Title: Fairest
Pairing: HP/LV, one-sided BL/LV, HG/RW, GW/DT, one-sided HP/GW, dub-con DM/HG
Disclaimer: I don't really own Harry Potter or the Grimm Fairytales. I also don't really own the idea of this whole thing. The trailer for Snow White and the Huntsman and Game of Thrones inspired me.
Note: So, I have finally compiled a list of all of the fairytales I'll be using in this work. If anyone wants to know about that, you should PM me or review me, if you want to know. They're sorta spoilers so I don't want to put it in here.
Fairest
Chapter Seventeen
Fleur looked up as the bell rang at her door.
She always looked up, hoping for a glimpse of Gabrielle. Every time the bell rang, in the split second it to raise her head, Fleur felt her stomach twist into a pit of hope. Every time, she was disappointed again and again. Usually, it was a customer, and Fleur had to fight to keep her face from falling into despair. Fleur had taken to praying for her sister's safety, praying that the Maiden of the Dtrwies would keep her safe, though Fleur had no knowledge as to whether her sister was still a maiden or not.
This time. The only time, she was not disappointed.
"Gabrielle!" Fleur gasped, flying around the counter and throwing her arms around the girl. Gabrielle returned the hug just as tight, burying her face in Fleur's shoulder. Fleur pulled back, keeping her hands tight on Gabrielle's shoulders so that she could look at the young woman. The pit in her stomach grew as she looked at the younger Delacour.
Gabrielle looked radiant in the worst way possible.
Her face was still round, her nose upturned. She still looked like herself. But, Gabrielle's blonde hair glowed nearly silver. She looked Veela. Fleur flinched away from her as she looked at her baby sister.
"You need a veil. Let me get one for you," Fleur said, hurriedly.
Gabrielle shook her head. "No. No, Fleur. Fenrir says that we shouldn't hide who we are. He is like us."
"He's a man and a man of government, at that. Of course, he doesn't have to hide," Fleur said, sharply and she tugged Gabrielle deeper into the shop. She pulled her wand and flicked it, turning the sign so that the door was marked as closed and the lock clicked shut. "Now, come."
"No," Gabrielle insisted, yanking herself from Fleur so violently that she nearly stumbled. "Fenrir is a good man. He'll protect me."
Fleur froze. He'll protect me. As in, he would continue to do so. Gabrielle had not been home for days and she didn't seem to be planning to return.
"He will? You're not coming home?" Fleur whispered.
Gabrielle flushed.
"I couldn't leave my husband," Gabrielle whispered.
Fleur's heart shattered.
"No...Gabrielle. Tell me you didn't," Fleur begged, her eyes stinging with unshed tears as Gabrielle flinched away from her touch. Her stomach revolted and she waited for Gabrielle to answer, to say that she didn't.
"Well. Not yet," Gabrielle allowed, showing off her hand.
It was a simple ring, silver and broad. There weren't any embellishments, nor would it get caught on anything while Gabrielle was out and about.
It suited Gabrielle well.
That might've hurt Fleur the most. Fenrir Greyback knew her sister well enough to buy a ring to her tastes. He knew about the places that Gabrielle wanted to go, knew about the people Gabrielle wanted to meet, and could provide her with the life that Fleur had broken her back to provide. He could give Gabrielle the freedom that Fleur couldn't afford and the adventure that Fleur had never craved for herself. The knowledge festered like an open wound, seeping with pus.
"You're going to marry him," Fleur said, brokenly.
Gabrielle hesitated.
"I...I am," she said as if she couldn't believe it herself. "Fenrir is good and kind and he understands me. And I could grow to love him."
"You don't love him already? Then why marry him?" Fleur demanded.
"Because he can protect us," Gabrielle said, firmly. "Come to the chateau. You'll understand. If I marry him, you'll never have to worry about the shop being repossessed or having to work late into the night to make ends meet. You can practice your prophecy in peace. You never have to worry about someone catching you talking about the Dtrwies. You'll never have to wear your veil again!"
Fleur scoffed. "I love my veil! And I don't mind having to work hard to provide for you, for me, for our family! Fenrir Greyback can't protect us from the entire government of the Republic, the people that murdered our parents, the people he works for because he is complacent. You need protection from Fenrir Greyback!"
Her words echoed in the shop and Gabrielle recoiled as if she had been slapped. Gabrielle looked at her and Fleur slowly looked up and to her left, straight into the mirror. She hissed.
Her veil had burned away, revealing long silvery hair and her skin had turned harsh and dark. She could feel her face twinging as if it wanted to pull into the cruel beak that it had become only once in her entire life, the night her parents had died. Her shoulder blades shuddered under her skin, scales sliding up the dips in her spine.
Fleur looked back at the open window and squawked, wandlessly Summoning a spare veil to her hand in desperation. She hooked it around her face and shuddered, pulling back.
"I'm not coming back here," Gabrielle whispered. "I refuse to live in fear. Alohomora."
The shop lock clicked open.
Gabrielle turned on her heel and walked from the shop, her head held high.
Fleur refused to weep.
MIRROR
Fawkes trilled, far from a phoenix's lament. It was a call and the fire responded, burning brighter as Harry went on. Freia shrieked in response, clawing around the edges of the paddock, careful not to push past the boundaries. Some of his followers jumped, still frightened by the dragon that was now approaching the size of a very large horse. Her shriek comforted Harry, pushed him forward, and he swallowed the bile that rose in his throat to accompany the gamey chewy flesh that he swallowed.
They were gathered around him, in total silence, staring down at him. Only the Dark Lord moved, circling him, casting him looks of encouragement or contempt—Harry was too out of his head to tell. He swallowed another rough piece of meat and shuddered, letting out a sickening noise. Tonks hissed and shook her head, nodding at him. Harry nodded back. He couldn't give up.
He lifted the lion's heart to his mouth and took another large bite of the gamey meat, the blood smearing over his chin.
He looked up again and the caught the eye of Ron Weasley. His face was green but he endured.
Only warriors could witness this event. Only warriors belong.
"He has to eat the whole heart?" Ron muttered to Madame McGonagall who watched impassively. He had taken well to being under her wing, training to be her successor.
"He's doing well," McGonagall allowed.
"This shit is unnecessary. We should be planning our next move," Moody grumbled.
Remus shook his head. "It's completely necessary. Court won't accept him if he doesn't complete this," Remus argued.
Ron groaned, holding his own belly.
"He'll never keep it down," Moody said, nastily.
They watched as Voldemort kneeled in front of Harry, watching him as the young man brought the lion's heart up to his mouth again. He didn't touch him. Harry had to do it by sheer force of will. Ron looked between the two. Their connection was raw and emotional and wrong in so many ways but, when Harry looked into those hateful red eyes, he tore into the heart. There wasn't much left to go.
"He'll do it. He has to. He's Harry," Ron disagreed, his voice hushed.
Voldemort reached forward, brushing Harry's hair away from his mouth as Harry stuffed the last bit of the lion's heart into his mouth. The Dark Lord threw himself back as Harry wretched, falling forward onto his hands and knees.
There was a long beat as Harry groaned, softly, to himself, and then he sat up, falling back on his haunches and very pointedly swallowed.
"He did it!" Fred cried out, happily, and he turned to his brother, and they grabbed each other, leaping up and down. "He did it! He did it! He did it!"
Harry tilted his head back and laughed as the witnesses turned to each other, and congratulated one another as if they had accomplished it all. Tonks and Voldemort only had eyes for Harry. Voldemort smirked. He walked away as Tonks rushed up and fell to he knees at Harry's side. She tugged him into a tight embrace.
"Well done, Harry," she whispered against his temple and Harry hugged her back.
"Wasn't easy," he murmured into her neck.
Tonks pulled back, holding him by his shoulders. Her lips tilted into an impish grin.
"It didn't look it," she murmured as she lifted her wand at his face. "Tergeo."
Harry winced as the strangely tightening feeling of his skin and he touched his jaw as the drying lion's blood was siphoned away. Tonks nodded, approvingly and she sat back, smiling softly at Harry's face. Harry flushed under her stare.
"What?" he muttered.
"I'm just really proud of you. I imagine this is what it feels like to be proud of a younger brother," Tonks said, softly and Harry flushed, pleased with her words, and he looked up and around at the people that watched them.
