "This may be unprofessional of me to say, but I know you have a...personal interest invested in this case. That's why I'm promising you she will serve a sentence. How long though, that's still up in the air. I can't guarantee life."

"Duly noted. But careful; your bias is showing." Hari's gaze traveled over to Sesshomaru briefly—who'd shamelessly made his eavesdropping no secret during their entire conversation—before returning back to Doge. His brows were furrowed. "I do have one request. If it's doable, great. If not, fine. At least I asked."

"I can remove myself from either opinion or see things from both perspectives, as they say," Doge was stating defensively in the same time as Hari spoke. "Which is why I can still advise this trial. In your case, of course you have a request." He sighed. "Everyone I've talked with has one. Alright, but please remember to be reasonable. What request could you possibly have of me?"

"Have the barrister call me near the middle-to-last batch. When the burnout's begun to set in." Hari crossed his arms. "I know this sounds high and mighty of me, but y'know why I'd be concerned...hold on, if you have my memories, would you even need me on the stand?"

"The barrister would want to question you, Mr Potter."

"Right, about the validity." He licked his lower lip. "But is my attendance absolutely mandatory?" He aimed another meaningful look in Sesshomaru's direction, and then back. Two fingers were crooked, indicating for Doge to lean in. His voice lowered to a conspiratorial volume, even the dog demon had to strain his ears to hear him whisper, "She's known for her prejudices, Mr Doge. And you know of my situation. You're the Advisor, for both sides. So tell me, objectively, is it honestly worth rocking the boat?"

A tic had developed near the hanyou's jaw. Gnarled hands clenched into fists. Doge hissed back, "It's only one-to-a-few days, for your testimony. You may temporarily leave your witness in the protection of a trusted associate, Head Auror."

"I was referring to myself, Doge." Hari pinned him with a glower. "You know what happens between me and of anything of high-profile. I was talking about this earlier; I'm worried they'll spin this into a publicity stunt. And you know how little I think of the Wizengamot and the media. You can't blame me for anticipating a crucifixion."

Doge's eyes widened. He winced as if struck. In a hoarse rasp, he demanded, "How can you say that? I understand your paranoia, truly. I'm not questioning what you'd gone through. I can't vouch for those media vultures, but the Wizengamot—our Wizengamot is better than that. The Wizengamot you'd knew in 1995 had Fudge and Umbridge."

"Thank you for understanding. I appreciate it. But you forget, her barrister...if they're competent, they'll go straight for my jugular." Hari made a slicing motion with his finger across his throat as he stepped forward.

Falling behind Doge, he casually threw an arm over the hanyou's shoulders. His iron grip disguised as a friendly gesture, he effortlessly shepherded Doge—despite any feeble protest and polite foot-dragging—across the long chamber toward the door where Sesshomaru stood guard nearby. The inuyōkai's presence was ignored in favor of their private conversation.

As he maneuvered the Wizengamot Special Advisor onward, Hari susurrated, "Let's be realistic, from one Ministry official to another."

The illumination from the floating balls of light reflected off the men's heads and was mirrored on the floor. In the ethereal dimness, Doge's upturned eyes reflected a semblance of pity as Hari murmured, "You claim you want fairness. Once I'm called in, there will be little of that. People might not get the closure they're expecting. The focus won't be on her and the suffering she's caused. It won't be getting her victims the justice they deserve."

Hung over the man's clavicle, the glove made a creaking sound as Hari's hand balled into a fist. Almost like a late punishment for the tight spot that the older wizard had landed him in, Hari concluded, "I change my mind, Doge. Ask first whether or not my presence is that important to the case. If you can get the verdict without my memories or me there, in person, then we needn't even bother."

Ear-splittingly shrill sirens greeted them when Hari wrenched the door open, rushing in like a blast of hot air. Hanyous, adult to elderly, were scurrying in the corridor like panicked rats. The paper memos zooming high overhead was a brightly-colored flock of birds heading to their destinations.

Sesshomaru's claws went to his ears as Doge, drowning in bewilderment, shouted above the blaring howls, "You're retracting your offer!" His hat was tugged down his ears, serving as an ineffectual muffler. He blurted, "Are you telling me you won't have your memories to my office tomorrow!"

The noises picked up.

Whirling around, Doge boggled at his colleagues, trying to make sense of their movements. Some kept their heads low. Others were frantically searching for something or for someone. "What the hippogriff is happening!"

"Troll containment and the subsequent result of a counterterrorism investigation! Y'know, the usual!" Hari supplied offhandedly, seemingly detached of the chaos. That was until he perceived the imminent tidal wave that was fast-approaching them, after having noticed their whereabouts. His resolve faltered.

He swiftly gave a shove between Doge's shoulder blades, almost sending the man careening into the polished linoleum floor. Grabbing the door lever, Hari yelled, "It was good having your acquaintance, Mr Doge! See what your legal teams say before I deliver anything! Send me an owl! Or a crane! I'll be monitoring you! Don't be a stranger!"

He spluttered, "Y-You'll be monitoring me! For what?" Stumbling forth, Doge regained his balance and he orbited on his heels. In an attempt to be heard, raising his voice, he objected loudly, "Hold on a minute, Mr Potter, I'll still need to tidy—!"

"The room will be ready for the wizard that'd lent it to you!" Hari shouted, slamming a hand up to the man's chest, shoving him back outside. "Thanks for acting as intermediary! And for substituting for Malfoy! Get back to me on the Umbridge case!" With a courteous wave, he shut the door in the wizard's face.

In the silence that once again had befallen upon them in the room, both his and Sesshomaru's ears still throbbed painfully from the commotion.

Hari heaved a sigh, dropping his forehead against the wooden surface. He was waiting. He only lifted his head when he thought he heard Doge's footsteps travel away, possibly being compelled to follow the moving turbulence outside.

After a minute, he squared his shoulders and he performed a clean, militaristic turn with a snap of his heels together. His wand was back in his hand. Scrutinizing the wide-eyed demon and their immediate surroundings, his gaze dove down on the remaining fare replaced on the table. There were pieces of red parchment still scattered beneath, which Doge had remained unaware of.

Hari proclaimed, "Well, one thing's resolved. Now, cleanup. Then we'll hopefully be ready to go."

XXXXXXXXXX

The instant they crossed the threshold, the sorcerer transformed into the embodiment of efficiency. Hari's gestures and speech became more vivacious, more confident and emanating with renewed vigor as he interacted with various personnel on their way to the lifts. Before Sesshomaru's eyes, the vestiges of the tired daiyōkai had melted and a formidable alpha-general stepped into place. There was fire in his eyes now.

In the short while that it took Hari to bequeath two wands to his vassals and hand instructions on what to do with them, the distance between sorcerer and dog demon was broadened. The hanyous were an army of ants, with more and more marching up to the Head Auror that, even with his long gait, Sesshomaru lagged behind.

Hari's hands were dancing in front of him as he spoke. Orders were given to each and every misbegotten hanyou that sought Hari's attentiveness amongst the chaos. People were told to assess a situation and proceed with caution. Suspects in custody were to be identified. Interrogations had to start without him. Before he came back, Hari wanted results from his department, the Committee, and another coroner if the medical examiner that was pulled from a St Mungo's was unavailable for the rest of the evening. His investigative and forensic units had to be ready to present their findings of what they had presently.

Clenched in a gloved hand was an interdepartmental Howler—which Hari had informed Sesshomaru back in the room—that was sometimes used to wrench his attention away from whatever preoccupied him at the moment. They were sent especially if their summons weren't being met and they were desperate to receive him. The letter having been repaired, beside its official Ministry seal was the black ink denoting the characters: to Head Auror PBP, from DoM.

Occasionally breaking from the issuing of directives, Hari's head could be seen resurfacing from the throng, looking over his shoulder to make sure Sesshomaru hadn't lost him. He'd wave the Howler high in the air like a crimson war flag, waiting to be found. But then the wizard's attention would immediately be snatched back by someone who thought to make themselves as his newest priority, and his feet would be forced to shuffle along. Judging by the rigid muscles underneath the strange attire, even from far away Sesshomaru could see Hari's patience was beginning to fray.

Six meters stood between him and Hari. Sesshomaru glowered at the back of people's heads. Having scoped out their distance, to the ones closest to him he barked an authoritative "Move."

Spooked by the unanticipated baritone behind their backs, the individuals who'd heard him hightailed from his path. Their mouths hastily sprung forth automatic apologies. Their eyes ricocheting around, before they realized who'd voiced the command, Sesshomaru would have already bypassed them, his tall frame disappearing into the congested multitude.

"You're in my way."

Four.

"Begone or be killed."

Two.

"Do you not fear death? Leave my sight!"

Closing in on his target, he detected that the sorcerer had been communicating with a man whose disheveled robes stunk of the spilled blood of mountain oni, perhaps having been in the presence of a colony.

Now within hearing range, Sesshomaru picked up on the trail-end of Hari finishing curtly, "—Could honestly care less about the Committee's concerns. Have someone turn it off! I think everyone's gotten the clue from the ruckus."

Hari was holding the liftgate open, his body and outstretched arm preventing people from accessing the emptied transportation. As if sensing the demon nearing, Hari's gaze snapped to him. He scowled. With hardly any warning, he reached forward and grabbed ahold of Sesshomaru's wrist, unceremoniously yanking the dog demon from the crowd.

Increased panic heralded their reunion, upon the crowd seeing the lords were ready to take leave of them. The clamor rose.

In the meantime, taking advantage of the momentum, Sesshomaru managed to neatly sidestep around him to avoid collision against his pauldron. Twisting around, the unadorned part of his right shoulder bumped against Hari's, before the sorcerer's fingers loosened. His back against the lift, Sesshomaru regained his balance behind Hari, watching as the gloved hand shot back up against the frame.

"Sir!"

"Head Auror!"

"Warlock Potter!"

"Lord Potter!"

Before Hari could close the grilles, feet and flailing arms were muscled forth. Like the bending curve of a ship's hull, they were trying to push past the blockade that was the Head Auror to get inside.

Instinctively Sesshomaru pressed closer against the wall, away from the pandemonium, keeping his facial features as emotionless and unaffected as possible.

"Good god, you people. I know. I know. I have to—!" Hari abruptly turned his head, glaring up at Sesshomaru over his shoulder. Green eyes assessed the short distance between them, with a frown etched onto his mouth. Like a boulder, unmoved against the surge of bodies against him, he announced loudly, "Ours can wait momentarily! His can't! Lord Sesshomaru first has to be escorted to Level Nine!"

Sesshomaru stood up straighter, reminded of what took place beforehand. Irritation flooded within him, as he was being irresponsibly left behind like a worthless toy yet again. "You intend to be abandoning me? Where else would you be heading?"

"But, sir!" a meddlesome hanyou objected. "You can't! You have to—!"

"I said I'll come back after I escort him to Level Nine!" Hari roared, swinging his attention back to them. "Are you all thick? Do you not see this letterhead from the 'DoM'? I thought our Level had better trained wizards under me! Or were all my instructions from earlier unclear? Fall in line!"

The dog demon wasn't able to see his expression, but the weaker-willed half-breeds promptly paled in complexion, stammered apologies, and retreated far away. Only few were brave enough to remain within striking distance.

Spreading his legs out further until both feet were touching the structure, the Head Auror took on an oppositional stance. His elbows were bent and his fingers were clutching the framework, his three rings straining against the leather material. With a snarl, he addressed, "If you're with me, I'll meet you back shortly on Level Two, outside my office. Have the department gathered for a quick debriefing! Everyone else—be useful, find a more constructive use of your time, and stop wasting mine!"

With no one impeding him this time, the gilded grilles were slammed shut. Cut off from the commotion, the noises that'd been blaring in their eardrums muffled.

Hari jabbed the button labeled with the number.

The lift lurched beneath their feet, and they took off.

The sorcerer's head was bowed. His gloved hands were affixed to the gate, his posture loosened and broad shoulders sloped low. His breaths were long and regulated, as if he were taking the time to control himself. He seemed determined to meld with the gate.

"Are they always so...desperate for this Hari's favor?" Sesshomaru managed to say when the silence became unbearable, staring at the junction between Hari's shoulder blades. The longer he gazed at him, the lower his opinion dwindled regarding the accursed wizards who burdened this Hari. A proverb from Central Asia popped into his head, of how a man who removes a mountain begins by carrying away small stones. He took a small step forward, his claws itching to hold something.

His wrist down by his side still felt the memory of that restrictive grasp, of fingertips carelessly brushing up against his sensitive magenta markings. The scent of tanned animal hide would be strong, Sesshomaru imagined, had he felt inclined to bring his wrist up to his nose to sniff the remnant scent—like how wealthier females would dab floral tincture on their wrists to smell and mask stale hygiene. Only his would be more masculine, robust in the way leather smelled and not quite as flowery.

"I'm their superior," Hari answered, subdued yet sounding offended by what Sesshomaru had spoken. "I handle their paychecks. I'd be the authority they report to. It's my job to oversee national security, which makes up a significant portion of our governmental affairs."

"Can they not get it from your soldiers or from their own observations?" Sesshomaru advanced forth another step. Hidden from sight, he pressed the affected area of his hand down against his hakama, relishing the soothingly cold silk brought to warm skin. "This Hari does not report to them. They report to this Hari. Worthless warriors who cannot think for themselves, who refuse to respect and follow rank, are liabilities."

Hari's shoulders began tensing up. "I don't hire people who can't be an asset and contribute when it's mandatory. For someone who's been involved in a country's affairs for as long as you have, I'd figured you'd be familiar with the fundamentals. They're not incompetent; they just need to be told or reminded of what to do."

His face was turned slightly to the side now, so that Sesshomaru was no longer looking down the back of his head. Golden slits traced the strong profile of a nose and the curve of a cheek.

By the time he reached the jawline, Hari admonished, "Do I have to get your permission now to leave you alone for a few hours? Or am I going to have to worry, being left to your own devices, that you'll somehow land us into trouble again? When I'd just cleaned up after you."

Sesshomaru felt heat rise to his features but, with considerable effort, he turned his face so that Hari would not see his self-mortification. His jaw clenched from the effort to stay his rebuke.

Before they knew it, the interminable silence was returning. Their ride became filled with nothing but the rumble of mechanisms and the gathering of thoughts. Both men ignored the instrumental music which seeped in from unknown origins.

After a short while, Hari was the first one to break the self-imposed silence. "Actually, no, that was petty. You don't deserve that. That was wrong of me and inappropriate." The admission had been soft, as if it pained him to say such.

When Sesshomaru turned to look, Hari had gone back to sightlessly staring straight ahead.

"I'm sorry. It's not that I plan everyday to end up having a strop." Hari's voice still hadn't lost its sharpness, but the bite was gone. His hands clasped behind his back, Hari confessed, "It's been stressful. Today especially. But I shouldn't take it out on you. I'm amazed that you've been remarkably patient with me. And with this situation."

"Rest assured, this Sesshomaru is not so easily affected," Sesshomaru returned candidly. He felt a little calmness return to him. "Your fervent placating is abominable. I am not one of your men, Hari."

"Hn. You've noticed that you do throw in the first-person singular pronoun every once in a while, right?" The smirk could be heard in Hari's voice. It was gone in a flash though, as the sobriety set back in. He spoke stiltedly, "Do you...remember the conversation we had...earlier this afternoon? Regarding your father's sword? That and, well, deaths and resurrections."

"This Sesshomaru has had many dealings with the Netherworld and its pallbearers, yes."

