Holly comes back to herself, shaking with wonder and quiet with reverence.

She could not believe that she would be so lucky. That she had found her Fated in Buck. She adored him, and he was amazing to her and for her. He was everything she wanted in an Alpha, and she had felt blessed that he would agree to be her Alpha as it was, but for him to also agree to be her Sentinel?

That he would turn out to be her Fated Match?

That was a situation worthy of Potter Luck.

How else was she to explain that she had found her Alpha Sentinel, the Fated Match for her, inside a HYDRA base, held prisoner much as she had been. A man born decades ago, that should be dead by all logical reasoning?

(much like she should be actually-)

That Pierce would be in attendance to come and see her, that he did not recognize her on sight, and so would meet her eyes and hand her the tools she needed to pull Buck out of the base and get him to help?

It was times like this that she blessed her luck, even as she knew the downswing of it would be vicious.

Her hands are tight around Buck's, and he's gripping her hands back just as tightly so she thinks that's okay.

She stares into wide blue eyes and her lips pull upwards, laughter bubbling in her chest. She is unable to stop herself as it pushes up her throat and past her lips. It is bright and warm and bubbly in a way she could only remember laughing near the beginning of her years at Hogwarts, before all the issues caught up, when her brothers- Ron, Fred, and George- had set to make her laugh. Her eyes squint closed with the force of it, her head thrown back as the sound of her joy fills the room.

When she finally gets in under control, she feels lighter than she has in literal years. Since before the war.

"Oh," she whispers breathless with joy-wonder-laughter, "I am so glad it's you."

And when she looks at him, Buck is smiling back at her, soft and pleased, when he answers "I'm glad it was you too."

And Goddess, she feels so warm at that confession, her smile reaching her eyes and pulling her lips wide for the first time in a long while.

This only leaves her one last thing to do.

"I have someone I want you to meet, Buck."

His eyes are still shining with joy and affection as he tilts his head curiously. Holly breathes, deep and even before she turns and reaches out, to her side. She feels foolish that she didn't see it earlier. Of course Batair had improved as she cared for Buck.

No wonder he had looked so bedraggled and hurt for so long, while Buck was in the care of HYDRA.

She wonders absently what his spirit guide had looked like as she went though the war, and if the guide will still show signs of recovery like Batair.

"This," she breathes, sinking her hands into thick fur and willing him visible for the first time in longer than Holly can remember, "is Batair, and he's been with me as long as I can remember."

She sees Buck still, eyes wide and staring, and then his lips pull up into a smile as he leans forward, offering his hand to Batair. She watches her spirit guide- the representation of Buck, she knows now, sniff at the hand and then press his muzzle into the man's hands. Buck is gentle and pleased as he runs his hands- metal and flesh both- through the thick fur of her grim.

They are both awed as the solid black and silver-eyed grim that had been Holly's spirit guide bleeds into gorgeous colors. All spirit guides start off some mixed color arrangement of black, greys, and whites. They will stay that way, until the day their Sentinels and Guides meet their Fated Match fully aware of what the other is to them.

Batair's solid coat of black changes before her eyes shimmering shades of silver, and different shades of black that are tinted with tones of pale greens, reds, and blues almost hidden in the black. The silver of his eyes gains a tint of blue, and he is a beautiful representation of Buck even if there are still signs of Buck's stay with HYDRA on Batair's body.

Her breath is caught with it, even as she watches their interaction with soft eyes, happy that the two of them approve of each other.

And when he finally stills, pulling his hands back to himself Holly wonders who his spirit is, and what would represent her as her grim represents him. She doesn't wonder for long, before he reaches to his own side and whispers to her-

"Her name is Boudica. She was with me even when HYDRA tried to scrape her out of me."

Holly's breath catches when the animal comes into view- soot and ash-greys and deep black- standing beside her Alpha Sentinel. A large and beautiful hippogryph with speckled wings, gorgeous despite how some of her feathers are crumbled and broken, ruffled and showing the slow recovery of Holly and her magic from the war. As she and Bucky watch, the soot-and-ash colors of before bleed away to reveal a mix of ruby, emerald, and obsidian. Black eyes change to bright emerald tinted black, the mostly grey feathers changing to obsidian tinted mostly with the shades of emerald to match her eyes. Still there are those same flashes of ruby tints on the underside of Boudica's wings.

She's gorgeous.

Holly smiles, pulling herself to her feet and keeping eye contact with the hippogryph. Once standing she bows easily, holding her eyes and utterly pleased when- after a moment- Boudica bows back. Only then does she approach, burying her fingers deep into the creature's feathers.