Harry slowly stood to his feet, pulling Tonks up with him. Freia shrieked in his ear, nudging her large head against the small of his back, and Harry reached back, absently patting her on the head. She was probably starving but she would have to looked at Madame McGonagall. She nodded at him, full of approval.
"Sometimes, you look just like your father but, ethereal. But, you have your mother's eyes. You are so much like your mother," she said, her voice stern.
Harry's lips pulled into a wide smile. Before he could thank her for her words, there was a quiet yowl. Harry looked over as Voldemort returned, something cradled in his arms, and Harry crept forward. He could feel Freia's hot, curious breath on his neck.
"Tom?" Harry murmured, just soft enough that only the three of them could hear.
"When I ate the heart of a snake, I was awarded a python who has been my closest companion for decades. When you eat of a lion, you gain a lion's heart," Voldemort declared, his voice booming and quieting nearly everyone. Harry almost jumped. In all his time of knowing the Dark Lord, Harry hadn't ever heard him so loud.
And then Harry gasped as Voldemort pressed the bundle into his arms, and Harry looked into the amber eyes of a small white albino lion cub. He looked up, wide-eyed.
"He's beautiful," Harry murmured, cuddling the cub to his chest as it yowled and batted its claws at Harry's chest. The Dark Lord must've spelled them because they only felt like tickles to Harry.
"She," Voldemort corrected. "This lion cub will be yours to train as Freia was yours. She will be your constant companion as my Nagini has been to me. She will go to war with you and you will go to war for her."
Harry nodded in agreement, and he looked around at them all. Moody and Fendwick both looked like they had swallowed something sour. Harry lifted his head in triumph, smirking at them all before he turned to look at his Horntail. Freia slithered forward, pressing her large head against the squirming bundle in Harry's arms.
"Be nice, Freia," Harry warned. "This is...Hedwig. Her name is Hedwig, and she'll be taking some of my attention now because she's a baby but, I love you both equally. I promise."
Tonks snorted. "You speak to them like they're children."
"They are my children," Harry snapped back with a small smile and he turned to Hagrid, beckoning him over with a toss of his head. Hagrid lumbered over even as Voldemort's lips curled in distaste. "Hagrid, can you feed her? She looks—how old is she?"
"Two months. She was part of a traveling circus that was crossing through the North," Voldemort said, firmly. Harry nodded and he turned back to Hagrid.
"Yeh go it, yer Grace. I'll take care of 'er," Hagrid said, excitedly. Harry smiled brightly at the large man and he gently handed over Hedwig to him, pressing a kiss to the top of the cub's head.
"I'll come get her later. I want to change out of my blood-soaked clothes first," Harry explained and he turned away, and just as he was about to make a move to the Burrow II, the entire crowd fell silent as the sound of the phoenix's lament echoed above them.
Harry watched as Fawkes soared around his head and the phoenix's song made him want to weep. He drew his wand from his pocket as he felt it vibrating and looked to Voldemort. Voldemort stared at his own wand, his brow furrowed as it trembled in his hand. Fawkes let out a long sorrowful note, circling their heads, his long tail brushing across their cheeks, one last time before he disappeared in a burst of fire.
"Where did he go?" Ron asked, loudly, breaking the tense silence.
Harry felt his heart in his throat.
"He's gone. He won't come back," Harry said, thinking of Fawkes, the last connection to his mother, and his chin dropped to his chest as he fought off the sudden stinging tears that welled.
"You no longer need him," Voldemort said, soft and sure, tilting Harry's chin up so that he could stare into those wide green orbs. "He was your mother's and he watched over you for her."
"Then, why did he leave?" Harry demanded.
"You are the King. He has gone to join her bones. His time is dead but, you live," Voldemort insisted with such conviction that Harry swallowed all of his sorrow. "You are the last lion in this world."
Harry looked over at the Weasleys, eyes wide. Ginny stepped forward, raising her chin, never ashamed of speaking out.
"Another title for the Fairest, then," Fred called, laughing brashly.
"Alpha of the Pride," George agreed.
And it sounded grand and right, and Harry's lips pulled into a wide grin. He said nothing else, only nodding. He turned back to Voldemort but, the man looked conflicted, his brow furrowed. Harry turned back to the people, watching him, waiting. He stepped forward even as Voldemort cleared his throat, as if to stop him.
"King Draco and his mother think he can take what he wants. That no one can stop him! But, we will send him a message!" Harry shouted. "I am Harry Wildfyre of Houses Gryffindor and Potter! I am the Prince that was lost and forgotten but, no longer. I am the King of the empire and I shall take it and give it to all of you, the people that deserve it! If you fight with me—my brothers, my sisters—we will show him that they cannot take what they want. That this? This land belongs to us! And when I sit on the Gilded Throne, know this: everything that I do is in the name of you all! I will not falter. I will not break! I am no phoenix. I do not burn to be reborn. I am a lion and I choose you all, as my pride! Will you fight with me?"
And they roared for him, without hesitation. Harry nodded as the fire burned brighter around him, building until it surrounded them and Freia threw back her head and roared, a plume of flames escaping into the air, nearly blinding them. Harry turned to the Dark Lord. Voldemort looked at him, his face expressionless. Harry held up his chin, and instead, he turned to walk through the flames towards the cottage.
He knew that Voldemort would follow him.
Harry walked into the cottage and went straight up the stairs. He nearly stumbled when he felt hands on his waist, steadying him. Voldemort didn't let go as they walked up the stairs. Harry repressed the urge to shiver as he could feel the heat of the man so close to him. Harry pushed open his bedroom door and slid inside. Voldemort shut the door behind him and Harry backed away against the opposite wall.
The room was bright from the merry fire. Harry's breath quickened and the fire grew dimmer. Voldemort stalked forward.
"Are you mad at me?" Harry whispered, his palms pressed against the wall. He itched to touch, to run his fingers through Voldemort's hair, to drag his hands down his bare chest. He couldn't. He wouldn't. He wanted.
"I increasingly find it harder to be angry with you," Voldemort said, his voice quiet even as he crowded Harry against the wall. He lifted Harry's chin up so that they made eye contact. Harry was caught in crims.
"I find it hard to be mad at you too," Harry said, gently. He took Voldemort's face in his hands and pulled him down until their lips were breaths apart. Harry blinked. "Kiss me, Tom."
Voldemort hummed and pressed their lips together. Harry allowed himself to touch. His hands roamed up Voldemort's arms, squeezing his biceps and over his broad shoulders before his arms wrapped around Voldemort's neck, pulling him closer. Voldemort deepened the kiss, sucking on Harry's bottom lip. Harry whined quietly and Voldemort groaned in response, his hands dragging down Harry's back to cup his bottom, squeezing the soft flesh.
"You are magnificent," Voldemort hissed. He didn't specify what about Harry was magnificent—if he was impressed by Harry's consumption of a lion's heart, his speech or his beauty. Harry liked to think all three.
"I want you," Harry whispered before tugging Voldemort down again. He whined when the man bypassed his lips, sucking a bruise at his pulse point, biting possessively. "I want you. Fuck me, Tom. Fuck me."
Voldemort stiffened and pulled away, looking at Harry. Harry looked up, breathing hard, eyes glassy and he whined, trying to pull Voldemort back down.
"No," Voldemort warned. "No."
Harry looked wrecked.
"Why not?" Harry demanded.
Voldemort brushed his fingers against Harry's swollen bottom lip and Harry's lips parted so easily.
"I must go. Andromeda will come soon," Voldemort said and he disappeared without another word, the door slamming shut behind him.
Harry swallowed and slid down to the floor.
MIRROR
"Your Grace! Madame!"
Harry looked up from Freia's feeding and spun around. McGonagall had been standing at the edge of the paddock watching but she too turned at the call. Tonks was on Ron's heels, nearly crashing into him and Ginny crashed into her back. Harry took a step forward, eyes wide as he looked at the panic in Ron's eyes.
"What is it?" Harry asked.
"Draco's forces are going to march to Godric's Hollow. They're zeroing in our location," Ron babbled.
"What is? My grandfather?" Harry demanded.
McGonagall's eyes narrowed. "Your ancestral home. Lily was born in Afallon's stronghold, Westeron, but, Godric grew up in Medraut's stronghold's shadow and he conquered Medraut there. It is the seat of your family's power. Dolohov is Duke of it."