There was an extended pause.

Sesshomaru thought he heard the trail-end of a muted, "Good god."

Hari muttered, "Of course there would be. In Asia. The existence of mythical pallbearers aside..." Fidgety, a thumb was seen tapping a knuckle erratically. "So, theoretically, it shouldn't surprise you if you encounter fantastical stories or happenings related to death and the afterlife."

"State your point."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but that sensitive nose of yours…." This time he met his gaze, fully turning around. "Hypothetically, let's say I dropped something somewhere when I was...seventeen? It's been some years now, but would you be able to locate it if you have the scent trail?" He dubiously considered himself before sending Sesshomaru a skeptical look. "I should smell the same. I haven't even switched cleaning products. You're a 'dog demon,' so I couldn't help but wonder—"

"—You wish to use me as an actual hunting dog," Sesshomaru stated. He eyed him for a moment, and then gestured to mokomoko-sama situated over his shoulder. "This Sesshomaru has your scent. There is no surety, but this Sesshomaru may attempt to track down its whereabouts. What is this object that this Hari seeks?"

"I might tell you after the spar I still owe you." His hand shot up. "It's not that I doubt you. Far be it. It's just if a summoning spell won't work, then a point-me is just as useless. It's a very small object. I have little confidence of finding it regardless of who helps me. Also, I'm inclined to settle our wager first. We made a magical contract, after all. Completing it should be our priority before the night's over."

Sesshomaru furnished him with a dirty look. "Don't think this Sesshomaru has forgotten the unforeseen outcome of our agreement. Neither is the bounty forgotten for the victorious party of our wager. Which has yet to be fulfilled."

"...Right." Hari was intensely studying the numbers nearing their desired floor over his shoulder. Two more. "That's why I want it finished. So there's hopefully no residual accidental magic lingering between us."

His concentration focused on the panel, he did not see Sesshomaru's mouth twist in displeasure. Hari continued, "You saw how occupied I'll be. I have a checklist of things I still have yet to do, people to meet and debrief, important forensic discussions to be had...having you needlessly tagging along would be an unproductive waste of our times. That's why I'm having you meet the Unspeakables first. The Department of Mysteries actually was to be our destination, before all this happened."

Hari indicated to the space between them. "Fortunately, if we've put up with each other for this long and we still haven't found creative ways to kill each other, I reckon you can handle quality time with them until a solution's been found. They're an eccentric lot, but not...dreadful. I can't vouch for their social skills. Actually, if some are impolite, please try not to blow up at them. They're probably unaware they're being disrespectful. They'll be excited about your case; about the possibility of an anomaly. Their Time Turners were all broken, and lo and behold with a time traveler conveniently within their grasp, I can already foresee you being rather popular with them."

An invisible bell dinged, and a bodiless female announced pleasantly, "Level Nine, Department of Mysteries."

She began launching into a list of the various organizational bodies that made up its department, but Hari had ushered Sesshomaru out of the lift. They stepped into a short corridor where nothing could be seen but a row of torches and flickering blue flames. There was a cold draft, and an odor of chemicals and machinery was pungent underneath the balmy scent of dust and stone that obscured it.

The sorcerer led the way. Their footsteps loud in their ears, Sesshomaru kept close to Hari as they navigated through the nebulous interior that was a lot like a catacomb.

In their habitual silence, Sesshomaru reflected. It'd seemed as if Hari was implying that he intended to leave the inuyōkai in their company for however long it'll take to send him back. Sesshomaru quelled the instinctive urge to give voice to his displeasure.

Sooner than he anticipated, they found themselves lost in a larger circular chamber. The entirety of the room seemed to be painted in black shadows, from ceiling to floor, only interspersed with identical doors camouflaged into the equally dark walls. Each flame, from the branching candles up against the walls, dyed Sesshomaru's and Hari's silhouettes with a dull, eerie blue sheen.

Eyeing the unadorned doors, Hari cautioned, "Try not to touch anything."

"There is nothing that can be touched," he retorted, returning his gaze sidelong at his companion. He observed aloud, "You've not clearly explained to this Sesshomaru why exactly this Hari has orchestrated arrangements for us to meet this 'Department of Mysteries.'"

"Indeed? Well, with respect, don't you want to return home? Shacklebolt's right; this is their field of expertise. You'll eventually come across the right personnel if you look for the Time Room; it's hard to miss." Hari gestured vaguely at the dozen iron doors. As if lost in a memory, he recited faintly, "They know you're coming. The Unspeakables who aren't expecting you will have theirs locked. I think. There's still a chance a dunderhead forgot. It's neither here nor there, but I remember a sentient brain trying to eat my partner's face, deaths, ambushes... I wouldn't put much faith in any forethought. They honestly leave much to be desired after."

So the implication was that Sesshomaru should anticipate incursions. Balling his claws into fists underneath his sleeves, he growled. "Then you are leaving this Sesshomaru hereabouts. You're washing your hands of me."

Hari snapped back, "And you're over five-hundred years old! You don't need me—"

Realizing his callousness, he gentled his tone, "—to mind you like a warden, from day to night." Expelling a breathy sigh, he closed his eyes. "Sesshomaru, dea—I mean, not to sound rude, but I think you're attuned to the fact that I'm upset; not at you, don't get me wrong. I need some time to handle the investigative workload generated from tonight. I've already taken enough hiatus from it."

"You don't need to explain yourself to me. This Sesshomaru cares not for what you do on your own time."

"I promise you, I'll be coming back. It's just preparations. I'm not leaving you behind in the company of strangers. And I promise to be much more pleasant and proper once I get all the Ministry assignments sorted."

"There's no need for such promise." But given that the sorcerer had sworn to return to him, as emphasis Sesshomaru stated, "This Sesshomaru requires no overseer. There is no one holding you back from completing your obligations. This Hari may do as he pleases."

"Yeah...I'll willingly interpret that as your, 'Go ahead, Harry. We're both grown-adults. I can take care of my arrangements while you handle your own.'" Reopening his eyes, he reached into his pocket to pull out his pocket watch and he clicked it open. He was glancing down at it in his palm as he murmured, "Are you really that uncomfortable being left behind? Even for a little while? It's perfectly understandable if you are. I could always..."

"There's no need for such compromise. Or for such exertion. This Sesshomaru shalln't interfere."

Hari sent him a long look. After a moment, without looking down he snapped his watch shut, dropping it back where it belonged. He stressed, "I'll have to leave you in five-to-ten minutes, alright? I'll return in a bit, accompanied by my Deputy Head hopefully. I want this to be a productive use of our times. Both of our times. Instead of being bored or frustrated with nothing to do, you have an opportunity to do something about your situation. Take advantage of it."

"As you wish," he repeated, feeling a slight annoyance. "Who specifically shall this Sesshomaru have to hunt down?"

"It's not a lot. But Greengrass Astoria, for one. So this'll sound strange, but don't get caught up in our politics. There are...rumors about her that I don't feel comfortable repeating. Be nice to her. Please." Hari's brows creased. "You remember the blonde woman we met; the heiress who'd escorted us earlier today? That's her older sister. They look a lot alike, except for Astoria's black hair. She's marrying into the Malfoy nobility, so please treat her as you would for someone of her station."

"So this 'Malfoy' is a daiyōkai."

Hari's concentrated features contorted into that of incredulity, before a mixture of a scoff and a chuckle seeped through. He snickered, "Alright, I'll admit, that's precious. No, I would hardly call him a demon. But he'll inherit the official Lord Malfoy title, once he marries. So that would make the younger Greengrass his Intended and m—"

"Your point is made. It will not be forgotten. We will await your return, Hari."

"...I mean it. Play nice. It's already bad enough her fiancé is a Committee head, and that we're forcing her to choose by having her cast her lot with us. We might as well be considerate to her situation. We should make it less trouble for her by being kind." His levity grounded itself back into sternness. "Also, when I mean 'don't touch anything,' really, don't. Not if it looks important. I'll let you be the judge of what is. Don't handle anything unless they give you explicit permission. Don't cause unwanted trouble. Be vigilant while I'm gone."

"You think of me as a child!" he retorted, miffed. "This Sesshomaru can keep his hands to himself."

"I don't think of you like that. People are naturally curious. And we have things here that can harm or kill you. I'm being considerate of your unfamiliarity, Sesshomaru."

Upon hearing the sentence in formal Japanese, Sesshomaru quieted. After a while, he said slowly, "Considerate or not, it's an extraordinary show of trust you must have, to be leaving me behind with unknown personnel." He also couldn't stop himself from demanding, "For how long does this Hari expect to be preoccupied?"

"Before midnight. It'll be cutting it close. But that's plenty of time for you lot to get started. Who knows? You may be brainstorming ideas with the research committee on how to get the Bone Eater's Well working by the time I come back." As if seeing him for the first time, Hari directed a tight, quizzical glance over. "Is it really that extraordinary? You've extended me the same show of faith. It's only fair to return the favor. You haven't done anything so far that's—so I know I say this frequently, but I can't emphasize enough how much I appreciate your cooperation thus far. You've spared us from going through a lot of hurdles."

Canting his head, Sesshomaru peered down at the sorcerer. "This Sesshomaru can discern fact from fiction. Why should time be wasted on harboring suspicion when this Sesshomaru could more or less return retribution upon the discovery of an injustice or a falsehood?"

"See, that's what I find so surprising." Hari mustered up a small smile. "It's rare to come across someone who thinks like you. Your straightforwardness has been...continuously unexpected. Albeit harsh in the tough love department, but I think it's refreshing. You seem to have good character, Sesshomaru. You haven't told tall tales or withheld information. You don't play convoluted mind games. I honestly appreciate it."

His magenta-striped eyelids hooded. Feeling an all-encompassing need to return the flattery, with much more delicateness, he murmured, "There's a reason why this Hari still survives. You're the same as me. As another adept alpha from another kingdom, this Sesshomaru finds approval of this Hari." Sesshomaru took a step toward him, as he confessed, "This Hari may be high in demand; alas this Sesshomaru finds you worthy of attention, Hari. Your company has been tolerable. You have my favor."

Hari inhaled sharply, like someone had slid a dagger into his ribs, as his smile dwindled back into nonexistence. His face was as white as a ghost. "I'm honored." He cleared his throat. Retreating a small step backward, Hari acknowledged, "That's an astonishing execution of words. That's...something else, alright." He laughed awkwardly. "You certainly don't do things halfway. Thank you, Lord Sesshomaru."

He then ducked his head, missing Sesshomaru's perplexed expression, to scrutinize a random flagstone. His fatigue seemed to have returned. He admitted, "I, too, have come to think quite highly of you. I know it doesn't always seem that way, but I do think you're a remarkable man."

Sesshomaru had to clench his claws tightly to curb the strong desire to rest his palm against Hari's cheek and drag that face back to him.

Hari exhaled breathily, folding his arms tightly by the crook of his elbows. In a lower octave, Hari murmured, "So it's not that I don't appreciate the high regard. But I have to say this: we might seem alike on the surface, but I'd be cautious trying to look for commonalities that don't exist. Deductions are fine. Assumptions are not. Do you understand the point I'm making?"

"For the sake of your diplomacy, your wording tends to fall on the loquacious side," Sesshomaru drawled, masking his confusion by taking an aggressive step forward. "State your point, unless your speech this time is roundabout for how this Sesshomaru has mistaken this Hari for another."

An apologetic expression was seen ghosting across his visage. He mumbled self-consciously, "Sorry, politics have made me realize that I can't be a man of few words. People expect me to ramble. The theory is that they'll eventually connect to at least one of the points I make...and I'm getting sidetracked again, many apologies."

Heaving a sigh, Hari dragged a hand through his hair, his focus shifting over to the fur on Sesshomaru's shoulder. "Stop me if I'm a hundred percent wrong, but I'm rather half-surprised you associate...popularity and public image as indication of 'a strong alpha.' I've heard of the term 'alpha males' before, in association to humans, but you use that term synonymously for a leader or a figurehead, is that correct? No, stop. I know it's not that simple in your culture. But for the sake of this question, am I in the least close?"

Hari's mouth was flattened into a thin line as he waited, until Sesshomaru deigned to vocalize a begrudging confirmation.

Hari's eyes squeezed shut. "Right. I know it's your personal philosophy to take things at face-value. And it's worked out for you so far. But don't. Not here. I'm sharing this from my sincerest goodwill—this is not feudal Japan; you're not yet acclimated with our traditions and our modern British inner workings. It took me years to grasp what I know now. You've only been here for...considerably far less."

"You seem to think this Sesshomaru to be lacking in intelligence," he remarked blithely.

"Honestly not. It's just what you're saying is uncannily...I don't know how to say this nicely, but you're shoehorning me into a package that I'm not fully familiar with. You're kind of projecting." Sesshomaru was thrown off when Hari's expression descended into something similar to guilt. In a softer tone, Hari said, "I know you're capable of following up on information, from what I remember when we first met. The people here behave differently from what you're used to, so someone in your position will naturally try to find similarities to the society they originate from. Erm, I know we've had our miscommunications, but I hope you don't think we're uncivilized savages. Because that'd be a horrendous outlook to have where we are now."

"Why would this Sesshomaru think that? Your empire has made many technological strides forward. That would not indicate savagery."

"True." His mouth twitched. "Alright, perhaps not 'savagery'; that's a bit of a non sequitur. It's all a matter of perspective. But despite our modern strides, somethings remain the same. Reputations get distorted all the time. Information gets distorted. I want you to be careful of getting the wrong idea."

The sign of ruefulness fluctuated, as the sorcerer seemed to recall something else.

His posture straightened up. Regaining his conviction, Hari asserted, "I'm saying this as segueway into you also understanding that it's the same for the Unspeakables' research. Don't jump to conclusions. If you want to understand something, go directly to the best source to test its validity. If you're still not sure, do yourself a favor and ask. Cross-reference everything. Don't bottle it up and assume you're right. Or assume that they automatically are. People make mistakes, so do yourself a favor and verify it for yourself."

"Your caution is noted." Still, Sesshomaru frowned at the thought of being surrounded by more hanyous. "Our continued cooperation is a means to an end. Henceforth our pact does not extend to others."

"I'm only one man, Sesshomaru. You can't always expect me to be available 24/7. And neither is Hermione. We can't both be pulled off assignment for too long." Hari glanced away. "On the brighter side, I'm not a complete twat. I'm sympathetic to your situation. Hence why you'll gain access to some of our best reliable connections one can afford here, even if we're not there beside you. I'm not leaving you out to hang."

"Big talk for someone of yourself," Sesshomaru retorted, both brows shooting up to his hairline. "This Sesshomaru would not have thought this Hari capable of making claims of arrogance."

"One cannot simply walk up to a Time Unspeakable," Hari stated matter-of-factly, "not unless they have someone significant enough to introduce them and apply pressure." Tucking his hands into his pockets, he continued, "Nor can certain contacts be easily reached. I'm coming at this from a rational mindset. So it's not arrogance that's making me say this. This is my way of showing some accountability."

"You are repeating yourself. This Hari and your packmate have been adamant about secreting me away. You've been keeping me contained, even from mine vassals and mine subjects; this is an abrupt shift in priorities."

"Is that what you're worried about? Having your countrymen's help abroad will probably expedite efficiency and be loads faster, I'm not disputing that. But foreign policy requires sensitivity. It's not worth the political headache as of yet."

"In my time, there wasn't an alliance between our empires. Hadn't this Hari claimed one has already been formally established?"