It figures the spirit guide that represents herself would be her animagus form.

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It is a truth that magic is a strange, and sentient gift that will act on the base desires of its host. That it will act to ensure its host's survival. It is also a truth that every Fated Pair is drawn to one another even before the bond is established, that they will be pulled and sometimes guided by their spirits to one another.

Fated Pairs are not always romantic in nature. They are the other half of a person, the thing they need the most to be complete. For Holly, that person takes the form of an Alpha Sentinel who can match and meet her half way, who can keep up with her, and who would-could- protect her the way she had never been before. For some their Fated Match is the family they need- the sister, the mother, the brother, the father.

Fated Matches are meant to be what one another needed the most, and were not guaranteed to be a romantic pairing as most fictional books would lead their readers to believe.

Love and completion are much more complicated than that.

For Holly and Buck, their pairing had started long before romance would be even a thought. It was not something they remember, until after their bond had settled and strengthened, but Buck and Holly had met before.

Back during her childhood when she desperately wished for someone who would love her, who would protect her, who would stand beside her. When Bucky had been trapped in cold and ice, screaming so loudly in his own mind, even as HYDRA destroyed him.

They had needed each other to hold them both steady, to keep one another together, until it was time for their actual meeting. Needed a grounding force in the insanity that was their lives.

As they strained for a rock in the upheaval of their lives, and Holly's magic had seized that idea and run with it. Had latched onto the idea of a protector, someone to be with her no matter what, as whatever she needed, and it had reached, following the ghost of a connection that was not yet present.

Holly would not remember until weeks after the bond with Buck settled, but she had been meeting him for years. Her magic had laid the pathway for them to travel, the path to each other. A little girl who needed a steady presence that would protect her where he could, and a man being pulled apart and put back together who needed a place to retreat that was not pain. Needed a reminder of good things that HYDRA could not wipe from him.

Buck would never remember their encounters either, not until their bond settled over the ghost-bond that magic had created. Their bond would change as Holly grew, would expand and flourish in their subconscious, even before they met.

And suddenly, Holly and Buck both would understand why they had trusted so easily. Why their scents had been so comforting and familiar and safe. They had known each other for years, even if they had not known. The lack of an actual bond ensuring they could not remember the exchanges magic allowed them to have in a conscious way.

And yet, Holly had still been there for Bucky when HYDRA froze him, when he was made to go out on missions he never wanted to take, when he woke up in a time and place so different than the last. She would help him enforce the walls between Bucky and Winter, help shield his memories, offer him warmth in the ice and silence in the screams.

At first it had simply been the joy of a cub that needed him, a tiny little fighter like Stevie, so willing to fight for those that needed it. An island in a stormy sea, something to protect and guide, a light in the dark. As she grew and changed, marched into war and death she gave him a goal, a purpose. He would teach her, would make sure she made it out alive, even as he raged that Holly had to fight at all.

They would provide a quiet and understanding source of comfort when the world got to be too much for the both of them.

When Winter was made to protect Bucky's self, surfacing to do the things Bucky never would have, as Winter slaughtered all that stood before him. When Holly was made to stand at the head of an army, reaching out past the terror and pain of her own fighters, and the anger and agony of Death Eaters that stood against them, the endless sense of loss that hung over all of them, to burrow her abilities into their minds and force them to flee with terror or freeze before her army.

And then she found him, grown and bright but so world weary, a woman, saved him from his own personal hell, and oh he didn't know her yet, didn't remember not really, but he still recognized a sense of comfort the urge to protect. Still saw a bond he would kill to keep, a woman he could grow to love in time, given a chance now that she was not a cub that had held his head above the flood of blood on his hands, grown and tested in the trials of time and war.

And Holly. Holly who had followed the tug of a phantom-bond magic had established years before, that she had no conscious memory of after being taken.

Followed it to a man that had walked her through her first kill when she was eleven, sat beside her and told her the Dursleys were wrong, that she was a bright and amazing, that she was not a freak, and someone would see it someday. That she would find a pack to love and cherish who loved and cherished her in turn. A man who had been there for every adventure she had at Hogwarts and into the war, who had taught her fighting maneuvers and strategies that she never remembered learning but stuck with her all the same. The voice that had been with her for every near-death experience she had, urging her to fight, to come back. A man who carried the scent of woodsmoke and apples that her subconscious knew belonged to warmth-safety-care even if she couldn't remember it yet.

Holly and Bucky, both now grown. Who had met each other, unaware of this pseudo-bond and all they had talked of over the years. Who had bonded with each other in the real world, learned to care for each other how it was needed over the months of healing and hunting together.

