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.
Fairest
Chapter Thirty-Two
"I, Harry Wildfyre, call this meeting to order."
How many times had Hermione heard those words before? Too many, she thought. Too many times she had sat beside Draco Slytherin and heard him use those very same words. Too many times she had seen the map be magicked to life, and spring cities and mountains and forest and rivers. Too many times she had heard about death and destruction and war.
And yet, this time, something felt different.
Hermione glanced over at Luna, who sat on one side of her. Luna was watching the King intently. Hermione swallowed. This was a large council room. A large council room for a large council. In truth, Hermione hadn't realized how many advisors Harry Wildfyre truly had. It was true that he had his core councilors, but there was upwards twenty people in the room, all representing vastly different goals.
Ginny and Kingsley sat with the King on his main council with Bill, Tonks, Charlie Weasley, and the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord sat by Harry's side, as always. Hermione wondered how often he spoke in meetings. Luna had said not very.
Hermione flinched from his impenetrable red stare and looked elsewhere.
Towards the left of the room was Andromeda with her two most trusted—the Black brothers. To Hermione's knowledge, they represented the interests of Afallon. Then, next to them were the representatives of the Order. Ron winked at her and Hermione's lips twitched into a smile. Remus was watching Tonks with a soft look in his eyes.
Barty sat by Ron's side with Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy. To Hermione's understanding, the Dark Lord's most-trusted often switched off with the Lestrange brothers, depending on whose expertise was needed.
Then, on the other side of the room were the foreign representatives—the United City-State ambassadors and the Prince of Alfheim, Cedric, and his wife, Cho. Next to them were two Adored Ones, though Hermione didn't know their names. She would make it her business to memorize everyone's names.
And then, finally, Hermione and Luna were next to one side of the door—impartial judges.
"A party, isn't it?" Luna said with a soft smile.
Hermione's lips twitched.
"First order of business," Harry began. He looked around at the table, blinking slowly. "Alastor Moody and Benjy Fendwick are dead, by my order. Kingsley Shacklebolt is the new Head of the Order of the Phoenix. This means we are without a Commander of the Cavalry."
There were murmurings all around. Hermione's eyes widened as she glanced at Luna. Luna looked unsurprised by the deaths.
"How…" Hermione began. Everyone turned to her, and Hermione winced under the weight of a thousand stares. "What were they accused of?"
"Treason and conspiracy," Harry said softly. He looked away from her and glanced around the room. "Does anyone put forth a nomination?"
"I nominate Marlene McKinnon," Sirius Black said quietly.
There was another rumble of disruption.
"Out of the question," Tonks barked. "She was a traitor as well, spared only by the mercy of the King."
"And we know that she was not the only one out there questioning the King," Lupin added, leaning forward, intrigued by Sirius Black's idea. He looked thoughtful, tapping at his chin as he looked around. "Placing her on your Council keeps her close and it means that those that question your rule will be appeased. They will believe that their complaints are being heard."
"To reward a traitor for being a traitor. How...quaint," the Dark Lord jeered, softly.
Lupin sneered at the man.
"Enough," Harry drawled before it broke out into a fight. He looked from his left to his right, at the two Slytherins that flanked him, before he turned his gaze back to Hermione, amusement in his green eyes. "What say you, Hermione Granger? Luna Lovegood?"
"Us, your Grace?" Hermione asked softly.
"Luna has vouched for your wisdom," Harry said quietly. "And Luna...is quite wise, as proven in the United City-States. What say either of you about this proposal?"
"It shows that you listen," Luna said, her voice soft and sweet. Her eyes cut over to Tonks, eyes narrowed. "Do not let your pride blind you."
"Very well," Harry said as if he hadn't a care in the world. "Sirius nominates Marlene McKinnon as Commander of the Cavalry on the behalf of Afallon. Lupin seconds it on the behalf of the Order. Who will sponsor her on my Council?"
There was a long moment of silence before Bill Weasley let out a mighty sigh.
"I shall, your Grace," Bill called. He ignored the betrayed look in Ginny's eyes.
"She is a traitor," Ginny hissed.
Bill's eyes narrowed. "She is of Essetir. Showing an Essetirenean on our side will entice the East once we demand that they bend the knee," Bill snapped. "Do you know how much money the Eastern lords possess? How much the Longbottoms are worth? How much Arcadia is worth?"
Harry looked pleased with Bill's forethought.
"With the support of my council member and an independent party, I say aye. Marlene McKinnon will be sent a missive later today. I shall write it to her personally," Harry decided.
"And to ensure her loyalty?" the Dark Lord asked.
"The Unbreakable Vow," Cedric of Alfheim said. Everyone looked at him, but he stared back, grimly. "We are in war times. Another insurgency within the ranks cannot be tolerated. I'd be happy to dispatch my own to ensure that she and her potential followers be bound."
"Hopefully, that won't be necessary, but duly noted," Harry said with a sly grin. He looked around and stared, curiously, at the City-Staters. "This brings me to my next order of business. Look at the ocean."
Everyone directed their gaze to the map. One of the City-Staters—a Scamander, though Hermione didn't know which was which—frowned.
"Ships are approaching. But, not our ships," the Scamander said.
