"Longbottom! Stop dillydallying!"
Neville flinched a little at the harsh tone, while simultaneously smiling. He knew, it was an ambivalent reaction but he couldn't quite help himself.
Natania Miller simply reminded him too much of his dear, late gran. A stern woman, toughened up by the loss and hardship life had brought her. And yet it she had held onto this strange kind of proud and unapologetic composure; that Augusta Longbottom had also always worn like a second skin.
Professor McGonagall held some of the same aura around her.
Maybe it was the old British pureblood upbringing shining through in all three women…
Neville's gran had always been incredible strict with him, demanding performance and achievements from him that would uphold the family honour. But to the young boy it had always felt like she had been desperately trying to get the people back she had lost.
In a way it had always been about his father. His highly-gifted and powerful father who would have had a brilliant future as an Auror if it hadn't been for the Lestranges and Crouche Jr… too bad Neville wasn't his father, whose wand had only ever worked for the chubby boy with great difficulty.
Neville wasn't like his grandfather either. He wasn't even like his mother…
Just a chubby, forgetful and clumsy boy who had shown no magical talent for the longest time.
Neville knew that his gran had loved him, but she had done this with an ever present air of worried and disappointed exasperation. Trying to drive him forward, as if she was hoping that with just enough pressure, he'd finally fall into the shape she expected to see. Maybe it was the only way she knew how to love anymore after losing so much or maybe she had been scared of losing him too, if he stayed so soft. Afterall his parents had been strong, both of them and yet they had fallen. Tortured to insanity and forever doomed to vegetate in St. Mungo's Janus Thickey Ward.
When he had found his talent and passion for Herbology, his gran had looked at him in a mixture of fondness and frustration. She had been glad but at the same time.
His gran had been his only family and he had been hurt when she hadn't called him home like all the other parents when the news of the inferi attacks had hit. She had insisted that Hogwarts was the safest place for him but it had been hard to see the Patils and Weasleys collecting their children and to hear Malfoy mocking everyone who had to stay behind, as weak or mudbloods.
But in the end, gran's instincts had been proven to be right. She had tried to keep him updated and writing him short letters in which she had hinted at the strange behaviour of the inferi and how hard it was to keep them away… how so many seemed to struggle to kill those creatures. And then the letters had stopped all together…
Some of the things, she had written back then, had only made sense to the teen after Harry had come back and had told them the truth…
This wasn't magic but a virus. A sickness.
It had changed everything.
And now Hogwarts was becoming a safety zone. Hermione, Cindy and McGonagall had been working hard to reach out to other survivors. Magical and Muggle, alike.
But their biggest problem had been obvious until two months ago even if Harry had warned them against it a long time ago.
The hordes were moving all over the country and Hogwarts was attracting them… it was a wonder that it hadn't happened sooner. They had tried to prepare themselves against it but you can't just dismantle centuries old wards in a few days. Hermione had been near tears the whole time that she had worked with Luna, McGonagall and Flitwick, cursing like a sailor as they tore down the ancient protections that were now more danger than anything else to them.
In another world where the dead never started to roam… the bushy haired genius would have studied such great feats of magic with bright eyes and gushing over books… but then, in such a world Hermione would have long left Hogwarts behind, ready to tackle wizard society, fighting for creature rights and equality with Ron and Harry by her side.
But like Neville's gran, the lanky red-head was long gone and Harry had found a new home far away from them.
They all had thought their green-eyed friend was dead as well. He had come back, but there was no doubt in Neville that the thin and scarred young man, who had stumbled through Hogwarts' gate nearly three years ago, was as different from the friendly and brave boy who had fought Malfoy for a remember ball as Neville was different from the clumsy boy, who had constantly lost his toad.
They had grown up each in their own way.
The thought made 6 feet 1 Neville smile. He hadn't just grown physically since he had seen Harry last, but Flitwick had convinced him a while ago to discard his father's old wand and to try some of the school wands and those they had found over the years in abandoned magical houses or on Walkers. With a silent apology to his gran and his parents, Neville had agreed to lay his father's wand to rest, keeping it as heirloom and memorabilia. In return he had been chosen by an orphaned wand… and what a difference it had made…
His old professors had been proud and exasperated in equal measure, well besides Snape of course… but that went without saying.