Holly and Buck who remembered once their bond settled, had all those years laid out before them now that a real bond had combined with the one magic had laid the foundations for.

Who had years of bonding added to the months of recovery and care.

Holly and Buck who loved each other, had loved each other long before, though it had been in a different way, a way that had shifted and changed in the time they had bonded before the older bond had surfaced,though they had not yet shared that knowledge with each other.

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Holly and Buck were still reeling as they realized they had known each other for years. Life moved on however, and it only helped deepen their bond. Expanded on their trust for one another, added a complexity to their bond and life.

They were pack, they were family and the loved and so they adjusted.

Life moved on. Holly hunted, and Buck followed in her wake. Harmony and balance found in one another.

LINEBREAK

There were good days and bad days and they learned to communicate with each other about them.

The bond between them as both Sentinel and Guide and Alpha and Omega only helped them. Still they helped establish a scale, and would only need to whisper a number and if it was good or bad to one another. One being the lower side of the scale and ten being the higher end.

Some days it would be a 'good ten' and it was a beautiful day. A day they felt closer to being 'normal' when the memories were quiet, and the scars didn't hurt. When triggers were not so close to the surface, pulling at their attentions.

Days that they could stop together and enjoy life- go out for burgers together, candied apples, milkshakes and laughter. Days where Holly didn't think about hunting Death Eaters, and Buck didn't hear the echo of gunfire in his ears. Bask in sunlight and play in a pool or an ocean. Days where Buck would laugh and take her hands, teaching her to swim or dance, and enjoy life. Days where she could return the favor, and take Buck out on her broom or on her animagus form, could listen to Buck laughing in the wind and whooping with adrenaline fueled glee as she aimed them at the ground and plummeted. Where they could wrestle playfully in the kitchen or living room over whose turn it was to cook, or if doing the dishes with magic was cheating when it was her turn.

There were 'bad tens'. Horrible days where dreams were night terrors that followed them into the waking world. Days that Buck would remember being Winter, would remember missions and blood. Where Holly remembered the war and the bodies of friends and children she had to bury.

Where they could both taste blood in their mouth, feel it drip from their hands. Days where the burning agony of the Chair or the Cruciatus Curse flashed over their nerves in phantom pains that were all too real. Days they could almost see the pile of corpses that haunted them- those they killed or those they couldn't save. Days where it was a struggle to get up at all, and food tasted like ash on their tongues.

Those were the days where they were all that anchored the other in the present, where their bond was most useful, where they would pull the other into the bond and surround them in affection and protection and care. Where the knowledge that there was someone there to help the other out of the blackest of memories was proven over and over.

The days where Buck retreated into the Asset, because he didn't know how else to function that day, and it was easier. Easier to listen to a Handler he trusted to pull him out- to listen to Holly- easier to follow behind her and just be.

Days that Holly retreated into the General. Where she was all liquid predator grace draped in shadows as she pulled on instincts and learned habits from her time as the Enclave's 'Most Wanted', where it was easier to hide than face the world.

Days that ranged somewhere in the middle a 'four' or 'five'.

Days that were not so much living night terrors, but still bad. Where the two would curl up on the newest safe house's couch, holding cups of hot chocolate with mini marshmallows, hot apple cider, or 'proper' tea. The days where they whispered to each other about what they remembered. Shared memories of the pain. Days they didn't shut down, but dimmed, became tired and lethargic and whispered of deaths they couldn't stop. People they loved and lost, or even people they didn't know but remembered all the same. Days where they shared with one another, so they were not the only soul to remember those faces and names.

Good middle days, that resulted in small quiet smiles and warm eyes. Days they weren't up to wrestling in the kitchen, but would curl into each other's sides and watch movies or series that Buck hadn't seen, or that Holly had been stopped from seeing. Days that they curled on the couch, backs to opposite arms and feet in one another's laps, reading books. Days they were willing to go out and try the local diners or the random hole-in-the-wall place they only found because they liked to scope out their surroundings.

There were days that things happened, and triggered a spiral into a bad day. Days they couldn't see what was coming, but still they weathered them together. The days that Buck saw something that triggered a memory, something that hurt all sharp and jagged edges. When Holly saw a kid, and he or she looked like the third year she'd buried with her bare hands, the second year she hadn't saved on time, the fourth year who insisted they were old enough to fight.

The week that Buck asked Holly to take him to the Smithsonian and looked at the exhibit that carried Stevie's history on the wall, (It was wrong and right and missing so much and Buck hated and loved it and it hurt) that mentioned him as Stevie's best friend and a war hero. That was how he found out about the Plane, and what had happened to Steve after-

After.

