Harry Potter and the Pattern of Fate Redue by Sadsack's newAccnt

by SadSackII

Book 1 The Serpent's Truth: Truth about one founder is not what is taught. Did he see more and be more than taught? Harry and Co. are about to find out that the universe and magic is not what they've learned. Will they survive? Can they grow and return in time to save the school, world, and all they love? pro OOC Ginny(non-fanon or canon) Harry/Multi read AN for more warnings.

33. Chapter 33

Disclaimer: I am not J K Rowling or Robert Jordan and their worlds of Harry Potter and the Wheel of Time. These two created the fun little worlds I have decided to play in with no thought of profit to myself. So I promise that if I did own these I wouldn't have had Hermione with Ron, though I would have been happy to see her be married to Rand al'Thor if ever the two worlds should meet.

Authors notes: Gasp sex in this chap, run for it! Seriously this is a mature story, so be warned and no its not Hustler graphic, but it is here.

Chapter Thirty Two: Cliffs Edge

Salt tanged air teases the nose with a briny bite. Cackling gulls, shrieking grackles, and swishing surf haunt the ears in tandem with the salty breeze moving the long loose hair curtaining her eyes, to rouse from the dark world of living nightmares tormenting her. Endless images of those she loves were teasing her with brief now stolen moments of a promising life bounteous with love and liberating peace. Instead of allowing her a chance to make peace with her shattered life, her mind returns endlessly to those last few hours of life.

Mocking laughter of the gulls seem to repeat the dashing of her one time seeming victory of having successfully found the path to keeping both her Circle and their perfect male half reminds her how Karma destroys witches like her. Witches who dare attempt to go counter to tradition and the will of others. She has lost it all, and is left to await her death where she'll be reunited with her five true soul mates.

Irritatingly she is being maliciously mistreated by her rogue hair veiling her face and tickling her nose, lips, and eyelids. Why does she not just finish dying? Is it a new cruel prank to mock her yearning to be returned to her partners? Keeping her held barely in a state of nonliving life, to be teased and tortured by a million little discomforts.

She should be dead. Drowned and bashed about like poor Kinerial Sedai. This slightly warm, gentle breeze is impossible and is all the crueler for it by how it reminds her of bright happier days. Carefree times where it was her and them in a world of light and empowered strength gathered by their unity. Feeling the might and care that lives beneath the skin of her Harjit whom holds her and their Circle like a glorious knight protector and lover that accepts her for her. His warm green eyes telling her she is not merely a pretty to one day fill his bed. Her Circle standing in Pride that they are witches that defy the norm for wizardingkind, together in strength and supporting. They were wives in love and the only women that can be equal partners to a man like Harry and each other.

Irritation finally drives her hand to brush aside her hair covering her face without much input or thought from herself. The act has her awake in full from realizing she is more alive than just a broken husk. With a rolling twist to sit up in a fury, she is ready to tear strips off somebody or scream in righteous outrage at the Wheel denying her a good death. Something that doesn't go entirely as planned or hoped. Truth is it turns out poorly as she feels an explosion of mind numbing pain in her arm as it catches on her blanket.

Falling back in a dizzied cry of agony, she stares up at the inside of her family's old enclosure from the Mountains of Mist. The cry of alarm and joy following her own scream of pain is mind bendingly confusing as she saw the blasted tub of rotten timber take them all away. Her family was dead one and all.

"Par? Par! Oh Light be praised you're waking up! Bless the Creator. Blood and ashes I thought for certain I was going to lose you to that filthy busted wreck of tarred cardboard. Ohhhh Parvati..." Padma's voice is weeping in unbridled joyful sorrow, "Light it's a bloody miracle. My sweet sister lives. She lives..."

Woozy from the pain, thirst parched throat, and the impossible discovery she is alive, Parvati strives to sit up again. Holding her in place however is the constricting restraints binding her arm tightly. Splints made from debarked tree branches tied with the torn remains of her brown dress has her immobilized as well as her busted limb. In the same breath her own heart rips in two as she screams. The Pattern was forcing her to live without those whom are her lone reasons to do so. They were six souls in one and never meant to live apart from the others. The wickedness of it has her thrash and plead for death.

"Par! Par its alight. You're safe now." Pads beseeches her in a vain attempt to bring her comfort, "Please sissy, don't do this. Please let me help you."

Her twin dares say that? The one person in her birth family she'd thought would never leave or hate her for who she truly is and dares to be proud of. The one she grew up as the other side of the coin with till she publicly announced her true self is showing the bollocks to say all that? That life is alright? The witch more or less denounced her. Her treacherous sister hates her very being. The bloody cow is probably capering in joy no doubt that Par's Circle and maybe even Harry are all dead. Most like is singing hymns of praise for the blessing that her lesbian lovers are banished from ever ruining what the family hopes for their darling brilliant Ravenclaw daughter can achieve. All are gone and the bloody witch knows it. It just must be so!

"Come on Par. Please settle down. Your arm is set but not to where we can move you just yet. I can't Heal yet, but Nyneave taught me loads. If you go on like this I'll stun you. Please sissy!" Pads begs her in a worn weak voice. "Please, for me?"

Par wanted to snarl. Parvati was alone. A sick twisted abomination given to unnatural desires for the love of other women or a man of her choice. There was no question about it that she is best left forgotten save as a nameless horror to terrify disobedient children. All her loves...

A flickering memory kindles flame of hope, "What of Ginny? Did you find my Gin-Gin?" her heart starts to beat regularly as she lets her hope's flame devour her darkness. If Ginny and her survived the sinking, the others could have as well. "Where are they? Where is my Harjit? My Circle, tell me Pads? For all that you despise me and my witches tell me please."

There is a choking sob cutting the voice out of her sister's pained, "Parvati listen. I'm sorry sissy but-"

Rage like she's never felt before has her embrace Saidar, to tear the world to shreds. She'll burn the entire filthy murdering traitorous Pattern to ash for the love of her lost Harry and Circle. Scorch the whole of existence bare for them in a brilliant eruption of the One Power. From her lips spews a keening cry of unutterable sorrow, all consuming rage, and a vehement declaration of war on whatever foul plan or plot the Pattern is playing at with murdering her heart's loves.

"Par stop it! Your going to burn out. Please don't make me stop you." her treasonous twin warns her then weeps, "I'm sorry Par, but you leave me no choice."

A flash of red light strikes her, turning her world red, then into a beautiful black emptiness.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++WOT/HP+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Squatting beside the opening to the enclosure, Neville feels as if his own heart will burst like Par's from hearing that ear shattering scream of loss. His bones surely will take Ages to warm from the chilling experience. It was as if all the Earth were blanketed by Dementors. Not all came from his future sister in-law though. Both witches inside the mobile temporary home had been broken by that exchange.

"I'm sorry Pads." he offers with helpless sorrow, knowing that there is little he can say or do to mend the crevasse that has torn open the one time tight relationship of his two childhood friends.

The White Tower had not been entirely at fault but had wedged in the opportunity. Par was always the quick fire sort with a burning need to push the boundaries of life. His loving Pads was less forward or willing to rock the boat, so her sisters sexual identity has torn her but she also has been the one their parents expect to be perfect and keep Par in line. Then the traditions and norms of home come in and demand them to make a choice between family and love, both girls chose by how they were bound to.

His witch is silent in sitting and petting her broken twin's hair with trembling hands. Their bond is soul crushing by the anguish his love is trying to shut away deep inside, just as she was rasised to do by their parents. Quiet, pretty, and calm but never seen or appreciated but expected to rope in the quixotic hurricane that is Parvati without back-up. Just as the fire spirited Par was always to be the darling and charming girl to welcome visitors, then to be sent away to be ignored as a witch isn't allowed to find pleasure or fun in life save that which her wizards permit.

"Disaster that." he grunts to himself.

Pads looks up to him with sleep deprived haunted eyes brimming in equally measures of need and dread. Her firm words though are loud enough and at their friends Blaise and Tracey standing behind him. Completely masking what lay inside.

"She is strong. She will heal." that pronouncement was delivered with a stern rebuke of any other thought to the contrary, but were hollow sounding to him by the truth laying bare to him by the bond. The heart ache in there is freezing him to the core by the certainty she has hidden from all but him. Par may never recover emotionally even if the girl's body does.

Stifling a sob, Tracey clings to Blaise to mourn once again for Daphne and the others.

"I'll see to supper." Neville stands to give his love privacy to care forPar and time to gather herself in mournful silence.

Blaise takes Tracey away for the same. A shared look steels their hearts and wills to be strong for the breaking witches. As Warders serve their Aes Sedai, they are taught to keep it in and mourn their lost in silence to not burden their delicate women.

If only he could find an easy way to bury the sorrow flooding his soul.

Working in a calm quiet he does as his mentors ground into him. Work industriously, with care, and a watchful eye for threats. He prepares the deer him and his blade brother took down with bows they keep tucked away for safety in their bags. A thought that was decided on by their leader Harjit. His best mate was a frugal and intuitive man that was the apple of Therill's eye in training. Which Neville found comfortable in following.

Setting the wild onions roasting in a sauce of the venison's juices for a side dish like he was taught, he inhales deep of the sea side woods scents. This was a good land for surviving in. It just takes a careful eye and a sure shot.