Ever since he had taken to study under Poppy in the infirmary and Professor Sprout in the green houses.
And he was good! Imagine that. Neville Longbottom had found his calling. Sometimes he wished, he could tell his gran that he was finally doing well! That he had found a talent. That he wouldn't disgrace the family like she had always feared.
"You're awfully relaxed, considering Granger's last update on Potter's follies!" Natania snapped from the side, glaring against the sun to the barely visible shore line.
They would be there soon.
Neville suppressed another half-smile, half-flinch, which ended in an awkward shrug-like movement and embarrassed scratching of his neck.
"Ah, you see… I've known Harry since he was eleven. We shared a dorm for four years and if I learned one thing about him in all this time, it's to trust in the Potter Luck." The broad young man smiled bashfully.
Natania narrowed her grey eyes in displeasure.
"And what in Merlin's name is that supposed to mean?!" She snarked.
Despite himself Neville felt his lips twitch for real this time at her tone.
"Luna called it that and it seemed to fit. I always thought about it like that thing Hermione once told me about. You know, Murphy's Law."
Two raised eyebrows conveyed that his answer wasn't satisfying at all and to please elaborate, before he'd get another earful.
Neville knew better than not to comply.
"Well, if there's trouble around, Harry's going to find it or trouble will find him in the worst possible way and then when everything seems to be over, he's going to make it out. By the hair of his teeth, relying on his instincts, guts and a surprising amount of good luck, pulling off what nobody else could have done or imagine. Potter Luck. A Harry unique mixture of really bad and good luck." Neville explained, while Natania blinked blankly at him.
The old lady seemed stunned, as she processed his words.
And then she groaned suddenly, letting her head fall into her hands.
"Heaven help! This makes so much sense!" She exclaimed, shaking her head.
"It does, doesn't it?!" Neville laughed light, glad Natania agreed with him.
Peering at the nearing shore, the young wizard straightened his posture.
"So, I'm going to trust that strange luck of his. I trust that he got himself in trouble and that he's going to be alright in the end. Either with or without our help."
Natania snorted.
"That's indeed strangely reassuring. I hope you're right with that theory of yours, Longbottom."
"Ah, me too!" Neville laughed, scratching the back of his neck.
The fire had burned for two days straight.
Its flames licking at the sky but never extending their burning arms further away in any other direction.
After dealing with the remaining Whisperers and Walkers and securing the areas around their communities as well as possible they had installed a constant lookout. Nervously, they had kept watch in shifts. Not entirely sure what was going on and Hermione's warning ringing sharply in their ears, they worried about anything and everything.
Daryl and Paul had hardly slept at all since the news had hit them.
It was hard to see them like this for all of them.
What made the situation so unbearable wasn't just their helplessness, it was that just about everything made them worry.
Was the fire still burning?
Was the fire getting bigger?
Was the fire getting smaller?
Was Harry still in control?
Had the fire already consumed him?
Was it a good or a bad sign that the flames were still active but hadn't spread?
All of their nerves were fried by now.
Natania and some other wizard were due any moment and Paul was walking holes in the floor while Daryl was glaring gloomily out of the window. They had stopped trying to talk each other down with platitudes of how things were going to be alright…
Their throats feeling too tight, too raw… whenever they had attempted it.
Exhaustion and fear were simply gnawing away their resilience. Their strength to keep hope and reassurance alight.
At least not with words.
And so, they had barely spoken in last 24 hours, not to each other and not to anyone else. Silent terror had pushed them into a state of near muteness. A helpless and suffocating silence had engulfed them. Weighting heavily on them and anyone getting close to them. Their friends had tried to support them but one by one they had been worn down by the thick veil of unspoken desperation.
Glenn had squeezed their shoulders to convey his sympathy before telling them to get rest. Negan had informed them that he and Connie would take the next observation shift on the wall, giving them a one fingered salute as he bowed out of the room. Rock and Aaron had tried to check in on them but at the sight of their stony faces and blood shot eyes both of them had refrained from saying to much.
Instead of talking, Daryl and Paul had to seek each other out for small touches, brushes of skin, every now and then, seeking physical closeness and communicating through tiny caresses, foreheads pressed into shoulders, featherlight kisses, that were more like sad sighs against each other's grim and tense mouths than shared passion. The contact calmed the queasiness in Daryl's stomach but never for long.