Harry felt a rush through him. His last home. His connection to his mother's family was that ancestral home and Draco, the Usurper, thought that he could use it to assert power. It had been given to the man that Ginny wanted to kill. The man that deserved to be killed. The fires of the camp roared with his fury. He shook his head and through the pounding of his own heart, he could hear Freia's shrieks in response to his rage.
"He will not. We fight. Summon Kingsley—" Harry began.
"No," McGonagall interrupted. She turned to Tonks and Ron. "Lady Red will go."
A chill ran down Harry's spine as Ginny and Ron exchanged glances. Before Harry could ask who Lady Red was, Tonks stepped forward. Ginny and Ron tensed as if waiting for her orders. Tonks had never been to battle with Harry and he imagined that this was the very reason. Tonks' face turned blank and she nodded once, suddenly standing at attention.
"Aye, I accept this mission," Tonks drawled. "Ginny, my robes. Ron. My swords."
Ron and Ginny scrambled off to do as she asked. Harry straightened his own battle robes and nodded once as he felt Voldemort's knife at his waist and his sword. His wand was stowed away. He would ride to battle as he would.
"Why don't you ride to battle?" Harry asked, softly, his eyes alight with interest.
"Because I was raised by a dangerous woman to be a dangerous warrior," Tonks said, coldly. "You knew her by the name of Pandora."
Harry's eyes widened and he watched as Fred and George walked over, a large trunk between the two of them, four locks hanging from it. Tonks held out her hand and Fred pulled his dagger. Tonks slid the dagger across her palm and bent over, smearing blood on the locks. Harry watched as the blood magic worked and the four locks unlocked with a click, one by one. Tonks kicked the trunk open and he stared.
There was a pair of swords there, one the color of normal steel but the other was the red of Tonks' cloak. It was as if the entire sword had been bathed in blood and baked with its color. Tonks lifted both swords and she shuddered, her eyes rolling around in her head. Slowly, Tonks' pink hair receded, giving way to brown and it curled madly around her head. Harry nearly flinched.
She looked like a Slytherin now.
"What happened to your hair?" Harry asked, quietly.
Tonks looked up, her eyes burning bright as she laid the swords back down. Ginny returned with a bundle of black and Harry's cheeks burned bright red as Tonks stripped herself of her dress. Ron looked down as Tonks got naked before the entire camp and Ginny helped her into black battle robes that fit every curve, every line of muscle. Tonks whipped her cloak around her shoulders and grabbed her two swords, sheathing him.
"Ginny, you will ride with me. Dolohov won't be there but, Travers will," Tonks said, coldly.
"I'll kill him," Ron snarled.
"No. You won't," Tonks barked and Ron flinched backward. Harry leaned forward, interested in the sudden change in treatment. "Only I have permission to engage. Travers is formidable. Your sister is long distance. If she can get a clear shot, it's hers. But, if it's me, I'll do it."
"I don't need your permission," Harry said.
Tonks looked over at him. "No," she allowed. "But, I will do anything in my power to keep you safe and away from him."
Harry scoffed but didn't find time to argue. Instead, he watched as Hagrid led over two horses—one bay colored and the other black. Tonks mounted the black one and Harry mounted his own bay colored horse. He looked around the group. Emmeline Vance, Marlene McKinnon, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Fred, George, Ron, Ginny, and Charlie. Even Moody and Fendwick were ready.
"Are we ready?" Tonks called.
There were varying grunts of agreement and Tonks held out her hand towards Madame McGonagall. McGonagall went around, passing out the Portkeys. Harry grabbed Tonks' and then they disappeared into a swirling array of blue. Harry would never get used to Portkeys. He always swayed atop his horse and was tirelessly glad that the horses' hooves had been charmed to stick to the ground when they landed.
Harry immediately threw himself off his horse and into the fray, crashing into one of the defending Aurors. They had the surprise advantage, somewhat, and they were brutal fighters compared to some of the Aurors. Harry heard the gurgle of blood in the man's throat as he punched his sword through his belly and ripped it out, throwing his body to the side.
The Aurors that guarded the outside of the stronghold looked shocked but immediately engaged in battle. It was lightly guarded, no more than fifteen guards at the gate, and if Harry had to guess, another fifteen to twenty inside. They hadn't expected this, especially when Draco's forces were marching towards Godric's Hollow.
Ginny fired shot after shot, and arrows exploded through people's eyes, through the back of their heads. Spells Summoning boulders and firing green jets of death flew across each side. They clashed with all the brutality that they could muster and Harry grinned a terrible smile and he slammed his sword up to the hilt in a man's belly before ripping it out. He spun, wand raised.
"Diffindo!" he cried out, slashing another man open, his intestines spilling from the gut wound. Harry looked up and saw that Moody, Kingsley, and McKinnon were fighting admirably.
McKinnon stood awkwardly as if her leg was broken but, she didn't falter. Instead, she launched herself forward with a grim determination, curses spilling from between her clenched teeth. Purple sparks and black beams of power shot out, introducing men to death, and Harry turned back around as the gates to Godric's Hollow finally opened and more soldiers spilled out.
It was only one that Harry's gaze stuck on.
Torquil Travers was not what Harry expected. He wasn't particularly tall or broad. He was rather pale. His skin was slightly ashen and he was bald—another surprising trait. But, Harry could see the Dark Mark on his arm, black against his ashen skin.
"Well, if it isn't the Fairest of Them All. You are a pretty one," Travers drawled as he moved forward, flanked by four guards that had their weapons raised. Three Muggles and a magical Auror. This would be interesting.
"Thank you," Harry spat, nastily. "It's come to my attention that you're occupying my ancestral home."
Travers took another step forward, pulling his sword and his wand. "Come and take it from me, pretty boy."
Harry faltered as he looked at Travers. Travers walked towards him, swinging his sword as he strode forward, his eyes never shifting from Harry's face. The three Muggle Aurors that flanked him looked ready to slice him through but, Harry waited, falling into the battle stance, lifting his sword beside his head. He glanced to his right.
Ginny was atop Tonks' horse, her face pale beneath the freckles. Her hand faltered. So, she wouldn't take the shot. She frantically looked down at her sides and pulled a vial from the saddle bag, pouring it over the arrow tip but, Harry couldn't concern himself with her. He would watch Tonks' back.
Before Harry could step forward, his sight was obscured by crimson.
"M-my Queen?" Travers choked out.
And in the light from the flames, Tonks did look like Bellatrix Slytherin. Tonks lifted her head and Travers' gaze hardened. He took another step forward and Tonks tilted her head.
"I am Nymphadora Tonks, daughter of Andromeda Slytherin. I will avenge the rape and murder of my friend and her parents. I will avenge the deaths of all the people you slaughtered," Tonks said as she took a step forward, pulling her swords from the sheaths.
"I wish you good fortune in the wars to come. So, now, the war begins," Travers laughed.
Tonks did not laugh.
"No. Now, it ends," Tonks snarled and then she was swinging her swords, so fast that they blurred into a swirl of crimson and gray.
Harry watched, open-mouthed as Tonks began to duel Travers and the three Aurors, seemingly everywhere at once. She stepped forward, swung at one Auror as she used her sword to defend from another. Travers' eyes narrowed in concentration as he pulled his wand, coming at her from her open left. Harry's eyes widened and he lifted his wand, ready to deal with the man himself.
"Avada Kedavra," Tonks snarled, and the tell-tale green jet of magic exploded from the end of the crimson sword.
The Auror crumpled immediately, a lifeless heap on the ground. Harry Summoned the body out of the way, and Tonks nodded in thanks as she spun, ending another Auror's life with the slice of her steel sword. He gurgled, clutching his throat, and Tonks kicked out, sending his body flying. She twisted back, catching her breath, and Travers stared at her, curiously.
"A sword as a conductor? What kind of Abominable blood magic have you been playing with, my Lady?" Travers asked, tauntingly and Tonks didn't respond, only lifting her chin in defiance.
Harry winced as he realized that Tonks wasn't denying his accusations. As the last Auror tried to creep forward towards Tonks' back, Harry lifted his hand. He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat as he crushed his hand into a fist and the Auror exploded into flames, screaming as his skin blackened to the color of tar.
"GINNY!" Tonks roared.
And then Harry watched as Ginny gathered her wits and let her arrow fly.