Kingsley leaned forward in his seat, staring at the map for a long moment. In his deep, rolling voice, he said, softly, "It appears as if Draco is attempting to secure the port cities."
"It cannot be allowed," Andromeda barked.
"Of course it can't. Which is why, I am making Theseus the acting Commander of the Navy," Harry said as if he hadn't just put a foreigner in charge of an essential part of his army.
Hermione winced at the sudden uproar. Tonks was only nodding at his words—it meant that they had privately discussed the matter. But, Ron was on his feet, shouting, as was Barty and Severus Snape. Andromeda looked livid, and even Cedric looked put out. Harry winced under the onslaught of shouts from all sides, but he hadn't looked away from Theseus. Theseus looked shocked, a flush in his cheeks.
"You're being foolish," the Dark Lord bit out.
Harry hissed at him. "Who else present is a captain of a ship? Who else can command a navy?"
"Me," the Dark Lord snarled. Hermione nearly couldn't hear him from the rest of the shouts as everyone argued with each other about the merits of Harry's proposal.
And Harry paled, his hand flashing out, grabbing at the Dark Lord's arm.
"You cannot leave me," Harry whispered, almost desperately, and he slowly pulled himself away to turn to the rest of the room at large. He composed himself, hiding his desperation deep within himself before he smiled beautifully again. It was a wonderful performance, but Hermione had seen the ache in his eyes. "You didn't allow me to finish. Please, sit down. Ron, put away your wand. No cursing the Death Eaters."
Ron sheepishly stowed away his wand and Barty sneered, sheathing his own sword. Harry scoffed and glanced at Hermione as if they were sharing some sort of joke between the two of them.
"Continue, your Grace?" Andromeda said stiffly.
Harry nodded. "I said acting Commander of the Navy. Two of my most trusted will accompany him and learn from him—Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. The better of the two will rise to the rank of Admiral," Harry decided.
Tonks stiffened. "Harry…" she hissed. "Remus can't go."
Harry glanced over at Tonks, blinking slowly. "Because of your son?" he asked softly. Tonks nodded emphatically. Harry looked back at Remus. "Then...you will discuss and decide in private. But, the offer stands. Will you go, Sirius?"
"Aye, your Grace. I will travel across land and meet the ships by the harbors with Theseus," Sirius said.
Harry beamed. "Good. That order of business is settled," Harry said. He turned to Tonks, who still looked wary of Harry's previous command. Harry reached for her hand and squeezed, and she looked at him for a long moment before she nodded. Suddenly, Tonks turned her gaze to Hermione, her eyes squinted.
Hermione jerked back, eyes wide.
"The Alpha of the Laug Republic is dead," Tonks breathed.
The older magic-users in the room stiffened. Remus' nostrils flared and he looked at Tonks, just as betrayed.
"What?" he spat. "Fenrir Greyback is dead?"
"Who is Fenrir Greyback?" Harry asked quietly, his brow furrowed at not knowing something.
"He's the alpha werewolf of the Laug Republic. The werewolf that turned Remus when he was a boy," Sirius said quietly. He looked at Tonks with wide eyes.
"How sure are you of this, Nymphadora?" Andromeda asked.
Tonks made a face at her given name, but continued on, "Very. The Alpha was slain by his own little wife. She comes now to Afallon. She is important...she is...very important," Tonks said, a little frown on her face.
"And her name, niece? What is her name?" Voldemort asked.
"Is she friend or foe?" Kingsley barked out, just as concerned.
Tonks gave a rueful smile. "Funny you should say that. It seems that we have a mutual friend of hers in the room," Tonks said, and she looked at Hermione again.
Everyone's heavy gazes fell on Hermione once more.
"Me?" she asked, softly.
"Why, yes. The new Alpha is Gabrielle Delacour, and she's eager to meet the Wyrdfod."
MIRROR
"They call him the Beggar King, for he went to his knees to ask for the fleet that was given to him. He is nothing to us, my darling. Nothing," Narcissa cooed as she raked a comb through Draco's hair. He said nothing, only staring down at his crimson-stained skin. The smell of iron and copper dominated the small dungeon room, but it bothered neither of them.
They had become accustomed to the smell of blood.
"He haunts my dreams, Mother. They all do. The Granger, the Fairest...Daphne. Always Daphne," Draco said, his voice cracking. Narcissa lifted the small bucket and dumped the blood of virgins over his head, chanting the dark words under her breath.
Clean. Be cleaned, she prayed even as she sullied him with the blood—half-blood and Mudblood virgins. It was unnecessary to spill the blood of purebloods. Not when Draco did so every night as he fucked into Pansy Parkinson, using her as a rag.
And still, Pansy took it, like the good little soldier she was.
Narcissa would reward her handsomely when this was all over.
"You have Mother, my love. You only need Mother," Narcissa rasped because she knew what it was to be left behind. They had all left her behind too, and she had become the greatest of them all—she had taken the best parts of her siblings and fashioned herself into a weapon of unbreakable diamond.
She washed the blood over him again, working it into his pale shoulders, murmuring the words. She would mend him blood magic if she could. She would tear the world apart to silence the grief that haunted his waking steps, to temper the rage that would serve a part in their destruction. Draco let out a terrible sigh, shaking his pale hair, dyed pink deom the blood.