Drinking his coffee, another provision set aside by him and Harry. His mates were trying to keep what they and the witches could need, but had a right hard time getting it done without the Aes Sedai trying to split the girls from them. Well that was settled but in the worst way. Sisters were a dodgy lot on the best of days but he did not wish them ill.

Silent as a ghost Blaise plops down by him with a sigh, "Mate we are in for it. The witches are lost. White Tower gobshite has them thinking that if they just weave Saidar better, no one will ever die. Bloody mess that. So what is the plan Nev?"

"I would love to pull stakes and head for home but the others may be out there. Fred, George, and Harry won't willingly let the silly geese go and off themselves. Thank the Creator that Warders are a more sensible lot to have as teachers than the Sisters." he frowns and stares out to the sea, "Tell you what I think. Salidar is where the witches will charge off to at full speed. Witches are a social lot and they will seek the protection of the familiar over trying for elsewhere. So inland is where we go from here. Illian is huge but manageable by what we've seen here. Our biggest challenge will be our set of Accepted. None of them are taking this well. I don't blame them. I'm a bit spell blinded by it all as well."

"Amen to that mate. If we could know where the rest were we'd be best served by making a run for home. Salidar though will give our ladies a destination to focus on instead of the deaths. Too bad we didn't all take our bonds in Tear, then this would've been all academic." Blaise jabs a stick in the flames licking up the sides of the meat turning on the spit Neville bespelled to avoid his hands being too occupied to react to any threats.

His stomach was none to pleased with his wand work but he knew Harry would've done the same. They are all dead men so the best to do was do ones best to see the witches home safe. Dying was just part of a Warder's life and doing it horrifically was part of being a wizard. Thank the Creator they were shot of the White Tower and others from this Age to be able to be wizards again.

"So you and Tracey?" he asks without need of an answer.

"We did. She got inspired as we made love." Blaise shocks him with that admission.

"You didn't?" he stares at his friend.

"It was our first time. She was frantic and I was just as mad for her after all that shite in the Tower. I sat her down to wring some answers from her for why she was acting distant and ashamed. Turns out she had some good reasons for it by how we were all raised to act as if fighting and killing is a crime even in defense of ourselves. I forgave her for as little needed that was and well... we felt alive again. Light mate I never felt the need to caper and crow like a ninny, but damn she rocked my world till I'd have agreed to anything. Two shakes of a dog's tail later and she has me on cloud nine with her in my head while she was giving it to me." Blaise was chuckling with longing glee.

"Too much in the details there mate." Neville grunts through a full body blush. "Tell me how did you know about me and Pads?"

"Tracey guessed it when you muttered a Warder joke about people gawking at Sisters ageless faces to the Twins so low the witches couldn't hear it. Yet Pads was giggling at the same time." his mate smirks. "Damn fine hearing Talent my girl has I tell you."

Shaking his head, Neville swore two things there in his mind. One was to try and be ready if Pads gets inspired by Tracey to take that step, and to never say much with in miles of the Slytherin witch ever again.

"We need horses." he lays out to avoid talking about bedroom secrets best left in the bedroom.

Blaise nods and suggests, "Do we dare split up and find some or just slog on to a village with some for sale?" His dark friend shrugs, "I vote a no if that is what you want to know. It would divide us too thin with the witches on the loopy side, especially Par in there."

Snorting at the gross understatement in that even if it terrified him how his childhood friend was this far gone. She was so wrapped up in Harry and the Circle it was scary and it was a tradition among her ancestral homeland's witches to hurl themselves on pyres of their lost husbands.

"Good plan as any. Tell you what, we take all this in shifts day and night. It'll be a right long ride as it is but Pads has to be aware of Par's moods or waking at all time so she'll need as much rest as she can get." he thought out with a testing poke of the onions for doneness.

Leaning over to check the cook on the deer, Blaise nods, "I'll get Trace to help with that. It will be good for her what with Daph's loss and all."

Those things settled Neville was expecting his mate to pop up and see to the other Slytherin. The fellow has other ideas as the man asks, "Mate, I think we should be less trusting of the witches intuitions when it comes to Sisters. Those old biddies did something we'll regret. Harjit was sworn to secrecy for Tracey's sake. The old cows had a mock trial of that Red Sister we captured, and stilled the woman. Harry had kittens by the bucketfuls but nothing doing for the girls. The whole ruddy lot thought that was all that were needed. He was going to take care of that till the witch near done for him, my love did for the woman instead. Light she was keeping it in till I got her to open up. You know the feel, the dirtiness of the blood still painting your hands even after scrubbing them down. She was fighting that for my sake. What if next time it gets them into some rubbish we're not enough to set right?"

Frowning at the enclosure in irritation that his Pads hid this from him, he combs his fingers through his hair in need of doing something before saying the wrong thing entirely. She probably did it to keep him from doing what may hurt him and them, but he still wants to throttle her.

"When we find Harry we need to sit him down and find the truth of this." he growls as he thinks things through, "What did Tracey say?"

"Pretty much only that and Harjit's giving them a right chewing on for it. They seem to have accepted some of it but not willingly as they think we're too weak and a bit too unreliable in handling things of the Tower. He gave them what for nevertheless." Blaise then stood and yawns with a shake, "They're dead scared of him in some ways so he can get away with it, we're not the bogie men so they won't listen all that easily. Best to be ready before hand."

His mate trots off to the direction Tracey must be. Left to his own devices, Neville thanks the Light that it was Harry to be the scary bastard instead of himself. People listen to Harry but then treated the fellow as if he were an ill behaved attack dog or worse when he counts the likes of Snape or the esteemed Headmaster Dumbledore.

Later after the meal was divided and saved for the coming days, Neville and Blaise flipped coins for first watch of the night. Winning and setting up a decoy for any foe's sneaking in. He positions his perch in a high tree where he can stand the night with his back melding himself into appearing just an extension of the shadows of the trunk.

Short horseman's bow at the ready he observes the night sky through the bowery of the forest. Sirius the dog star was blinking up high, not quite there as its onetime status of North Star, then again Polaris was for from stealing the honors too. This world is like home but then not. Same with surviving the shipwreck, life is going on as it always did before, but not with those he felt were his North Stars. Now he is having to be Harry and it is turning out a bunch of headaches rolling into one to taunt his abilities in this department.

Avoiding any personal fatalistic thinking in the dark of night, he ponders on if it is in the cards for him and Pads to go all the way like the Slytherins. He doubts it as Padma is a very conservative witch with a very strong opinion of what is or isn't proper. He'd be of the same opinion save his fears of what lays in store for them in the coming days. Love is not an light journey to take if one is wanting it to be long lasting. He may or may not be ready, so why would he expect his witch to be.

"Harjit, where are you mate? Things are always easier with you making the hard choices. We have to go inland to reach Salidar. Too bloody bad it seems for us as it also is dangerously close to Amadicia. Fun little spot for us with our witches being on the unpredictable side of things." he reasons out loud to hear his own ideas. Sadly he isn't the natural leader that his mate is born to be.

Weary as he is from giving his own energy to Pads so that she can keep the two other witches on the straight and narrow, he feels sleep coming so he blinks as the night carries on.

"I've got to move." he drops to the ground with a huff of distaste at being forced to be Harjit.

Making a patrol of it, he keeps his night eyes safe from the flickering banked fire by looking out from the center of their long term campsite. In the woods he listens and lets his Void State guide him. In there is the seductive wildness of Saidin but it is not what he seeks. What he needs is calm peace to be at his best focused abilities.

In the dark of the forest he is at peace. It is so much different for the wizards than for the witches coming to this Age. The silence of the forgotten places is where the boys are safe from the terrors of crowds that can turn into mobs with pitchforks held high to burn the mad male channelors alive. For the girls, they have been given a community to depend on that will back them over the masses. Even now with the Schism, there are women that are gathered in force to defy the world's fear of the One Power.

He'd feel jealous if not for the Void swallowing all extraneous thoughts or emotions.

A snap of a twig not because of him soft footing it has him stop dead still to listen.

"Shhushh it Deg,,," a grizzled voice gripes out of the dark. "We's gonna gets us that bounty on witches the Whities ere a wantin' if ye jus be quiets here."

"Ahh it taint me fault Jode. Its these new boots we get frem that toph we kilt. Theys be stiff still." the one called Deg whines. "Ye sure these be witches Jode?"

"Don'na matter do it. Pretties be pretties an' the Whities pay fer em one way ter the otha." theys donna cares iffin' we has a spot a fun wit'em firs eithe'" Jode chuckles evilly but stupidly as well if they wished to remain secret.

Drawing back, Nev slips away to catch hold of his mate Blaise. This was a chance to release some built up tension in the wizards and keep the forest clean of two footed vipers.

Arriving back in camp, he finds Blaise awake and ready for bear with a grim glower. "Mate, where were you? I looked out and-"

Holding up a shushing hand Neville nods out to the forest while slurring out. "Had'ter water the treesh. Thoughts I shaw a pairs of fat stoats. Arse be hurtin' fer a cshhance ter get me a shots a fun." Blaise translates that and the dimly lit Warder gestures to tell the direction.

