Otherwise known as: How Luna tore apart the fabric of reality so that her friends could get decently laid, and accidentally saved the world in the process.

A/N: Welcome to Chapter Thirty-Six! It's here, now, because I needed to get past the Regulus explanation bit (it was causing writers block, people!).

Enjoy!

Love always,

Eli x

Disclaimer: I do not own the works herein, all characters from the Harry Potter Universe belong to JK Rowling, and all characters, storylines, situations, plots and the like do not belong to me. I make no money from this work.

Warnings: Rated M for situations, swearing, violence... The whole lot, basically.

Iacta Alea Est

Chapter Thirty-Six

It was quiet in the library, the other men having left. He wasn't sure how long it had been but he'd remained unobtrusive, in the background, respecting their moment of peace, while Hermione tried to work through what she'd just done. He was a patient person, but the hour was getting late and he was very tired, so eventually he spoke.

"'The one we came back to save you from'," Regulus said, his voice breaking through the silence. His eyes were fixed on Hermione, who was huddled on a chair with Ginny wrapped around her like a security blanket. She glanced up at his words, frowning.

"Excuse me?"

He tipped his head, one finger tapping out a beat on the arm of his chair. "That's what you said to Evans. The one we came back to save you from." There was a pause as horrified recognition flared in Hermione's eyes. "Came back from where?" He asked smoothly, his voice completely level.

Luna, who was still sat at his feet – which made him vaguely uncomfortable in a 'this is weirdly submissive' way, rather than a 'why is the stranger touching me' way, which in turn unnerved him even more – turned to lay her cheek on his thigh and gaze up at him. He determinedly shoved away all of the mental images that came with that tiny motion, instead cocking an eyebrow haughtily. "Well?"

"1999," Luna hummed. "It was a good year. You'd have liked it. Voldemort was dead, the Wizengamot was being dismantled and the Snufflops were mating. They only mate once a decade, you know."

"1999," he repeated sceptically, turning his eyes to the other girls. He didn't know what a Snufflop was, but he doubted it was real. If he'd learned anything over the past day it was that Luna really was quite odd.

And then of course there was all that information he'd managed to glean from Hermione and Lily's argument. He couldn't count that – yet – on account of not understanding a word of it.

He would, though. Soon.

1999 seemed a bit far-fetched even for Luna. Time-travel simply didn't work that way. Not that it was a particular project of his, but he'd read the research. He knew of Eloise Mintumble and her ill-fated experiment. These girls were here, interacting with the world, controlling the world, and that simply wasn't possible with time-travel. Time was a loop, self-correcting. Things could only happen if they had already happened, which would make their entire trip pointless, even if they were from the future.

But some of the things they'd said…

No. He wasn't going there. He was a logical man, he couldn't subscribe to ludicrous ideas such as this.

The women didn't seem to get the message, however. Ginny was nodding solemnly, and Hermione was looking pained. Luna was the only one with any measure of composed nonchalance, playing with his fingertips.

He was quickly learning that he couldn't leave anything within touching distance of Luna if he wanted it to go unmolested.

"That's not possible," he said aloud, realising he hadn't actually responded to the statement, and it seemed that the others were formulating their attack around his opinion. Hermione eyed him for a long moment, before saying;

"You're right, of course. It's not possible." She smiled widely and stood up. "Guess that's us done, then. See you tomorrow-"

"Sit back down." Ginny said, rolling her eyes. She grabbed Hermione's hand in what looked like a painfully tight grip and yanked once on her arm until the other girl over-balanced and collapsed onto the sofa. "It's possible," this she addressed to Regulus. "We've done it. I don't know how or why, but we have, and we're here. We're not leaving, either. Our reality is gone, shattered to the wind, and all we can do now is make the best of the new one."

"Which is a real pity," Lavender piped up. She was still on the settee she'd occupied since the beginning of the meeting, her legs spread over the back, shoulders on the seat, head hanging off the edge. "Considering how I wasn't a werewolf in that one, and how in this one my fiancé is not even a foetus." Catching Ginny's acidic look, Lavender closed her eyes and sighed. "I was just making a point."