The hunter shuddered whenever he thought about the inferno Harry had conjured to rid them of the horde Alpha had collected.
Magic was dangerous.
This shouldn't be a new realization and yet it was.
After Dolohov everyone had understood that magic was a powerful weapon. But this was different somehow…
Magic itself was dangerous.
Harry had tried to tell them this for a long time. The young wizard had pointed out time and time again that he had missed huge parts of his education. Carl had been appalled how much the British wizard had had studied and trained… and Daryl had certainly been irritated more than once about untimely mirror study sessions with that Granger girl and her strict way of criticizing and correcting wand movements or pronunciations of spells. But Harry had taken in all in stride and with good humour. A slightly nostalgic smile pulling at his lips.
Paul had questioned him once why he still put so much work in all this when he'd never had to write another exam again. He could have allowed himself to be a little lazier in the scout's eyes.
Their petit lover had laughed softly then, green eyes glowing with solemn wisdom.
"I'm studying for the same reasons Rick not only taught me how to shoot a gun but how to assemble and disassemble, how to clean one… For the same reason you painstakingly clean and sharpen your knives. A neglected and dull weapon is not only a useless but a very dangerous one."
Harry hadn't planed for this to happen and at the same time he had been preparing for it for a very long time. Broadening his knowledge, honing his skills and training himself to wield this powerful weapon.
No, Harry hadn't planned for this and yet he had wanted to be ready should the need arise.
And Alpha's gigantic horde had made it necessary.
Yet again the young wizard had taken a heavy burden on himself, leaving his husbands to fear for his life and safety.
BANG
Paul and Daryl's glum musings were suddenly interrupted by a tell-tale loud noise, like a gun shot or a car backfiring or someone apparating.
Blue met cyan for the split of a second.
And then they were running.
Sprinting out into the courtyard, hearts beating wildly, hope burning terribly hot in their chest.
Daryl was the first to come to a sudden halt, Paul coming to a sliding stop just a few steps later. Both of them stared helplessly at the new arrival.
Daryl could see Paul's knees buckling, or maybe he just felt his own weakness.
As hot as hope had burned them before as bitterly cold disappointment cursed through their veins now.
Natania had arrived.
By her side stood a very tall young man. His frame at least as broad as Daryl's if not Abraham's, but he had none of their intimidating aura… No, the open and kind face reminded the hunter quite a bit of Tyreese, a gentle giant.
The good-natured smile illuminating the young man's features seemed to prove Daryl's theory.
"Dixon. Rovia." Natania nodded at them. "Or have you come to a mutual agreement to settle on one name? I certainly hope you didn't go for something as ridiculous as hyphenated name. Dixon-Potter-Rovia is quite a mouthful."
Daryl felt a muscle in his jaw twitch as the old lady steamrolled through her way of greeting them.
And if the situation would have been different, he might have been annoyed with her.
But right now, her blunt sharpness did little to hide her own tension. There were deep worry lines around her strict mouth and her brows were furrowed. It was no secret that the old hag cared for Harry.
Daryl settled for rolling his eyes in exasperation and grunting non-committedly, while Paul let out a strangle sort of barking laughter.
"Hello Natania. We missed you, too."
The grey haired woman nodded, before turning resolutely to the young man.
"This is Neville Longbottom. He's the apprentice of Hogwarts' mediwitch."
Completely undeterred by Natania's brusque attitude, Neville stepped closer to Daryl and Paul. His brown eyes kind.
"It's nice to meet you even if the circumstances are not the best. You must be Daryl and Paul, Hermione told me a lot about you. All of us were curious about Harry's partners."
"You know Harry?" Glenn asked from behind them.
The Korean and Maggie had joined them and were curiously but cautiously staring at the stranger in their midst.
Neville blinked under the intense scrutiny rubbing awkwardly the back of his neck.
"Uhm, yes. Harry and me were in the same year and house at Hogwarts. We slept in the same dorm for four years. Harry was one of my first friends." His voice was deep, soothing, warm when he mentioned being friends with Harry.
As usual when someone of Harry's old life plopped into theirs… Daryl felt an old unease churning in his belly. A mixture of feeling insufficient, separation anxiety and possessive jealousy.