Grinning with an evil light in those far too shrewd eyes of his, Blaise says, "Stoats? Well bugger all if your only drunk again. The girls won't miss us I wager."

Tracey was peeking out of the enclosure to watch them, then there is a chilling blast to Neville's bones before the camp shimmers with a double image for him. Remembering that Warders are blessed with protections against some Aes Sedai works, he decides he'd prefer not to know what the Slytherin witch is up to.

Stumbling drunkenly out into the woods, he leads Blaise away from the camp on a tangent angle to the duo of bungling highwaymen. Tonight there will be two less stains on humanity to bother honest folk around here.

Splitting up after a time in the deep dark of the forest, the pair of Warder wizards begin the hunt for the would be murderers. Taking the left and most direct path, Neville is eager to end some useless sods to do a good turn for a change. He catches the sight of muddy red silk humping it out of view into the somewhat dubious protection of a thorny bush. An impish thought of how the Twins would use such an opportunity tempts him, however if he misses one or more unknown others he'd like as not draw the Red Sisters to here on the double quick.

Instead he tracks that one and seeks others with a wild stumble to keep up appearances. It works as he notes three more bandits in the area trying to move in a semi circle to ambush him. Creaking of too stiff and new boots alerts him that Deg was not among these, but was to his right. So he was glad he'd kept his head and not just dashed in spells ablazing.

Marking the lot, he acts like he is searching for something in the nearby hedges. The lot predictably move in with one even flashing a gold toothed smile. Waiting till they were in range of his hafted poleax, he is thrumming with pleasure. He may prefer the healing side of warfare, but he was still a Warder forged weapon of war defending his Aes Sedai. Blood spilled in that effort is almost sacred. Make it spilling out the claret of slavers or other like minded ilk, and it is a holy honor to be about. Plus it was invigorating to be in the fight of man versus man with blades or fists flying.

One with a wicked looking saw toothed knife comes at him first from his left. It was the signaling notes of a gleeman's dance for him, and his first steps were to whirl to the side of the knifeman. Catching the plonker's forearm, he continues the move, putting the man in the path of an archer's arrow. Ripping the blade free of the dying bastard's hand he rolls to the right in order to sink the wicked blade into the groin of a man with poofy britches and a veiled mustache. The man is a veteran brawler by how he tries turning to the side to lower the profile, unfortunately for the oddly dressed brigand is Neville wasn't a naive bruiser and still on target to impale the fellows bollocks. Leap rolling over a log he springs to his feet and rams the archer into the trunk of the tree behind. Thus clear of the ambush, he unlimbers his back strapped poleax that he is adroit at turning into a long bladed quarterstaff.

Using the brass butt cap as a spear tip he crushes the throat of the man in dirty red, with a follow through that snaps the wrist of a man with near new polished boots. Figuring that was Deg, he smirks and twirls the ax end back into the belly of another. Not finished with Deg, he jabs the butt cap into the plonker's middles before hoping aside from a sword chop that does catch a man unaware. Deg would not be missed.

From the other side of the lot of killers is a scream of a dying man. In Neville's peripheral vision is a man holding in guts spilling free of a wide clean rapier swipe. A darting dark figure whirls away from two wildly slashing fellows. Knowing his mate is in no danger, he spin charges a big blighter hoisting a long dai katana type sword. The clashing sparks of steel meeting his power wrought ax head is impressive, but not to the brigand as the shoddy steel is shorn apart in the offing.

Performing a near perfect Clearing the Wheat then has Neville add the man's head to the departed blade. Hop stepping to the left he avoids a stabbing jab out of the woods, which he returns the sentiment with a squarely hit shaft strike that staggers the attacker with a now broken jaw. Blaise does for the rotter as the slick sneaky Snake rams the thin rapier blade he adores up from behind to open both a kidney and the lung on the other side.

There was no one left for them to finish off.

They look around a bit disappointed by that fact. It just felt good to rip some evil sods apart. To let loose the dogs of war and be the weapons they've been trained for instead of left fighting the impossible to conquer the wrath of nature. They had no need for spell or help of the witches, they were more than up to ending these sorts.

Letting out a slow belly laugh he finally bellows in release. Blaise is a short second or two behind with a wheezing, "Bloody brilliant that mate. Blimey I've been so tired of hauling ropes and jumping at every sound of cheap timber creaking. Blimey I wish the Twins and Harry could've been with us. We're men not rope monkeys."

"True that mate. Too true and yet if they would have been here the fight would've been over at the first jab of that plonker with the saw blade over there." Neville chortles.

Shrugging then smiling wider, Blaise points out into the deeper woods with the long slender rapier blade, "Plus they had horses. A good nine in total. Remounts and a pack horse I think will get us to Salidar all that faster don't you think my giant friend."

Considering it and that Par was going to have to be practically tied to the saddle, he nods with grim satisfaction. "Par will be more manageable tied to a horse we lead than her on foot and able to run. Excellent turn this. Light we should've went overland mate. At least then we have our own skills to rely on over that of the worth of drunk carpentersmates with too much tar in their grog. Lets get the mounts and I think I might actually see if Pads is up to a long snog of victory. Well at least after I clean up a bit."

"Yeah, the sight of us Warders all bloody seems to disturb the ladies for some reason." Blaise snorts with an ironic shrug.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++WOT/HP+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Dabbing a wet cloth on her feverish Circlemate's brow, Daphne is wishing she had taken the chance earlier in the Tower to learn Healing. She'd left the White Tower before her scheduled lessons in the art were to begin. At the time she was more interested in her studies under the Grey Ajah on the intricacies of Deas Daemar in the differing realms of the West. Politics, finance, and social theory are her natural hobbies as the scion of the Greengrass Line whom have lived and worked in government and international trade since the days of the Hittite Empire and the Phoenicians sailing the Mediterranean.

Her more studious Ione ironically enough was learning it to teach the whole Circle what the Sisters may have held back. Now the plan had been given the toss over the steep side and she is being forced to watch in mute anguish as her lovely Hermione dies in agony.

Luna, who is tending to the Shock stunned Captain Nerman, shares a look with her. Their surviving Sister, Corilta, is skilled in Healing even if weaker in it than a Yellow. Sadly the woman is a grieving shell shocked wreck, nearly devoid of the one time imperious driven witch they knew before the storm. Bond Loss is a scary sight if this poor woman is any accurate gauge to measure the condition. For the last four days since making landfall, they've been having to feed and clean up the woman like a reluctant toddler instead of an iron willed Aes Sedai. Feelings of sympathy for the insane witch wouldn't be a problem for Daphne after caring for other invalids in her own family back home, except for the fact that her Ione is dying, as is the ruined Captain Nerman whom had been turning into a good friend for the crushed Sister.

Anger is burning in her chest at the nasty turns of the Wheel they've been struck by ever since that abominable Yule Ball that seems Ages gone, even if technically has Ages yet to go before taking place. It feels as if they've been merely running from one calamity to another as if they were muggle soldiers being chased about by dropping bombs that never seem to stop coming screaming in. Daphne's grandfather had served as a medic in the disastrous First World War on a rebellious lark, what he told her of it as she helped him hobble about were of things she never wishes to see first hand. However she has seen her Hermione and loved ones being picked off by the deadly seas and now understands the futility her Grand Da lived with till he passed away.

"Burning blood and Light cursed ashes, this isn't right." she snarls as Ione's pale yellow tinged face trembles and shivers.

"Papi... forgive... please forgive me Papi..." a low mewling whimper escapes her love's parched lips. Lips that had shared a kiss of love with Daphne as if life for them could not be truly stolen from them in spite of the storm's wrath being vented on them and their lost ship.

Luna just nods with a dull eyed stare out at the distant sea coast.

Hate is an ugly emotion, Daphne's mother taught her this when she were a tiny tot in her nappies, clear up until the woman passed away from a stupid law in wizarding England that muggle medical procedures are illegal for use in treating a pureblood. Astoria thankfully lives, though only through the slimmest of chances as the Healing Staff of Saint Mungo's failed spectacularly in seeing both mother and baby through the birth process. Her mum was lost simply because a cesarian is considered a dangerous untried bit of muggle butchery in the eyes of the Ministry. For that crime, Daph has been burdened with a burning hate of stupidity and mule headed traditions that hurt or cost lives.

Here again it is happening to some one as she sits by the side in helpless anguish. However this time it is her own wife more or less that is the victim dying, and the tradition near unwritten law that a Sister suffering Bond Loss is to never be forced to do anything till ready. So she is left with a blithering idiot of a gibbering mad cow that forced them out onto the wretched Sea of Storms when it would've been safer to travel by land. True it should have been the faster path for them, but it ironically cost them everything. In Luna and her case it stole away with their Harry, Par, Gin, and their beloved spirit brothers and sisters, with Ione soon to join that grim tally as a parting shot of that dreadful wreck.

This stupid mad idiot has overseen the butchering of almost every member of her 3rd Age family along with a whole crew of semi decent sailors just to shave a handful of days off a trip to another Tower full of bloody minded biddies!