Travers jolted as the arrow crashed through his shoulder, bringing him to his knees. Ginny dismounted, stumbling over to them. She flung herself into Tonks' side, staring down at the man. Ginny grabbed Travers by the chin as his skin turned pale and the veins in his face burned a bright purple.
"Do you know me?" Ginny snarled.
Travers' eyes brightened as he looked up at her. He looked around, searching for reinforcements even as the Order members threw the bodies into the fire. He was alone. The Death Eater let out a burbling sound, and blood dripped down his cracked lips, dried by the heat of the flames. He choked as he spewed vomit, a disgusting mess of bile and blood.
Ginny threw her hand forward, cracking him across the face.
"DO YOU KNOW ME?" she roared, her voice echoing over the dead battlefield.
"Yes," he hissed at her. "Yes, I know you, Ginevra Weasley."
"You remember me," Ginny said, her voice broken.
Travers gurgled with laughter. "Of course, I remember you. Such a sweet virgin cunt. Tight and small. Of course, I don't like little girls but Antonin had fun with you. I liked your little whimpers the most. You cried so hard...until you stopped crying at all."
Ginny paused, turning to stone. Travers laughed more even as he pulled the arrow from his shoulder. The wound hissed with poison and smoke and he dropped the broken arrow to the side.
"Ginny…" Tonks started, raising her sword in offering.
"You can't kill me, Ginevra Weasley," Travers taunted and Ginny stared at him, blinking rapidly as she took in the truth of his words. "You're still the little girl that cried while she was raped and did nothing to stop it. You watched your parents be murdered like the little coward that you are."
Harry wondered if she would turn on her heel and run.
And then she took a step forward and with that Ginny took Tonks' steel sword and swung as hard as she could at Travers' neck. Travers' head separated from his shoulder with a rush of blood and a heavy thud. Ginny let the sword fall from her hand and she took a step back as the headless body swayed and landed on its front. Harry cleared his throat.
"What now?" Harry whispered.
Ginny stared for a long moment. Blood spotted her cheeks. And then she looked up.
She cleared her throat. "Now, we call Bill and Moody and McKinnon. They'll set up wards. Congratulations, your Grace. We've taken back Godric's Hollow."
ON THE
"How can I help?" Harry demanded as he stormed in the medical tent, looking over his injured soldiers with a gaze full of panic.
Madame Pomfrey and Madame McGonagall looked up in surprise.
"Your Grace, you shouldn't—" Madame Pomfrey began.
"No. These are my men. You'll tell me how I can help," Harry said, rushing to her side, his hands fluttering with disuse. He looked at the two older women, a stubborn set to his jaw. "I'm going to help."
"Well, make yourself useful. Go get the Skelegro. It's in the cabinet next to Augustus Pye. Augustus, wave your hand!" Madame Pomfrey shouted.
A peaky young man waved his hand, barely looking up from his work as he rushed to set a McKinnon's leg. She cried out, lurching as she vomited into the basin in her lap. He murmured apologies and Harry inched around the two, searching through the cabinet. It was well-organized, each bottle labeled though Harry had no idea of what any of its uses were. Harry frowned. There were too many.
"Accio Skelegro," he shouted, waving his wand, and he narrowly grabbed the potion bottle that shot through the air. Harry ran back to Madam Pomfrey and thrust the bottle into her hand. "What next?"
Madame Pomfrey and Madame McGonagall exchanged glances of surprise at the determination in Harry's eyes. Madame Pomfrey cleared her throat as she poured the Skelegro into a soldier's mouth. The soldier groaned but swallowed dutifully.
"I'll teach you," Madame Pomfrey said, immediately. She turned back to another patient, pulling Harry along. She went towards Augustus and glanced over his shoulder. "Augustus, the woman is already in pain. Is it set?"
"Yes, Madame. Shall I set it?" Augustus muttered as he straightened McKinnon out, and she whimpered, her face bone white.
"I'll do it. Look here, your Grace. To set and bind a break like this it's Ferula," Madame Pomfrey said and Harry watched in amazement as a bandage was Conjured and wrapped around McKinnon's leg, tightly binding it. McKinnon lurched once more, vomiting into her basin. She wiped her mouth, sour bile staining her sleeve.
"Ugh, look away. I'm sure you're enjoying this," McKinnon growled through her pain. She looked as agonized as before but Harry could see the pain in her eyes.
Harry shook his head. "No. Thank you for your service, Marlene McKinnon."
McKinnon looked away.
"Get a pepper-up potion and a calming potion in her. You need to rest," Madame Pomfrey said as McKinnon looked up, ready to protest. Madame Pomfrey led them on to the next patient.
Remus had a new set of scars on his chest. Tonks sat at his side, her hand tight in his. Remus looked up at Harry and then looked away. Harry rolled his eyes and turned to Tonks.
"How are you?" he asked, hurriedly.
"Fine. Just…Madame Pomfrey, please help him. It's too close to the full moon for him to be so weak," Tonks whispered, distracted and panicked.
"Full moon? What does that have to do with anything?" Harry asked.
Remus winced. "I'm a…"
"He's a werewolf, that's all," Madame Pomfrey said, briskly. Remus was too bloody to even blush, only looking away in embarrassment.
"Tergeo," Harry said sharply. He watched as the blood was siphoned away, showing only bloody gashes, oozing with renewed pus. Harry winced in sympathy. "Um…a blood-replenishing potion. And…this is dark magic, isn't it?"
Madame Pomfrey frowned. "It looks like it. This will be a bit more difficult, your Grace. Perhaps, you should—"
"No. I'm going to help. Accio blood-replenishing potion," Harry said, Summoning it to his hand. He unstoppered and looked pointedly at Remus. Remus opened his mouth and Harry tipped it inside. Remus shuddered, some color returning to his cheeks. "How do we stop the bleeding? What can we do?"
"It's dark magic. He'll be scarred. But…Tonks, do you know anything?" Madame Pomfrey asked. Tonks continued to stare at the large gashes as if she hadn't heard a thing. Madame Pomfrey sighed and looked up. "Minerva! Large gashes afflicted by dark magic. Do you have any idea?"
"Trace the wand over the wounds. Vulnera Sanentur. Repeat the spell until the wounds are healed," Madame McGonagall said as she looked over another soldier and conjured a bandage with an absent wave of her wand. Another healer took it and immediately began working on the rather gory mess of Kingsley's side.
Madame Pomfrey took a deep breath to center herself but Harry moved too fast.
Softly, he began to chant, "Vulnera Sanentur, vulnera sanentur," as he traced his wand over the dark gashes all over Remus' chest. Madame Pomfrey gasped softly as the skin began to knit together, leaving fresh pink scars in the magic's wake.
Tonks looked up, wide-eyed and Remus' breathing grew deeper.
"Vulnera sanentur," Harry whispered, finishing the healing. He looked paler but still strong and Madame Pomfrey stared at the boy in wonder. Harry frowned, wiping cold sweat from his forehead. "What?"
"You're so much like your mother," Madame Pomfrey murmured before she turned away. "Peakes! How's the potion inventory?"
"Low, Madame," Peakes called as he finished bandaging one of the last of the injured.
"Damn," Madame Pomfrey murmured before she looked over at Remus. "Rest up. Tonks, get a pepper-up in him."
"Yes, Madame," Tonks said, distractedly. She glanced at Harry, reaching up to take his hand. "Thank you."
"Always," Harry murmured.
"You are just like your mother and father. Brave and kind," Remus said and Harry's smile brightened. He nodded at the two before he took a step back and swayed. Tonks lurched in alarm as Madame McGonagall's strong arm looped around Harry's waist, steadying him.
"You've also been in battle, your Grace. Take a seat," Madame McGonagall insisted even as Harry muttered about being just fine.
He nearly collapsed into the chair and blindly took the potion shoved into his hand. He felt suddenly energized and he looked up at McGonagall with a small smile.
"Thanks," he said.
"You're like your mother. Always helping, never worrying enough about yourself," Madame McGonagall said.
"What do you mean?"
"When we first went to war with the Slytherins, she made potions from her tower. She would work tirelessly, producing potions and they were always the best. If she had been allowed to, she would've become one of the greatest Potions Mistresses or Masters this empire would ever know. Instead, that title goes to Severus Snape," McGonagall said, her lips curled in distaste at the man's name.