"Mother, I'm tired," Draco whispered.
Narcissa nodded slowly. "Yes, my love. Wash clean in the blessed water basin there, and sleep. I have work to attend to," she said.
"Of course, Mother."
He never looked at her, and Narcissa stood from her perch on the stool, uncertain as she left the small dungeon room. Absently, she licked her fingers clean of blood and walked down the hallway, the only pale spot in a long corridor of absolute darkness. She walked towards the closest secret passageway to her office until she heard it.
The hissing.
"Come...come to me…" the voice said before dispersing into a mess of hisses.
Narcissa stopped, pressing her hand against the cold stone wall. It had been a voice of pure venom, chilled and murderous. She couldn't discern the words anymore, and she pressed her ear to the wall, eyes narrowed. She could hear the hissing.
"I...can...hear...you," she whispered to the wall.
The hissing.
"Come…"
The hissing.
"Lady Chancellor?"
Narcissa jerked away from the wall. She looked at Dolohov, a darkness in her eyes. He immediately bowed at the waist, his eyes trained on the ground and Narcissa straightened, tilting her head as she looked at the man. He looked up at her through his pretty, pretty eyelashes, and Narcissa smiled coldly.
"Come, Antonin," she commanded, walking past him.
Dolohov followed her like a good bitch.
"My Lady?" he asked, softly.
"I'm quite cold. Won't you warm my bed?" she drawled.
Dolohov didn't need to answer. She didn't expect him to. She expected him in her bed.
And if Narcissa saw a flash of a pretty little blind girl with pale, pale eyes and dark hair from the corner of her eye, she pretended that she hadn't.
But, she couldn't pretend that she hadn't heard the hissing.
MIRROR
Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy almost never spoke to Harry Potter. There was never any true need to do so. After all, they belonged to their Lord, first and forever. Their Lord operated in their best interests, and they hadn't ever questioned that. If the Dark Lord didn't want them to operate with the man that was, effectively, their new sovereign, then they wouldn't.
And so, they had never expected to find their aforementioned sovereign in the parlor of their shared rooms.
He was serving tea, it seemed, brow furrowed as he attempted to reheat the teapot that surely gone tepid while he waited for them. Severus knew from their Lord's complaints that Harry Potter was quite horrid at reheating tea despite his talent with fire, and so he waved his wand, carefully raising the temperature to nearly boiling once more. Harry Potter jumped, and he looked up, a sheepish look on his face.
"Oh, hello. Thank you. I would've hated to serve you cold tea. I'm quite bad. At reheating tea, that is," Harry said, stumbling over his words.
Severus glanced over at Lucius who looked quite put off. This was the man that had their Lord enthralled. Pretty, he was, but he didn't seem particularly bright.
Severus supposed that could be due to the fact that he hadn't been raised using magic as most witches and wizards were, but then, he remembered that Harry Potter was supposedly destined. He was supposedly going to save the entire world, which Severus wasn't quite sure he believed. He had never put much stock in Divination, and he certainly wouldn't start now.
"Your Grace, it is an honor to receive you in our rooms, of course, but we do wonder…" Lucius said, as diplomatically as possible. "What could we have possibly done to receive this honor?"
Harry blinked.
"Well, I...well, nothing. But, I wanted to have a conversation with you. Sans the Dark Lord," Harry tacked on in a rush.
Severus and Lucius exchanged another look as they sat down across from the King.
"I see," Severus finally said.
Harry leaned forward. "You both far surpass me in military experience, I know. You are, after all, the Dark Lord's most-trusted. This is why I come to you. I feel like you are being underutilized in your positions. I suppose you are not used to that. Being outside of the inner circle."
Perceptive of him.
"No, we are not," Lucius admitted. "But, we serve our Lord in any capacity that he needs us in."
"And I admire that," Harry said firmly. He muttered a spell under his breath, shakily levitating the teapot to pour them their tea. Severus watched him, amused as some of the amber liquid splashed over the sides of the teacup. Harry cursed under his breath as he set the teapot down. "Damn."
"It's fine," Lucius said with barely concealed amusement.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Anyway, I have come because I have decided to make Severus my official Potions Maker, and you, Lucius, I would like for you to work with Ron Weasley to command the troops."
Both Death Eaters startled.
"Does the Dark Lord know you're asking this of us?" Severus demanded. "Does he know his sweetling is trying to command us as if we belong to him?"
"A Prewett? You want me to work with a little Prewett child? A House of blood traitors and Muggle-lovers—" Lucius squawked.
Harry's eyes narrowed, defensive immediately. "No, he doesn't know, and it's not his business. And enough with the blood traitor nonsense. Does it matter?"
"Yes, it matters!" Lucius snarled, forgetting himself.
"It doesn't! We have a war to be concerned about. Blood purity is stupid, and we've got an entire population of Muggles that help Westeron operate at the level that it should. Enough," Harry retorted, eyes narrowed in irritation. His eyes cut towards Severus. "And I don't need the Dark Lord's permission for anything. He is my Chancellor. He is in my bed. Not the other way around. How dare you try to mock me because of who I choose to keep in my bed?"
Severus blinked, cowed. Lucius recovered first.
