He stared in complete surprise, unsure why he even bothered to imagine that life would be something less exciting with the terrible trio on hand. Even with Teddy off at Hogwarts, Aegon and Rhaenys found enough ways to get up to all sorts of trouble.

Case in point: the dragons that were currently hovering over the two sheepishly grinning children.

"Remind me again," he said, a note of irritation creeping into his voice, "just why you thought it would be a wonderful idea to go flying at this time?"

"We're less likely to be seen?" Egg shrugged, hissing at the stinging kick Rhae sent him.

Harry's green eyes bore into hers, a headache growing as he knew that Rhaenys had had little trouble convincing her brother.

"Hatchlings must learn to fly," Auriga hissed, her golden eyes focused on his.

"What is a dragon without a rider?" Iacomus added, and Harry wanted to bang his head into the nearest post at the realization that Teddy had taught the damn dragons, intelligent as they were, how to argue their way.

He pursed his lips, eyes narrowed at the no longer smiling duo. The dragons were more than large enough to go flying on, the two of them three years old and as tall as Potter Hall. He had been dismayed to learn that wild dragons often continued to grow until their death - at an excrutiatingly slow rate once they reached middling age for dragons, some fifty years after their hatching - and the Horntail and Ironbelly he had met in his teen years were not the best example of their species' full height.

"You'll have extra chores all week," he told them, mentally groaning at the sight of the delight in their eyes. "We start training tomorrow, and you have to take care of them yourselves. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Dad," they chorused, wrapping their arms around him in a tight hug before bounding back to their rooms.

He was left with the two dragons, their scales glinting in the moonlight. He was a touch surprised he had managed to keep them off the dragons for so long, but with Teddy at school he knew it would only be a matter of time before they began insisting on riding them, only a year left before Rhaenys was at Hogwarts.

"You might want to rest up," he told them, sighing as they snorted and took off, the gust of air ruffling his hair.

Grumbling, Harry trudged back upstairs to his room, ignoring the snickering portraits as they placed their bets. He slid into bed, feeling Elia stir in her sleep, his wife turning to face him as she curled into his side.

"Which of them did it?" She asked sleepily.

"Both," he answered dryly, a soft huff of laughter escaping him. "They start learning tomorrow."

"Fantastic," she murmured, and Harry watched as she quickly fell back asleep.

Things had not been so easy between them, the birth of Carina Malfoy only solidifying her want to have another child. She'd not said anything, wanting to avoid another argument and cooling period between them, but Harry knew what the look on her face meant.

He struggled with the thought sometimes, aching to go through with it but unwilling to see Elia suffer needlessly. Those times, he cursed himself for not using a contraceptive from the beginning, cursed the fact that she had fallen pregnant and his inability to easily have children, and cursed Tom Riddle for what he had cost him.

"It's not as easy as you make it seem," he murmured, eyes tracing her features. He could easily imagine what a child of theirs would look like - Teddy's morphing habits helping him picture it clearly - and he felt a pang at the thought of what could be.


They were awake bright and early, their rooms clean and breakfast finished. Aegon had even sat for his lessons with no fuss, the boy paying close attention and asking questions without seeking a distraction as Rhaenys worked quietly next to him.

"If all it took was promising them flying lessons for him to sit still I would have done it a year ago," Elia quipped, amused at the focus he showed. Aegon was a bright kid, but he was also restless and filled with pent-up energy, the greatest cause of any fire-related incidents in the house.

"You and me both," he said, watching in slight surprise as they went through the day without a single incident.

When the sun had dipped beyond its highest point, Harry ushered the children outside, summoning his broom. He had a newer model, but he'd outridden a Horntail on his firebolt and trusted that he would be able to keep up.

"Right," he said, hand on his broom as the two children stood in front of their respective familiars. "Can you feel their emotions?"

Aegon's brow furrowed slightly even as Rhaenys nodded, her hand on Auriga's snout as a look passed between the two.