Harry tilted his head as he thought about the man in question. He hadn't spoken to Severus Snape much but, he seemed rather unpleasant and was quite greasy. Harry didn't know much about potions but Severus looked like the type.
"Perhaps I'll ask the Dark Lord about having Snape make our potions," Harry decided, mostly to himself and Madame Pomfrey.
"Excellent idea. But, you must rest, your Grace. Any wounds?" she asked, running a diagnostics spell with a grand sweep of her wand even as she asked. Harry shook his head.
"Just a few cuts and bruises," he insisted, showing off his forearm. A long gash was there, surrounded by purpling bruises. It had stopped bleeding but Madame Pomfrey hissed in displeasure.
She Summoned a paste towards her and Harry shook it off.
"Just a bandage," he said. "Don't waste potions on me."
"Selfless, stupid boy," Madame Pomfrey muttered, even as Harry grinned in amusement. She summoned a bandage, wrapping his forearm carefully. "Be mindful, your Grace."
"Poppy, the King is a reckless individual. I doubt he'll be careful," McGonagall said in amusement. Harry scoffed, prepared to defend himself when McGonagall gave him a look. "It's wonder you haven't been killed. His first battle, he confronted the Usurper head on."
"And won!" Harry interjected.
"By sheer dumb luck," McGonagall continued. "Just like your mother and father."
Harry snorted, shaking his head. "Both my parents had 'dumb luck'?" Harry asked.
"Your father was a reckless fool, always gallivanting through the Forbidden Forest, with his reckless friends. The Marauders they called themselves," Madame Pomfrey said with a long sigh. "Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew."
She spat the last name like a vile curse.
"Peter Pettigrew," Harry murmured, tasting the name of the cowardly man that had betrayed his parents. He was still the Dark Lord's man. "And my mother?"
"She was always with them, climbing trees, and leaping to and fro, just as reckless. She thought she could fly, that one. But, Lily Gryffindor was kind and good in all the ways that you are," McGonagall insisted. Harry's lips pulled into a smile. "We were present at your birth."
"Did I really kill the summer?" Harry asked curiously.
"Aye. Most magical birth I've ever attended to," Madame Pomfrey said and McGonagall hummed in agreement. Harry flushed in embarrassment but he didn't look away. "When you were born, all of the fires in the empire died. But, when you let out a cry, they burned brighter than ever. Your mother called you a prince's name: Hadrian James Gryffindor-Potter. It was your father that gave you a warrior's name. Wildfyre."
McGonagall nodded. "Now, you must rest." Before Harry could protest, McGonagall lifted her hand. "Whenever you want more stories, seek us out. Rest, your Grace. The Warden of the West comes tomorrow."
WALL
Andromeda watched through narrowed eyes as she rode forward on her horse, the eyes of all of the refugees on her. Their staring ranged from disdainful to curious, and every shade in between. One woman, in particular, caught Andromeda's gaze—a tall pale woman with a long face, like a horse. Her cornflower eyes were narrowed by judgment. Andromeda sniffed and turned away, looking at her brother's back as he led Andromeda and the two Lestranges through the camp.
"Welcome to the Camp of the Phoenix," Voldemort drawled, utterly bored already.
Andromeda was impressed. At least a thousand people resided here and they had evaded her brother's notice for nearly two decades. Whoever ran the operation was a formidable opponent, indeed.
"How many of them are soldiers, my Lord?" Rodolphus asked.
Ever the military man. Andromeda rolled her eyes. Rodolphus Lestrange was a formidable, serious man. He hadn't been bested in a duel since he had last dueled Bellatrix. Even she had heard about that particular battle in her fortress. Bellatrix had been insane but, she hadn't exactly lost her touch, it seemed.
It only made it more disconcerting that Narcissa had gotten the better of her.
"Not as many as necessary. It is why we reach out to Alfheim and soon, other allies. But, we will train the able ones. All men and women must fight," Voldemort said, lowly, as if he didn't want them to know just yet.
"You still won't have the numbers," Rodolphus said, almost apologetically. Voldemort cast him a dangerous look but, didn't debate him. There wasn't anything to debate really. Rodolphus was right.
"But, we'll find allies. The Dark Lord won't lose," Rabastan said, unwaveringly faithful.
Voldemort's lips twitched into a self-righteous smirk, and Andromeda rolled her eyes as they approached the stables. He dismounted and turned towards a large lumbering man. Andromeda's eyes widened. The man had wild hair and a long beard and he was so large that he had to be a half-giant.
"Hagrid, will you take the horses?" Voldemort drawled, looking at the man with disdain.
The man glared back at him, and muttered, "Aye."
Rabastan and Rodolphus dismounted. Rabastan offered his hand to Andromeda but, she rolled her eyes and dismounted, falling heavily to the ground. Her sword bounced at her side.
"Now, what?" Andromeda barked, searching.
She saw the sturdy cottage, the only building in the tent city of the refugees and she stepped towards it. Voldemort's hand shot out, wrapping around her wrist, and he tugged her away from the cottage.
"We won't be going in the building," Voldemort said, carefully as he led them around the side of the building to a large stable and farther out a paddock.
Andromeda walked, her head held high as she ignored the stares. The density of people grew the closer they got to the paddock. The Lestranges also held their heads high. They had nothing to be ashamed of. They had done what had been necessary to stay alive and here they were, alive.
"We're bending the knee in a paddock?" Rabastan asked, nervously.
"He wanted you to see his pets," Voldemort drawled, his lips twitching.
Andromeda's eyes widened as they entered the paddock. Her eyes fell on her daughter first. She would recognize her child, the child of her womb, anywhere.
Nymphadora had grown into a beautiful young woman. She had Bellatrix's nose and her dark indigo eyes. She had Andromeda's father's jaw but, her lips were all Ted's. Her hair was wild around her face, a bright pink. She was dressed in severe black battle armor, a red cloak draped over her shoulders. She stood directly to the right of him.
"Melui-âr," Voldemort drawled. Andromeda raised an eyebrow. Sweet-king. "I present to you, the Lady Andromeda of House Slytherin, Warden of the West, and the Lords of House Lestrange."
Voldemort walked forward and took his place at the left of his Melui-âr.
"Lady Warden, Lords of House Lestrange, you are in the presence of Harry Wildfyre of Houses Gryffindor and Potter, the First of His Name, Rightful Emperor of Albion, King of the Four Directions, Protector of the Realm, Alpha of the Pride, and Fairest of Them All," Nymphadora declared. She didn't falter.
Andromeda stared at the King. He was just as beautiful as they whispered. His rosebud lips pursed, his ebony hair wild around his face like a halo, his skin so pale. He had Lily's eyes. His beauty was intimidating, just as intimidating as the lion cub in his lap, as the massive dragon that sat behind him.
The dragon that Andromeda's brother had warned her about but, she had tried not to think about. She swallowed hard and moved forward. The dragon was the side of a horse. It let out a roar, a plume of fire escaping its mouth. Andromeda refused to flinch.
"Welcome Lady Warden, my Lords," Harry Wildfyre said, his voice melodic.
"Thank you for the invitation," Andromeda drawled. She looked at Nymphadora. Nymphadora was staring at her, her hands twitching, as if she wanted to reach for her. Andromeda took a step forward but, she froze when the dragon reared its head and a plume of smoke escaped its mouth in warning.
"Dar, Freia," the Fairest drawled. The dragon, Freia, whined and let its wide, heavy head fall into the Fairest's lap. "You will not approach my Lady of Whispers."
"Your Lady of Whispers is my daughter," Andromeda said, sharply.
The Fairest's lips twitched. "I know. But, I was made to think that you came here to bend the knee. Would my assumption be wrong?"
Andromeda paused and slowly a smile spread across her face. The Fairest's words were hard and frigid, but she could sense his turmoil. It was like fire. He wanted to let her run to Nymphadora. He was joyful about the news that Nymphadora's mother was here. And yet, he was putting his politics first in a way that Andromeda had only seen her brother and youngest sister capable of.
"You are a stone-cold bitch, your Grace," Andromeda said with a smile.
The Order broke into mutterings. A redheaded man with freckles on his face stepped forward.
"How dare you?" he snarled.
Andromeda rolled her eyes and continued to stare at the Fairest. The Fairest laughed.