Paul caught his hand, squeezing it with a lopsided grin on his lips and Daryl turned his scowl to the ground instead on the young wizard. The hunter tried to remind himself that Harry had left his old life and friends willingly behind in Hogwarts when he had decided to come back to Daryl and their family.
"I'm not Hermione but I'll do my best to help." Neville spoke up.
There was a calm confidence about him that felt reassuring somehow.
"Of course, you will, Longbottom! Why else would I have brought you here with me?" Natania grumbled, stomping away to the lookout while Neville simply smiled.
"Wow…" Glenn muttered, sweatdropping. "She's as difficult as always."
"Ah that's ok. She reminds me of my late grandmother. Gran raised me, so I'm quite used to it." Neville laughed, before turning to follow her. "And she's right. I'm here to be useful."
A sharp whistle from the lookout caught everyone's attention.
Negan was waving at them, his face unusually serious.
As they got close enough the mute man immediately started to sign.
~Can't see the fire anymore!~
"You're taking them with you?" Natania's disapproval was palpable and Paul flinched, both at her tone and the prospect that he and Daryl might have to stay behind.
The archer looked equally troubled. Paul could see his lover's hackles rising, a stubborn glare darkening his sharp features.
But Neville remained unfazed, shrugging.
"To be honest I'm surprised they were still here when we arrived. If they're anything like Harry, they're burning alive right now with the need to do something."
Paul blushed and Daryl grumbled.
"Girl said, it'd be dangerous fer Harry if we went. So, we stayed back."
Kind brown eyes looked at them with understanding.
"That must have been hard." Neville acknowledged. "I'm not keeping you away from him for longer than necessary. If I were in your shoes, I would be going crazy with worry."
Paul felt grateful. And anxious.
"You think, he's alright?" He couldn't help but ask.
"Harry and trouble have a long history with each other. I know him since we were both 11 years old and even back then his tendency to be brave, loyal and reckless managed to get him in some tight spots and he gets injured quite a lot…"
Paul frowned at those words.
It was true. Harry was a trouble magnet sometimes but…
"… but I came to understand that it's because he's reckless, loyal and brave that he survived all of it. That and a portion of questionable luck." The mediwizard winked at them and a heavy hand settled on Paul's shoulder.
"Let's be optimistic and trust in Harry's strange luck." Neville's grin and optimistic attitude calmed Paul a little bit.
It was decided then that Daryl and Paul would accompany Neville to the canyon, Harry had led the horde to, while Natania would stay at the Hilltop and set up anything they might need in the medical trailer for later.
The way to the canyon was tense and the first part of the way they had ridden on horses and Daryl's bike, until they had hit a dead-end. A huge tree was blocking their way, forcing them to leave the horses and the bike behind, to brave through almost impassable terrain.
Admittedly, Neville's magic helped a lot with that.
The wizard had tried to make some small talk in the beginning, but he had given up soon. Neither Paul or Daryl could bring themselves to chat idlily, not when the distance between them and Harry was becoming smaller for the first time in days.
Paul felt sick with anticipation. Which was stupid… really. Beside him Daryl was tense but determined, worried but stubbornly optimistic until proven otherwise.
But Paul was different. To him the uncertainty had been terrible but getting a definite answer… that scared Paul maybe even more. The thing with getting answers was that just all too often you got one, you didn't like.
And there would be nothing they could do to change that.
Harry might be dead. If what Hermione had told them about the nature of Fiendfire was true then they might never find the body…
There might be nothing left for them to find. Burned away in the hottest flames, consume until even the ashes were gone…
What if the flames had gone out because they had finally exhausted the last material they could devour?
Paul really didn't know if he wanted to find an answer to that question.
And yet his feet were moving on their own, dragging him forward, pulled along by an invisible force. Maybe it was the sight of Daryl's broad, reliable back in front of him that pushed him to keep moving or maybe it was the steady pulsing he felt just under his left ear. He hadn't asked Daryl if he could feel it too… in the beginning he had barely noticed it – the sensation too soft and Paul too razed to pay it any mind – but now…
It seemed to grow stronger over time and the closer they got to the canyon to the point that there was no denying it anymore.
The mark of their bond was acting up.
But Paul had no way of knowing if this was a good or a bad sign… but maybe this meant that if Harry had died, he would know?