"Right, you have a significant gap of knowledge to get caught up on." Lines appeared on his forehead as he struggled to recall a memory. "We actually did sign one, internationally, long ago. Ask me about the more relevant signatories later, if you wish to know which countries are theoretically today's superpowers. But the British Empire and Imperial Japan had a treaty formalized on the Muggles' side, thereby affecting us after they went through several revisions of then. I think it was the Anglo-Japanese Alliance of 1902, which was then rendered defunct by the Four-Power Treaty—about twenty years later?—which was then later ratified into the Nine-Power Treaty. I'm not sure about the dates and the names. But there is an alliance between the Japanese and Europeans. And the Americans. And so on. Actually, ask me later about it, if you want. You might be interested learning about the Open Door Policy."

"This Sesshomaru would be interested acquiring knowledge of this future accord between our empires," Sesshomaru stated, quickly performing the mental calculation.

The uncertainty was a lingering shadow, but the implication seemed to be that centuries would have to pass before they officially came to an agreement of aid. In that span of time was how long it'll take for these foreigners to stumble upon them, or perchance the other way around. Very rarely were declarations of friendship brokered and maintained throughout. While their empires would come to have good relations—Sesshomaru assumed it would have resulted from trade—he was cognizant of the fact that most treaties existed to publicly settle wars and old grievances.

He'd heard rumors of so-called human 'Jesuits' in the province of Echizen. Word had spread of how one's servant—with skin as dark as Sumi ink—was under great favor with the young human warlord, Oda Nobunaga, possibly being considered for property trade before the foreigners would take leave of central Japan. Sesshomaru hadn't the chance to see one with his own eyes, but knowing the warlord's notoriously opportunistic proclivities, Sesshomaru wouldn't be surprised if that retainer was prestigiously offered the rank of a samurai.

A dark brow lifted into silvery fringe. "Why wouldn't now be a good time to learn of our countries' pledged alliance?"

"Because this is neither the time nor the place. However condensed I can try to explain our world history, it'll take me hours or days to explain everything. So just for now, you'll have to take my word that one exists." Hari's features held the slightest of dissatisfaction and impatience. "So, there is this problem of infringing on a country's sovereignty, by crossing borders or sticking our noses into foreign affairs without permission. The Bone Eater's Well is situated on private Muggle property—the Higurashi family's, I mean. The well's considered to be on sacred temple grounds. There are the legal land deeds to prove it. And the fact that it can pull you across a vast amount of time...it defies a law the magical community recognizes. I can't foresee this being a simple operation; in this case, we might not be able to do what we normally can when Muggles are involved." His face scrunched up. "I might have to take extra steps."

"You are oddly invested concerning human affairs." Sensing that their conversation was coming to an end, for the sake of clarity, Sesshomaru insisted, "Time magic is an uncertain entity, as this Hari has maintained. You've established that it's unstable. By maintaining silence, by keeping this away from Nippon's borders and their jurisdiction, my countrymen will continue being unaware. Would it not expedite the process by bringing them in?"

"Your countrymen only informed us of its lore, that it used to be a sacred dumping site for demon corpses and how it'd been blessed by generations of shrine maidens." Examining his shoes, Hari sounded pensive as he mused aloud, "I wasn't warned ahead of time that it was a time traveling portal or that I should've been more careful with it. It might've saved us from this had they told me in the first place. It could be that, one, the people that make up your governing body are gits; two, it's a national secret kept close to their chest; or three, they're not fully aware of what it can do. Personally, I'm betting on ignorance."

"This Hari is hesitant to involve Japanese bodies unless absolutely necessary. Because of a lack of faith?"

"That's a bit harsh. But yeah, alright. I see where you're going with this." Bringing a hand back up to rub the nape of his neck, Hari admitted, "Listen, I like Japan as much as others do. Beyond being fascinating, it's a beautiful inspiration. Or at least the idea of what it represents. Japan has such a rich history and culture, it'd be a shame for it to be exploited once people realize what your magical monument can do. And not only by your government, but everyone else. Your country has undergone through much already."

"It is a beautiful country." He tilted his head, noticing that Hari's look softened whenever Sesshomaru performed the motion in front of him. "Hence, this would be where your Unspeakables come in. This Hari has vouched for their competence. Would there not be others of the same expertise in Nippon?"

"...I don't know about your folks, but our Unspeakables were the ones who invented the Time Turners. They've sworn an oath to keep quiet. They can't take advantage of the well's convenient existence and defile the space-time continuum. And they should know what they're doing. It's the next-best scenario. Needless to say, we'll have to hedge our bets on them."

He paused, as if deliberating on a thought. Eventually, facing him fully, Hari asked, "You will be good to her, won't you? The younger Greengrass, I mean."

Sesshomaru made a noncommittal noise, but a sound of acknowledgement nonetheless. He was intently observing the gloved hand that had already been raised—as if to make reassuring contact—up close to Sesshomaru's bicep.

But before the sorcerer's fingertips could reach his arm, the hand abruptly aborted the undertaking. Retracting his limb to someplace behind him, Hari instead smiled beatifically at him. "You'll be fine, Sesshomaru. Give them a chance."

He made certain to stress to him which two doors to avoid. Glowing red X's were slashed up against the entryways of the Brain-Room and the Death Chamber, which the sorcerer seemed to have determined their identification by memory. He advised him to mark the doors, for there's no telling when they'd reshuffle.

Ready to take his leave, his parting words were that he expected Sesshomaru to act maturely and not go poking his nose in any which way, even if he felt physically compelled to discover what lay behind a door. He also wished him, "Really, best of luck."

There was a covert look Sesshomaru had seen being sent to the Death Chamber; and then Hari was gone, leaving him behind to attend to his more imperative Ministerial duties.

Left alone, Sesshomaru fisted his claws. He peered longingly in the direction of the lift which had taken the younger lord away from him. As if sensing his insecurity, mokomoko-sama curled around him, nuzzling against his cheek. Traces of tea and of oiled wood, and warmth, were brought to his awareness.

Inhaling the mixture of scents on his pelt, he closed his eyes to steady himself against the onslaught of inexplicable yearning which'd attacked him after Hari's departure.

Understandably, imperial matters took precedence. A man who threw himself into his servitude and delivered efficiency would generally be regarded as respectable. Under these specific circumstances however, it was more of an inconvenience. The fealty Lord Hari devoted to his Ministry and the verbal confirmations he declared to this Sesshomaru stood on vastly different levels.

His brows knitted as his thoughts descended into worriment. Being on the receiving end of Hari's attention might've been an unspoken privilege that Sesshomaru was now grasping he might've taken for granted. Normally he wouldn't care. In his time, yōkai would bend over themselves to satisfy him. They came to him regardless of his lack of enthusiasm. His skills usually made teamwork irrelevant, that the dog demon himself couldn't care much for starting alliances. There would always be someone there desiring his presence. Yet if he didn't feel in the mood to dismiss someone who swore their allegiance to him, he expected them to carry through like how his sire's subjects had, like how Jaken had, and even like how Rin had.

Loath as Sesshomaru was to admit it, a small part of him appreciated the comradery Hari expressed to him. He was under no disillusion that this accord forged between them held much of a weight though, having recently seen that mind and those powers turned against a kinsman. For that moment alone, Sesshomaru understood he was chosen to take precedence. Like their encounter with the female whelp, who'd desired Hari's amorous attention at an inopportune time, assisting the dog demon was determined to be of greater relevance. And her advances had been rejected. There were other tiny moments where Hari had seemingly sided with him, accommodating him above all else, that even Sesshomaru could imagine the concern that might arise were someone to bring news of its frequency to Hari's awareness.

Charity could only last for so long. Curiosity, once sated, took even less.

Once the charm of learning about someone new wore off, once Sesshomaru was determined to be a burden, there was no telling how long that goodwill would last. If he didn't at least attempt to secure his sworn loyalty—being the center of his focus or establishing himself as a person of significance—then he might be balancing on a dangerous, rickety perspective. Sesshomaru was already seeing that obliging patience of Hari's starting to fracture.

His mouth moved into a soundless scowl behind his fur, as he realized much of their conversation emulated whence they'd been flying over the kingdom earlier in the day. But due to recent events, their meaning had changed, radiating a foreboding energy he was not too keen on having it realized into reality.

With a last discreet whiff, he dropped the pelt.

Sesshomaru treaded closer to the closest door, his head cocked. The strange partition lacked a grip to hold onto or any indication that it could slide open. Staring at it, he was contemplating how one might open what seemed like quite the heavy-weighted partition, aside from physical force or sorcery. When his hand reached out to try, he jumped back when the wall shook.

With a great rumbling noise, the circular wall spun before his eyes. The blue of the flames blurred, becoming streaks of color that followed the rotary movement. Then it all stopped.

Lifting his claws away from his vision, Sesshomaru now stared, taking in the relocations of the two X's. The Tenseiga, even with the sorcerer's vacancy, seemed to buzz sedately from one of the doors Hari had courteously notched for him. For a moment, staring at the stone door brought to him an old memory of Naraku's incarnation bringing him and Jaken to the giant statues that guarded the entrance to the afterlife, before her death not long after at the hands of her predecessor. Frowning at the remembrance of the field of flowers where he'd found her, and Kagura's haunting last smile upturned at him, Sesshomaru ruminated.

In the end—with the memory of Hari's voice echoing in his mind like a phantom—having little desire to be seen as untrustworthy, he ignored his sire's fang. Instead he followed his nose. Of the ten doors remaining, pacing the distance he detected eight held a distinct whiff of hanyou. Several contained a scent similar to the Greengrass female, as if she'd passed them by several times. But one was fresher, saturated, coming from the door his innermost yōkai was being called to.

His curiosity piqued, he strode toward it. There were loud ticking noises the closer he approached, which reminded him of the timepiece Hari carried everywhere on his person.

Coming to a standstill, Sesshomaru assumed this was the "Time Room" he was told to find. And unlike the marked doors, there hadn't been any prohibition against this one. Repeating his action, this time the door opened with little effort.

The harsh glare took him by surprise, and Sesshomaru made an audible wince that sounded like a dying cat.

Once his eyes adjusted, he scrutinized the chamber's interior. When he detected no danger, he cautiously glided inside. The soles of his boots clanged down against the perforated metal, muted by the chimes and the tickings that sounded to him like a thousand hooves clip-clopping against the ground. Warily, his head twisted this way and that, perceiving timepieces both big and small. They covered the brightly-lit interior like an infestation.

Flashes of color, glittering like precious stones, caught his eye. He made his way in its direction.

"Pardon, is someone there?" A female's voice echoed faintly from somewhere deep among the chamber's bowels. "Can I help you?"

When Sesshomaru remained non-responsive, unintelligible whispers rose like a swarm of flies.

Louder this time, the woman said, "I know you're there. Don't play pretend. If you're the company we're expecting, you're welcome to stay put. If you're not, I'll be there to escort you back. Regardless, please. Don't. Touch. Anything! Thank you; I'll be there in a few!"

By then, he was already at the far end of the room. Sesshomaru peered over his shoulder, turning his face toward where he thought he'd heard her voice to be coming from. Furniture, bookcases, and clocks blocked his field of perception. He eyed the direction where his nose caught her scent, among others. In all, he determined there to be a small group of hanyous awaiting his beck and call.

So the hanyou noblewoman was their alpha? He scoffed. Besides being more overt and demonstrative than the mannerisms he was used to (some displaying a sort of refined politeness, exhibiting a formality different to the deferential humility one might show in Japan), the people here perhaps presumed too much. Someone of his station shouldn't be sniffing her location out himself. She or her packmates should be coming to him.

So with an annoyed exhalation of breath, he temporarily fell into the role of a footman. Their ranks aside, he'd thought it to be less demeaning than playing fetch to a hanyou. Crossing his arms into his sleeves, Sesshomaru inspected the source of the shiny light. It'd had originated from the clear crystal jar as tall as the demon.

Inside the bell-shaped structure was a man's preserved head. The decapitated head's pallor was white and waxen from the rigor mortis, with a dark ring of coagulated blood at the wound. With repulsed fascination, Sesshomaru almost couldn't tear his gaze away from seeing it tumble up and down in the billowing wind that was trapped within the tall glass.

Since it'd been cut cleanly at the neck, as the head flipped over once more, Sesshomaru could see the bone, the tendons, and the arteries as the head looped in an endless cycle of infancy and adulthood and old age. In contrast with the macabre depiction, the wind was somehow shimmering splendidly like the reflected surfaces of sand.

On the nearby desk were aged parchments that covered the entire surface, depicting plans and drafts of what appeared to be an ornate necklace with a spinning disk. Next to the drawings, illegible notes were written in indecipherable code, jotted down in black ink which smelt to him both old and freshly wet.

His claws drumming against his elbow sedately, he tallied the number of timepieces to occupy himself. Ten. Twenty. Thirty. Forty? Despite himself he found his gaze wandering back to the door past the jar.

Had he not familiarized himself with his companion's powerful yōki, he would've thought it felt uncannily similar to his. Unless he was imagining it, there was something in the chamber within which'd trapped a shred of that aura he'd grown accustomed to lately. Its magnitude felt muffled by the potent amount of reiryoku—a more peculiar aura than the spiritual power he was familiar with—which even Sesshomaru could tell doused the interior chamber, despite being on the other side of a closed door.

His restlessness increased.

It took him several failed recounts before Sesshomaru lost what little patience he had.

He advanced forward, eyeing the door, having determined that sating his curiosity with the allure of exploration was more worthy of his time. His claws tentatively reached ahead, half-expecting it to be closed to him. Yet the door opened as silently as the first, unveiling darkness. Another cold draft—harsher than having first stepped foot onto this floor—immediately whooshed out, raking chills down his skin. He mentally prepared himself.

His expression barely changed once he walked inside, even though he felt like he'd been dropped headfirst into the western alps. His pelt squeezed around him, insulating his body warmth. Despite his reservations, his feet followed the invisible pull of the beguiling temptress that was the sorcerer's yōki, beckoning him forth and offering him sanctuary from the spiritual energy threatening to suffocate him.

Sesshomaru could feel his neck straining as his head craned up to judge how far the towering shelves went into a shadowy, indeterminate ceiling. Guided by the tier of lit torches, he kept to the walls. He relied on his heightened senses as he traveled deeper down into the hall of aisles.

Although he kept as far away as possible from the shelves, on each of them he could see glass orbs made of what used to be exquisite craftsmanship that were the perfect size to fit in the palm of someone's hand. They appeared recently polished, yet none of them were very clear. Atop gilded pedestals, most had chips or hairline cracks; some glowed from the trapped liquid; others were as dense as a fog.

In each one however, he could detect wisps of reiryoku, which were building up to an intensity to make Sesshomaru feel somewhat nauseated. To alleviate his discomfort, he allowed a small amount of his yōki to rise around him, coating him like a shield against the spiritual pressure. He gritted his teeth.

Their combined purifying abundance accrued together to a dangerous degree that he imagined could be on par with the immense holy aura of the priestess Midoriko. A miko whom—as his old retainer, Myoga, claimed in the woman's fight to the death with the demon Magatsuhi and others—had created the existence of the accursed Shikon no Tama. Sesshomaru had only been around three-hundred years old at the time when news of her demise made waves in the human and demon societies. He'd just started his transition into adulthood—his official training for the harsh realities of his birthright—when the supposedly powerful human fell.