"Thank you," he drawled. "Lord Rodolphus, Lord Rabastan of House Lestrange, do you come to bend the knee?"
"Yes, your Grace. We pledge fealty to you, the rightful King-Emperor of Albion," Rodolphus said, saluting with his wand. Rabastan whipped out his wand and followed his example.
The Fairest nodded once and slowly turn his cold gaze onto Andromeda.
"And what say you, Lady Warden?"
Andromeda pulled her sword and the party surrounding the Fairest stiffened, all of their hands falling to the hilts of their swords and the handles of their axes. Nymphadora and Voldemort, alone, did not make a move to defend the Fairest. Even the Fairest looked delighted.
Andromeda thrust her sword into the ground and fell to one knee, crossing her wand over her chest. The Fairest raised an eyebrow in interest.
"I, Andromeda of House Slytherin, Lady Warden of the West, swear Westeron, all of Afallon's forces, and fealty to you. I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours, if need be. I swear it by any god," Andromeda declared, invoking the old rights.
Voldemort's nostrils flared.
The Fairest's lips curled into a genuine smile.
"And I vow, that you and your daughter, my closest confidant, will always have places by my hearth, at my table, and I shall never ask service of you that might be a dishonor. I swear it," the Fairest said with such conviction that Andromeda could not doubt any of his words.
Nymphadora looked to the Fairest, eyes wide. "Harry?" she whispered.
The Fairest stood, cradling the lioness cub to his chest. Slowly, he walked forward, his expression never changing. Andromeda cleared her throat as the Fairest approached; he was slightly taller than her—far taller than she had expected him to be. Voldemort tended to prefer delicate bedmates. But, the Fairest was delicate, in an odd way, and still far more delicate than Voldemort who towered over nearly everyone but that giant, Hagrid.
"Tom, there's work to be done," the Fairest whispered, gently, and Andromeda froze. Voldemort barely reacted, turning on his heel and following him from the room. The Fairest looked over his shoulder. "Tonks, speak with your mother. You have much to discuss, I think."
And with that, they were gone, and Andromeda was faced with the girl—no, woman, now—that she had thought dead for over twenty years.
WHO
Tonks looked over her shoulder, at her mother, nervous, as she led her down the hall and towards her bedroom. Warden Andromeda was looking around, curiously, but not saying a single word. She was a regal woman. Tonks had known that. She had seen paintings of the woman in her chainmail dresses. The sword of the West bounced against her hip. But, Tonks remembered a time when she hadn't worn silk and leathers and chain. Tonks vaguely remembered simple cotton and hair tied-back.
Tonks could vaguely remember a time when Andromeda Slytherin had simply looked like her mother and not like the Warden of the West.
"My room's here…Lady Warden," Tonks said, uncertain. She flinched when Andromeda looked at her sharply.
Andromeda looked crossed between annoyance and amusement. Tonks ducked her head in embarrassment, her hair turning a bright yellow.
"That hasn't changed," Andromeda snorted. Tonks shrugged, uneasily as her hair eased back to bright pink.
"Never has, though I'm not as easily embarrassed anymore," Tonks said, ruefully.
Andromeda smiled.
"I'm glad."
Tonks pushed open the door with her hip and stumbled over the coat rack. As the troll leg fell over, so did and Tonks landed in a heap at her mother's feet. Tonks groaned, slapping a hand over her burning face as her hair burned a bright neon yellow.
"Oh Merlin, this is so embarrassing!" Tonks moaned from the ground.
Andromeda's laughter filled the room, bright and booming. It reminded Tonks of her childhood. Tonks crawled towards her bed, her red face pitched towards the ground.
"It is. But, it's also rather funny. The first time you tripped over something, you bawled until your father bandaged your nonexistent scrape," Andromeda said as she crossed the room and kneeled on the ground next to Tonks, uncaring for 'ladylike' behavior.
"I'm pretty sure that did not happen," Tonks said, looking up as the pink slowly dissipated from her face and went towards her hair. Andromeda smirked.
"I assure you it did."
Tonks leaned back against her bed and sighed. She looked over at Andromeda, wondering what she should say. Andromeda stared back at her, wide-eyed. Waiting.
"I missed you," Tonks blurted out.
Andromeda smiled, reaching forward to run her hand over the short spikes of Tonks' hair.
"And I missed you, my little Red. It's been a very long while," Andromeda whispered. She leaned back against the bed and looked up at the ceiling.
Tonks bit her lip.
"Voldemort...I...he recognized me when he first saw me. He looked at me and said 'Nymphadora' like he knew me my whole life. And I knew you. I remembered. I look like a Slytherin," Tonks said, so incredibly vulnerable.
"I knew you from the moment I saw you. You always liked your hair bright. Sometimes purple, sometimes turquoise. The pink is new, though. The crimson cloak. It looks like the one your father made for you when you were little. This one is beautiful," Andromeda whispered and Tonks' lips twitched into a slow smile as she stared at her mother.
She ignored the tears that stung her eyes.
"They call me Lady Red."
"How did you get involved with the Order? What do you do to help them? How did become the Fairest's Lady of Whispers?" Andromeda asked. Tonks flinched and looked away.
"If I tell you...will you think less of me?" Tonks asked.
It was one thing to reassure Harry. But, this was her mother.
"Never, Nymphadora," Andromeda said. Tonks made a face and Andromeda laughed. "What? It's your name."
"Everyone calls me Tonks," Tonks explained.
Andromeda's expression faltered. "Your father."
"After my father. I'm Nymphadora Tonks. Not Nymphadora Slytherin. And they call me Tonks because Nymphadora is such an unfortunate name," Tonks said, avoiding the looming questions and Andromeda scoffed.
"Nymphadora is a noble name for a noble woman. I will not be calling you Tonks," Andromeda said, sharply. Tonks smothered her snort in her hand. "Now, answer my questions."
Tonks sighed and swallowed her hesitation. "I was raised in a brother. I was taught how to pleasure a man young. Not a child but I was...young. But, they taught me magic there too. They taught me how to pull information from a man as I whored. Taught me that being a Metamorphmagus was a gift. I could become a man's greatest desire and steal his secrets. And when I was a teenager, I came across a wild woman. I thought she wanted to kill me."
"What did she want?" Andromeda asked.
"A companion. I was intrigued. I would be able to stop selling my body like a common whore. She was wild, Mother. She was dark and powerful. We ran together and she taught me everything I know because I had one goal—to avenge Father. But, a time came when I had to leave the home to fetch something and when I returned, she was gone. I survived, resolved to kill the man that murdered my father but, then I came across Madame McGonagall and she recognized me for who I was and I told her the skills I had. And I became the Spymaster of the Order. Then...Harry, the Fairest, came and we clicked. He made me his Lady of Whispers."
Tonks was simplifying her journey but her mother didn't need to know the gory details of the things she had done for Pandora. No one needed to know. Only Remus knew everything. Tonks closed her eyes. She froze when Andromeda's lips brushed across her cheek.
"You are so strong, my child," Andromeda whispered so much conviction, Tonks wanted to weep.
"Am I?" Tonks asked, her voice cracking.
Andromeda hummed, wiping away stray tears. "Oh you are, my darling. So strong. Stronger than I, who has grieved yet done nothing to stop what has been happening. I have been passive, locking myself away in Westeron. I regret it," Andromeda said, quietly.
"But, you are here now," Tonks insisted and Andromeda nodded in agreement.
They sat in silence, drinking in the other's presence. Andromeda looked around the room as she tucked her daughter's head into the crook of her neck. It was a well-lived-in room. The bed sheets were rumpled but clean, the fire crackling merrily. But, it was the children's toys in the corner by the long crib that caught her attention.
"There is a child?" Andromeda asked, wide-eyed.
Tonks laughed. "Teddy. He's a child I found. He's like me. A Metamorphmagus."
"Where is he? I'd like to see your son," Andromeda said.
"I think he'd like to meet you too, Mother. He's napping in Remus' room now but when he's up—"
"Remus? A man?" Andromeda asked, her eyes alight with hesitant mischief and Tonks snorted in laughter, shaking her head.
"Yes, a man. Remus Lupin. You know."
Andromeda's lips turned down. "I know. A Marauder, then."
"Yes. He's a good man tho, Mother. But, he will not...he won't entertain...it's complicated," Tonks finished as she struggled to put Remus and her relationship into words. Andromeda looked at her with understanding and Tonks flashed a helpless smile.