Hermione's weak insensible hand seeks out and grasps her rag welding one as if clutching her close in an unconscious attempt at saying goodbye. The sweaty touch sets fire to her sense of right and wrong, turning her simmering futile anger into a full on conflagration of incensed rage. This normally vibrant drop dead sexy, smart, kind hearted muggleborn witch is telling her, a silly pureblood halfwit, "Goodbye and I love you." just like her mum did for daddy so long ago.

Trembling from the rage boiling in her to a full killing steam, she lays a tender kiss on those lips she remembers many times awakening her to injustices, encouraging her, loving her, comforting her, and only a few days ago, joining with her own in a fiery kiss celebrating life and their out and proud love.

"Hold on Ione, baby... I love my mum and wish she could've met Harry and our Circle in life, but I refuse to let you join them this early in the embrace of the Mother." she lectures with a loving brush of her hand to remove her love's sweat sopping wet locks from the witch's forehead. "Me and Luna are not strong enough to let you go so forgive me having to be a bit brutal with a Sister. I will not lose you like we have the others without giving it my all to save you. I just will not let you go."

Standing on wobbly kneed legs burning from pins and needles after sitting in care of her dying witch, Daphne's fury is focusing her mind's exhaustion stifled wits to get Corilta to help her help them all. Then once she has wrung out what is needed for her to learn Healing, and only then, the crazy Blue cow could return to the blissfully obtuse comforts of the nut hatch. If the blithering besom puts up a fight, Daph will mop the floor with the witch's ageless face till reason returns to the grief mad Sister.

Trooping on her unsteady legs to the woman sitting in murmuring horror with vacant eyes staring out towards the murderous Sea of Storms, she gathers her will to be the Ice Queen Bitch her fellow Slytherins accused her of being. Corilta's incessant rocking in a tight child like ball has been accepted and forgiven up until now as Bond Loss is an ugly forbidden topic when talking of the side effects of Bonding. It is a silent killer waiting for any Sister with a Warder, but her wife's life is in the balance so Daphne has to break into the older witch's mourning period.

"Sister, you've mourned enough for now. The living need you." Daphne is amazed she manages that with barely a tremor of trepidation.

Ignoring her, the mad Sister acts as if Daphne were more a bothersome ghost than a real girl. Seeing this in the older witch's inward wordless withdrawal, Daph's ill mood further sours in disgust. A full grown woman, trained in the ruddy White Tower, this is an unseemly fate to befall the cow. Even considering that this cowering simpleton once was plotting how to twist and meddle in Daphne's unorthodox love life, she did have some respect and care for the cow. But at this very moment her charity was at an all time low, what with the shrew holding the key to saving her love who is dying mere feet away. It was time to get the Sister to start being a Sister instead of a spoiled petulant brat no older than two.

Shaking her head no in a violent full body cower, Corilta refuses to move or speak.

Narrowing her eyes dangerously, Daphne whips off an over powered stinging hex that cracks the air in a load electric clap punctuated by the cowering imperious silly twit yelping in alarm.

"Now lets begin again. You are going to help me save these two or I will be forced to get exotic. Sister or not, you've got only two options, get more of that or help me, then I will leave you alone." Daphne commands in a deadly calm voice to freeze even a storm fraught ocean.

Rubbing her injured bum and crab crawling away, Corilta refuses still to give in and hiss defiantly, "NO! You're just a meany!"

Snapping off a string of six, herding the old petulant age reversed besom back to the others, Daphne glares at this woman whom once thought it a fine thing to use her to control her lovers. When the Blue tries to run away in tears, Daph catches the cow with a hook shaped Air weave to physically drag the kicking and screaming witch back.

If Daphne had any other viable acceptable options, she might have let Corilta go on unmolested in the Bond Loss mourning, but she doesn't. The great and good sodding Wheel has wove her into a corner, denying her any easy way out, thus she must break through the older witch's mad grief or let her Hermione die.

Hissing like a furious she cat, Corilta grabs hold of Saidar to try ripping away the Air weave from Daphne. As skilled and relatively powerful as the Blue Sister is compared to other average Sisters of this Age, the young untested former 7th Age Slytherin is by far the superior by a magnitude that is ludicrous. Corilta's swift mountain stream may as well be a near bone dry pitcher of water against Daphne's flooding Nile during the rainy season.

"Oh getting snippy are we? Nope. No you don't woman." she cracks off a few more stinging hexes to the older witch's bum, causing the Blue to yelp indignantly.

"Why are you doing this to me?" screams the Sister with tears running freely down cheeks and nose to half choke the poor grieving wretch. "I gave you back Parvati!"

"And I thank you for that, but one act of compassion does not allow you to let others die. Just help guide Luna and me, and we'll do the rest. We'll let you be afterwards, but by the Light and Circe's silky dainties I'll never give you a single moments peace if you let my Ione and the Captain die." she frostily warns the heart shattered witch.

"I can't... I just can't help. I- I killed all those I love!", the witch beseeches her on dirty knees.

That gave Daphne pause. Bond Loss must be dreadful in its terrible power to blind a witch to all reality, "What of the Captain? You two were growing thick as thieves."

Stopping the useless clawing struggle for the shepherding Air weave, Corilta stares at Daphne in contemplative silence, "We're not... I've not tried to... Please."

"That is alright as I know how hard it is to come to accepting who I am. She might not ever be there, but your friend is still a friend no matter where that friendship leads. Her life and my Hermione's are on the edge of following everyone else. Following them into the great adventure beyond. I can't live with that state of affairs. Same as the woman I thought you were before your own terrible loss. That strong proud Aes Sedai wouldn't wish or let it happen either. Every woman with even a flickering candle's light amount of ability is needed now with this Dragon Reborn or False Dragon, Trollocs in the ruddy southland countryside, these human monsters Seanchan enslaving women like ourselves, and so much more out there... Women of our birth right like myself, Luna, and Ione are too rare a commodity to waste because of any personal grief, even from Bond Loss. That is what I heard from you hours before the thrice cursed storm, but now you're sitting here in your own filth letting good people die because of your broken heart's Bond Loss." Daphne seizes on an opening to bring back some sense in the emotionally fractured witch.

Earning a glare for that, Daphne prepares to slap more stinging hex barrages on the mad as a hatter Blue Sister. There will be no letting Ione die just to spare the Aes Sedai's feelings. She'd be no more a good, intelligent, caring witch than those sodding plonkers back home too afraid to ruffle some rather dusty purebloodist and traditionalist feathers instead of using tried and true muggle technics to save lives.

Corilta turns away in an anguished hiss, "But what if this is what the Creator has laid out in the Pattern for us and them?"

"What a great steaming load of horse crap. Sister, the bloody minded Pattern would've just drowned Ione in the drink and been done with it. So buck up. Pull your big girl knickers on. Then help me save us all so that we can face this great ruddy murderous world as women worthy our heritage in the White Tower." she barks with a bit more of the mounting heat than is nice or proper of a girl in her station.

"Will you let me mourn afterwards?" the Sister whispers in a pleading sob.

"As much as I can afford or spare. If you dare try offing yourself like Sualdra, I'll tie you up more secure than a sheep for sale. If you even half think of trying any shenanigans with George, I'll use your own entrails to do it with. Otherwise it depends on if you or if I've uncovered more needs of instruction in a Talent, art, or weave. We have a deal?" Daphne frostily offers the best deal she has, and prays none of her promises in this has to be put to the test. Still with that in mind this is what she can get under the circumstances.

Shaking herself with a vigorous rub of the eyes with mud grubby hands, Corilta finally turns to her with a forced Aes Sedai serenity, "I think then child, this means we have a livable deal. Hermione, Luna and yourself mean more to the Tower's future and current plight than my discomforts of the moment."

Silently thanking the Creator, whomever he is, Daphne reaches out to this one time unflappable witch with a cautious hand. Hesitance in Corilta's eyes concerns her quite a bit, but she has little choice but to decide to try and but wish for the moon from the unbalanced Sister. Hearts rarely heal well, and never in so short a time as this. Thankfully with the Blue's help, Ione's injuries may be put to right today, before the unthinkable occurs to snatch away her brilliant friend turned lover.

Taking the offered hand, Corilta resurges back to a shadowy reflection of the woman's old self to take charge of any trouble, leading the two teen Accepted girls to form a link. Emmatilde, stays out with a frightened wariness while dashing off to get more driftwood for their campfire. Healing is a miraculous thing but nevertheless hard on the body of the patient and Healer. For the latter it drains them something dreadful, and for the convalescing patient it sets fire to their hunger to replenish what had been healed. A nice little fire and large meal is a wise way to help for the near squib witch in the long run over trying to stay in a link.

"Now I'm going to do this only once. Learn it now while I'm not a wretched ruin or I may be incapable of keeping my wits let alone the will to try more." Corilta's firm voice is a touch preachy in its lecturing them. Though that is nothing unusual as most Aes Sedai Sisters get that way with postulants like Daphne, and Corilta was not shy about being condescending in the past. However in the timber it wasn't right, it bore an unutterable loss masked by the rest. If a witch not raised to be a player of the Game of Houses heard the older woman, the listener may have not gleaned anything from it.

Daphne wasn't so naive as all that. Raised from birth and fed it in her schooling, she has an exceptional ear. Few are as studious a Slytherin from one of the oldest and prouder Pureblood Lines, so to her it wouldn't have been any clearer unless the Aes Sedai had marched down the road with a town crier and a full marching band trumpeting from the hilltops.