"I can feel him," Aegon confirmed, voice brimming with excitement. "He's eager to go flying."

As are you, he thought.

"Get on then, and be mindful of the bond. They can influence you if you let it, which can only lead to bad things."

Elia had told them stories of the Targaryen dragons, including the ones that had eaten humans or crushed eggs. The dragons were more than mindless beasts, and she had stressed that point to them, making sure they knew just what they were getting themselves into.

He waited until they clambered on, Aegon and Rhaenys seated comfortably on their mounts, and for a brief moment Harry saw the two of them, older and wiser with a crown on Aegon's head as they flew above an army.

You're going mad, Potter, he chided himself, shaking his head to rid himself of the image.

"Get ready to fly," he hissed at the dragons.

Auriga snorted as she hissed, "We know what to do, Harry."

Rhaenys closed her eyes briefly before she opened them, the purple orbs glowing with power as she grinned, Auriga taking off without a spoken command. Iacomus followed after her, a whoop of joy leaving Aegon as they flew higher.

Feeling eyes on him, he sent a wry smile at Elia as he said, "I don't think they need much help on that end."

She shook her head, eyes tracking the two children in the air as Harry took off on his broom.

He felt all his worries melt away as they always did when he was in the air, the sky greeting him as if he were an old friend. He pulled closer to the two children, seeing that their eyes still held that glint of power before he nudged his head to the lake.

"Race you to the other side," he shouted, grinning as he took off. The firebolt was still fast, Harry flattening himself on his broom as he soared through the air.

At the feel of powerful air currents, he turned his head to see a grinning Rhaenys shoot forward, Aegon on her tail as the two chased after each other, their dragons dipping and spinning flawlessly in the air.

They're naturals, he thought, recalling the first time he had seen them fly.

Harry touched down along the opposite shore, waiting a few moments before they flew down.

"That was bl-fantastic Papa," Aegon cheered, eyes filled with glee.

Next to him, Rhaenys's eyes held the same look, though Harry noticed they still held that edge of power.

"You can do it again," he told them to their delight. "Every day, in fact, until you get the bond under control."

"Bond?" Rhaenys asked.

"You can feel Auriga can't you?" He asked, waiting for the nod. "That's a good and bad thing. Good because it lets you communicate easier. Bad because you can let the bond overpower you, and the last thing you need is to fall to your dragon."

They sobered at his words, realizing what it was that he left unsaid. Targaryens had gone mad from years of inbreeding, but a part of Harry knew it was even more dangerous to have an uncontrolled bond at play. Atlantis had been rumoured to be the result of a elemental-familiar bond gone wrong, a cautionary tale for young magicals bonding with their familiars.

"We'll run through occlumency exercises," he told them with a grimace.

"Occlumency," Aegon sounded out. "There's a book in the library."

"It's easier to learn with an instructor," he grudgingly admitted. "But I expect you both to go through the book first."

He waited for them to agree before he lounged along the shore, wand out in case of emergency as the two gleefully hopped back on their familiars, the sounds of their laughter reaching his ears as he watched them fly as if the sky was theirs and the air bent to their whim.


"Again," he pressed, ignoring the slight look of frustration on Rhaenys's face.

The occlumency lessons had been going relatively well for two children as wilful as they were. It was hard getting them to calm their restless minds, but they'd found some tactic that worked for them, drawing on their mother's element to calm them.

Until they realized that upset children made for upset dragons.

He had seen the slight glow of power in their eyes whenever the dragons were within arms reach, had insisted on the occlumency to help control their growing powers. They had underestimated how powerful the bond truly was, but seeing Auriga rear her head when Rhaenys had slipped while playing, flames building in her mouth as she sought the danger to her rider had been enough to hammer home just what they were dealing with.

Had Teddy not been near to calm her, he had no idea just what could have happened. As it was, they had less than a month before he expected her Hogwarts letter to arrive; less than a year to get a better handle on their bond so as to not have an angry dragon landing in the middle of the Transfiguration courtyard.