As he passed row by row, he examined the spidery handwriting inked into the yellowing labels underneath each one. They detailed the year each had been marked, and illustrated unfamiliar characters underneath. While he still felt the effects of the translation spell on him—however purposefully diluted it was—he couldn't tell if they were names or places unfamiliar to him.

He slowed to a halt once he reached a row marked as the ninety-seventh one, the aisle that called to his innermost yōkai. There was a low thrum that he could feel down to his toes, as warning to all those who dare come closer, threatening the potential purification of any trespassers.

Tenseiga was now pulsating in its sheath, rattling against his two other fangs, as though the Inu no Taishō were guiding his son once more from beyond the grave.

"Tenseiga...what are you trying to tell me?" Staring down at it, Sesshomaru twisted his mouth into a frown. Squaring his shoulders and dropping a hand on his sire's fang, he marched away from the torches.

Instantly the prickling sensation of pins and needles intensified over his skin. Normally mere curiosity wouldn't have been enough incentive for him to go against his instincts, if not for the silent encouragements being given to him. Like being in a heat haze, it was slightly harder to breathe in a sacred atmosphere similar to Mount Hakurei's. The combination of coldness and conductivity made his fur stand on end.

To calm himself, he paced steadily, one foot over the other. He regulated his breathing. Several times his tongue darted out to wet chapped lips. Molten gold searched sightlessly, and it'd been entirely coincidental but in the same spot he felt the strongest of the younger daiyōkai's pure demonic aura, his eyes landed on:

S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D.

add. from H.J.P.B.P.

Dark Lord

and (?) Harry Potter

Sesshomaru studied the words above, which swum in his vision to twist into familiar Japanese characters. Despite its faint discoloration in material, compared to the other yellowed labels, this one—although tattered—appeared to have been inscribed recently. The decipherment was strange and indescribable, like he'd somehow mastered another language overnight yet he couldn't consciously grasp the comprehension. His eyes narrowed. Perhaps...

He stood on the top of his toes to get a better look, feeling a small reprieve from the reiryoku with the foreign yōki in his proximity. Sesshomaru reached up, fingertips hovering over the glass piece but short of touching. He was wary, remembering what he'd been warned. But he was sorely tempted by the familiarity of that disarming aura and by the protection it offered. There was no mistaking it. Deep down in his bones, he was certain this was the same ominous power that'd lured him to investigate its source.

The scent came first. The female. Greengrass Astoria. He soon became aware of footsteps softly pittering-pattering in the near distance, treading sedately so as to try avoiding detection.

His jaw clenched. Emboldened by the rush of adrenaline, he closed his claws around the orb, expecting the bite of coldness. The dimly illuminated cloud of ki within instantly surged to the point of contact, detecting the threat that was the daiyōkai on the outside, but it couldn't shatter though the glass barrier. Instead his hand felt warmed by the sphere, which felt as if it'd basked in the sun for hours instead of being trapped in this chilly hell that they were in.

As he brought it down to eye-level, carefully handling it, he felt the remaining vestiges of the sorcerer's demonic aura stir, like coiled roots unfurling from a long rest. Reaching out, it was tasting. Testing. Twining with his.

Sesshomaru held his breath. He could feel both Tenseiga and Bakusaiga heating up in response, glowing blue and green respectively through their scabbards, bleeding into his yōki until their auras felt like one.

There was a long, uncertain pause. Licks of that encompassing aura were flooded into every crevice of his yōki. It was an uncomfortably intimate sensation, as if the sorcerer were here standing incredibly close to him, stroking every inch of skin for a fault. It inspired a hint of instinctual territorial aggression within Sesshomaru while he felt his whole worth being weighed against an unspoken measure. Like a guard dog on high alert, in the background the reiryoku was subdued during the assessment.

Eventually he seemed to have passed inspection as the fogginess in his mind eroded away. Although he still felt the presence melded against him—like a hand cupping the back of his neck as a warning gesture—he could detect the denseness of the prior atmosphere lightening up when the luminescence inside the sphere dispersed.

What broke through was a cloudy depiction of a grand stone chamber, beset with portraits and tomes all arranged in an orderly fashion. The distinctly cold illumination reflected indoors indicated that this took place either during the night or at the crack of dawn. In it were two males: one elderly, and one adolescent on the cusp of manhood. Both were engaged in silent dialogue, sitting down on this country's high furniture.

The age and eyewear almost threw Sesshomaru off. Yet those facial features and that lightning-bolt marking on the forehead seemed to indicate that this was a younger version of the sorcerer that he was seeing.

His thumb traced the curve of Hari's jawline. Why would he be calling him to witness this in the first place? Sesshomaru found it debatable whether this was one of their incredibly realistic portraitures or if it were an actual depiction of the past.

The scene of the males talking abruptly shifted so that he was watching the miniature version of Hari striding to a strange stone apparatus that came up to his waist. There was a look of trepidation on Hari's face as he approached. Sesshomaru noted that his foreign clothing were dirtied and ripped in areas, as if he'd been engaged in physical skirmish. His walk also seemed to favor one leg, not exactly limping but definitely careful to avoid putting too much weight on one of them. His eyes slid down to examine the long cut on Hari's arm that had scabbed over.

Before he could examine him more closely, the scene in the sphere rippled. Submerging itself underwater, its new scenery only allowed Sesshomaru to perceive speckles of light refracted from above. If he imagined so, he could taste the saltwater and feel the depth's suffocating pressure against his chest, with blue filling his vision.

Heat increased in his palm, and this time the inside of an inn filled the orb. A fire was crackling in a large hearth beside the two occupants, casting a warm glow over everything. Seated down was a female peasant wearing an eccentric, ramshackled selection of fabrics, if not poor in taste and practicality of wardrobe.

Opposite of her was a younger version of the elderly man with the crooked nose. He was wearing an equally-unbecoming maroon fabric dotted with blinking stars. In his youth the man was tall and reedy, with an air of sageness about him. He'd been nursing a drink in his hand as the woman rambled, looking quite patient with her. When she'd finished shortly, he set the cup down on the wooden table.

They exchanged several more words. In a calm but disappointed intonation, the man was bidding her goodbye.

The woman reminded Sesshomaru of a glittering insect, with her large eyewear and shimmering threads. Hunched over herself, her body language was discouraged, yet she appeared desperate and confused on how to stop the man from leaving.

A female gasp was heard. Sesshomaru struggled to identify its origin, if it came from the woman in the memory or from the woman who was presently spying on him.

Dividing his awareness, he focused the majority of it on the performance playing before his eyes, and only marginally on the accumulation of scents that indicated her location. There was a figure swathed in a cloak of indistinguishable dark coloring just over yonder. From his peripheral vision, he caught a glimpse of her appearance—a long black mane swept back from a broad forehead, strong brows, dark circles underneath her eyes, a masculine jaw, and pale skin—before she ducked out his sight, unaware of how useless the attempt was to an inuyōkai.

In the memory, the glow of the fire nearby aflamed the man's long auburn beard and hair with the colors of sunset, when the beggar's face slackened. The female was slumped in her seat, her eyes glassy and unseeing. Her expression was similar on those whom Sesshomaru had seen that've lost their souls or suffered severe head trauma.

The man seemed taken aback by her change in demeanor. It was then that Sesshomaru could see recognition flooding into his pale blue eyes when, out from her mouth, the woman rasped powerfully as if she were in a trance:

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

As the last syllable faded, so did the image. In place of the two persons, calligraphy the likes Sesshomaru had never seen before blurred into existence.

Returning to the watery depths, it denoted in fine silvery letters:

Confirmed (?) 1980

Enacted 31 October, 1981

Fulfilled 2 May, 1998 — H.P.

Once the last character finished curling into existence, all words instantly dissipated into mist. They formed into indistinguishable serpentine shapes which reminded Sesshomaru of the blue dragon which manifested itself from his Sōryūha attack.

Both of his fangs settled back into dormancy, warm against his thigh, as he felt Hari's aura being devoured by the noxious energies within. Sesshomaru scowled, for no amount of shaking or amplified yōki could get the glass sphere back away from its murky glow. The aura was withdrawn to a phantom of its original presence. However, although fragile and stretched paper-thin, the way it still loitered around the demon was akin to a posted sentry, serving as an intermediary between him and the spiritual pressure doing their best to repel him.

He peered down at the sphere for a small moment, rewinding the words back in his head and picking it apart like a ball of thread. So she'd been a soothsayer. He glanced away to his side.

His interest had been roused, demanding to be fed. If he couldn't get his answers, then it was fortuitous that this female, who came for Sesshomaru, had a job that was to gather intelligence for him. Not taking his eyes off the end of the aisle, he announced, "Quit dawdling. It is futile to pretend any longer."

Her breathing quickened, having been found out.

Imagining the pest was debating the merit of flight or fight, he stated, "This Sesshomaru wishes to verify something. Did this...allegation of birthright belong to Lord Hari? Your complete honesty now, hanyou."

XXXXXXXXXX

Astoria Greengrass did not expect her week to catapult the way that it had.

The first had been the Howler, with the entire department overhearing a furious Head Auror reprimanding them for sending him on unchecked findings abroad. Then it'd been her and certain wizardfolk of her division being handpicked by the Acting Minister to take part in a confidential research committee. And only a few hours ago, the Unspeakables contacted the Auror Office of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement about how their devices picked up suspicious magical readings at the venerated White Tomb.

For today, she and the people selectively drafted for this small committee wore their best suits and skirts, veiled underneath their official Ministry-issued robes standard for the Department of Mysteries personnel. The Unspeakables were no stranger to dealing with people of high diplomatic rank, to be engaging in cumbersome social niceties that took them away from their projects. The Acting Minister and the Head Auror often visited them on their level, as well as the occasional foreign dignitaries brought in to sightsee the inner workings of their British Ministry.

Prim and proper, Astoria had readied herself to be exchanging pleasantries with three individuals: the Head Auror and his Deputy Head, and their misplaced time traveler. If not genial, then she imagined they'd perhaps mimic the strained civility similar to the tension fraught between her and her soon-to-be in-laws at the Malfoy's dinner parties. Yet meeting the Oriental warlord of obvious creature inheritance in person, alone, shot all intentions out of her mind.

Ill at ease, she placed a hand over the rounded curve of her stomach that'd been hidden under a Glamour.

Her upbringing in the Greengrass household, as one of the last Sacred Twenty-Eight wizarding families left in Britain, came with the expectation of practicing pureblood supremacist ideals. Be that as it may, Astoria considered herself the black sheep of her family—a family of notorious neutrality in politics. While she had her opinions, she didn't harbor that strong of a vocal prejudice against her "lesser beings." When her father commented about Mudbloods, she'd uncomfortably chide him or make a jest to remove themselves from the topic.

Unlike her sister, Astoria didn't shine as brightly as her older sister did at their social functions. She wasn't as refined or as pretty as Daphne was in polite society. Astoria had been rather reserved, preferring her tinkering or drifting off in her imagination. When their parents got ahold that Daphne failed to perform satisfactorily at the Potions section of the N.E.W.T. exam, Astoria saw that as an opportunity to one-up her older sibling. Her sister may have been one of the three divisional head assistants for the much larger Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but Astoria was chosen to join the esoteric ranks of the Unspeakables for the Department of Mysteries. Astoria had her own office and she catered to her own timetable. Her focus was in the Time Room, but her fingertips were dipped in the department's divisions.

Astoria would've liked to think that it was because of her that Draco chose her to be his fiancée, but Astoria had her insecurities. When the Dark Lord was defeated, while her family was secretly disapproved of because of their known hands-off policy during the war, in the aftermath they weren't as publicly condemned as the Malfoys were. Many people rioted for the Malfoys' arrests. The Malfoy Trials stirred many old grudges, that—even voluntarily providing evidence against their fellow Death Eaters—the once-upstanding citizens had to call in owed favors to avoid imprisonment.

Of the few, the Malfoys had miraculously gotten ahold of Potter. And, with him, his two mates. On the Malfoys' behalf, they spun an extraordinary story of how they'd witnessed the beginnings of the family members becoming turncoats in their manor, defying the Dark Lord and his highly-ranked subordinates. They claimed that, without the crooked Malfoys' contributions, Potter might not be standing before the Wizengamot.

The insinuation was that magical Britain would've still been under the administration of a terror regime without the Chosen One to fulfill the terms of the prophecy and execute his distant half-blood cousin.

Other people were called in to verify the Malfoy lord and lady had done nothing but scream for their son at the final battle, forgoing their aid to You-Know-Who's cause and choosing to defect instead of fight.

Their testimonies couldn't exempt the Malfoys of all guilty charges. But they'd been influential, among others, in attaining the lessened punishments. Instead of returning to Azkaban, Lord Lucius Malfoy II was officially stripped of his title, and stricken from reappointment as chairman to the Hogwarts Board of Governors and from all future seats in office. On the condition that he and his family continued to provide information ensuring the tracking and capture of the wanted fugitives, they were put on a probationary period instead, owing many parties significant monetary reparations.

Another debt that the Malfoys had called upon belonged to the Greengrasses, for an incident that'd happened between their families long ago. Since they had a better standing in society, the Greengrass sisters were seen as bride-candidates for their pardoned Lord Heir-Apparent. The pureblood heirs were fully aware of what they would be getting themselves into when the dates were arranged.

To make the public fully convinced that the Malfoys had changed their ways would be to have Draco Lucius Malfoy marry into a Muggle-sympathizing family, with a witch such as Ginevra Molly Weasley, or a Muggleborn.

As sincerely remorseful and earnest to atone for what they did, the Malfoys had refused to stoop so low.

To placate public scrutiny, instead they intended to rely on the Greengrass' reputation and to join two of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families together. Besides their parentage, Daphne and Astoria fulfilled the Malfoys' remaining three requirements: a lady that was kind, well-read, and accomplished. Most of all, they were known to be more than pleasant to look upon. It soon became a competition of seeing which sister would be the first to crumble.

Wedding Draco wasn't an unattractive prospect. He came from Old Money. His family earned sufficient revenue from their apothecary presently, and profited from their ancestors' old dealings in Muggle currency and assets. Unlike his father, Draco still had a respectable-enough future in the Ministry. His weight loss and his grey pallor from his experience under the Dark Lord also didn't detract from his strengths and what he had to offer the Greengrass family.

It was being formally thrown into the Courting that made them awkward, as their childhood familiarity made it difficult for them to transition into romantic interest. It came as a surprise to Astoria when Draco seemed to prefer her company instead, escorting the younger and much quieter sibling to many social venues. He always wore long sleeves or something to cover the Dark Mark on his arm whenever they went out, making sure they were establishments of small numbers friendly to their sort.

Draco humored Astoria's idiosyncrasies. In return, she put up with his moods. Sometimes they'd be doing something absolutely ordinary, and he'd fall into a docile broodiness. His grey eyes would color with guilt from a memory that haunted him. Initially stiff in their interactions, over time the older Slytherin showed to be a witty, somewhat cordial gentleman instead of the bratty show-off he'd been in Hogwarts. He still liked hearing the sound of his voice. Astoria had thought herself to be a good foil to her boyfriend-of-then, preferring to listen to him run his mouth.

Occasionally his humor retained its mean-spirited nature; that part of his personality never completely went away, but he was more subdued about it. Their conversations also tended to tread on the careful side. Most of their topics revolved around spousal expectations, around their personal and professional interests. Rarely did they delve into social commentary or politics.

Had their relationship stalled or had they fought because of differences in opinions, eventually he'd bestow gifts upon her at whim—which she sometimes felt were bribes. Most of them were impractically ostentatious. They were often resplendent items he thought a woman liked, from what he'd seen his mother had. But he'd hit a spot of thoughtfulness here and then.