"Your Grace—"
"I'm sorry if I phrased it as a question. It wasn't. It was a command. I am not your Master, but you live on my coin—a coin that I will have to pay back in full. You live in my country because Afallon is mine. And this is a war that you helped to perpetuate. And you will do well to help end it because there has been enough death for generations," Harry said, standing to his feet, green eyes blazing. "Death that you helped spread. You were complicit participants in this. All of this."
Severus swallowed hard.
"We served our Lord," Severus said sharply.
"You had a choice," Harry spat.
"It was obey or die," Lucius snarled. "What would you have done?"
"I would've died," Harry snarled, and Severus saw that the young man was not lying. "You. Were. Complicit. Compliant. Participants. And if you want this to end, you will help."
And at that moment, Harry Potter looked so much like Lily Gryffindor, Severus felt his heart stop.
And so, he couldn't help it when he said, "Yes, your Grace."
ON
"Gods, Harry, you suck cock like a dream."
Tom reached down, pressing his thumbs to the spit-slicked lips, red and swollen around his cock. He traced Harry's top lip as the younger man bobbed, swallowing his cock, making a soft, wet noise. Tom groaned as he fucked forward, pressing against the opening of Harry's throat again, and Harry moaned around his cock, swallowing hard. Tom reached down, hooking his thumb in the corner of Harry's mouth and fucking in deeper.
Harry looked up watery green eyes and pulled off, gasping for breath. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and dove in hungrily, lapping and chasing the vein on the underside of Tom's cock.
"Just like that," Tom growled. He wasn't sure if he was speaking to himself or to Harry, but Harry's eyes brightened, pleased. Harry lowered his mouth, lapping at Tom's balls, kissing up his shaft, and wrapping his swollen lips around the man's cock once more.
It was hot and slick, and surely, Harry had gotten far too good at this. He had taken to sucking Tom's cock like a fish to water, and he was such an eager student. Tom knotted his fingers in Harry's hair and thrust once, groaning as Harry's slick throat fluttered around the head of his cock, and a wet gagging noise filled the air. He pulled Harry's head back, admiring how pretty the young king looked, sticky strands of saliva sliding down his chin, hanging between Tom's cock and those swollen red lips.
Harry's lips curled into a terrible smile and he dove forward, pulling his lips back over his teeth and fucking his mouth down on Tom's throat, gagging again on the older man's cock. Tom groaned and they fell into a steady rhythm. It was nearly violent—the way Harry would swallow around Tom's cock as Tom thrust forward, threatening to choke Harry on the fat shaft. The sloppy noises drove Tom further and further along the bath of pleasure and he felt his balls begin to tighten. Tom wrapped his hand around the part of his shaft that Harry couldn't fit in his mouth and jerked it off roughly, his fist gently bumping into Harry's lips on every down stroke. Harry tore Tom's hand away and went as deep as he could, his nose brushing the thick thatch of hair at the base of Tom's cock, gagging roughly. Tom made a choked sound that tapered off as Harry pulled back, breathing heavily.
"Cum on my face," Harry rasped, his voice rough from his abused throat.
Tom paused, staring down at Harry as he stroked the length of his shaft, fast and hard. Harry leaned forward, running his tongue over the head of Tom's cock against, tasting every inch of skin that Tom wasn't touching.
"What?" Tom hissed.
Hoarsely, Harry demanded, "Cum on my face. Make me your whore."
Tom stopped immediately, his hands dropping to his side as he stared narrow-eyed down at Harry. His cock still hard, bobbed in the air, and Harry dove forward, taking the cock into his mouth and swallowing hard, down to the root. Tom groaned and with his fingers knotted in Harry's hair, he spilled down the younger man's throat. Tom collapsed back in the chair, breathing softly, brushing his sweat-dampened hair from his forehead.
"What was that about?" Tom hissed.
Harry pulled off, slowly, swallowing again as he tried not to think about the bitter aftertaste. Harry closed his eyes, still on his haunches and he turned his head away, looking down at the ground. Tom reached down, grabbing Harry by his arms, pulling him up onto the couch. Harry didn't resist.
"Harry, why did you want me to call you a whore?" Tom demanded. Harry hummed, shaking his head, burying his face in Tom's neck. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around Tom, straddling his thighs. Tom sighed, running a hand down Harry's tunic covered back. His eyes softened. "Sweetling, please talk about me."
"Tom, I'm tired," Harry whispered. "Bed, please?"
And Tom stared down at him for a long moment that felt like years and then he nodded, standing up. The taller man let Harry hang from him as he stumbled towards their bed, and ever so gently, he laid Harry on the soft sheets. He laid down next to Harry, his back towards the smaller man, and they did not speak or move for long moments that felt like hours.
Only when Harry shifted, pressing his chest against Tom's back and throwing a leg over his thighs, did they rest.
THEWALL
"You have to go. I know."
The words flew out of her mouth even before Remus had shut the door to their rooms. He waited for a long moment, looking at Tonks with narrowed eyes. She was standing so tall and strong, her chest puffed out, her pink hair in wild spikes. And then, she deflated just as quickly, her hair rapidly turning brown. Teddy tensed in her arms and patted her cheek with a chubby little hand.