Ginny waved the interruption off, but Regulus continued to watch Lavender. She was an odd sort of girl, extraordinarily pretty if it weren't for the mangled flesh that coated her face, arms and legs. He could only assume it was present on her torso, too, but he couldn't see that in the clothes she was wearing. Her hair was bright gold, voluminous, tangled and braided, and she spoke with an eloquence that belied her actual words. Her personality, from what he'd seen, was crass and self-absorbed, though there was an almost Hufflepuff-ian sense of loyalty hidden beneath her Gryffindor aggression. While he'd seen and knew of the other three girls's assets; the ones which would, he supposed, make them perfect for an inter-time mission to save the world (if that was what this was – he still had his doubts) he couldn't quite see where this other girl fit.

She was a conundrum.

"We arrived just over a month ago," Ginny was saying. "It's a long story, but the gist of it is that this trip was entirely accidental. Well…" she glanced at Luna. "At least, we rather thought it was. Until… some things came to light.

"Anyway," Ginny shook her head as if to clear it. "We're from the future. And we're going to take down Voldemort – sorry," Ginny winced along with Regulus when a spike of pain radiated up from his Mark to vibrate down his spine. He couldn't hold back the glare. "I forget about … yeah."

Hermione huffed, still looking irritated that he was learning anything at all. Which was ridiculous, considering how the other inhabitants of the house must know much more than the spare information they were giving him, and all of them Gryffindors, a notoriously unreliable bunch. "We were told there was a weapon," Regulus informed them, thinking that perhaps a little quid-pro-quo would get them to loosen up. "About a month ago, He informed us that the Potters, and therefore the Order, had received a weapon from the Fates. I assume that's you."

Ignoring the scoffing coming from Hermione's corner, Luna nodded. "That's the theory we're running with," Ginny said. "It would explain our ability to change things, at the very least."

Regulus took a moment to contemplate this. It was a feasible explanation, he thought. All the more easy for him to subscribe to given his upbringing. Many pureblood families were into the 'Gods' thing, choosing a patron from one of the Pantheons and running with it. There were rituals and sacrifices and whole days and events given to the Gods, to the belief that they existed and interfered with mortal life. It wasn't so far off to suggest they might meddle in a war – though he didn't see why they would.

"He's immortal," Luna murmured. He glanced down to see her staring up at him, solemn as though she had heard his thoughts. "He's meddled in the Fates' realm. You must know how much the Fates abhor interference."

"In the stories they just curse people," he replied, his brow scrunched up in thought. "Whole generations or bloodlines. They don't actively displace whole groups of mortals through time."

"They do now," Luna said with finality, as though her words were law. The other girls were nodding. Regulus studied them all for a moment more – Hermione, tired and drawn after her earlier fight; Ginny, looking like she'd happily jump off the nearest cliff if only it would solve anything; Lavender, bored and sleepy; and Luna, curled up in the cradle of his legs, only half-connected to the world. Their speech patterns while they were explaining things to him were, upon reflection, discordant and exhausted. Hermione had kept her mouth shut because she was struggling to keep her eyes open, and Ginny's voice had borne all signs of strain. Lavender was seconds away from falling asleep, only keeping herself in the land of the living by fixing her pansy-purple eyes on him.

Many of his house would take this moment to prod and push, for people have fewer protections when they are tired, but he was in need of their protection. Manipulation, while effective in the moment, would only lead to distrust and distrust was the last thing he could afford right then. Besides, if he quit now while he was ahead, he could use the time to dissect the information he'd gleaned from their argument.

He put on a tired mask of his own, looking across at Hermione. "Can we pick this up tomorrow, please?" He asked in his most polite voice, his Guest voice. Her eyes flared open with relief, and she pushed up off of the sofa with a smile.

"Of course. Dorea had the elves set up a room for you – it'll be Lavender's old one, back near the boys."

"What?" Lavender suddenly came to life, her mouth falling open. "They've kicked me out of my room?"

Hermione twitched her nose as she shook her head, rolling her eyes while her back was to Lavender. "Not 'kicked you out', only moved you. Closer to us."

"Dorea says that while we're adults, she wasn't going to encourage any 'hanky-panky' between unmarried couples under her roof," Ginny snorted as she climbed to her own feet, a little wobblily. "Like we don't know that she knows that James and Lily get it on like rabbits."