"Now hear me when I say this requires a deft touch and ample stores of patience. Healing done wrong or poorly can and has maimed or killed patients." Corilta begins dictating a lesson.

Every step, weave modification, and relevant warning are imparted with stern words by the old witch. Utilizing Luna and herself like a matched set of living Saidar batteries, the older woman guides them in the delicate art. Smaller injuries are the first to be repaired to avoid complications and much of the scarring Hermione is in for. A few of these wouldn't kill a witch to have but no woman Daphne knew would appreciate having. Others no one would cherish as they are very visible like the one bisecting Ione's face from left ear to right cheek. Or the ones peppering her lover's belly and breasts would probably be embarrassing to the girl. Especially to her loving self conscious witch when seen by her and their other lovers so Daphne was happy to care for them for her Hermione's sake.

Addressing these builds up the two younger witches' skills by repeatedly drilling in the image of the intricate weave of Healing. The many slight alterations lent to their understanding the complex nature of the art, and also boosts their respect for those Talented in its working. Nothing in the White Tower is frivolous or laughable yet Healing was rightfully a field of study that a whole Ajah can be dedicated to it solely. The subtle dangers of Saidar can not be simply tossed about without dire consequences, but more so when dealing with the care of the human body, or its destruction as Daphne sees where Healing may be the root of the Killing Curse as Corilta hints that if done wrong in places the patient will die catastrophically in a blink of the eyes.

It takes hours for them to go through the many steps and repeated Healings of their loving battered witch. At some points Emmatilde was required to care for them as well as other chores like cooking. For George's part, he kept far away from them for Ione's privacies sake as the girl lay naked before them to see the effects immediately. It also has him conveniently far outside of the reach of the Bond Loss maddened Sister's hands. A single fellow too near to hand for such a broken suffering witch is just asking for trouble that can only lead to more pain and anguish.

"It is as best I can do." announces the Blue in a weary shivering shake, "You two will need to see the Captain is treated and to check if our dear Emm is hiding an internal injury as I suspect. I've nothing more to help... Nothing..."

There is a silence that dominates their camp following this. Daphne takes a long tired breath to thank the woman with a wholehearted gratefulness, but is interrupted by Corilta.

"Thank you Child. You kept me from becoming just a useless wretched animal. I've feared... His sacrifice deserves my best, all of them deserved better of me. To many were sacrificed for us. Too many... Oh but it hurts so much to breath..." the Blue tapers off and silently retreats to a point just barely within the ring of the campfire's light.

Turning to Luna, Daphne feels the heel and now tries to apologize to her sweet gentle girlfriend.

Luna though begins speaking in that eery ghostly voice echoing out of the Age Lace's endless depths, "When the Dragon rages in madness and the Raven's Chosen Call, the Seeds will return to Him of the Black and His Candle's White. Beware the silent voices for the Mummer's Play speaks the Tale of Fire and Blood in the City of Conquerors. Weep Dragon of Stygian and the Death Denied for treachery lay in the Heart of Icy Repose for envy and pride births the Betrayer Prince of Britons."

Going almost boneless, Daphne's tiny lover falls into her arms in a fitful mewling sleep.

Prophecy and Sight can be a boon but is no less a maddening load of rot if it is all in unintelligible gibberish. What she could gather is that probably her Harry and maybe the Circle are in for a rough go of it sometime. It was no great joy to think of her wizard as the ruddy Dragon her proper Age is waiting for, but can't see anyone else as the one denied death. For the now she has to care for her family as her mother cared for her.

Emmatilde, with mouse quiet feet, scurries to help her get Luna covered and comfortable. For a silly thing more oft than not, the girl is a good hearted, solidly loyal friend. Too bad those puffed up nodcocks back home couldn't see what a special gift many squibs and muggleborns can be. It is fascinating that the girl was both in one when pureblood wizards back home think one is a disease, and the other a dirty curse on their perfect world. Thankfully the Healing scans revealed no injuries to the dear Ghealdaner farm girl.

Slipping in between her two sleeping witches after seeing to feeding the cloaked and hidden George, the now ravenous Captain she Healed by herself, and the mute Corilta she feels worn and scared. Daphne is torn by all that has happened and all she's been forced to do. There seemed no end in her view, though looking back she sees no profitable, honest, and decent alternatives popping up either. Trying any of the other paths that have came along were too tempting to be right choices. Her father taught her to never blithely follow the trails others offer as shortcuts, they're just setting the traps for you.

Falling asleep with these worries gnawing on her has her running through a dark gauntlet of nightmares just as if she were still stuck in the Accepted's test. Her Circle's deaths haunting her afresh as she is trapped helpless to take the fight to their innumerable faceless enemies alone and unprepared. Horrible dreams of men and women in hideous masks and black robes murdering her father and kidnaping Astoria and her in the middle of the night. No one is coming to rescue them as no one knows them or cares, and then in a green flash she dies, forgotten and unmissed as her sister is a hollow spell controlled shell of a toy for monsters to play with.

Then there is one of her standing in a palatial beautiful madhouse, holding back a storm of black steel rain hurled at her by an unnatural blonde man with soulless cold blue eyes. If she fails to save the insane residents, the rain will turn into a hurricane sweeping away millions of blind ants working across the globe.

Waking in a violent shiver with a mouthful of bile, her mind is on fire from hearing her loves all denouncing her as a worthless failure that did not deserve their love or lives. The silly pureblood chit that is just too pretty to do what must be done. That evil rain drumming a war beat into the fantastic marble nuttery as if mocking her daring to defy the man in hopes of stopping the flood.

Shivering even more violently, she feels as if she was just dragged naked and exposed from the depths of her families ancient mausoleum by her long black hair. As she has to remain calm and focused for the others to feel a measure of hope to anchor onto, she yearns to sneak away and cry like a tiny witch tot left alone in Diagon Alley.

"Do you need to talk about it?" Hermione inquires in a hushed tenderness without preamble.

Rolling over to face her brilliant girlfriend, she asks, "Are you feeling better? You gave us a right scare, Ione."

Taking a tired breath of salt stained sea air, she hopes that her countering questions will buy her time to think about how to answer her witch without stirring up trouble. Proper pureblood witches are spoon fed rules of wifely decorum, and close to the top is never upset ones mate. Problem is she can hardly speak clearly from her terror, let alone keep it all buried till she can organize it into manageable thoughts later. Her quick heartbeat and tremulous breathing was going to give her away before she could achieve witchly perfect poise. Only one mad gibbering witch is allowable at a time for their group, she chides herself. A second one is over the limit for even the best of them, which she knew was not her.

Soft brown eyes are regarding her quietly. Chocolate brown orbs that speak thunderously of a mind capable of managing a million and one thoughts simultaneously, unlike herself. Brilliant eyes giving a peek at a soul far braver than she has ever been herself. Pools of light that draw and compel her to open herself to love outside the norm of their kind. Sexy as hell dark gems that are gazing on her as if she were a beautiful glorious heroin of legend that their owner hungers for.

Light she found this a thrill to be loved by her Circlemates and Harry. To be desired so much that they will choose her over their own safeties and the tradition bred laws of their homeland. Better yet is the rekindling hope that if Luna and Ione are still alive and with her, then maybe the other three members of their love story are waiting to be found by them.

Reaching up to stake claim of Hermione's cheek in a tender caress, Daphne asks again in order to refocus her own weary mind, "Are you alright Ione? You can be a bit secretive. Harry's bad influence I wager."

"Says the kettle to the pot." her witch sniffs in a watery giggle before taking hold of Daph's hand to nuzzle it closer. Hmmmm, I like how this feels. But I must know, how many of us made it? How long have I been out of it as this is not the beach I remember being dragged up onto."

"You remember that? You seemed way out there to me. Something about a hippogryph and how Harry was flying." she teases as she knows how deathly afraid the girl is of flying, but has mentioned how hot it was to be up with Harjit pressed tight into his back.

Blushing furiously Hermione coughs and tries to not look flummoxed or out of sorts. "Honestly Daph, I've no idea where that came from. Oh fine, Harry and me freed his godfather from Dementors by flying on that Buckbeak that put Draco in his place. And yes Harry was as mad a pilot as he ever is, but crickets I found it a thrill. If you repeat that to him or Gin-Gin I'll deny it. Those two and broom riding will be the death of me. Satisfied? I hope so as I really want to know how many of us made it?"

Sobering but still a bit amused at her lover's admission, Daph has enough wherewithal to remain a properly ever optimistic pureblood witch wife, "We don't know outside of our little group here. But-" she falters some to her chagrined discomfort, "But we're a right hard lot to kill. We'll- We'll find them. I know it, Ione."

Frowning then getting hit with a wide mouthed yawn, Ione blushes a fiery cherry red as her Healing induced hunger lets loose a monstrous grumble in her stomach in reminder of other needs than knowledge and companionship.

To avoid speaking of her hidden misgivings Daphne starts to get up and address her girlfriend's needs, but is stopped by her love, "Stop dodging me luv. What were you dreaming about? It must have been dreadful as you were crying and sobbing in parseltongue like Harry. You only do that when you're upset."