"Well, I shall meet your son and this Remus," Andromeda said and Tonks nodded as she struggled to her feet. Andromeda stood up, gracefully, and Tonks couldn't stop smiling. Her mother was here.
"Let me show you the camp," Tonks said, grabbing her mother's hand and tugging her from the room. They walk down the stairs and out the front door of the Burrow II. Andromeda lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the burning light.
"It's so bright here!" Andromeda said.
"That'll be Harry," Tonks laughed. "This right here is the very center of camp. The tents all belong to refugee families. They help with the growing of food, cooking, cleaning, healing, and washing. We all help. But, the Order members—at least, the high-ranking ones, live in the Burrow II with the King."
"And what's back there?" Andromeda asked, curiously, gesturing towards the stables and the ring that she had been presented to the King in.
"The stables, the training grounds, and the paddock. Come," Tonks insisted though she still hadn't released her mother from her grip.
The pair of Slytherin women walked past the training grounds first. Andromeda stopped as she saw the young redheaded woman from before. She had a quiver upon her back and a bow in hand. She nocked an arrow, and tilted her head, observing the multiple targets. And then the woman let her eyes close and she let the arrow fly. Andromeda's mouth fell open as the woman slowly walked, unleashing arrow after arrow, hitting each target dead center.
Tonks looked at her mother, smug at the young woman's display.
"Who is she?" Andromeda breathed.
"Ginevra Weasley," Tonks said. "She's been trained since she was a little girl and has been a part of the Order just as long as that. Zero chance of missing."
Ginevra Weasley paid them no mind. "Accio," she called, summoning her arrows back to her and then she began again.
Tonks tugged her mother along and they walked further towards the training ground. Andromeda could hear the shrieks of that dragon again, loud and proud. She looked at the training grounds further down and saw the King. He was dueling with a tall, lanky redheaded young man. Spells were flying back and forth—red jets and black flashes. Purple and blue. All lightning fast as if the Fairest had been training for years.
His beastly dragon sat at the edge of the paddock, its head extended far. The little lion cub sat in the shade of the dragon's head and right before the dragon stood Andromeda's brother, his arms crossed over his chest. The Lestranges stood on either side of him, mildly impressed.
"EXPELLIARMUS!" the King roared, spinning with his sword and the redhead's wand flew from his hand. He brought up his ax towards the edge of the King's blade, and the Fairest wrenched himself back.
"What do you do now?" the redhead asked with a lazy grin.
"Kill him!" Tonks shouted. The Fairest barely twitched and nodded with a smile.
"I kill you."
"AGAIN!"
Andromeda jumped when she heard her brother's roar. She watched as the Fairest launched himself forward without a thought, kicking out and catching the redhead in the chest. The redhead laughed and stumbled back, grabbing at his wand. They crashed into each other. The redhead was similar to Andromeda in battle—volatile and brutal. Watching him truly fight would be a gruesome sight.
But, the Fairest moved like fire—all grace and fury. It reminded Andromeda of Lily and James. Lily's fire was in his bright green eyes and James' preciseness was in his movements. The Fairest spun with the wind, dodging what he could and blocking only when he had to.
"End it! Battle is fast and bloody!" Voldemort barked again.
The Fairest's lips curled into a snarl. "Füir."
And Andromeda's mouth dropped open as fire exploded around the Fairest, writhing like a menace. The grass beneath him blackened and curled, and turned to ash. And yet the fire did not touch him. The redhead dropped his ax and wand, raising his hands in defeat.
"Good. But, you can't do that every time you want to win a fight," Voldemort said.
Andromeda cleared her throat and stepped forward. "Narcissa won't be cowed by that for long," she added.
The Fairest turned to her, eyes narrowed with curiosity. He took a step forward, smiling softly at Tonks before turning back to Andromeda.
"Tell me what will cow Andromeda," he said. It was a demand but, there was something about him that made Andromeda want to give in.
"Your Grace—" she began.
"Harry," he corrected.
Andromeda raised an eyebrow but said nothing of it. "Narcissa is a cold woman."
"Fire melts ice," Rabastan added and Harry flashed the man a smile. Andromeda rolled her eyes when the man flushed. She gazed at Voldemort as his gaze hardened on his Death Eater.
Interesting.
"But, not always," Voldemort said, briskly. He stepped forward until he was in Harry's space. Andromeda raised an eyebrow when Harry didn't take a step back, only let the man linger in his breath. "What will you do when you face her or Draco?"
"Only you can kill either of them. You can't expect—" Rodolphus began to protest.
"Who kills who is neither here nor there," Voldemort said, shortly. He looked over at Andromeda and beckoned her closer. "Andromeda, give us your perspective on Narcissa's fighting style."
And so Andromeda was drawn into the war, her daughter at her side.
IS FAIREST
"I'm losing myself. I can't...I don't know what to do anymore," Harry whispered, softly, curled into a small ball atop his bed, unable to take the rest of the world with its fire and its call for blood.
The moment he had seen Andromeda, he had wanted to push her towards Tonks. But, he knew that he had to put the empire first. The war and carnage that he would bring to the empire in his struggle for power. The heartbreak and the suffering and the tears. The black-and-white of the war was gone. The distinction had never existed and he had been so blind.
"Would you like advice?"
Voldemort's low, velvet voice drew him out of the pit. He stared into Voldemort's red eyes. They didn't pity him; they never did.
They looked at him with expectation.
The expectation that he would rise from the ashes like the phoenix his mother supposedly was, but never managed to be. The expectation that Harry would be a lion. Would be a dragon.
With every loss, every fallen body, Harry turned to ashes and he broke.
"Advice? I could use some of that, but yours? I'm not sure," Harry said, callously.
Voldemort's lips pulled into a smirk. "You're angry with me. You said it was hard to be angry with me."
"I said hard. Not impossible," Harry bit out. "You tore a mother and daughter apart."
"Are you only just coming to terms with this?" Voldemort asked, cruelly. He laughed, high and cold, and it sent shivers down Harry's spine.
It was a laugh that reminded Harry when he had been the prey and not the predator. The days when he had been just a boy and not the man. But, the boy was dead now, burned to ashes, and he had risen a man. Ollivander's warning still haunted his sleep, echoing behind his ears.
"I should've never made you my Chancellor," Harry whispered, his voice trembling.
Voldemort laughed again. "Why did you?"
"Because one day, you will be the man that I know you are and you will be worthy of it," Harry spat back, and Voldemort recoiled as if he had been burned. Harry grinned in triumph, looking at the expression on the Dark Lord's face.
"You have too much faith in me," the Dark Lord said, coldly.
"You have too little faith in yourself," Harry retorted and he sat up, reaching forward and brushing his fingers lightly across the Dark Lord's jaw, tracing the lines. "My Lord, you've lost yourself. Just as I have."
"I have always been lost," Voldemort said, coldly.
Harry laughed. "So have I," he said, conspiratorial.
"You are fire personified," Voldemort muttered. "Blowing this way and that way in the wind. Turning on the flip of a switch. Never sure where you stand. Never sure how you feel."
Harry rolled onto his back and sighed, the sound of a weary old man instead of the bright young man that he was. He lifted his hand up, staring as the Fire came without being called. It danced along his palm and down his knuckles, gathering around his wrist. Harry closed his fist and the flames extinguished.
"Perhaps," Harry allowed. "I must remind myself that at any time, I can be bitten by you, Tom. Every minute that you spend in my presence, I must remind myself of that because, every second, I grow to trust you more and more. No matter how many times a snake sheds its skin, it's still a snake."
Voldemort laughed again but, it was a warmer sound that made Harry's lips twitch into a smile.
"I have made a Vow. I am not in the business of dying," Voldemort said, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. Harry rolled over onto his side and propped his head up on his arm, his lips twitching.
"If there's anyone who can escape an Unbreakable Vow, it's you, Lord Voldemort," Harry said.
And Voldemort looked at the man, this beautiful man that had tested all of his boundaries, that had bound them in blood and magic.
"Do you know why I made that Vow?" Voldemort asked, his voice quiet.
"Revenge," Harry said, sharply.
Voldemort turned on his back and closed his eyes.
"I told you that your parents threatened everything I held dear. I lied," Voldemort repeated, from that night that felt like years ago, the night that he had taken Harry. Now, it felt like Harry had taken something from him but, he wasn't sure what.