"Mama?" he asked, softly.
Tonks' arms tightened around him even more.
"Remus...he needs his Papa," Tonks whispered, her voice cracking.
"And he has his Mama. His incredibly strong Mama," Remus said softly. He walked up to her and grabbed her free hand, carefully leading his small little family to the couch. He sat down and immediately, Tonks curled into his side, tucking Teddy tight between the two of them. Teddy squirmed, disliking being held so tightly for someone nearly four. "Please, Teddy. Your Mama needs to hold you. I need to hold you."
Teddy whined but settled just so. He'd be patient.
"I know you have to go," Tonks said again. "You can't just say no. You could be...you could be Admiral. And there's a war. We always knew that we would have to sacrifice some things to the war."
They both knew what she was talking about. Sacrificing their monogamy, their personal wants, exploiting their personal fears. They were willing to bleed and die for the war to end, for peace to truly spread across Albion. That willingness to put everything on the line—her mind, body, and soul—had always been what Remus had loved most about Tonks, and vice versa.
"But, now we have a son," Remus said quietly.
"Now, we have a son," Tonks agreed.
"And our son will be proud of his parents. He will know what we have done for his future. I daresay that I'll be safer going to lead the fleet. You'll be in the thick of battle," Remus pointed out.
That had always been true, and it had never worried them before. Tonks was exceptional on the battlefield. After all, she was a Slytherin, trained by one of the most fearsome witches that had ever lived. And yet, everything felt so much more real. It wasn't that the war had been pretend before, but now, they had a king—a king of flesh and blood, not just an idea—and he was rallying an army. Harry was a king in want of a throne, and Remus knew how loyal Tonks was. She would die for her Wyrdfod.
"And I know...I could...die. And he would be well-taken care of. Mother would look after him," Tonks said softly and she pulled Teddy in closer to her. She pulled her wand out as he grew more restless, summoning one of his little dolls to him. Teddy cooed at the sight.
He smiled up with his few teeth. "Thank you, Mama," he giggled.
Tonks' eyes softened even as her brows drew down further in frustration. "You're welcome, my love," she said quietly. She turned back to Remus and she sighed, sounding as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. "This is all for him."
"It's all for us. Our family," Remus said quietly and he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her lips, and immediately hated himself for it.
Tonks melted into it, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, clinging to him. It wasn't often that he let himself kiss her. She was too good—too good for him. She was a Slytherin. A Princess. And he was an old, scarred werewolf, barely worthy of the title of Auror. Teddy reached up, swatting both of them.
"No! No!" he shouted, disgusted by his parents' show of affection.
Tonks let out a bright laugh, her hair turning a bright pink once again. And she pulled Teddy onto her chest, tickling his belly and Teddy writhed with laughter. Remus committed the moment to memory, and he closed his eyes.
Teddy and Tonks.
His family.
He'd need that memory in the war to come.
WHO IS
"The ships are circumventing the South. They're coming towards Afallon," Hermione said, tracing her wand over the tiny ships moving at a snail's pace along the coast of Albion. "They're coming towards Westeron."
"They have no orders. None of our men are on that ships. Remus and Sirius are nowhere near. How fast is an owl?" Bill asked, looking at Kingsley. Kingsley's brow was furrowed as he examined the board and he fell back in his seat, sighing long and hard.
"Not fast enough," the man said.
Harry squirmed in his seat, irritated. A meeting in the middle of the night. Narcissa was clever. Clever, clever, clever. To take off in the cover of night, sending some of her ships to the South, as they had expected, and then sending a whole fleet towards Afallon.
"The City-States' fleets are approaching, but they've already gone to meet Remus and Sirius in the South," Tonks sighed, shaking her head. She looked towards Harry, eyes wide, suddenly lost, and Harry winced, looking away. He glanced over at Tom, but he was leaning over the map, eyes narrowed.
"What do we do?" Harry demanded.
Tom looked up, eyes narrowed. "We have no ships."
Harry groaned, leaning back in his chair, shaking his head.
"You can go."
Everyone paused and looked at the two women by the door. Luna and Hermione stood in the doorway, watching with narrowed eyes. Harry looked at his civilian advisors, eyes narrowed at Hermione Granger. She stared back, unafraid.
"What are you saying, girl?" Tom barked.
"You can go, Harry. You can destroy them alone," Hermione said quietly. "You have a dragon."
"Absolutely not."
Harry looked over at Tom, wide-eyed. Tom's eyes were narrowed with fury, all of his rage directed right at Hermione Granger. Hermione tried her very best to glare back, but even she was cowed by the Dark Lord's absolute fury. Harry glanced over at the rest of his council, but they all glowered at Hermione, just as irritated by her words as the Dark Lord.
"You can't go alone. It's not safe," Ginny said, coolly. She tore her eyes away from Hermione to look at Harry. "It's not safe. You can't go."
"I agree, your Grace," Bill said.
Charlie leaned forward from his perch by the window, his eyes beseeching. "We don't know if they've discovered any spells that Freia isn't impervious to. It might not be safe for Freia either," Charlie said firmly, and Harry nodded.
That explanation had made the most sense to him.