Suddenly and unbidden, bile was creeping up his throat and he doubled in half as he coughed up the little, he had eaten today.
"Paul!?" The alarm in Daryl voice was unmistakable, as the hunter crouched down by his side, offering his red tissue.
Embarrassed as hell, Paul groaned as he cleaned his face and took the water Neville was holding out to him.
"Sorry. I'm okay… really, just nerves."
Daryl grunted, a worried frown clouding his face.
"Yer good to continue? Yer could wait here fer us ta come back, I think we to far out fer ya ta walk back on yer own if yer feeling bad." A calloused hand stroked over Paul's cheekbone and the hunter's thumb found the mark under his left ear.
Somehow more sensitive than before Paul shuddered at the swift but intimate sensation.
"Yer feel it, too?" Daryl grumbled huskily.
Wide cyan eyes peered at his husband's slated blue ones.
"Yes…" Paul admitted, feeling anxious and relieved at the same time that Daryl had noticed it too, the persistent throbbing of the mark.
That he wasn't going crazy over losing Harry.
"What are you two feeling?" Neville spoke up, looking curious.
Paul simply pushed his long hair back and revealed the interwinding runes to the wizard, who's brown eyes widen at the sight.
"Oh!" He breathed, sounding excited. "That's the bond mark, right? Hermione and Natania told us about it. My Gran used to tell me stories about the old times, you know? In the early times a lot of magical couples would seek approval of the old entities. We've got whole fairy tales about lovers' journeys for validation of their love. Nobody has seen something like your marks in a long time. What are they doing? Are you hurting?"
Paul blinked at the young man enthusiasm.
"Uhm… it is throbbing, kind of?" He offered.
Daryl grunted in affirmation.
"Doesn't hurt, though. Right?" The hunter rumbled at Paul.
"No. But it got stronger since we left the Hilltop."
"I think that might be a good sign. A really good one actually. If the magic of the marks is still active, it could mean that Harry is injured but alive."
Nice to know that something that had Paul squirming and nauseous, would cause such an upbeat reaction from the sturdy wizard.
Together, Daryl and Neville, pulled Paul back on his feet and after assuring them that he was good to keep on going, they with a new found urgency towards the canyon.
If Harry was indeed hurt, he needed help. As fast as possible.
And then they hit the path the horde had taken.
How Paul knew that… well, there was hardly anything else nowadays that could cut an 80 feet swathe into a forest like this. Thousands of feet had left a path of destruction on the area, following the lure of Harry's magic until they had fallen right of the cliff into the canyon below.
And what a terribly, breath-taking sight it was.
The fire was indeed gone, even if some of the heat could be still felt. The rocks must have preserved the warmth.
Rocks, that Paul had known to be a mixture of greys, yellowish brown and even some reds… At least they had looked like that the last time Paul had been here.
Now they looked over a sea of polished black.
It was everywhere.
Stunned the three of them stared at the transformed stone.
"What the fuck?!" Daryl breathed bewildered.
"Obsidian. That bloody obsidian!" Neville exclaimed, mouth hanging open.
With an expression of pure astonishment, he turned to Daryl and Paul, waving his arms mutely at the canyon.
"Obsidian?!" The wizard stressed again, sounding slightly hysterical. "He turned the whole canyon into obsidian!"
"Is that good or bad?" Daryl asked slowly, apparently quite unable to turn his eyes away from the scene before him.
Neville made a sound that was more hiccup than any clear answer.
Meanwhile Paul was frowning at the smooth surface of the rocks below their feet… there was no way to climb that safely, they'd lose footing after the first few steps.
"How are going to get down there?" He asked.
That seemed to be the kind of pragmatic question Neville could handle right now.
"I'll take us, don't worry."
A word and a blow.
And Neville had grabbed both, Paul and Daryl, by the shoulders and with the sound of a gunshot, they were at the bottom of the canyon. The non-magical part of their group cursing up a storm because of the abrupt transportation.
"Oops, sorry! Sidealong is not my strongest point, but Natania didn't seem to mind… so I thought you'd be ok…" The wizard was scratching his head, laughing nervously.
Paul groaned and pressed his cheek against the comfortably warm ground to give his stomach a chance to settle.
"Point me Harry Potter." Neville was already trying to locate the other wizard.