Where he tracked down the history of his friends with Holly's help, about how they lived.

How they died.

The week he found out about Peggy and that she was alive, white haired and still gorgeous as always, but she had Alzheimer's Disease, and she was forgetting. He went to see her anyway, and there were tears and laughter pain and catharsis.

Holly whispering that the goblins had a potion that could stop her memory loss. She may never regain all of what she lost, but Holly could provide her the tools to help. To bring back her more powerful memories, the ones Peggy had an emotional attachment to, and prevent the disease from spreading or coming back to take the memories again.

Buck had cried that week, for the first time in longer than he remembered, his face buried in Holly's neck and breathing in great heaving breaths of her sadness-lilies and sandalwood-but he had laughed too.

When Holly had taken Peggy from the halls of her care center and provided the aid she had promised. When Buck had watched it work, as memories she hadn't remembered when he mentioned them on his first visit became clearer.

LINEBREAK

And elsewhere, as Holly and Buck work their way across the world, hunting enemies and memories alike, putting each other together the world turns.

The Norns weave brilliant colors into their tapestries, laughing together because Holly Lilliana Potter was never supposed to meet James Buchanan Barnes. They were a Fated Pair, pulled together but always just out of step with each other. Lost to time, separate worlds and each manipulated by men in power for the greater good.

She was never supposed to be captured by HYDRA for any length of time, never meant to be given the chance to get close enough to her Alpha Sentinel that she would be able to find him.

But a different choice was made, Vernon Dursley overhearing a conversation he shouldn't have, and offering the HYDRA agents his niece, and suddenly everything shifts.

The ripple spreads ever outward, changing everything in its wake. The Potter family, once again interfering with what would be, and making it different. Once again being a force of change, unbending to the whims of others.

In the wizarding world Holly's army picks up the pieces. They work to put the Ministry back together, reworking it from the ground up. They refuse to let what their General had suffered and lost be in vain, and if that means burning everything down to rebuild in ashes they will. If that means reworking creature laws that have been in effect since before their grandparents' time then so be it. If that means an overhaul of Hogwarts curriculum it will be done.

They had fought and bled and died to live in a free world. The adults had run, had stuck their heads in the sand. They had handed all rights to how the world would be After over to those who had fought, bled and died for it. Handed those rights over to the children who had grown so quickly in wartime and would see the change come alive. Ensure that everything they bled for would be worth it.

Holly Potter had lit the flames, died for them, and the Norns laugh because this will be the flame that marks the beginning of a golden age for wizardkind.

Somewhere over the ocean, an infiltrated organization finds a man who should be dead. Phil Coulson stands guard, though he knows it not. The director's one good eye, randomly showing up to check in on his childhood hero, popping in at all hours in his every free moment, and none of the HYDRA agents dare to make a move when Coulson is there, watching.

None dare to slip something dangerous into the IV lines, or fudge a dose, lie about what has happened. They know Coulson would not rest until he found the truth of it- and he would uncover HYDRA, they know.

It is not worth it, the traitors think, 'we'll wait' they whisper among themselves in the shadows.

And the Norns smile together, as they watch what will come of Holly Lilliana Potter's presence in this situation, what will become of Steven Grant Rogers. The ripple spreads further.

All the way to a god prince who finds himself drifting in the dark of the Void.

Loki screams, and screams, a mad god laughing in the depths of space, reverberating in the prince's mind. Thanos is there, laughing and whispering, digging his way into the Silvertongue's thoughts. Loki hides himself away, behind the sick whispers of the mind-stone that have corrupted him so, holding on only thanks to the few prayers mortals whisper on Midgard.

The Norns mourn that they could not stop this, but again Holly Potter brings change in her footsteps, and this will be a much better future for Loki and his children that Odin has scattered across the realms.

It will be a better future for many who would otherwise have ended up alive, but broken in many ways.

Better for likes of Tony Stark, who even now wakes with Yinsen's name on his lips and worry in his heart for his wife-to-be, for Bruce Banner who knows only fear and running, testing plants, herbs, and flowers hoping for a miracle even surrounded by death, famine, and disease on all sides, as he wanders from jungle to forest, tribe to tribe. Better for a team that would have shattered apart in time, and now will find itself forged in adamantium and vibranium both.

The Norns will not interfere, only weaving the threads of life as they are made, but in this case….in this case they must laugh and dance around their tapestry.

The colors are so very bright, where before they had faded into greys and blacks.

Holly Lilliana Potter has once again become a lynchpin for change and fate, though this time she will be rewarded so much more for her efforts.