"She's a dragon. The only part of her that isn't impervious to magic are her eyes," Hermione rushed out. She strode forward, standing just in front of Harry and she reached forward, grabbing his hand and squeezing. Harry looked down at their clasped hands, alarmed. "Harry, you have to go. How will we stop them otherwise? There's no other way."
"My council disagrees with this action," Harry said quietly.
"But, you're the king," Hermione said sharply.
Ginny's eyes narrowed. "You can't have it both ways! You can't say that a monarchy is barbaric and when his council disagrees, you tell him to pull rank. You can't disrespect our king. You go around screeching and complaining about how you're not from here and yet, you leech off our king's hospitality. You have his ear even if you don't want to obey the law and him. You know what—fuck you, Hermione Granger," Ginny snarled.
Hermione winced, taken aback by the vitriol in Ginny's tone. "I just—I'm not—"
"You are," Ginny said, her voice hard.
There was a long moment of tense silence. Hermione swallowed hard and looked back over at Harry, much more subdued now.
"I just...there's no one else that can do it, is there? Only you," Hermione said, her voice small, and she felt a flash of rage rock through her as Harry Wildfyre stared at her with something that couldn't be anything but utter amusement.
He was amused by her humiliation.
"What do you say...my dear?" he said, slowly rolling his head to look at Tonks. Hermione's eyes narrowed at the odd moniker. Everyone else's confusion was palpable, but Tonks hadn't twitched. "You've said nothing."
"I cannot do this for you," Tonks said softly. "If I could, I would."
"I know," Harry said, his amusement dampened. He reached towards her, lacing their fingers together and he squeezed. "You agree with the Lady Granger."
"No—" Kingsley began.
Tonks nodded once. "Yes. I do."
FAIREST
Harry stood completely still as Tonks and Andromeda outfitted him, spinning around him and barking orders at the other maids. He ignored the way his council observed, still in awe of him though they had seen every mistake he'd ever made. Harry glanced down at the chest that was being Levitated into the room by two young maids.
"What's that?" Harry asked.
"It was your grandfather's. We had it repaired. It was found in storage," Andromeda said briskly.
Harry raised an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Tom. Tom stared back at him, unimpressed.
Harry rolled his eyes and huffed.
"You are foolish," Tom spat, ever spiteful. Harry looked away to hide his smile. "If Granger's idea gets you killed, I will tear out her throat. With my teeth."
Harry heard Hermione Granger's squeak and Ron's whispered reassurances that it wouldn't come to such things. Harry didn't have the heart to say that if he did die, Tom would make good on his word. The man was many things, but not quite a liar.
Not quite.
Harry pulled his final layer of robes over him, the dark red of the dyed Basilisk scales appearing nearly black in the low light. He took a step forward as the chest was dropped just a few feet in front of him. Tonks waved her wand and the chest slowly creaked open. Harry made a soft sound in the back of his throat as he looked down into it. Tonks pulled forth a gorgeous cloak of crimson velvet, with a collar of soft white fur. Harry brushed his fingers through it and frowned when he realized how coarse it felt.
"What is this?" Harry murmured.
Tom looked notably surprised. "It's a lion's mane. It really is Godric's cloak."
He sounded displeased.
Harry beamed as Tonks whipped it around, sliding it over his shoulders and fastening with a golden broach that she tapped with her wand. She reached up, arranging her hair to fall better over the crown the was woven into the raven locks.
"This seems like a lot of ceremony," Harry teased gently.
Tonks was not smiling. "You are off to do foolish things, yes, but you will look beautiful doing so. I am your Sword," she repeated.
Harry's brow creased. She had said it thrice before. Still, he did not ask. That was a conversation for another time. Instead, he looked back at Tom. Tom stalked forward, grabbing Harry's chin. Harry opened his mouth and was silenced with a fearsome kiss. His council fell silent as Tom devoured him, licking into his mouth as if he wanted to own every inch of him. Tom pulled back, looking at him with burning crimson eyes.
"How…forward," Harry said, his voice lilting.
Tom didn't blink; instead, he pressed something into Harry's hand. Harry looked down and made a quiet noise in the back of his throat.
It was a beautiful knife. Curved and dangerous, the handle wrapped in leather.
Tom's ceremonial knife.
The knife that had taken Helena's heart. Lily's heart.
The knife meant to take Harry's heart.
"You take this with you. You take this and I will always know where you are."
Harry took the knife, attaching it to his belt and then leaned up on his toes to press a kiss to Tom's jaw, ignoring the looks cast their way.
"Inwi nwaly ten'ke," Harry breathed for just a moment and then he spun with a swish of his cloak. It dragged behind him as he walked towards his balcony, never stopping his stride. He whistled sharply and was answered with Freia's roar of discontent.
Freia swung down from the roof, chips of brick falling from her claws as she flew next to the balcony, offering her wing. Harry stepped up onto the railing and stepped on her wing, walking towards her back. He settled himself at the base of her neck and Freia let out another roar.
"Remember!" a voice shouted. Harry looked back to his balcony. His council had rushed to follow and Hermione was pressed to the railing. "It's along the Karnaron border. They want to try to claim the Western Sea. They'll be by the Southern mouth of it for sure."
Harry nodded. He leaned over Freia, pressing a kiss to her scales.
"Okay, Freia. Let's go."