"I remember," Harry whispered.
"Narcissa took everything that mattered away from me. My choices. My immortality. My empire. My sister."
Harry. "You loved her," he whispered.
Voldemort hummed, softly.
"I cannot say that I loved her. That loved anything. But, she was my twin, and thus, one-half of me."
"You speak highly of her. That is love," Harry said, firmly.
Voldemort rolled his eyes. "What a base emotion. Love. No. I found Bellatrix in the womb. We are bonded by blood, bone, water, and magic. I have known her before I knew myself. She is half of me. Half of my everything and anything."
Harry cleared his throat. He could call Bellatrix many things. Mad. Evil. Terrible. And yet, he could see the grief in Voldemort's face, in the way he clenched his jaw. Harry licked his lips, suddenly aware of how dry they were.
"That's why, then?" Harry asked, gently, as if he were speaking towards a skittish animal. He brushed a hand over Voldemort's bicep and Voldemort stiffened.
Voldemort's slowly let his eyes open and they bored into Harry's with an intensity that Harry had not ever seen. It was rage and it bubbled towards the surface.
"You think you know my family, Harry Potter? I have been fighting for the survival of my family since I was a boy. I have sacrificed and killed to retain the survival of my sisters and myself, and Narcissa squandered it. We are Slytherins. Fear. Blood. Power. And we never forgive."
Harry nodded, his heart aching, and he sighed, shaking his head.
"And I will aide you, to the best of my ability," Harry swore.
Voldemort looked surprised by Harry's resilience.
"You are beautiful, Harry Wildfyre," Voldemort said, quietly. "You might be the most beautiful person I've ever seen in my entire life."
Harry flushed and turned away, slowly sitting up, and shaking himself.
"Come on, get up," he said, rolling off the bed, and stumbling just slightly before he righted himself. Harry snatched his wand from the bedside and with one hand called the Fire, lighting his fireplace and the lamps all over the room. Voldemort frowned up at him and slowly sat up. "Accio parchment and quill."
"What are you doing?" Voldemort asked. "And we need to work on your wordless spellwork. You'll need the element of surprise when on the battlefield. It isn't a proper duel if you're—"
"Yes, yes," Harry said, impatiently as he grabbed a book from his bedside table to use as a makeshift desk on his lap. "Come, we're going to work. You said we must treat with the centaurs, yes?"
Voldemort looked at him, his lips pursed. "It's late, Harry…"
"No, no. Neither of us are going to be able to sleep. Let's focus. Do something. Come on, help me write this," Harry said, pushing distractions on the Dark Lord.
Voldemort's lips twitched. Harry was not a subtle young man. But, he didn't speak to this. Instead, he bent his head towards Harry's and worked.
OF THEM
Rusted iron bars held the stray magic at bay. The only constant of the large camp was the sound of clinking chains and the quiet weeping. Someone always wept even as the Aurors snarled and cursed at them to silence themselves. When they weren't silent, the Aurors raged at them anyway, throwing curses and spells that the creatures couldn't defend themselves from.
This was the first, and largest, outpost of Crowmere Camp.
Every cage was stuffed with creatures—centaurs, banshees, Veela, goblins, giants, and other Fae. Hippogriffs lingering in cages stuffed with feces and rotten food left in troughs for them to consume. The entire camp reeked of excrement and death, heavy blanket of it keeping the creatures low.
"The King is full of excellent ideas, you know. Just excellent."
"Oh, I know." She tittered, sweetly. "I've been saying for years that we should adopt a harsher creature control policy. It's more important now than ever, with the war going on."
"Especially with the—"
He was interrupted by the shrill cry of a banshee. The two watched as an overseer tried to reach into the cage again, with a sneer on his face. The banshee let out another cry, crashing against the bars, as if she could ever possibly escape magic-enforced iron. Her screams would've normally deafened a person but, that wasn't possible here.
The two observers exchanged glances before carefully making their way to the cage.
The pair of them were an odd couple. He was a portly old man, always dressed pinstriped robes and a rather unfortunate lime green pointed hat. The woman was even more unfortunate, with her frog-like face and penchant for a silly pink that befitted young girls far more than her. Her sausage-like curls bounced round her face, and she dragged her pink whip alongside her, creating a snake trail behind her.
"Madame Umbridge, the banshee is being...difficult," the overseer said, stiffly.
The woman let out a shrieking giggle, her lips pulled into a wide, terrible smile and she nodded, her pink bow twitching just so with her movement. She took a step forward.
And in a high, piercing voice, she said, "Think nothing of it, Mr. Thicknesse. I shall deal with this personally." The woman approached the bars and the banshee snarled at her, baring her teeth. The woman glanced over her shoulder. "Cornelius, how many lashes do you think would be appropriate?"
The portly man, Cornelius, mopped his forehead with a handkerchief. "I'm not sure, Madame," he said, gruffly, looking away, his lips pulled into a grimace.
"Very well," Dolores Umbridge said as she waved her wand, causing the barred door to swing open, and she smiled, sweetly, at the banshee. "You've hurt my Aurors, monster. Deep down, you know you deserve to be punished. Don't you?"
The banshee hissed, her black hair whipping around her young face. Umbridge lifted her whip, dangerously.
"Until the lesson sets in."
And then the whip cracked through the air, and the banshee screamed.
ALL?
Gabrielle shivered as she brushed her hair back from her face, her cheeks bright pink with merriment. The Manoir was bustling, applauding. It was full of dancing and laughter, all celebrating her marriage. Gabrielle looked over her glass of wine to her husband. Fenrir looked back at her, his eyes bright with amusement. Gabrielle leaned over, pressing a kiss to his bristly cheek.
"What was that for?" he laughed.
"Because I wanted to kiss my husband on the cheek," Gabrielle mocked, and Fenrir let out a snarling laugh.
Instead of returning the peck, he grabbed a hold of her chin and laid an open-mouth kiss to her mouth. Gabrielle knew it wasn't proper but she fell into the rhythm of it easily, her eyes fluttering closed. When she pulled away, she knew her cheeks were flushed red. Fenrir smirked down at her.
"You look particularly Veela, today," he said, his voice nearly a whisper.
Gabrielle paled almost immediately. She ran her fingers through her flaxen hair and winced when she saw how pale and glowing the locks were.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she hissed.
Fenrir hummed. "You won't need to learn how to fight anyone off. I'll protect you," Fenrir said and Gabrielle was reminded of her absent sister again.
All day she had seen and heard things that reminded her of her absent sister. She had seen Brigitte Godard in a stunning set of robes, robes that could only have been crafted by Fleur's hand. They had Fleur's favorite desserts, a sweet little cookie with raspberry swirl on top. Even the robes, Gabrielle wore made her want to weep.
She had woken up that morning to a package from Fenrir, delivered by owl. It was a stunning set of wedding robes, embroidered with the cliffs of Afallon at the hem. Gabrielle had sent Fleur at least three invitations and each one had been returned to her with a loving note from Fleur accompanying it.
Gabrielle had been terrible to her and even still, Fleur loved her as if she were her own child.
Gabrielle might as well have been Fleur's child.
"What troubles you?" Fenrir asked, softly. "The wedding night?"
Gabrielle finished her goblet of wine and set it down. It filled itself back up again but Gabrielle turned away. She had consumed at least two goblets already and the world was stark in color and the people swirling around the dance floor looked like a hurricane.
"No. I will do my wifely duties," Gabrielle said, almost absent-mindedly. Fenrir snorted into his glass of harsher liquor, nodding in understanding. He waited. "Fleur wouldn't come because she doesn't believe you can protect us. That you can protect me."
"I understand that fear," Fenrir said, slowly. "But, she abandoned you. She didn't-"
"No," Gabrielle corrected. "I didn't give her choice. But, I want to prove to her that I can protect me. I want you to teach me how to protect myself."
Fenrir smirked. "Anything for you, pretty girl."
:::
A/N: Hello all! I know, this is a week late but I can explain!
I'm currently in Georgia and Hurricane Irma decided to pay us a surprise visit. It was rough but, I'm okay.
Anyway, here's the chapter. The next one should be out by next week. You know the drill: if you have questions or suggestions, I'm always down to hear it. I love hearing what you guys have to say! Thanks for reading!