Chilling tendrils of her long bred in fear of her inner snake, Daphne stops dead in her tracks in mute inner turmoil, "Don't laugh."

"Why would I, Daph? One day we'll be married, legally or not, and as such, I'll forever care for you as a loving wife should." Hermione responds with a gentle loving kiss of Daphne's palm. "Just a moment." her witch whispers then creates a privacy weave. "Now its just you, me, and Luna here to hear what is said or what have you. We can't hide from each other anymore if this all is to work."

Long held in worries and regularly buried fears has her want to pull away, but she finds the intimate touch calming enough to be willing to make a trade. "Fine if you tell me how you're doing too as your proper pureblood witch wishes to hear and be your comfort. If you're going to pull up our status as wives in all but name?"

"Deal. Just as long as you remember that we in the Circle are each others comforters and helpmates as well as that for our husband." Hermione firmly demands as well, "So can you not laugh at me either missy mine?"

"Always... Light and love I so want us all back together. Hermione, when we get them back, all of them, will you help me get them all to settle down and marry us? Its silly and a bit wrong by our real Age, but I want us all to be married. Openly married, even if no one accepts us. So Hermione Granger, will you marry me? Will you take a silly chit of a pureblood witch as more than just a dirty secret tryst? And help me get our man and other girlfriends to settle down with us and just be who we want to be? Gay, straight, bi... I don't know who I am but I want you and our loves happy and together even if we're hated by everyone else alive."

Taking a deep calming breath that does nothing to stop a tremble to her lips, Hermione leans back to ask, "Are you positive? I do... I will. Jimeny Crickets I never thought I'd say that to another woman, but it's a yes. And again yes to the others too. I so want to believe their alive... Seeing the ship going down and nearly drowning myself, well Daphne I want to hope but it's a big leap of faith for me. Light knows how much I want that. Listen to us. Planning a wedding when all logical possibilities say we're never going to get what we want. Truth is I'm almost terrified of going home and coming out of the closet to my folks. They nearly divorced because of my being a witch. Now I'm going to have to tell them I'm bisexual leaning more to lesbian, I'm marrying a wizard that is likely to go insane and die, and that I'm also marrying four absolutely amazing witches even if it makes us wanted criminals to boot. Light and love if I wasn't so certain we have to go back to teach and ready our side, to get our Harry away from any more of the Taint, I'd say we should stay here and make our home here. Find a place in Ghealdan or Andor or that Two Rivers Egwene and Nyneave were from. I want us safe, and having potfuls of Harjit's babies, to wake up in the morning and not worry if it will be the day one or all of us are lost because some rotten toerag sticks a blade or casts a spell that kills one of us. Ohhhh... here I am being silly and bungling this! Daphne, I will marry you and that is that."

Daphne was speechless for a second or two then hesitantly asked, "Are you certain or are you just talking yourself into it? I won't judge."

She is stopped by her lover with a hurried silencing hand to her mouth by her girlfriend and hopefully now fiance, "Positive beyond words. I want you and our Circle as much as I want Harjit. I'm just afraid I've ruined us is all."

"How so? Ione you've done nothing wrong." she manages once her love lets her speak.

Staring out towards the sea, ione takes a breath then answers with a thickening voice, "Its probably all just in my head but here we go. Light and love I was such a silly chit to try and hide everything inside for so long about everything. And now," Hermione pauses to look her in the eyes, "idiot that I am, I'm scared and worried. Daphne do you think Harry truly forgave us for not telling him about us? Do you think he was telling the truth that he still loves us after we all fell in love. I can't stand thinking I broke his heart by opening mine. Daph, I've been a goose for most my life. I forced myself to settle for Ron. I forced myself to be the good little witch everyone wants to see. I tried to deny my love, no check that, crazed need and hopeless desire of Harry and my secret attractions to other women. How can he feel we really do love him when we are more attracted to women than men? Then there is the fact I let others tell us where we were to go and how when we should've went a different route all my life, including here in this Age. I knew taking a ship to Tear was a bad idea, and was even more leery of taking one to Ebou Dar during the stormy season. Yet I let myself follow instead of taking the lead. I'll follow Harry into Hell itself but why did I follow witches I didn't know a whit about into a mad season to travel at sea?"

Leaning over to kiss her love, Daphne smiles ironically, "I was just as thick. Worse really as I knew the storms were going to be bad for a fact. So don't beat yourself up over that." Then scooting in closer to hug Hermione tight with one arm, she adds, "As for ruining us, you've done no such thing there either. Not one thing of the like. Ione, we've all been in this together. All our decisions have been unanimous. Like I said I should have been adamant on going overland, But did I? Nope. I stayed quiet and submissive as the proper Accepted and Pureblood witch that I am. Now about Harry, well I'm no sainted Sister there either as I've practically stalked him for years from the shadows and secret nooks of Hogwarts as I was dead scared of my fellow Slytherins. Then there is us," she kisses her love's shoulder, "Well I was just as frightened. Unlike the White Tower, love between women is a taboo in our Age no matter our backgrounds. So I think we all get a pass on that one. Plus think on our Harry. He tries not to lie. Especially to us as he sees us as his true family. He was hurt, rightfully so, but he still understands and loves us. Other wizards might think we're just using him as a cover, but he knows we are not. And I plan on letting him know how incredibly sexy and heart warming that is everyday of our lives. How he can be so perfect for us of the Circle and we for him, has to be something special about us, as if the Wheel wove us to fit like a well made glove or what not. It has to be as I love him and you and our Circle utterly. He was made for us as we we're made for him and each other. Trust me love, he's forgiven us not telling him sooner but he isn't afraid of us loving each other as well as him." She laid it out orderly and neat for her orderly minded law abiding Circlemate.

Leaning into her with a deep sigh, Ione tries reasoning things out verbally, "Maybe, but I could... No, Ione you silly goose, I should have been braver and got Harry to see how useless and mean Ron is, not try to set my hat for the greedy envious lazy snot nosed rotten git. Maybe," Hermione snuggles in closer as if seeking a rock to anchor to, "Maybe then we all may have become friends long before being sent here on a Alice and Wonderland trip across the Ages." Now her lover meets her gaze with a longing hopeful plea, "Then we might have found what unites us before having to discover it the hard way here in this bloody minded Age? Maybe Daphne?" seeing her witch praying that it might have been so, she shrugs before Ione continues, "I may be a Gryffendor Lioness but I think I'm more an extra fierce mouse."

"A very brilliant, beautiful mouse." Daphne saucily teases, then gets serious, "No Ione, we really did have to go here. You and I are too true to our raisings. We all needed to learn what is considered wrong or deluded in our Age is not always the way they are seen. Same with what is lauded as above reproach is just as dodgy on occasion. I was a prim and proper pureblood Slytherin of Slytherins, and as that was the case I lived alone, aloof, and arrogant. Off and away from reality, exactly as I was shaped to behave I kept everyone at a distance and worried I would stab them in the back before they did so to me, as any proper and wise witch of my station and rank. I'd been married off by contract to some arrogant prick for the sake of position and the prestige of my Line. I was born to be a high priced pretty baby oven for pureblood heirs only. Not for my mind and certainly the same for my own wishes, would I be saught out by a wizard for a marriage contract." pausing to touch away Hermione's sorrowful tears, she then whispers through her own, "Coming here I found my voice, and..." she draws Hermione in for a long possessive kiss, "I found my true loves, no matter their gender, birth, blood status, or rank. Can you honestly say you've not discovered the same for yourself here. We're women of the White Tower not the breeding mice of Hogwarts. We have a strong loving man who loves us and that we love one another as well, plus he wants our input in life. The blessings keep rolling in as we also have women that want to share themselves and the man we all love with us, same as we want of them."

Meeting her witch for another long tender kiss, she moans with pleasure as Hermione's tongue slips past her lips to embrace her own. However her lover was still unsure of things and curls into her with a sad whimper, "But did we have to learn all this in so much blood and fire? Crickets I'm so tired of being a witch on the run or fighting or crying."

"My dad says that my mum told him during the First Death Eater War, 'If we stand still, we stop. If we stop, we die. If we have to mourn, we can when we've avenged our lost. If we stop to mourn, we'll just join them.' It was one of the few times she had to keep him from feeling overwhelmed and ready to toss down his wand." Daphne shares the lesson her father once had to give her during Third Year when Sirius Black had escaped. She'd been terrified that the Death Eaters she'd grown up in fear of we're coming for her family as they were considered blood traitors for siding with the Ministry, "we're running, but we're also growing stronger. Like my sister likes to think of things. She runs and runs and runs some more to keep her head on straight when life in Slytherin gets to scary. And like her, when we're ready, we'll fight back all the better. When we do, I'll stand beside you, proud to be led by you and our Harry. Together we'll see to setting the world right."

"Do you truly think they're all alive?" Hermione questions her with their foreheads pressed together, "It would be so wonderful, but..."

"Like I tried to say. I have to have faith and hope they are. That we're all just to stubborn and hard headed to let ourselves be killed. Plus Luna does think so. She has had another Vision I think. Ruddy incomprehensible thing. It said something about some rot that the Raven and his Chosen will yadda yadda yadda. I'm pinning a lot of hope on that even if I didn't catch much of it. Luna's been right more times than I can count." she says then feels the ice coated fingers of her nightmare grip her heart tight.