And with a roar, Freia shot off, the dawn turning the sky orange. Harry squinted against the terrible glare, hiding his face against Freia's scales as she flew through the air. The cloak must have a Warming Charm on it, he thought, for the air was frigid, even for flying as hard and fast as they did. Harry's fingers dug into the soft spots between Freia's scales as he went farther and farther. In the parting of the clouds, he could see the water, and he wondered then just how fast Freia could really fly.
Harry hummed, leaning forward, whispering quiet, reassuring words into Freia's scales. He tilted sideways, and Freia let out a screech and barrel-rolled through the sky. Harry shrieked in laughter and exhilaration as they spiraled through the air. Freia let out a cooing sound of approval and then she dove, piercing the clouds.
Harry's eyes widened as he saw the approaching ships. The Slytherin colors were hoisted high above the ocean. There had to be a fleet of at least three dozen ships—an ample amount to launch an attack on Westeron, which sat on a cliffside. Harry's eyes narrowed and he rubbed his face against Freia's side. Slowly, he sat up, raising one hand above his head, his lips curling back into a sneer.
"Fuir."
And the ocean was set on fire.
OF THEM ALL?
"It's...different from how I imagined," Fleur said softly as they walked through the bustling city that sat at the base of Westeron. She was watching the people go about their day. They didn't seem bothered or in any way affected by the newcomers. Gabrielle expected that new people joined this strange little colony of people every day.
She amended her thoughts of 'little'. What must have begun as a small village had become a sprawling city. As they approached the castle, she looked to her right and saw tents going as far as the eye could see.
"Look. Up there," Grom said, pulling away from his brothers as he went to stand between the two Delacour women. Gabrielle followed his gaze and couldn't help her tiny gasp when she saw what sat on top of one of the tallest towers.
The dragon was terrifying even from so far away. It seemed to be watching them, but it made no sound, only staring at them with evil yellow eyes.
"The Wyrdfod's dragon," Gabrielle murmured to herself.
She redirected her gaze to the steps of Westeron Castle and was stricken twice. Gabrielle saw the Red Woman, in all her glory. Her crimson cloak swept the floor, her hood over sharp pink spikes. Beneath her cloak, she wore full battle regalia, brown leather that made her look dangerous. She was so strange to look—terrifying and lovely. It wasn't the type of lovely that a Veela was. It was human. A loveliness that one could miss so easily.
Just behind her was a woman that looked like Baba Yaga, but so clearly wasn't. Her long pale hair fell in straggly strands to her waist. Unlike the Red Woman, this woman was barefoot, her skirts falling just to her ankles. Next to her was a terrifyingly tall man that dwarfed her. One of his eyes was pale and blind, a wicked scar bisecting that side of his face. His hand was on her shoulder, but there was nothing paternal about it. The slight, pale girl came forward first, eyes wide.
"Welcome to Westeron," the girl said with a sweet smile. "I am Luna Lovegood."
"I am Grom. These are my brothers and company. We come to join the war," Grom said gruffly.
Still, the Red Woman did not speak. Gabrielle couldn't look away.
"I am Rodolphus Lestrange. I will lead you to the campgrounds," the man said, striding forward. Gabrielle mourned the fact that she would not get to speak with the Red Woman. She glanced at Fleur, but Fleur was watching the girl, Luna Lovegood.
Luna was grinning at Fleur. Fleur's smile grew.
Grom made a move, beckoning his brothers and the Delacours along with him.
"No."
The Red Woman had finally spoken.
Grom and his brothers stopped, staring at her.
"No?" Lestrange asked.
"The Delacour sisters have been requested," the Red Woman said.
Luna Lovegood finally pranced down the steps, surprising nearly everyone. She nearly collided with Fleur, grabbing her hands and pulling her forward, excited.
"Ainu. Fleur, I've been waiting for you," Luna Lovegood whispered, excitedly. She stood on her toes, and even still, was only able to press a kiss to Fleur's jaw.
The Red Woman crooked her finger at Gabrielle.
"Come, Gabrielle," the Red Woman called.
Grom's hand shot out to grab her wrist. "How does she know you? Did you like to me?" Grom growled out.
"I know her like my marrow. Come here, Gabrielle. Fleur," the Red Woman said.
She did not sound like the type of woman to repeat herself a third time. Slowly, Grom released her, allowing himself to be ushered away by Lestrange. Luna Lovegood grabbed Fleur's arm, clinging to her, and pulling her forward. Gabrielle slowly walked closer, never looking away from the Red Woman.
"We were requested. By him," Gabrielle said as she stood next to the Red Woman.
The Red Woman hummed and began to lead them forward.
"And he's in there?" Fleur asked softly.
The Red Woman nodded, slowly. Her eyes were staring straight ahead and when they weren't, she glanced at Gabrielle from the corner of her eye, curious about her.
"He is. He wants to meet you," the Red Woman said.
Luna Lovegood clung tighter to Fleur's side. "After he knows that you are like me, he will want to know you more. We are important. Ainu."
Even still, Gabrielle wasn't entirely sure of what that meant, but the way Fleur had instantly taken to Lovegood showed that she was safe, in some way. At least, she didn't seem like that a threat that Gabrielle couldn't dispatch if the need arose.