"I don't appreciate the insinuation that I'm anything other than perfectly respectable," Lavender sniffed, in what Regulus thought was a fair impression of Hermione. "I'm not the one sniffing around wolf-boys genitalia. I'm not the one indulging in snark-tastic foreplay with the most notorious playboy of the generation. And I'm not the one attached to Mini-Black like a bloody limpet!"

"Ignore her," Ginny said, guiding Regulus from the room – admittedly, with Luna still attached firmly to his side, though he would reject the limpet analogy – and down the hall. "She's touchy when she's not getting laid."

"I heard that, Ginevra!"

"Would that Lavender's quick temper be our only problem," Hermione hummed from Luna's other side. "Sadly, there is much more to deal with. And it appears I've alienated half of our assets."

"They'll get over it," Ginny assured her, flipping her hair.

"I doubt that," Hermione murmured. "Lily Evans can hold a grudge like no other."

"Well, it's either forgive you or die horribly at the hand of Lord – well, you know. I think getting over herself is a small price to pay."

Hermione made a noncommittal noise and stopped before a door. She turned to Regulus with a smile. "Right, this is you. The family wing is two doors down, we're on the other side of the library. Ginny runs fitness sessions every morning at six, if you want to join in, otherwise you'll often find me in the library. The elves serve breakfast from half-seven onwards in the dining room, though they'll bring food to the Morning Room if you're so inclined."

"Almost like a hotel," he said, to lighten the mood.

Ginny grinned. "Yeah, a hotel, only everybody in it is the exact opposite of relaxed, the staff are super hostile, and there's no room-service." Cocking her head, she clarified, "unless you get furry once a month. In which case, Hermione's only too happy to play nurse-maid." Grinning and ignoring Hermione's aghast gasp, she leaned closer to whisper conspiratorially; "Werewolf fetish, you know? One too many romance novels when she was in school, I reckon."

"Ginny!" Hermione snapped, her face purple as she smacked the redhead on the arm. Regulus raised an eyebrow sardonically in her direction, to which, maturely, she stuck out her tongue. "Don't you start," she rolled her eyes with genuine affection, as if they'd been friends for years. The sight knocked him off guard for long enough for them to usher him into his room and slip back out of the door, Hermione grabbing Luna around the waist as she went. "Sleep well!" Hermione chimed.

"I'll be here for you at six!" Ginny added with a cheeky grin, and the door closed behind them.

Regulus looked around the room. Large, airy, bright with candlelight even though the sun was setting. The opposite of his room at home, but welcoming even for that. His trunk was set at the base of the bed, Castor chirping merrily at the sight of him from his perch on the wardrobe. Regulus fed him a treat through the bars, scolding himself for doing so even as it happened. He really did spoil that bird.

Well, he thought, glancing around, taking in the faint scent of female that lingered even after the deep cleaning, glancing at his view. This is my life now.

He pulled up the cuff of his robes to examine the Mark on his arm. Still there. Still bold. Still entirely, disgustingly Dark. He could feel it infecting his blood, his flesh, his magic. He was tied to the Dark Lord through blood and bone, and the only way to rid himself of the obligation was to kill him.

He could do that. Not alone, but with a team, maybe. Even if that team was querulous, ill-suited to one another, with undertones of disdain and resentment. A gang of misfits, half of whom travelled accidentally back through time to take on the responsibility, the other half adopted in like scruffy strays. Two werewolves. Two muggleborns. One girl who was quite clearly a Weasley. Hardly the crack team he'd have chosen, were he in charge, but oddly, they fit.

He wondered what Severus was doing right then. Whether he was safe, sleeping, or whether he'd been Called. He wondered about his mother, who was hardly much of anything anymore but whom he still loved. He wondered about Kreacher, who would no doubt be alerted any minute now to his disappearance.

One finger traced the outline of the Mark. Looking at it was hard but he forced himself to, had been doing that every night for the last few months. A way of facing up to his mistakes, to the ones he's made and the ones he'll continue making. A symbol of where he'd gone wrong and exactly how far he'd go to make it right.

It might not be too bad, here. Sirius… well. They'd patch things up or they wouldn't. The women were nice, if a bit intimidating. They had faith in him to do what was right.

He couldn't remember the last time someone had had faith in him.

It felt nice.

He wouldn't let them down.