Although rare in occasion, the way Draco lit up when he thought he did her right made Astoria realize he was someone who sought approval as much as the next person. He wanted to feel that his actions made a difference in the world, that he could make a positive impact, wiping the slate clean. For the duration of their dating, she felt that she could start to see below the surface of the otherwise cocksure wizard.

Her walls had crumbled.

A year and a few months into the official Courting, unfortunate circumstances had befallen upon them. No Malfoy or Greengrass was going to be born out of wedlock. To avoid scandal, the pressure their families exerted made insecurities emerge.

Astoria was realistic enough to admit she was fond of the idea of being engaged—that a wealthy, handsome wizard would choose her—but she wasn't sure if it extended to love. Instead of gushing about their impending marriage, they were expected not to draw more attention to themselves. The transition from a single witch to Intended to a wife and a mother-to-be was disenchanting. She felt more validated, more valued for her worth in her field than as the next Lady Malfoy.

While he fulfilled the husband-criteria most parents wished for their daughters, Draco was, at times, boring and predictable. She wished Draco was showing her that he was capable of forming his own decisions than obediently following his parents' will and what was expected of him. If what happened hadn't, would he have truly wanted to marry her of his own volition?

Unable to resist, her mind once more compared how he acted for her and for Daphne.

Astoria frowned unhappily at that constant reminder that her older sister worked closely with him as his personal assistant. From the get-go, the chemistry between Daphne and Draco was undeniable. Since their childhood years, the pair could easily launch into conversations that enthralled the both of them. For Astoria and Draco, they'd struggle to avoid topics that'd launch them into disagreements.

Feeling herself grow more and more upset, Astoria tore herself out of her thoughts. She'd brought her fists up close to her stinging eyes, when she remembered she had makeup on. Thankfully she hadn't made contact. Astoria instead blinked rapidly to drive away the exhaustion. When she felt sufficiently awake, she abandoned her hiding space, standing in plain view.

From far away, despite the lackluster illumination provided by the glowing spheres, the creature's tall silhouette stood out from the shadows like a ghostly specter. The Time Unspeakables had yet to receive research notes from the two Aurors, but the team had been debriefed briefly by the Acting Minister of Lord Sesshomaru's origins. Being updated on the potential circumstances which might've orchestrated his time travel was enough for Astoria's team to get started.

Seeing that he'd recaptured her attention, he turned his away disinterestedly to reexamine the prophecy orb. Interpreting her silence as out of fear, he said, "Put your mind at ease, Gurīngurasu. This Sesshomaru intends you little harm." His voice carried clearly inside the chamber.

Her hands had gone clammy, either from the sweat or from her nails digging painfully into her palms. The Acting Minister hadn't exaggerated. Understandably antiquated, the creature's attitude was consistent with a lot of their more dangerous modern populations. His long fair hair, his forbearance, and his cutting remarks also reminded her of a certain patriarch, only more primal.

"That's good to hear." While she didn't particularly feel inclined to, she curtsied before him, subtly wiping her hands on her robes. It was procedure to ask for confirmation of identity, but she doubted anyone in their right minds would want to trouble themselves by impersonating his mannerisms.

Raising her voice a touch higher than the socially-acceptable indoor volume, she said, "As you know, I'm Astoria Greengrass, one of the Time Unspeakables drafted for your research committee. I'm sorry it's just me; my associates are a wee bit preoccupied. It's a pleasure to have your acquaintance nonetheless."

Her face downcast, she felt her ears burn when she realized she'd announced herself with her maiden name.

Fortunately she managed to not draw attention to her Glamoured stomach even as he briskly returned his introductions. He still hadn't let go of the orb.

Her mind ran. Was it a delayed response or was the creature immune to their defensive spells? Straightening up, she mentally reviewed the foreign word thrown earlier into their conversation. Her forehead crinkled as she asked, "Might I ask for a translation of the word you used earlier? A...'hanyou,' I believe that's what you said?"

He didn't reply, but he did raise a disparaging brow at her—an action that uncannily resembled Mr Malfoy's.

The familiar strike of depression made itself known in her. She took a deep breath to steady herself. Mimicking her sister's prim composure and holding herself tall, Astoria turned her attention to the orb he held. She marveled, "How—how are you able to touch that, Lord Sesshomaru? That one especially?"

When he merely looked puzzled, she crept closer, cautious not to bump into the shelves. She elucidated, "It's just that the last person who touched a prophecy...is still at a ward in St Mungo's, for severe mental damage. Prophecies can only be removed by those about whom they are made. Anyone else would be stricken by their defensive spells. That—you shouldn't be unaffected."

"That should be my line," he retorted, the intensity of his focus back on her now, from their vicinity. Seeing those unnatural golden eyes on her and then seeing the resultant expression on his face made her think that he thought her intellect left much to be desired. "This oracle is not about this Sesshomaru. Explain."

So he was that sort of person. After this bout of forced socializing, when she went home, she was looking forward to crashing alone in her bed and allowing her brain to recuperate.

"I know all the spheres are still somewhat in disrepair, but I'm not dense. It's spelled to only register his magical identity. You shouldn't be able to hold onto it and be unharmed," Astoria repeated, theories already forming in her head. Wetting her lips, she asked nervously, "This...isn't the Head Auror I'm talking to, is it? Polyjuiced for whatever reason to look like the guest we're expecting? Because, if it is, this really isn't funny, sir."

"You think this Sesshomaru to look like this Hari?" he said, disregarding the validity of her question. She didn't know him well enough to understand, upon hearing her words, why his expression had lost a little of its hardness. He murmured, "Has your mind been addled? Only an imbecile would dare masquerade as me."

"Sorry, I don't mean it like that." Her eyes trekked to the orb he still held in his fingers, his skin blistered at the tips. She had half a mind to ask, but she didn't feel like one to pry. "If I may, is that one special to you or can you touch the other prophecy records? Actually, did you mess with anything else besides the one you're holding?"

Rolling a thumb over the glass, he frowned at her. "Rest assured, there are spiritual barriers that this Sesshomaru has no desire to touch. This Sesshomaru wants not to provoke such ki needlessly."

"I'm chuffed."

"...Moreover, you'd imparted that only people whom a oracle is made about can remove the artifact. It was not exceedingly difficult to track what remains of this Hari amongst the reiryoku. It recognized me." His voice ended at a low purr, having fallen back into his native language.

"You'd...tracked down...his magical signature?" Astoria whispered, focusing on the speech that was able to be translated. She faltered, her intuition whispering to her of something queer in thought that she was hesitant to realize aloud. She said delicately, "Th-that's remarkable. It's indeed Lord Black's memory of the prophecy. Of his and the Dark Lord's. But you're not...You followed his...heavens, you should not still be holding onto that. If you're not Lord Black, even with your natural creature immunities, you shouldn't be able to confuse it."

His mouth was unfurled into what she thought was a decadently-wide smirk—alarmingly smug. "So this is Hari's memory of his kingdom's war. It originated because of this oracle between the Hari and this Vol—" He saw her cringe, before repeating, "—This Voldemort. This war came to be because Hari was declared to be a formidable threat. 'Neither can live while the other survives,' this Sesshomaru recalls the soothsayer saying...what is the meaning behind this? She leaves much open-ended interpretations."

"Lord Sesshomaru, with much respect, as much as I'd love to answer your questions," Astoria began, wringing her hands behind her back, "for the peace of my mind and many others, could you please put that back where it belongs?"

When she saw his fingers constrict, Astoria offered, "In return, I'll tell you what I know about your handler? My position allows me some insight that's a bit more than common hearsay."

She could waste some time exchanging gossip, before they went onto discussing more serious matters. Such as what he remembered of whence he came and what he knew about this so-called time traveling portal. Indulging in his questions could help soothe the awkwardness that accompanied first interactions between strangers, and help establish Astoria as a credible source of information.

Sweeping an arm at all the dimly glowing spheres, to further entice him she said, "As you see, most records were destroyed in the events of 1995. His most definitely did not survive. Fortunately he retained the full prophecy in his mind, we were able to add an addendum. But his is among the rare exceptions. I only ask that you set the prophecy down to ensure its safety, and in case that it breaks or does harm to you. It's such a significant portion of our English history, I'd prefer neither of us get in trouble."

"Why would there be trouble? There was nothing barring access originally. This has nothing to do with you."

Poppycock. She had to stay her tongue from accusing him of being difficult. After a steadying breath, Astoria explained, "The Hall of Prophecy is forbidden area. I shouldn't be here, least of all you. How do I put this...you didn't bother to hide your trespassing. What you're doing is going to get us caught. I only followed you because you left the door open."

"Forgive my indiscretion." He didn't even sound remotely apologetic.

Astoria's eyes were involuntarily lured down to his mouth. The prophecy was close to his lips it looked like it was going to be swallowed. Astoria made a mental note for the prophecy to be inspected at a later time, for any potential damages or to see if they could recreate the ease that he handled the sphere. For now her priority was getting him out of the room before they tempted fate.

He'd noticed her worried glance. His gaze lingering on the orb, it was a relief to her when he eventually he set it back, with gentle care, onto its pedestal. His fingers caressed the smooth surface; after then he departed without a backward glance.

Eyes wide as saucers, she stared openly at his face when he neared. Instead of feeling the awe or respect, she thought the colorful markings on his face dehumanized him. She could see they were too symmetrical to be applied and too clean to be tattoos, however much she was inexplicably reminded of tribal war paint.

He ordered, "Instead of making yourself a nuisance, this Sesshomaru will hear what you know. Leave out no details."

Her brow twitched. Remembering herself, she averted her gaze toward the pointed tip of his ear. "Shall we then?" she asked, gesturing in the direction of the exit.

Promoting their figureheads to a foreign emissary was a familiar task, although she hadn't thought she'd be tested on what was known about their Chosen One. Forming her mouth into a sideways half-moon, as an ice-breaker she commented, "I'm surprised you're unaware of the Boy-Who-Lived mythos. Everyone's heard of it by now, especially for a warlock whose influence is so global."

As he came closer, she added contritely, "By the by, my workmates and I apologize for making you wait. There was an important errand we had to attend to. It couldn't be put off. But now that I'm here, ask away."

"You'd mentioned a 'warlock,'" he said, as if testing the strange enunciation on his tongue. "What would a 'warlock' be in this empire?"

"In our old legends, warlocks were skilled warriors capable of performing all branches of martial magic," Astoria explained, recalling her childhood's bedtime stories. She felt a yawn springing forth, which she hid by hovering the back of her hand over her mouth casually. When it passed, she apologized, "Sorry, this would normally be well past the time for us to turn in for the evening. It's not that I'm uninterested by this conversation."

Blinking away the wetness at the corners of her eyes, she could feel her muscles unwinding as she continued, "In this country, we bestow the title of 'warlock' to a select few that demonstrate feats of valor." Feeling somewhat charitable, Astoria also warned him: "I'd be cautious not to erroneously designate someone of that. It's synonymously used with the term 'wizard' and to describe someone with an unusually fierce appearance. It's more correct to hear it being associated with someone who's been formally knighted for their high achievements in the arcane arts...basically for having superb dueling talent."

He acknowledged her words with a grunt, now within her vicinity. His nostrils had flared, as if ascertaining a stench in the air that was indiscernible to her. His eyes swept her from head to toe—for one heart-stopping moment, his gaze landed on her stomach—before moving back up to meet her gaze directly. "You said you know as much as the average person, if not a bit more. Thusly what is this 'power the Dark Lord knows not?'"

"Love." When she heard him automatically expel a sound of derision, her smile became a grin. She gestured for them to make their way in the direction of the door they'd came from. "Sounds quite ludicrous, I know. But I'm not jesting. It's common hearsay. You'll have to ask someone else to know for certain though. Gossip distorts the image we've been trying to keep precise. Whereas if you ask me, our esteemed Head Auror and Diplomat is truly an extraordinary war hero that deserves our respect."

The new expression that he gave her made chills run down her spine. She had to look away as he observed frostily, "You seem to think very highly of this Hari."

Astoria chuckled nervously, twisting the promise ring on her left hand, not exactly sure of the reason behind his upset. She'd thought the two were inseparable, from what she'd been hearing from the press.

Desperate to correct whatever faux pas she'd committed, she spilled out praises: "Did I not come across as genuine? Like I said, he's an extraordinary specimen. And I respect him for what he's experienced, even at our worst. He'd most certainly had you believing he's misunderstood. Don't be fooled by his humility. I know he wants to be seen as the common wizard—"

"Enough of your mindless prattling."

The witch noticed as they traveled, instead of accompanying her by gentlemanly walking on her outside, he kept as close to the walls as possible. He'd been reluctant to leave the prophecy behind. Now he acted like he couldn't wait to get out of the Hall of Prophecy.

"Look, we wouldn't have given him the time of day if he wasn't known for something. I'll be candid: you're going to get the wrong impression, like some of our foreign visitors, if I don't make you comprehend the reason behind the extent of our gratefulness. We're not weird celebrity cultists. We don't worship him as a religion or anything; that's an exaggerated claim I've been hearing circling abroad. We only pay our respects, like any decent somebody would do, for someone who has done as much as he has in our time of great need. He took down the Dark Lord. He's a celebrated veteran. That's why we venerate him." Her forehead crinkled. She muttered to herself, "I need to make you understand this. What else can I say to you about the Savior that you don't know already?"

"...Savior?"

She almost lost her footing as she returned a baffled look in his direction, her eyes landing somewhere along the side of his face. He was looking at her, stone-faced. She blurted, "You never heard of it? Not once, even after all this time?"

"This Sesshomaru has," he denied. "This Sesshomaru simply never asked why that's been associated with this Hari. It's a lofty title. The respect your people pay him seem to go to extraordinary lengths hereabouts."

"I suppose...it does sound pretentious to an outsider," Astoria granted. She could feel exhaustion clouding her mind, giving her the ability to be desensitized. It allowed her to give voice to things she perhaps wouldn't normally say. "The media loves coming up with nicknames. They make for great headliners, even if they're nonsensical or ill-fitting misnomers. People have referred to our Head Auror as a war hero, the Chosen One, the Boy-Who-Lived, the Wizard-Who-Won, Defeater of the Dark Lord, Warlock Potter, the Lord Savior, the Second-Coming-of-Merlin... So on and so forth. Take your pick; we have a list. The very nature of nicknames simply makes them more memorable than actual names—good or bad."

"This Hari overcame this Voldemort," he interjected, cutting to the chase. "It is a feat; this Sesshomaru will acknowledge that kill. But merely ridding himself of his opposition is not deserving of such glorification."

To her, she thought he cut an imposing presence, emanating an intensity that could make people wilt under his gaze. Despite that, Astoria said carefully, "Perhaps not to someone abroad, like you." Her words had been as slow as molasses. She tried not to take it personally, but how dare he ridicule their hardships? There was an instinctive urge within her, compelling her to defend the Lord Black and, by extension, their reputation. She started, "I understand you came from a turbulent time as well. So you may think your own wars hold a bigger weight, but we'd endured and suffered just as any country thrown into civil war.

"First of all, do you know how many British civilians our Dark Lord's murdered, in his bid for widespread ethnic cleansing? Even before he went mad, do you know how much his policies were endorsed? Or the incredible magic and influence he wielded? He was a prodigy. He was charismatic. Most of all, he was powerful."