Looking up into her eyes with shrewd ddetermination, Ione commands her, "Spill it Daphne. We had a deal did we not?"

Pursing her lips, she recoils in dread of naming the devil.

Her loving girlfriend sits up and proceeds to pin her in place by straddling her with a fierce loving growl, "Daph, you best get over the fact you're a close lipped pureblood. I'm not giving in. Granger women are not a lot of simpering twits willing to let their partners in life get all stony silent on them. Papi can be a grim statue to the whole world outside the two of them, but never to mum. When I can get our Harry sat down for a long over due discussion of how things are going to work between us and him I will see him taught properly to stop shutting us out. However you are right here and I'm going to get you trained up right to missy mine. I love you and want us to have a long happy life together, hopefully even better than what my parents share. You have to remember we're a team Daphne, not just me as the typical butch top, to your femme bottom. Or whatever rubbish ideas others will think of us and our loves. Just because now you're officially my fiancé doesn't mean I want you to stop being open and independent as you we're when we we're just friends. The opposite is true as that is one reason I fell hard for you and our fellow Circlemates. So get over your raising to be silent and subservient to your life partner like a proper pureblood, and be the witch I love, which is you Daphne Greengrass. Now if you don't mind, spill it Greengrass as your very determined witchly lover demands. So spill, missy mine."

Laying back down in resignation to stare up into the eyes of her fiance's tired brown eyes that were on fire with said determination, she sighs in defeat, "Promise me you won't laugh."

"I promise." Hermione's solemn tone and loving eyes tear down the last vestiges of her reticence at sharing her weaknesses.

"I was fighting all alone. I- I was murdered and no one cared or missed me. Just gone, and the world went on as if I never existed." Daphne whispers, turning her face away in shame at being so silly and weak in front of her Lionhearted lover. Trying hard to squash the tears threatening to make her a right fright to look on, "I was just nothing..."

Soft lips brush feathery kisses on her cheek, forehead, then her mouth as her Ione's hands turn her head lock their eyes together and whisper softly, "If I'm not alone or just Bucky the Good Witch, then neither is my Snake queen the icy Ice Queen Bitch of Slytherin. Nor is my baby girl alone ever again, as I am going to be by her side, thick or thin. Do you hear me, Love?"

Sniffling with a loosening of the pains crushing her heart and breath, Daphne nods yes.

"Good." Hermione cheers in victory with a cute smirk that can melt even a straight witch's heart.

"You're so beautiful Hermione." she half cries in happiness and wonder.

"Am I now?" Ione giggles with desire darkening eyes that guides the brilliant witch to lean over to kiss Daphne's eyelids, "Bless me for I think you're a bit blind but I'll take it."

"I've got perfect 20/20 vision thank you very much missy mine. So when I say you're gorgeous its absolutely true." she playfully returns with a haughty sniff. "I don't think there is one part of you that is or was ever flawed. I may be new to being gay, but I know beauty when I see it."

"Really," Hermione gets an impish twinkle in those amazing chocolate brown eyes that Daphne can swim in for hours. "Let us see...", and with that Ione shrugs off the shift that is all that is covering what Daphne had so recently Healed. "Are these as wondrous as you say?"

"Exactly so, even when I was Healing them, and elsewhere all I saw was perfection. Always will to My Love, My Aphrodite." Daphne admits while reaching up to caress the pair of Hermione's ample perky charms that spring to life under her touch. Thumbing the galleon sized areolas and diamond hard nipples, she gets a tingle and hardening of her own.

"Ohhh, Light that's good... so you got to play doctor with me, I think I like that. Especially that I am worth the peek. But I think its only fair I get to play the grateful patient in need of more hands on Healing." Hermione purrs while leaning over to let Daphne suckle and fondle what the Creator has blessed her girlfriend with. "Ummmm yes I think it only fair."

"How grateful are you?" Daphne plays along though she is blushing to her roots as she is still unused to such play.

Hermione purrs lustfully, "Very..." then swiftly frees Daphne's own breasts to the campfire light, and asks, "How appreciative do you want me?" for emphasis Ione pulls off the shift completely to be only clad in the flickering orange light.

Hating herself for it but feeling it must be so, Daphne sighs with an adventuring hand to touching her love's hidden secret. The warmth and softness of the other girl's witch's cove thrills her, more as a dampness that matches her own is discovered, "Bloody... We made a promise... So maybe not as much as I am dying to experience with you."

Smiling with a shuddering sigh Hermione nods, but takes her hand to touch a little more then suckle her fingers some before guiding Daphne to do the same. It was naughty, but intimate and delicious in a way. However her lover was not done just yet as the girl began a kiss while they cleaned off Daph's digits, "Mmmm, this is still good."

Inspired to be as daring Daphne took and led her lover's hand to touching and exploring her own secrets. Ione and her were breathing a bit raggedly as they now partook of her taste as well. The feel of a lover's hand where even she has only went to clean has her head reeling with intense improper thoughts. Her taste was different but beautiful too, made more so as Hermione moans with pleasure at having a taste of her, "Crickets I want more."

Exploring Hermione's nude body with a yearning desire to let themselves get carried away, Daphne is sent to even higher levels as Ione's mouth found its way to her breasts to suckle and trace a path over each of them. Then up to her mouth for a frenzied kiss where there tongues wrestle for dominance. Meanwhile taking and leading her hand back to touching herself. Not knowing what to do as she was raised to never do such things, she is momentarily shocked into inaction as Hermione guides her hand in touching herself sexually.

When she begins to feel so absolutely bloody good all over, she starts to take over with abandon and increases the heat of their kisses. This elicits a long groaning moan from Ione, "Ohhh so bloody good. Very, very good Misses Doctor Doctor."

Hearing that purr about has her ready to explode or die or probably both, especially when Ione returns to gnoshing on her bubbies, and sharing another taste of the girl's secret. Her bushy haired brilliant lover attacks her mouth with a need to share their tastes and drive her into submission to their taboo love.

When Daphne roughly directs Hermione to also indulge in self pleasure, Ione grows feral and growls, "Yes Doctor Daphne mine want me as much as I want you. Show me how happy mummy is to have me ready to scream. I want to be your goddess. Show- Ohhh!"

Daphne took to nibbling and taking tiny bites of Hermione's breasts. Inspiration hits and she starts to really suck hard on one breast near to the breast bone causing Hermione to cry out, "Ohhh Merlin in the Light... Yessssss! Very- oh so bloody very- very..."

Their promises to the others are growing weaker as is the maxim of "Good Girls Don't" as Daphne begins to wriggle out of her dress and shift. Moaning out worshipfully, "I- I love you Ione, ohhh Please don't stop." That last was prayed out when Hermione begins to occasionally rub themselves against one another. The moments begin to blend into one and soon they are entangling their legs to keep the contact unbroken save for their hands furiously working to bring out even more of the decadent, beautiful sensations.

A hungry primal need in Daphne has her grab her lover by the shoulders to pull them back into a kiss as they're touching in places that would get them Kissed by Dementors for their daring back home. Their kisses are ravenous as they touch themselves and brush hard against each other. Suddenly as her own fingers are accidently entwining with Ione's, an eruption in her body explodes in her mind and her secret core, everything goes a bit blank and fuzzy as she hisses "Ione..."

Hermione seems to experience the same and is growling in a throaty whisper, " Holy Buggering Crickets Daph... So goood..." then collapses on top of her their sweaty bodies meld deliciously together, "Light I love you Daphne" her love purrs in a lust filled raw voice, "I want you so bad... That was amazing but not enough. I want you in me, on me, taking me... Damn that tub of rotten lumber. Damn that bloody sea... Damn it all I want them back. I want us. I need us. Daphne I want us married and- and free of every one telling us how to live..." Her witch starts to cry and rain wet kisses over her shoulders and face, "I love you... I love them..."

Petting her lover's wild sweaty mane, she whispers into their kisses, "I know. We both miss them. So does Luna. She tries to be her old self, all happy and free, but I see the truth in her acting alive. It hurts and we can't hide from it or pretend its not killing us. I can't lie about what we just did either as I- I hope the others don't think we've broke our promises to them. Bugger me if I've never felt more alive or wanting so much more. Ione, I'm your witch now more than ever before... However as your future wife, I wish for you to let me hear what you keep hidden too. We can't hide anymore. When you were dying, I about lost it."

Ione captures her lips for a softer, less violent but still very needful kiss, "I can live with that. As long as you stop saying I'm leading us. I'm stronger in the One Power than you, but only just. That doesn't make me smarter or wiser, and definantly not braver. You and our Circle need us to be equals with each other, and the same with our wizard. He may well be more powerful than anyone alive, but he's broken. He needs us whole... I need us whole as I'm dead scared of being abandoned and all alone too. Light I'm afraid for us." Ione confesses with a lingering kiss and wandering hands that finds and brings their hands up together to savor one another and hold onto each other against the troubling uncertain future for them.