"And there's someone else that will want to speak to you," the Red Woman said. She turned to the redheaded pair of twins that stood in the Entrance Hall. They were short and stocky but had a hardened look in their eyes. They had seen war. "Go fetch the War Bride. She'll want to speak with them."
The two twins nodded, rushing off almost immediately. Gabrielle turned her attention back to the situation at hand. She glanced at the Red Woman.
"You're...you're a Slytherin," she said slowly.
The Red Woman's eyes widened. "How did you...yes."
Gabrielle did something she hadn't done in a long while. She blushed.
"I...I was obsessed with Albion. When I was a child. You look just like Bellatrix Chaos-Bringer and Andromeda Empath. You have their eyes and their mouth and their nose," Gabrielle said quietly. "Fenrir...he had books full of portraits of them."
The Red Woman's eyes softened. "I am Nymphadora Tonks, daughter of Andromeda Slytherin," she introduced as they reached the final pair of double doors. She glanced over at them. "Don't feel like you must bow. He won't care."
And with those words, she waved her wand, sending the doors inward.
There was a long plain black runner from the door to the onyx throne that sat at the far end of the hall. It was lined with people—Order of the Phoenix members—the firebird emblazoned on their chests.
Gabrielle stared at the man who sat on the onyx throne with narrowed eyes. Her hand fell to rest on the pommel of her silver sword. She reached down, running her fingers over the edge of the silver blade, reassuring her that it was there. That she could fight if she needed to. Fleur's hand tightened on her shoulder, a warning but also support. Gabrielle would speak on behalf of the pair of them.
The man that sat on the onyx throne was easily the most beautiful person that Gabrielle had ever seen. He was more beautiful than a Veela—red lips parted over straight white teeth. He was nearly as pale as Gabrielle, but it contrasted with his lovely raven hair. Dressed in red-dyed Basilisk scales and fur and velvet, and silver tree branches dripping with rubies jutting from his head in a crown from his messy hair, he was both otherworldly and frightening human. He was staring at them with a curiosity that hurt.
He was both so far away and so close. Gabrielle could feel the power beating off of the man. She looked at the man that stood at the King's side, blood-red eyes piercing them, looking between Gabrielle and the Red Woman.
"You are Gabrielle Greyback. The Alpha of Laug."
The man's voice was soft and lilting, affecting as well as a Veela's voice would.
"Yes," Gabrielle said, cutting through any enchantments. She could see...something hazy around the King, like his beauty gave him a strange power. "You are King Harry Wildfyre of House Gryffindor. The Fairest. The Wyrdfod."
The Wyrdfod raised an eyebrow and gave a slow smile.
"I've been called that from time to time, yes."
The Wyrdfod was more impressive and more terrifying and lovelier than Gabrielle had imagined. And yet, she could practically hear the blood pumping in his veins, his mortality as visible as a little bird's. It suddenly struck her that this man was either absurdly stupid-lucky or absurdly stupid-blessed; he should've been long dead by now.
"My sister sees you in dreams. She is Ainu," Gabrielle said, striding forward, powerfully. She ignored the way everyone shifted in the room. She only stopped at the base of the throne when the Dark Lord shifted, pulling the hauntingly pale wand from his side, pointing it at her. "You are blessed. You are Deliverer. You have burned a fleet of ships, and conquered lands. Men tremble at the sight of you. Women pray to you as if you were a god. You have done the impossible."
The Wyrdfod smiled. "So, have you."
"No, I haven't," Gabrielle said arrogantly.
"You've killed Fenrir Greyback, the Wolf of Laug," the Wyrdfod said.
Gabrielle refused to wince. Instead, she blinked. She had shed that weakness of her, like an old snakeskin. And yet, even still, she felt an old ache inside of her—like a phantom limb. Fenrir's smile was burned into the back of her eyelids. Her love. Gabrielle opened her eyes again.
The observers were watching with disbelief. They couldn't believe that she was the Alpha.
"What do they say of my dearly departed love?" Gabrielle asked. The Wyrdfod straightened, no longer relaxed. Gabrielle's eyes narrowed. "Yes, I loved him. I loved a monster."
"Oh, my dear, I know a thing or two about loving monsters," the Wyrdfod said and he reached up without looking away from her, brushing his fingers against the Dark Lord's sleeves, pulling his wrist down.
The tension in Gabrielle's shoulders drained away when the Dark Lord's wand was no longer pointed at her.
"They said, that he could change a man into a wolf even without the moon's power. They say that he was a slobbering beast. They say that he couldn't be killed," the Wyrdfod said, his lips twisted into a dry smile and Gabrielle couldn't help her bark of laughter.
She hadn't laughed in ages.
Gabrielle shook her head. "Anyone can be killed."
:::
A/N: Hello, world! I've returned!
I'm so sorry that this took me such a long time to get out. This chapter was really hard for me. I think it was the weird blowjob scene that's just right in the middle. It serves a narrative purpose in the sense that it has to do with Harry's personal growth/regression, but it feels so extraneous when examining the big picture: i.e. the war.
Anyway, please review. Reviews fuel me to update faster! Also, I really like questions and I respond to like every review/comment, so feel free to shoot a few at me.