Lightheaded, Astoria could hear her voice becoming heated. Her cheeks were flushed by a rush of adrenaline, as flashes of memories colored her dialogue. She still remembered the fear, the hushed whispers of her parents, and the tragic deaths of so many lives.

"To this day, he is still ranked as the most powerful Dark Lord in British magical history. Not even second to his predecessor—whom he'd murdered. Not to mention, the man he killed—Grindelwald—is credited for starting our First Wizarding War and for conspiring with the Muggle Axis Powers in WWII! They both sought to tear down our version of the Iron Curtain, and expose us to the Muggles. Muggles! They wanted war! And both were almost successful, if not for someone being there to stop them. Except ours transitioned from a charismatic wizard—supposedly—to a highly-ambitious, homicidal lunatic! Whom a lot of people had still believed in his cause! He'd tricked a lot of people into thinking he was the man to make our lives better.

"As time progressed, the Dark Arts did something to him. Poisoned him somehow. Riddle's policies started reflecting that. His erratic killing sprees became even more evident. I heard he was a different man when he'd been a student, more calculated in his murders, with more emphasis on keeping his crimes a secret. Then suddenly, he formed a violent revolutionary group. You-Know-Who's campaign—his terrorist cell, essentially—plagued our community for years. Claimed he was reclaiming pureblood rights, that as magic-born we stood on a higher ground than the Muggles. That we shouldn't live in secrecy. The we were losing our ways. That we shouldn't fear those 'weaker than us.' That our society was being choked by the existence of Muggles and Muggleborns. That we were pandering to our oppressors no more. That we weren't going to allow this travesty to continue tainting our generations. That...was actually smart politicking, uniting people by establishing a common enemy as a scapegoat.

"Even as he and his Death Eaters lost sight of their original mission, it was still remembered...which was why he had so many followers or sympathizers in the first place. He inspired nationalistic pride. And this all took place before we found out, posthumously, that this megalomaniac had been lying about his origins, by claiming he was a pureblood, when he was really a half-blood.

"So you may ask why the adulation? Our Dark Lord was so feared, people today still cannot utter his name. It was evident when his policies were becoming insane. His ranks became filled with criminals who'd kill or torture anyone at the drop of a hat. He'd launched fear campaigns. Thus before our Head Auror was taught magic, what he did...he'd done what no adult had, when he'd been nothing more than a defenseless newborn baby! He'd survived the Killing Curse and returned it back, miraculously vanquishing the terror that was the Dark Lord!"

Realizing she was making a scene, she struggled to regain her composure by inhaling and exhaling regularly. Once she felt less jittery, she resumed in a more clinical manner: "This is where the prophecy comes in. Because of him, we enjoyed eleven years of relative peace. Then all of magical Britain went to hell once he was resurrected."

Astoria held her hands up. Each finger was ticked down as she recited: "His old followers resumed their membership, lest they be tracked down and killed for betrayal—to be made examples out of. Disobedience was punished by torture or by death, and leaving was not an option. Riddle launched us into civil war. Overthrew our government. Established his dictatorship. Was in process of creating a caste system determined by blood purity. And this'll interest you: that hypocrite brought some creature populations into our wizarding conflict, claiming to help them once he was in power. His reign would've threatened the Statute of Secrecy, insofar as eradicating Muggles or classifying anyone with Muggle blood as second-class citizens. I reiterate, it would've meant exposing our existence. And not just the UK. I heard there would've been a World War III—with his sights set on the rest of Europe and America. His ambitions for power would've challenged the status quo, likely through mass genocide and the like. He was an anathema. Under him, we would've rotted."

Tilting her chin up at him, Astoria finished, "Do you know how difficult it was to kill him? It took us almost half a century for someone to figure out how to dismantle his safeguards. And it took our Chosen One a total of seventeen years to finally fulfill his duty. In other words, twice—actually thrice, if those sources can be believed—he's managed to vanquish the most powerful Dark Lord ever documented in British history thus far. If not for our Savior, the magical Britain you'd see today might've been a cesspool of violence and segregation. "

The witch purposely did not mention that he was also the only documented case of someone surviving the Killing Curse, and of being the first successful human horcrux. And how he broke past Gringotts' notoriously high security. And his own resurrection. And how he was basically gifted in certain talents, although she wouldn't go as far as calling him a groundbreaking prodigy; he was no Albus Dumbledore, Gellert Grindelwald, Hermione Granger, or Tom Riddle Jr. There was also the time when he'd spoken Parseltongue. Her lips curled. Now that she thought about it, Harry Potter did not sound like a real person. It was understandable why any outsiders would be skeptical.

She clasped her hands behind her back. Astoria finished dryly, "That's my spiel about our civil war. And that's why our Head Auror's so acclaimed. He rose to the occasion. And he delivered. Repeatedly. There are other reasons, like how he's set national records. But I'll spare you the boring details." She shrugged. "You've probably already heard enough. Or you will, since people won't shut up about him and his information is printed everywhere. And on chocolate frog cards too. To be honest, you will find it all a bit tiring soon enough."

This entire time, the magical creature had been in silence. He'd been giving her a hard-pressed stare—appearing a bit more frightening when she counted off, as if being reminded of something unpleasant. He had also been mouthing along soundlessly to her spiel, as if repeating several of the phrases would solidify their credibility within his mind. While she gathered her breath, an unhappy line was dipping between his brows.

He murmured, "This Hari sounds highly accomplished. As well as wielding significant power, with his achievements, logically your Head Auror would not seem like he'd prioritize...pursuing a venture based on another female's indeterminate oracle." For once, he sounded insecure.

Her brows flew into her hairline. That came from completely out of the left field, that she stated defensively, "Well, he is English. That would make him ours."

Astoria winced once she realized the implication of referring to him as such. "Sorry, that came out wrong. But because he's already revolutionized...I should think, after what he's gone through, it can't be helped. Divination nowadays has a bad rep too. I heard from Daphne that he, uh, wasn't quite sold by our Divination professor even then. His policies are also considered to be...more progressive than our history of diplomats. So I suppose he isn't the sort who'll currently place value behind 'oracles,' especially since only the rare few are truly blessed with the gift of Sight. This prophecy, anyway, between him and his—"

Her entire body cringed, once she came to another realization. Astoria spoke in a rush, "—I apologize for not asking earlier but how much do you know of our civil war? Besides what I told you, I mean?"

"What this Sesshomaru was told." The intensity of his gaze doubled as he inferred, "There is an additional connection between this Hari and this Voldemort?"

"How astute of you." Her smile became further strained. "I see. Well, it's certainly no secret among the English. But I don't think it's my place to share that information if our Head Auror hasn't done so for you already."

"Did you not say you'll answer any of my queries?" he retorted, his timbre lowered to a dangerous rumble. He challenged, "This Sesshomaru was told your kind cannot go back on their word."

Feeling brazen, she replied, "And in all modesty, was I not answering your questions to the best of my ability?"

She tucked a dark curl behind an ear demurely, analyzing his expression from sidelong. "Actually, I think you're mistaken. It's magical oaths and vows that we can't break. It's only a guarantee with magic, to be more precise. Fortunately you're in the company of trustworthy experts!" Astoria forced her smile to broaden. "We've sworn an oath to keep our silence regarding your circumstance. So I'm not going against my word per se; I've explained to you of our recent sociopolitical timeline, which has been made public. But I don't feel at ease delving past that, especially with things that are so intrinsically personal to him alone."

His features descended into something unexpectedly dark and brooding, taking her aback. Rolling a thought in his head, he finally mumbled, "Then you shall be of no further use to this Sesshomaru."

"Pardon?" she asked, her mouth pressing together from what sounded like an accusatory tone. "Alright, if you think I'm so inadequate, perhaps you should ask him instead. Or feel free to dig through our old papers. It's his private business. It's not something you absolutely have to find out. It's not like your life will be any better knowing about it. I'm trying to demonstrate decency to your minder, Lord Sesshomaru, which I'm sure you'll understand."

"It's nothing to do with you," he said coldly. "You're unwilling to share this information for sake of maintaining discretion. You refuse to tell me of the relationship between this Hari and this Dark Lord. It can only be assumed that it's a disgraceful connection to him that this Hari doesn't wish to be spread."

Noticing her surprised reaction, he switched tactics, gesturing to the tagged records. "Since you feel so beholden to his goodwill, you may at least clarify what the characters below the yearly mark denote."

Their exit was now in sight.

"You can't read it?" she exclaimed. When he sent her an offended glare, she switched gears. At least he'd dropped the subject. She cleared her throat. "Many apologies. I didn't mean anything by that. I'm assuming you mean the abbreviations? S.P.T. are the initials of Sybill Patricia Trelawney. She's descended from the legendary Cassandra Trelawney, from a notable Seer heritage. In that same vein, A.P.W.B.D..."

The witch halted, feeling a lump lodge in her airway. Swallowing difficultly, she whispered, "It stood for Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, for our old headmaster. He was interviewing Professor Trelawney when the prophecy came to be. You remember my mentioning of the 1995 incident? The Dark Lord and his Death Eaters infiltrated the Ministry to retrieve the orb you just held. As I'm certain you've already deduced, Lord H.J.P.B.P. is someone you know very well."

Out of nervous habit, she brought her hands over her stomach in a protective gesture. "He, erm, infamously destroyed all the prophecies in the attempt to make sure the Dark Lord couldn't get his hands on theirs. That's what I heard. So that's why they're...all...smashed..." Astoria drifted off, blinking, her face undergoing a sequence of emotions until she almost stumbled from the mental revelation.

She breathed, "Merlin's breath, I just heard the full prophecy. You and I just heard it in its entirety!" She beamed up at him, her cheeks flushed. "That's incredible!"

Her excitement seemed to be amusing to him. He said, "Up to now, you were able to interpret its contents to me. It's truly that privileged of an information?" He made a derisive sound. "How needlessly wasteful."

She shared dazedly, "I only told you what I knew from the press and common hearsay. A prophecy can only be heard by those that it's made about. Even Trelawney doesn't know. A Seer can't remember the prophecies they made. The only people who'd know are either dead—may their souls forever rest in peace—or were told by our Head Auror...if you can get the stubborn man to confess to anything...or get his attention."

Her amazement took an immediate downturn as memories swarmed her of whenever her colleagues had no choice but to investigate other sources, once they'd been turned away by the Head Auror or by his Deputy Head, all because of the workload that took higher demand over theirs.

Even worse were the times that the Unspeakables would slam into the brick wall that was the Acting Minister, whom anyone could see that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had in their pockets. Kingsley Shacklebolt's official decrees had impeded several of her higher-ups from bothering his protégé.

Astoria grumbled, "Realistically, it's enormously difficult to find him available. You'd have to belong to some sort of exclusive circle to formally petition him to take notice. Even then, you'll have to jump through several hoops."

Her voice had gone up in a mocking higher-pitch as she quoted bitterly: "'If it's not involving national security, crown and country, you're out of your league trying to bother him with your insignificant distractions. Your business is much too trivial compared to his much more urgent matters, to see the Head Auror in person. Think about filing a report instead. Eventually someone will find it in a pile. If it's really that important, it'll be placed somewhere on his desk for him to find or near the top of the pile with those other important-looking documents that I'm obviously pointing out to you for dramatic effect.'"

His face twitched for one millisecond. "This Hari has his priorities. It cannot be helped."

Overhearing him, she agreed quietly, "I know. It can be so frustrating. It's like they're his gatekeepers. His department doesn't give anyone the time of day unless you happen to have matters that coincide with what his definition of 'importance' is."

She saw his jaw clench. But other than that, with little else to say, they fell into an awkward silence.

At a loss, Astoria sized up the tall humanoid who now appeared to be lost in thought. Her mouth bore an upturned lip upon peering at his swords, as she couldn't help thinking how obsolete they were in the Modern Era against those who possessed magic and against the Muggles with their advanced technologies.

It also didn't help that his attire was terribly medieval and barbaric, inspiring within her several antediluvian visions of the Silk Road and Oriental Muggles that lived by a warrior's credo. Beyond the armor's association of strength, she thought his appearance was more ethereal and fragile—fantastical in the romantic sense—than having a set of physical cues that Europeans would consider as conventionally handsome. Armor, silk, and fur: not quite the wear of a civilized man, however well-kept he appeared. Someone like him belonged in a museum, behind a display case.

Under the torchlights, Astoria squinted at the exotic creature to her side. It might've been because of his Asian genetics but regardless of how he spoke, he also appeared slightly younger than her. With his long hair, his facial structure had some elements of delicateness—highlighting his androgyny that was so at odds for someone of his stature. Astoria supposed on a shallow level, she might've been torn placing a gender to him if it weren't for certain characteristics, which all somehow pieced together his masculinity like a jigsaw puzzle.

That in mind, she entertained the thought that he could possibly be a vain creature. His brows were dark, which made her think he wasn't a natural blond. Astoria also didn't know how to feel about the two streaks of magenta over his eyelids, being reminded of her own smoky eyeshadow. She personally had not seen a man willingly apply cosmetics to their face unless in theatrical plays or to fit—erroneously—in the Muggle crowd.

"Have you not been taught etiquette? This Sesshomaru is not a performing attraction."

She was thrown off-kilter when the time traveler suddenly shifted on his feet, his eyes—bestial and reptilian—meeting at hers head-on.

Frowning down at her momentarily, he declared, "You speak with a distinctive quality only alphas have, but you emanate a presence with the conditioning of an omega or beta."

The witch was quite certain her exhaustion had finally impaired her cognitive abilities. She stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless.

When he got tired of seeing her mouth open and close, he repeated himself slowly, for her sake.

She struggled to make sense of what she was hearing. "What exactly are you trying to insinuate?"

"Merely an observation." His gaze was piercing and evaluative. "You needn't bother wasting your time harboring self-doubt about your station in life. You've laid your bed. You can only own up to it."

"I beg your pardon? How did you come to this leap of logic? I-I'm not doubtful about my...my position!"

"Then it's incomprehensible why you would choose to tie yourself down to this 'Malfoy,' to willingly smell that of a beta belonging to...another beta. If your low morale proves to be a hindrance, then this Sesshomaru must slay your insecurities."

He glowered at her, as if silently demanding why he had to suffer through this. His eyes flickered back down her figure, before returning up.

With the forcefulness of a tsunami, he told her, "You're undeniably in need of rest, howbeit you're coherent enough that people are still able to place their trust in you. And for just reason. You have your packmates well-trained; they are able to function perfectly well without their pack alpha there breathing down their necks. Earlier, you took the initiative by being the first to respond to this Sesshomaru. In return, they award you the privilege and the honor of summoning this Sesshomaru. Have pride in yourself."

For a moment, her breath stopped. Astoria could feel her arms loosening from their crossed position, as her cheeks seared. Being an inventor that preferred her experimental tinkering indoors instead of the sun, she didn't have to conjure a mirror to know her skin must've resembled a blotchy tomato from his compliments, mortified.

"I-I thought Asians were supposed to be the conservative sort," she managed to whisper, her voice tremulous. What he was saying was lovely—albeit in strange creature lingo—but his expression didn't match. Astoria chuckled awkwardly, tucking a curl behind an ear. Her knuckle brushed against a jade earring. "Especially from your particular crowd. You're a bit of an anomaly."

His face contorted as if he'd encountered something that had insulted him. He demanded, "Are you being unnecessarily humble or do you truly lack the self-esteem?"

Astoria's mouth flattened into a thin line. Being reminded of personal matters, she turned her face aside, covering her mouth to hide what she knew was a hideous expression.