"Come on Rhae," he cajoled, knowing he had pushed her hard. "One more time. Call Auriga to you and then send her back."

Rhaenys closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she focused on the tendril of magic that tied her to Auriga. He heard the roar, smiling as the large Horntail swooped down behind her, the dragon fondly nuzzling her rider. He gave them a moment, seeing Rhaenys pat her snout as she murmured something too low for him to hear.

They weren't parselmouths, but the bond allowed Aegon and Rhaenys to communicate with them in ways that went beyond the verbal.

Auriga stood on her hind legs, wings stretched before she took off with two powerful flaps, soaring overhead as Rhaenys carefully watched, the dragon returning to the corner of the grounds she had made hers, lounging amongst the charmed stones.

"Good job," he praised, slinging his arm around her shoulders, the two making the trek back to the house.

"That was exhausting," she complained, leaning against him as they walked.

"It'll get easier soon," he soothed, knowing how frustrating it could be. "You've already made good progress. Take the rest of the day off, I'll tell your mum."

Rhae sauntered off, relieved at not having to do anything else for the rest of the day as Harry wandered toward the library. Elia wasn't there when he looked, and he wracked his brain to figure out where they could have gone.

"She's out for tea," Aunt Dorea drawled, grey eyes flicking to the portrait in the corner, his grandmother sitting in a chair next to Lemelle, Iolanthe occupying the final portrait. Behind them stood their husbands, the faces of his relatives unimpressed but for the slight tinge of sympathy in his grandfather's eyes.

"Sit, Herakles," Euphemia said, face impassive, and Harry swallowed nervously at the uncharacteristic use of his adopted name.

What have I done now? He wondered, sitting as he faced them - the first Potters, his grandparents, grandfather's great-grandparents and his great-aunt and uncle, their faces showing that he was in for quite the treat.

"Now," Lemelle began, her hand tightening on the arm of her chair. "I know you've not many experiences with this wonderful world we live in, Harry dear, but must you be so obtuse?"

He blinked, seeing the serious expression on her face. "I beg your pardon?"

"It's been a year since Elia miscarried," Iolanthe said gently, purple eyes soft in understanding

"We're not discussing that," he said, spine stiffening in indignation.

"Why ever not?" Uncle Charlus drawled, blue eyes hard. "We've been forced to watch as the two of you continue to clash on that particular subject. I do believe it's time you had outside advice nephew."

He bit his tongue, not wanting to lash out in anger even as he clenched his jaw in irritation.

"Do you not want children?" Caspian asked perplexed.

"I have children," he ground out, feeling the muscle in his jaw twitch.

"But do you not want another?" Caspian pressed, moss green eyes narrowed in focus.

"Not at the expense of unnecessary suffering for my wife," he snapped, eyes glowing in anger as he tamped down on his magic, reigning in his temper. He was beyond lashing out magically at the slightest impulse - no longer that child who couldn't control himself when provoked - but there were times when it reared its head, begging to be let loose.

To his frustration, Hardwin chuckled lightly at his words. "My boy, did you think you were the only one to face problems such as this?"

"How do you think your father was conceived?" Euphemia asked, her face softening slightly.

Harry blinked, staring uncomprehendingly at her for a few moments before he spluttered, "What? I thought he was a surprise..." he trailed off, mind racing at what he thought he knew.

"A ruse, to let the rest of the world think that," Fleamont told him gently. "Certain rituals were banned in the last century, Harry."

"You are the first to live through two killing curses," Iolanthe said, "but magical complications for infertility are not as rare as you think darling."

"They're not?"

"Why do you think we magicals celebrate certain holidays ardently?" Aunt Dorea questioned, brow raised imperiously.

He sat quietly for a few moments, mind working through the implications of their words. Without noticing, the others left the portraits until only his grandfather was left, the man staring at Harry with sympathetic understanding.

"It's not easy, what happened and knowing what comes from it," Fleamont said quietly.