Drawing her girlfriend in for a tight hug of reassurance Daphne offers, "Alright. We'll follow a committee of equals in private, but Ione you will... No Babe, as much as you hate it, you are our leader and voice in the eyes of the world. You have to see that, but in our quiet moments away from other I'll be your equal partner gladly."

Brushing her hair tenderly, Hermione grew an impish grin, "Now tell me how you got to play Dr. Greengrass Wise Woman to the lost and shipwrecked? Last I knew you hadn't taken Healing studies yet. And am I as beautiful as you say I am, I might have forgot hearing your answer and am rather intrigued to hear the answer. Who knows... I might grow inspired again."

"She hexed Corilta Sedai into helping teach us Healing to save you." Luna surprises them both into nearly letting out ear piercing yelps, yet it is the girl's wide blue longing eyes examining them that holds them captive, "It was a bit frightening and very thrilling along with."

Ione's eyes grew alarmed, "You didn't!"

"I did." Daphne defies the scandal, "And I would gladly do it again Ione."

Cutely biting on her bottom lip as she studies Daph and Luna, Ione cups Daphne's face, "That's twice you've saved my life. A witch could get ideas about that sort of debt and how to repay her two adorable saviors." That last was emphasized with Hermione reaching out to Luna with an open offering hand, just exactly like how the girl charms strange animals into near domesticity.

Snorting, Daphne tries to cover her mouth in embarrassment.

Looking back down at her, Hermione laughs heartily, "Plus you're absolutely scrumptious."

Then miracle of all miracles occurs as Luna takes Hermione's hand and scoots in to cuddle then softly kiss them both. "I love you two. Maybe... Maybe, I- Ohh bother I'm terrified but do so want to love you two and be naughty... Can... Please?"

Melting both their hearts by that beautiful request they slowly start feathering kisses upon their witch. They are rewarded by Luna's giggles and cooing noises as they caringly draw in the girl. It stuns them when she whispers, "I- I helped be Healer too."

"Are you certain Luna? We don't want to rush you." Ione hesitates but keeps hold of their witch's waist.

Luna's response was to unlace her top, "Just a little for now. It looked so fun and free. She only took and hurt. You both gave, I want to receive as well as my giving."

They share a smile and give Luna some exploratory kisses and are delighted to see their love opening up and sighing with happiness instead of fear and loathing. When they start to nibble on Luna's minuscule breasts its as if Christmas has arrived in the 3rd Age. They were even more inspired when the girl plays with them in return. Unfortunately an irritated angry growl from the former Gryffendor's stomach bubbles up to remind them all that their patient was in need of a lot of sustenance to make up for Healing. Any time someone is Healed they need a large satisfying feast or they get waspish. However Ione only laughs it off, "Well as scrumptious as you were my stomach wants a whole lot more."

Laughing in return at that, Daphne gives Ione's lips a hurried peck, "Well back at you missy mine. Now let me up to fill that grumpy thing so that my witch can get back up and going. Mummy's orders that."

Hermione falls to the side in a wheezing chuckle in freeing Daph. Luna in the mean time is preening with a cheshire grin. Well she does until Hermione pounces with a hunger unrelated to feeding the body. "So my naughty nurse, of what ever shall we do till the doctor returns?"

Daphne found it as fun to watch her lovers while she is cooking, They make an alluring sight, entangled with love birthed passion, leaving her as turned on as she did when participating. Her bare-breasted witches were an intoxicating vision she is very eager to return to.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++WOT/HP+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Sitting in the tap room of the lone Inn in this misnamed back water, Whispering Gale, Neville was looking for answers or news. Blaise was sitting near a batch of merchants guards with a pint in hand but not truly drinking the Illian Grog. As for Neville's even pretending to drink, it wasn't happening. Pads needs him completely clear of thought to maintain a Shield on Par over in the corner table as the three witches ate a thick fish stew. He on the other hand is dining with the Town Council. The five men were eager to look and sound important.

"Milord Oakheart, is it true that there be a Dragon 'gain?" the mayor of the village asks with worry of the troubling news.

"We have someone who claims it and has conquered the Stone. That is all I know." the esteemed Lord Frank Oakheart informs the lot in a bite of his swordfish steak the men were eating. He loves it but would prefer if they were as kind to his friends and Pads.

"Gad Light! No Be any 'sposed ter take the Stone." The town shipwright yowls in horror.

Neville can only shrug, "He had Aiel at his side."That seemed to be sufficient for them as they pull away in a hurried apology to go and confer amongst themselves. One muttering darkly that it were a fine time for Wise Mother Garla to have vanished recently and that they have not heard much else from the usual lot of merchants out of Illian.

He has to ask quickly in worry at those bits of news, "What of the Wise Mother? Where do the merchants come out of before Illian? I have a long trail ahead of me and I have a sister in-law whom is injured."

"We don't know 'bout the Wise Mother. She jus' up an' vanished. 'Course there do be troubles with pirates an' them White Cloaks be a marchin' bout of late." The blacksmith answers with a bobbing bow.

Accepting that as good enough for both questions Neville nods solemnly. The good fellows depart in a rush, leaving him to his now ash tasting steak. White Cloaks are never a welcomed bunch in his life. Wherever the bastards show up, good folks suffer all the more for it.

Blaise silently slips into the seat across from him, whispering, "Seanchan are in the region. They seem to be scouts by what those guards can tell me in their drunken discriptions. We may have to go wide in our trooping into Salidar. Bloody place around these parts are in a big uproar. Something about a lot of pirates getting it from a girl and her old salt of an uncle. The men are frightened but glad its not them."

He may as well forget his swordfish now for how appealing it were to his souring stomach. "Blimey I'm tired of this ruddy Age."

He makes to push the plate away till Blaise hisses in English, "Frank, eat it. You're character would as lords don't let petty worries bother their meals."

Groaning he does as the slippery fellow directs, but grumbles, "One day I'm going to enjoy seeing you eat what you'd prefer not to swallow."

"Nothing doing mate. I'm Slytherin, we'd die before letting anyone see our discomforts." his sly mate chuckles ruefully.

His "footman" leaves him then to head off to sit with Tracey with a grin and nod. Lord Oakheart would've enjoyed some company to at least not feel like a zoo exhibit for the locals. Blaise is the social butterfly type not him so it should be his mate here eating this fish not himself.

Finishing it off he is gratified to have a chance to slip away to his and Pads' room as the married couple they're pretending to be. Up in the confines of what he decides to take a bath to get free of the dirt of the road and more to be less a toil for his love to handle during the night. The Innkeep's wife was more than happy to see to his wishes though he was concerned when the older lady was appearing to be partially interested in joining him in the tub when he began to get ready for a good hot soak.

That was put paid to by the arrival of his love whom gave the woman a hard look that only Aes Sedai can get away with. However she stays instead of leaving him to his private absolutions.

"Love?" he questions with a blush spreading across his body from northern cheeks to southern cheeks. "Can I help you?"

"Nev, am I beautiful?" she asks out of the blue.

Not believing she could hold such doubts he replies, "Of course you are luv. What is bringing this on?"

She stays quiet for a time then turns to look at him in the tub, "I have no idea. I'm a bit lost is all. Par has, or had her Circle along with Harjit, Tracey has Blaise, Ange and Ali they've the Twins. I have you but am I enough for you? I know I'm a frigid-"

Hearing that has him up out of the water to hold her tight, "Never love. You are my sunrise and sunset and everything that is in between them, day or night. You are more than I deserve and all that I require to choose to live another day. Never see yourself as frigid or other rubbish. You are reserved around others but I know what beats in your heart."

She runs a hand up his side, tracing his hip, torso, shoulder, then face where she kisses him. "You don't worry that we've not..."

He rubs her back, delighting in her slender strength as he sets the record straight, "we're not any of them. Our story is ours alone. We only do what is right for us."

She relaxes in his arms, then grows an impish streak to say, "I'm going to have a rough go of sleeping tonight at the memory of you in your all and alls."

That had him embarrassed again as well as uncomfortably aware how holding her like this is inspiring him. "Sorry..."

She lifts up on tip toes to kiss his nose, "Trace has no idea what she is saying when she wonders if you are up to much." She bites her lips while taking her wandering hand on a journey to his all too accommodating member. Her touch and exploration has him very afraid he will not be able to keep his head long.

"Are you certain this is wise?" he worries, "I love the feel of it but if we keep it up I may not be able to stop."

She didn't stop but did ask,"Would it hurt?"

"You could get pregnant. You could be di-" she kisses him into silence, which only served to make him all the more ready to go further.

"I know... and I have to returning to the Tower, or whatever they call it in Salidar. However I can do this." she trails kisses down his body to then kiss and play with him.

He comes close to collapsing as his knees give out by how good it feels. She smiles as she feels it in the bond, and her pleasure in it makes it pure bliss for him. Her engulfing him with her delicate mouth as they share a longing lustful gaze is beyond words. It didn't take long for him to lose his composure or will to resist, however they were both pleasantly surprised he was far from surrendering.

"Well I believe that is unequivocal proof, help get this dress off me. I'm joining my husband in a bath as is a married couples right." she purrs as she savors him.

He didn't have to be told twice. Nor does he raise am fuss as he is absolutely floored as she undresses before him asking, "A little help with the back, these tiny buttons are murder."