When Astoria remained unresponsive, Lord Sesshomaru supplied, "You're merely wasting your time pretending to be modest, when you don't despair from lacking lord and country. You're a reasonably attractive female—of decent bloodlines, competency, and intelligence. You have a respectable post. For someone of your station, it is inevitable to anyone that Mating a woman of your strengths will gain them great prosperity. Your Intended should consider himself fortunate. "

She'd automatically opened her mouth to object but like a stone dropping into water, his words rippled through her, reaching the crevices of her deepest insecurities put to her by her in-laws and her family. After all, being the younger sibling, she was always compared to Daphne. She thought herself to be entitled to harbor some self-doubts. For a good part of her life, it'd been mostly her sister who soaked in the adulation.

Averting her gaze, Astoria mumbled to her feet, "Not everyone would agree with you on that."

"This Hari has assured your competence and trustworthiness. You'd responded adequately to me, this Sesshomaru is inclined to believe him."

Lord Sesshomaru strode forward, intruding onto her personal space. Short of reaching for her and tilting her chin up—his presence made her lift her head accordingly—he was surveying her an intense look that made her heart pound even harder. He smelt of steel and fur. In a low rumble, like stating a certainty, he asserted, "So long as you continue in this similar vein, you will not disappoint me. You underestimate your worth, Gurīngurasu."

She swallowed. Even Draco hadn't ever told her... Bringing a palm to the underside of her jaw, with her fingers up against the side of her cheek, Astoria allowed a small smile to surface. His confidence was infectious.

"I'm surprised. You certainly don't hold back with your flattery." Her thoughts feeling fuzzy, she murmured softly, "T-thank you. No one's given me recognition in...thank you."

"Your gratitude to me is misplaced. You'd simply needed reminding." He jerked his chin in the direction of the door. "In the meantime, our cooperation has been requested of me. Come, we shall await this Hari together. You may introduce this Sesshomaru to your packmates."

Feeling like a lost little girl, Astoria nodded faintly, trailing after him in slight wonder and confusion.

That night, when she was sitting on her bed, with her knees drawn up to her chest and feeling quite lonely, Astoria rewound Lord Sesshomaru's words in her head.

The letter her fiancé had owled her from France had been lying open on her nightstand. Having read the cold and impersonal contents of the short message detailing the wizard's return, she'd been absently toying with her ring, rubbing the smooth portion of the sterling silver band. At her feet was a well-worn book on constellations and Greek mythology, borrowed from the Malfoy library.

Unbeknownst to Astoria, a feeling of dissatisfaction had awakened deep inside of her.

XXXXXXXXXX

However much Jaken wanted to remain at the outskirts of the wilderness, it was unavoidable.

As promised, in the same evening they'd encountered the blind canine and its human, Jaken brought Rin to the closest body of freshwater that he could find. However, as they found out soon enough, the small pond was near the vicinity of the village where the abductions took place. Safely hidden behind cover, Rin was fascinatedly watching minnows swimming around her submerged legs and waist. They were darting like tiny shooting stars in the water, as she heard Jaken's voice loudly charging A-Un to stand vigil while she washed herself.

Then Jaken, determined to act in Lord Sesshomaru's stead, had left to gather further details and to perform the necessary reconnaissance.

After having cleansed herself of the day's sweat, Rin and A-Un made camp close to where she'd bathed, expecting Jaken's return to them shortly. The two-headed dragon had been curled behind Rin as she tended to a campfire, her small body being warmed from A-Un against her back and the embers in her front. Roasting on the biggest, flattest stones she could find were the few minnows she'd managed to catch with her bare hands.

The rations she'd dug from one of the knapsacks affixed to A-Un's saddle were beside her on the fabric she'd laid out on the ground. On it were small assortments of edible plants, mushrooms, roots, and berries she'd gathered for them. If they watched how much they would eat, they had enough to last them two more days before they'd need to stock up again.

When she felt A-Un stir against her back, she heard two soft yips and a whine. Almost immediately Rin thought she was going to see the large black canine emerging from the tall grass. She'd gotten on her feet, ready to scold him for following them, but her stomach dropped with disappointment when it turned out to be a docile village dog lured by the smell of roasting fish.

With its triangular ears folded against its skull and its tail tucked between its legs, it'd approached them slowly, cautiously—especially with the enormous dragon monitoring the dog's movements. The dog emitted several short whines behind closed jaws, making her think of distinctly wobbly yips and bark-howls from the crippled canine they'd left behind. She thought the brown dog had looked so sad and so hungry—Rin could see the shape of its ribs against the fur—that, with a heavy heart, she fed bits of fish to it.

Its tail had been wagging while it ate. Watching it glut itself on the scraps on her hand, she wondered if the canine was as hungry as this dog. It reminded her of when she used to go hungry before Lord Sesshomaru and Master Jaken came into her life, when all she had to sustain herself were either stolen or whatever could be scavenged in the wilderness.

For a moment, as she smiled down at its obvious enjoyment, Rin thought they would gain a temporary companion. She'd already begun suggesting names to it, waiting for the one that got the biggest reaction.

But then Jaken had burst out of the tall grass, and the dog—startled by the demon's sudden appearance—had scampered away, leaving pawprints in the dirt in the direction that it'd fled.

Nothing much happened in the night. After being chastised by Jaken about the danger she might've put herself in, he'd launched into a frustrated tirade of how people were superstitious, and how there were too many contradictions to differentiate which rumors were true. Human abductions became demon abductions. One village became multiple villages. Victims of all age and gender became only beautiful women, which then became men of any species who'd been targeted.

When he accepted the fish she offered him as consolation for his troubles, Jaken was sullenly telling her a story of how he'd heard a girl had disappeared from the village, along with her father and with her fiancé. He was glaring down the fish, which spanned a width of three of his knuckles pressed together, when he griped that her father had been found recently on the outskirts of the forest they'd just came from, except the young man who'd accompanied him was apparently still missing.

He'd warned Rin that although the humans thought the village to be cursed, it was most likely the fault of a demon or at the hands of malicious humans. It was safer for them to make their stay as brief as possible, and to find Lord Sesshomaru as soon as they could. They'll stay within the region where he'd last left them, to make his search for them more convenient. Before Jaken was lulled to sleep from exhaustion, he was murmuring that he wished Lord Sesshomaru would've trusted him enough to have introduced him to the Lady Mother long before, just so right now...they...wouldn't...be...

His eyes were finally closed, and no amount of gentle poking and soft shoves could awaken him. In Rin's opinion, he seemed determined to ignore her until he got his minimal amount of rest. The rise and fall of his chest became rhythmic and regular as the night passed on.

As she squinted at Jaken's face, to make sure that he was asleep, her belly felt warm and full from the minnows she'd ate. Drawing her knees up to her chest, with her pointer finger tracing the indentions of a pawprint left in the soil, she reflected.

It wasn't much later, with the moon reminding Rin of a large white ball in the sky, that she made up her mind to return to the forest without Jaken's permission. "I remember exactly where it was. It's less than half a league away," she told the sleeping water imp and the two-headed dragon. One of the heads was awake, lazily watching her through an open eyelid as she rummaged through one of their pouches tied to their saddle. The eyeball was a shiny, glowing lantern, giving her enough illumination while she worked.

Crouched down next to A-Un, she set aside more of the goods she'd picked, from before and from the village's vicinity, out on the grass. Without a frame of reference, she ended up choosing the berries and dried roots she'd seen Lord Sesshomaru try once out of curiosity, to see what was so special about them. Remembering him remarking afterward that humans could consume anything as long as it was edible, she chattered, "He must be hungry. And he can't see! Don't you feel a little sorry for him, A-Un? He was protecting a human too. Do you think that was his master? Either way, don't you think that's very noble of him?"

The dragon snorted.

"It's only for a short while," Rin reassured, petting his mane. "I'll be quick. You'll be able to find me, won't you? Before Jaken-sama wakes up. Or should I take you along?" She tilted her head, putting her hands on the sides of his face. Her thumbs were stroking against the glossy scales above where the lacquered muzzle would've been, in the way she knew he liked it. She whispered, "He might feel less scared if he knew you were there to protect me."

As if sensing the momentous decision that was about to be reached, the other head's ears flickered as he groggily roused himself out of sleep. He was peering at Rin and his other head through his slitted yellow gaze, bumping his snout against the back of her hand. Cold air passed through his nose ridges, tickling the skin below her knuckles.

"Or maybe he'd feel better if he woke up to find you still there," she said, bringing a hand to also pat the newly awakened dragon head. "Then, if I'm not back in time, you would be able to lead him to me, wouldn't you?"

The two heads made a rumbly noise, as if in agreement.

She beamed at them.

Before she left, she found a stick to draw a picture in the dirt for Jaken. Ever since she entered Lord Sesshomaru's company, she'd never had to continue writing lessons. A trace of shame entered her for a moment, as she thought about all the children her age who'd know how to read or write the basic Japanese characters by now. All the calligraphy lessons her parents and brothers started her on have long since evaporated.

Swallowing against the ball of guilt in her throat, she drew her face with a grin and a side pony-tail jutting out where her head was supposed to be. She drew an arrow between her and the lines that were supposed to look like trees, with the large canine and a figure lying prone on the ground being circled. And because she felt like it, she dragged the stick against the earth several times until she was staring at the simplified caricatures of Jaken and A-Un cuddled together, with a bubble coming out of their nose to show that they were sleeping.

Her hand had automatically begun on Lord Sesshomaru's face. It was only when she'd finished his pointy ears, when her stick stilled above the half-arch which was supposed to represent the crescent moon on his forehead. She bit her lower lip. "Please return soon, Sesshomaru-sama," she whispered to the picture. "We miss you. Rin misses you."

Rin rocked back on the balls of her feet, tilting her head to examine the drawing beside her toes. Standing up, she dragged her heel across the dirt, wiping away his face.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Are you really alright with it?" Higurashi Kagome asked Inuyasha for the third time, holding onto his hand firmly as he led her through the dark forest. She could feel the hard calluses rubbing against her palm, the texture of his hand rough but gentle—much like he was in personality.

The moonlight played off the silvery strands, casting a bright luminescence to his long hair. To her eyes, his fire-rat garment seemed to radiate a red glow under the tree canopies. If she looked up, she could see speckles of the starry night revealed in the gaps between the leaves and branches.

Inuyasha expelled his trademark scoff. "Keh! Not this again." He came to a halt, giving her an annoyed glance. Still holding onto her hand, he demanded, "What is your problem? We've already paid visits to the Spirit of Mount Azusa and the Great Holy Demon Spirit. It's a bit late to back out now."

Shouldering her quiver of arrows and the longbow strapped onto her back, Kagome smiled feebly. "It's only polite to give thanks to the people who've aided us on our quest. We only have a few more to go."

Since a certain waterfall was the closest on their way back from the Great Holy Demon Spirit, next would've been the demon Yakurōdokusen they were to visit, the Master of Potions who'd repaired Sango's bone boomerang and given Miroku the antidote to the miasma that'd poisoned his Wind Tunnel arm. Kagome felt obligated to express their respects to him, in her friends' absence, like she and Inuyasha had done for the people they've visited so far. She wasn't too keen on visiting the perverted old man though, despite her friends' gratefulness to him, especially when Inuyasha had confessed to her of the ramifications of the antidote's effects which Miroku would have to live with for the rest of his life.

Inuyasha's brows were still drawn over his face. Stepping closer he bumped his forehead against hers, his fringe against hers, as he searched her eyes. He drew his head back an inch, and then knocked it back against hers. "Okay, you were the one who wanted to do this. What's really going on?"

Kagome huffed, her smile growing involuntarily bigger as she felt his body heat seeping into hers. He may have mellowed after Naraku's defeat, but he was still rough around the edges. Kagome inhaled the balmy scent of trees and something else that she could only attribute to him. She remarked offhandedly, "You know, you can be romantic when you try."

His eyes widened, and he turned his nose up at her, looking away. His mouth had moved into an automatic pout as he gazed up at the stars. "I'm not trying to be romantic," he muttered mulishly. His furry dog ears were flattened against his hair. "Stop changing the subject."

She hummed noncommittally, pointedly glancing down at their entwined fingers. She hadn't been the one to offer to hold hands. "I just feel bad," she said softly, her eyes drifting to the rusty sword in its sheathe. "We've been on a journey for so long to strengthen the Tessaiga. Now I'm dragging you all over the place with me, so that I can be a proper miko. Even I think it's overwhelming. I'm stopping you from learning how to be stronger."

"Why wouldn't I aid you on your quest to become stronger?" he demanded sharply, turning his head back. He was staring at her incredulously. "Isn't it your turn now to learn? You need to learn how to properly survive in this time. You're my—!" His eyelids lowered half-mast. "Is this because we left Shippo behind with Sango and Miroku in the village? He can handle a few weeks without seeing you. He's probably dreaming about flirting with a human girl right as we speak."

"No!" she blurted, tightening her hand around his. "I mean, I miss him. But it's not that."

Looking up into his golden eyes which glowed in the night, taking in his whole otherworldly figure, she felt somewhat inadequate. Her eyes lowered to the Beads of Subjugation around his neck. She fingered the purple prayer beads, feeling guilty when she felt him automatically tense up against her, as if bracing himself to be launched face-first into the dirt. He only relaxed when she dropped her hand to his chest instead. She murmured, "Unlike you, it's going to take a long time for me to gain mastery over my bowmanship."

"You've fired Sacred Arrows before."

"I keep missing," she parried back. "I don't have formal training. It's a miracle that I can land a hit. You can just swing recklessly," here she mimed a tiny sword slash, "and you can still kill a hundred enemies. I don't have the luxury of missing, Inuyasha. I have limited ammo. Unlike me, you were made for the sword. I'm," she grimaced, "being a burden. I'm sorry."

Inuyasha didn't say anything for a while.

Kagome was startled when he clasped a large hand over her nape. "Stupid," he whispered in a low, scratchy octave. "Even if you were a burden, I don't care. You've saved our hides more times than I can count. And you're willing to learn now. That says something." He bumped his forehead against hers again, scenting her hair. He murmured again, "Stupid."

She smacked his chest. "Stop calling me stupid."

"Stop being stupid."

"Inuyash—!" Her rising volume was cut off when she felt his muscles feeling chiseled out of stone again. Withholding a sigh, she reached up to pull at a white earflap, feeling a childish pleasure when he gave an "ow!" She said flatly, "You're the one being stupid by calling me stupid. You're the idiot who wanted this idiot as a girlfriend."

Holding onto both of his ears protectively, as if he could guard them once he had them covered, he was staring at her with a befuddled look. "'Girl...friend?'"

Kagome felt heat flood into her face and ears. Turning her back to him, looking at the ground and fiddling with her hands, she said in a rush, "That's what we call women in my time who are exclusively dating—um, seeing a, um, who have been wooed by—a man. Usually. It doesn't mean a female friend. I mean, it could. I've heard it used to refer to that. But the 'girlfriend' I have in mind is the more romantic version. We've progressed from being friends, right? Maybe it's too forward of me."

"I thought we were 'marrying.'"

At that, she had to turn around. Her eyes were wide.

"What?" he snapped. His hands lowered from his head. "Wasn't that what you wanted?"

Kagome frowned. "It's not what you want?"

"Keh, I'm fine either way." His cheeks turned red. "Oyaji 'married' Ofukuro. It's the ningen way. I'd thought I'd follow...in their footsteps and...we could...eventually…'marry.' If you want to." His voice had gone small at the end, as if his confidence had been punctured. He was mumbling, "Miroku and Sango also married. It was...nice."