"This isn't a guarantee," Harry replied softly.

"No, it's not," Fleamont agreed. "Your Gran and I spent years trying to have a child, and every loss was like a gut punch. You have to ask yourself, are you willing to continue this cold war between the two of you?"

He closed his eyes, exhaling deeply as he thought on the past year. Things had cooled for the most part, even if they did not let it warp their relationship. But Harry knew it was a strain they would have to address - the sooner the better, before things turned sour between them.

"You're not the only one afraid Harry," Fleamont told him gently. "Elia will be the one going through the experience in full; even if you feel helpless at the situation, it'll be something you have to learn to deal with together."

His head fell into his hands, fingers clutching slightly at his hair as he absorbed the words. They had spoken of it, in one of the rare moments when discussing it didn't lead to an immediate argument, and Harry knew the only reason they had managed a shaky peace was because they could understand where the other was coming from.

His grandfather left him there, Harry brooding over the many possibilities that lay before him.


Rhaenys's eleventh birthday heralded a Hogwarts letter, and Harry watched as a grumbling Aegon pored over the letter alongside her, the little girl beaming in happiness. Teddy had sent a letter of his own pre-emptively congratulating his sister on the letter he insisted was going to come, a drawing of Rhaenys on Auriga, her dark curls flying in the wind accompanying it.

"You'll need a wand," he mused, a slight tinge of worry coursing through him as he thought about how they would mask their abilities.

"I've never used a wand," Rhaenys said in surprise.

He exchanged a wary look with Elia, knowing but unsure of how to describe the danger their abilities might put them in.

"There aren't many people that have the same control, sweetling," Elia said, leaning forward in her seat. "Everyone at Hogwarts uses a wand, and you'll be learning more than how to control your element."

Purple eyes narrowed slightly as Rhaenys glanced between them. She was too smart for her own good, and Harry understood the slightest bit how Dumbledore might have felt when he first asked about the prophecy.

"Can we go flying?" Aegon cut in, eyes dark as he shared a quick look with his sister.

"Only for an hour," he warned, watching them run out of the room, twin roars letting him know they had called the dragons closer.

"We'll have to tell them soon," he murmured.

"Yule," Elia said absently, eyes tracking them through the window. "Once Teddy comes home for the holidays."

"Actually," he murmured, hand grasping hers nervously as he waited for her to look at him. "I've been thinking."

He felt Elia stiffen, dark eyes blank as she stared impassively at him. He hated himself in this moment for putting that expression on her face, and Harry tamped down on his nerves as he scooted closer.

"Yule is as good a time to try for a baby," he said, ignoring the urge to run a hand through his hair.

"Are you saying this because you want a child or because the portraits talked you into it?" She asked, voice measured.

His hand tightened the slightest bit, leaning closer to her and hoping she saw his sincerity. "I want a child with you. I was scared, and unwilling to watch you go through a continuous cycle of loss, but I'm tired of letting fear rule me. The portraits might have just helped me realize that last bit," he added sheepishly, waiting with bated breath for her answer.

At the sight of softening eyes, Harry surged forward, capturing her lips in a soft kiss. "I'm sorry I was being such an ass."

"Has anyone told you that you burden yourself unnecessarily?"

"You might have made mention of it a few times," he muttered, pleased at the small spark in her eyes.

He held her close, unbearably relieved at removing this one big obstacle. Things were by no means certain and it could not work as he hoped, but Harry was willing to squash whatever fear he held.

"You're fine with just one, right?" He asked, uncertain of where they might find themselves.

She laughed at his words, "Not willing to raise a quidditch team?"

"I'm pretty sure we're supposed to be enjoying a house empty of kids in the next two years," he told her, hand idly rubbing circles on her arm.

"Why Yule?" Elia asked, her head tilted in curiosity.

"The solstices are better for certain rituals - unless we wait for Beltane. Besides, I've a ruined anniversary to make up for," he said, a wicked smirk on his face as he kissed her once more.