"Of course I want to marry you. I think your otousan and okaasan would be happy." Actually that was a large step to take, but after being forced back into her time for three years and only having the well's powers recently reactivate, the tidal wave of emotions that'd surged within her upon seeing Inuyasha once more ultimately contributed to her decision to stay in the past. But this time, with no way of accessing the well's powers again. Her eyes softened. Seeing his face brighten up strengthened her resolve to go through with it. She just wished she could've met her in-laws in person, and have Inuyasha meet her mother one last time. "Married at eighteen, wow," Kagome breathed.

She tipped her chin toward the sky. She knew she shouldn't have been expecting it to go the way she'd envisioned it—considering the man she loved was an inu hanyou from the feudal era—but there was a small part of her that'd thought she'd be proposed to on a bent knee and a ring presented to her. If not that, at least she'd be wearing a Western wedding dress and whoever her Prince Charming was would be wearing a tuxedo. She looked down at her modern clothing, remembering the miko ensemble she'd changed out of and put into her backpack.

"Why do you sound so surprised?" he huffed, crossing his arms into his sleeves. His face still hadn't lost that broad, goofy grin. "People 'marry' when they're twelve. We're just. A little late. Behind them." His expression swiftly descended into worriment. "Is it a big problem that we're late behind them, Kagome?"

Her giddiness faded. She asked slowly, "Inuyasha, what do you know about marriage?"

"What's there to know?" he retorted, befuddled. "I see it happening a lot. I think it's nicer than demons Mating." His face was screwed into an expression of distaste. "It's not as...to-the-point."

Kagome frowned. "'Mating?'" she echoed, the last of the phonetic trailing off in confusion. She hesitated. "What do you mean?"

Inuyasha was about to explain, when his sensitive nose seemed to have picked up a smell. Sniffing the air, his brows scrunched as if trying to recall the scent, before he whirled on his feet.

"Inuyasha?" she inquired in a hushed voice, sliding an arrow from her quiver and bringing her longbow into her hands. All thoughts of marriage escaped from her mind. Drawing the string back until it was taut, she readied herself for more unexpected combat.

He waved her off, slapping her hands to get them down from firing position. "No, it's not—!" Strands of moonlit hair obscured her vision as he jerked his head. "I know the smell. Can you keep up or do I have to carry you?"

"What is it?" she demanded, lowering her bow and arrow.

"I think—" He sniffed again, eyeing somewhere to his side. "—I think it's Sesshomaru's ward. But she's alone. The bastard's scent is not as strong on her as before." He leveled Kagome with a knowing look. "Do you want to get her?"

"Rin?" Kagome gasped. She could start to see Inuyasha becoming stir-crazy, shifting on his feet in impatience. Kagome whispered urgently, "Is she far? Hurt? Being chased? If she is, we'll be faster if you carried me."

Sooner than she'd finished, Inuyasha had gotten on his knees, his back to her. His arms were already positioned to take her weight. From all the experience she'd got, out of muscle memory she'd nimbly climbed onto his back. When she gripped his shoulders, Inuyasha took off, darting into an off-beaten route. The wind whooshed by them from the swift speed Inuyasha set, drowning out the noise of insects and blasting a cold gust against their faces.

She glanced over his shoulder, down at his legs. Kagome held on tighter. It was a wonder to her that Inuyasha could stand running barefoot in the wilderness, with rocks and sharp twigs everywhere to scratch up the soles of his feet.

"What do you mean Sesshomaru's scent is not as strong on her as before?" she asked loudly into an ear flap. There was a feeling in her gut that worried her. "Your brother wouldn't leave her out of his sights. He's probably somewhere close-by, with Jaken not far behind."

Inuyasha grunted, "That's the point. I smell the toad and Sesshomaru's dragon on her. But they're stronger than Sesshomaru's. I think he's left them behind again, the cold-hearted bastard. She might be lost."

"Inuyasha!" she rebuked. "That's your brother you're talking about. I thought you two made your amends."

"We did! I told you about the truce we made! We don't actively try to kill each other now. And he no longer tries to steal my sword." He sounded viciously satisfied by that. He added, "But I still get to insult him."

"Inuyasha…," she said warningly. "I know he was a terrible brother. But he did help us defeat Naraku. You have to be the mature one."

"Kagome. Don't start."

"Wouldn't it make him more annoyed if you started being kind to him?" she tried. "Just imagine his face. You would throw him off-guard."

Inuyasha fell silent. Kagome hoped her words had gotten him to at least consider it, but judging by the stubborn set of his jaw from what she could see at the side, he wasn't about to change his mind anytime soon. Lifting her eyes away from him, she spied the dark outline of a small figure running deeper into the forest.

XXXXXXXXXX

Rin still didn't know what sort of canine he was. She just knew it wasn't a wolf or a dog, since that was what Jaken had insisted. At a loss of the appropriate title to call out to him, thinking of its yips and barks, she simply settled for, "Where are you, wan wan-san?"

She glanced around her surroundings, wringing the pouch in her hands perplexedly. This was the exact spot where she and Jaken had encountered the canine and his human. Except the tree where the man had been laid against was empty, with the unconscious old man nowhere in sight. There was a human-sized spot on the grass where the blades had been flattened, which was a sign that it wasn't a delusion she and Jaken had suffered.

"Wan wan-san?" she called out again, this time uncertain. She knelt down, placing the rucksack on the ground. Hoping that he was nearby, she said, "If you're not here, then I'll lay this out for you to return to. I can't leave one of A-Un's saddlebags behind with you." Rin grabbed a handful of the red and blue berries, setting them into a pile. She hummed underneath her breath as she set the contents into tiny hills organized by color and type of food. She said cheerfully into the air, "I can't stay long and wait. If I don't return to camp soon, I think Jaken-sama would faint."

Her head shot up when she heard the bushes rustle. Gradually twisting around, she eyed the source of the sound. Soon enough, she saw what appeared to be a long furry snout, crouched low to the ground to make himself seem deceptively small. Its shiny black nose was wriggling.

"You're still here," Rin breathed, a wide grin stretching from ear to ear. It wasn't a waste of time after all. "Where is the elder, wan wan-san? I'm sorry for calling you wan wan-san, but I don't know what else to call you."

He didn't move.

Frowning, she queried, "Wan wan-san?" Reaching to grab one of each foodstuff, she cautiously inched forward, knees still bent. She stopped scooting forward when she was halfway to him. Cupping her hands low to the ground, she shook her hands invitingly. She coaxed, "I brought food for you."

The snout inched forward, so that now she could see a little more than half of his face. His eyes were still closed. The canine wasn't acting with any aggression, but he was behaving as if she might be luring him into a trap.

Her heart sunk. Of course he would be leery to trust a stranger. The scars around his body proved that. Reminded of the village dog that'd fed from her hand, Rin gathered her courage. When she felt sufficiently bolstered, she crept up close to him until she was only eight paces away. "Rin's not going to hurt you," she crooned softly, pitching her voice lower and more comfortingly. "Don't you remember me? Jaken-sama and I found you earlier today with another human."

His entire face was uncovered, with a little of his neck and body emerging from the bushes. His large head was canted, ears perked and swiveling, alert. But he was silent. It felt like forever but, lifting one paw after the other, he ultimately crossed the remaining distance. He was sniffing at her palms, his wet nose brushing against the berries and the dried roots, before he blew cold air against her skin. The noise he made sounded like an amused whuff.

"I'm sorry," she said morosely. Small fingers buried into his surprisingly clean, trimmed pelt. The dark fur around his neck felt soft to the touch. She felt a warm fuzziness in her chest as she stroked him. "I didn't know what you eat. But these aren't poisonous! This Rin has tried them!"

The canine's entire body vibrated from the rumbly noise that he made. Breaking from her fingers, he nuzzled up against Rin, walking in a ring around her. When he came full-circle, his head lowered to her fingers. A warm, pink tongue licked her fingertips, the sensation making her giggle.

"You don't have a master, right? Now that the human is gone?" she asked, patting him. The food that'd been in her hands had been dropped uncaringly on the ground. "Would you like to come with Rin? I promise you I'll think up a better name for you, if you do."

She peered at him. If he sat back fully on his haunches, his lanky form was big enough that he would be eye-level with her. Maybe even taller. Rin assured, "Jaken-sama is cranky all the time, but he has a big heart. You'll like A-Un. They're very affectionate." With a gigantic smile, she chorused, "And you'll like Sesshomaru-sama. I know he'll seem scary at first. But milord's so dashing and heroic! And he's very handsome. You won't be able to see him, but that's okay! If you can hide, scavenge food for yourself, and not get in his way, I think he'll eventually accept having you travel with us."

Her joy dimmed. "Oh, but milord's not here right now. But I'm sure once he's back, once he sees how friendly you are, he'll take to you in no time!"

The canine was in process of making an affirmative rumble, when Rin felt his muscles stiffen up against her. His ears flattened as he pushed Rin behind him with his hefty frame. His teeth were bared in a snarl. Throwing his head into the air, he emitted a lone howl of low frequency, high pitched and long.

"Gah! Someone shut him up!"

"Inuyasha!" Rin gasped, hearing him first before seeing him. For a quick while, when she saw his white hair and golden eyes, for a horrible moment she'd thought him to be Lord Sesshomaru. Then the red haori on his figure from far away registered in her brain. When Rin saw what appeared to be a pretty lady on his back waving at her sheepishly, she cried, "Kagome-sama!"

"Hello, Rin-chan," Kagome greeted warmly, sliding off Inuyasha. She was treading guardedly toward them, her strange blue eyes focused on the hefty canine baring his fangs at her as she approached Rin. She took note that Rin didn't seem scared of it. "And who is this?" Inuyasha was closely trailing after her, equally wary of the canine.

Rin hugged the canine from behind, to show that he wasn't dangerous. Almost immediately, the canine quieted. "Rin found him in the forest today. He's coming with me and Jaken-sama."

The adults exchanged a look over their heads.

"Rin-chan," Kagome started uncertainly. She surveyed the white scars on the humongous black form. "He seems wild. I don't think it's that safe having him around."

"Sesshomaru would have it killed in no time," Inuyasha muttered under his breath, but Rin heard him nonetheless. "Where is he anyway?"

Her eyes had begun to sting. Her face feeling hot, Rin asserted, "Sesshomaru-sama wouldn't do something as cruel as that." She rubbed her hands up and down the sides of the canine's neck, as if she could soothe him in case that he was anxious by what Inuyasha was saying. She was inspecting his tail, which was swishing languidly from side to side, occasionally thumping against the soil. Talking rapidly, she said, "When he comes back, he won't hurt...he won't hurt...he won't hurt him if-if...if he's called Sesshomaru-sama no Inu!"

Kagome's lips parted. Inuyasha's brows were dark caterpillars ready to fly off his face.

Rin looked down at the canine, whose head was reared back from the proximity of their faces. "Sesshomaru-sama no Inu. Do you like that, boy?" Rin heard a hiss, and when she glanced up Kagome was giving Inuyasha a reproving glower. Before Kagome covered his mouth, Rin saw that Inuyasha's mouth kept lurching up and down.

He said something behind Kagome's palm, shoving her wrist down. "'Sesshomaru-sama no Inu.'" His voice was wobbly and higher-pitched. "That's great. That's a great name."

"Rin-chan, I don't think that's such a good idea…." Her sentence trailed off upon seeing the expression on Rin's face. She was squeezing him protectively, as if she were about to take him away from her. Crouching down, Kagome managed a warmer disposition. "Wouldn't you think your Sesshomaru-sama would be mad to have an animal named after him? I don't think that is a dog in the first place."

"But he didn't seem to like 'wan wan-san,'" Rin returned.

Kagome stared at her, a hand brought up to her mouth. "Wan wan-san?"

"Where is that little toad of his?" Inuyasha asked, placing a hand on Kagome's shoulder. "Jaken should hear this. No, wait. I have a better idea. I will personally escort you two to him."

"You just want to see his reaction," Kagome accused him, swinging her head up to glower at him over her shoulder.

Inuyasha shrugged. "Don't you tell me you don't already have an idea of how he's going to react. I want to be there." He sighed dreamily. "Life is going to be great." Sinking down on his haunches to be eye-level with the girls, he scrutinized the beast. His nose wrinkled. "There's something about you that smells...familiar."

The canine yipped piercingly and licked a stripe up the hanyou's chin.

Scrambling back, spluttering, Inuyasha choked on his saliva, scrubbing his face with the hem of his haori. He pointed a claw at him threateningly. "He licked me!" He shot a wild look at his priestess. "Kagome, he licked me!"

"Aw, see? He's so friendly, isn't he?" Rin cooed, scratching the canine underneath his jaw. She could feel the weight of Lady Kagome's studious gaze levelled on them. "You like Inuyasha and Kagome-sama too, don't you?" The canine barked and wagged his tail, as if in agreement.

"Rin," Kagome said. There was something in her tone that made Rin turn her attention over to her. Kagome's expression was contemplative. "Sesshomaru is not here for the moment, you said. So it's been you and Jaken?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "And A-Un!"

Dark eyes settled over the canine in Rin's arms. The side of her face had been cradled in her palm as she weighed something in her mind. Finally she said, "Until he returns, why don't Inuyasha and I keep you company? We may be able to help you brainstorm another name for your...new companion." She ignored Inuyasha's following refusal. Smiling encouragingly, she held her hand out to her. "Or if you want, Inuyasha has a super dog nose. He can find where Jaken and Sesshomaru are."

"But Sesshomaru-sama's been gone for some time," Rin mumbled despondently. The canine's body shook again, and this time he nosed her cheek. She buried her face against the dark, soft coat. Being able to hold onto someone warm chased away the bad feelings. "It's been several sunrises. Jaken-sama and I've been trying to find him for so long, and he still hasn't come back."

Both Inuyasha and Kagome seemed to freeze, thoughts and theories burgeoning free.

---

(A/N)- It's albeit slower, but think of it as a cool down period from the tension-packed last chapter and as preparation for the next! So! It's not absolutely concrete yet but I'm considering Curse of the Deathly Hallows for the next chapter's title head. Let's just say I'll be cackling diabolically behind the computer when it's finally uploaded. (As I write it, and not the atmosphere itself.) There's one bit in particular that makes me giddy to write, as it's sort of starting to address the trope(s) that I see in this fandom and maybe others. Having a little variation in the formula is a lot more fun! Though as we move forward...I already have an idea of our reader demographics, but just to be sure, there's a hypothesis I'd like to test out. Let's pretend you have magic. Let's even say you have the possibility to be the opposite sex, of any financial status, and/or be of any race of your choosing. Out of curiosity, would you folks consider the rare opportunity to live in the past, like Kagome Higurashi, to be with a deeply loved one for the rest of your life? You wouldn't necessarily have to be following your heart. It could be for any other reason, like wanting to meet your ancestors or observing a historical period in any country you want. I'd written my own response, but I wouldn't want to influence anyone's process of thinking! Your sincerity is important to me. Especially if they're coming from a place with a lot of heart or thought! ;)

Probably until mid-December, I'm going to be rather preoccupied with seriously intensive spatial design projects. Ergo, to tide you guys over during the wait, I've posted a music playlist on 8tracks. And updated the visual eye candy in the Art Masterpost. I've also made a tumblr account! Links are in my profile!

Until then. Cheers and take care!