Curiously and tense Daryl observed the spinning wand. Like a compass needle it suddenly vibrated to the right.
"Ok, there's our way." Neville grinned at them.
They were so close!
An excited throb in the mark seemed to agree with Paul.
Walking through an all-black ravine, was truly an uncanny experience. The tall, dark walls surrounding them gleamed sometimes in deep greens and reds when the light hit them in the right way. There wasn't a spec of dirt anywhere to be seen, no ashes… nothing but fire polished stone.
"The high walls must have tuned this whole thing into a right furnace…" Neville mumbled in awe, eyes trailing over the smooth walls. "The heat must have melted the rock… and when it cooled down quickly it became obsidian."
"Are you saying Harry stood in the middle of lava?!" That sounded terrifying to Paul…
"At some point… yeah, possibly. But he must have found a way to cool the walls quickly or the walls would have lost their shape, you know, like melted." Neville nodded at the walls surrounding them.
As they turned a round a sharp corner in the canyon, it was easy to spot Harry.
Right in the centre was a perfect circle of untouched earth, its yellowish-brown stone surface a stark contrast to the surrounding blackness.
And curled up in the middle lay a small figure.
Nothing but the sky falling down on them could have stopped Paul and Daryl from running to Harry.
Feet slipping on the smooth surface and stumbling, more sliding towards their destination than really walking.
"Harry! Harry!" Paul called out but there was no response.
The figure didn't stir.
Heart stuttering in his chest, he shared a worried look with Daryl.
What was wrong?
"Stop!"
About to throw himself at the fallen form of their husband, they were abruptly stopped by an invisible wall. At least it had hurt like running into a real wall.
"What the fuck?!" Daryl cursed, glaring over his shoulder at the most likely culprit.
Neville was panting, clutching his knees trying to regain his breath.
"Sorry, not sorry!" The man gasped, as he fell on his behind. "Bloody Merlin, you two are fast!"
Daryl growled threateningly at the wizard, while Paul was busy looking at Harry. Their slender lover was lying curled up in the circle, his hair seemed to be singed on the right side… One the same side the fabric of his dark cloak was burned away, the skin beneath had been left raw and blistering…
Paul inhaled sharply.
Harry's face looked so pale. Pale but peaceful.
Around Paul everything slowed down, until there was only Harry fragile form in front of him and the pulsing he could feel from the mark, slow but steady – like a heartbeat.
And then he could see it, the barely noticeable rising and falling of his love's chest.
"He's breathing." Paul choked out, tears pooling in his eyes. "My god… he's breathing."
Hand badly shaking with relief, he tried to reach out for Harry but Neville quickly intercepted the limb. The wizard had a surprisingly strong grip.
"Woah! Woah, slow down!" The man cautioned, while pointing at the edge of the circle. "Look! Do you see those symbols?"
And indeed, when Paul took the time to inspect the ground, he noticed the runes that formed the line on the stone.
"What's that?" Daryl growled. The hunter was nibbling on his thumb, probably impatient and worried.
"I'm not good as Hermione but I would guess that this the protection circle Harry asked that Eugene guy about. A pretty solid one at that. Harry must have tried to play it as safe as possible here." Glancing at the obsidian around them, Neville laughed nervously. "Probably for the best."
"Okay let me try to get to him…" Forehead wrinkling in concentration and tongue poking through his lips, Neville did a fancy swishing motion with his wand, before carefully extending his hand.
"Ouch!"
The wizard was ripping his hand back, rubbing over the place where he had received something like an electrical shock.
"Merlin! Never making things easy for yourself, do you Harry?" The young man cursed, exasperation clear in his voice.
"What the fuck?!" Paul agreed with Daryl's curse.
"His magic is still protecting him… hence the zapping. I just don't understand why… The danger is gone. But maybe he fell unconscious before he could really notice." Neville elaborated for then, dragging a hand over his face with a thoughtful look.
Paul winced in sympathy. He remembered it well, that feeling of Harry's magic acting up to protect him and if he listened closely, he thought he could hear the faint, familiar sound of buzzing bees, warning people away.
Helplessly he searched for Daryl's gaze. His lover couched down beside him, pulling Paul into his side, while they stared longingly at their small husband.
How was it that they were so close to him but still so far away?
An abrupt, sharp pain had both, Paul and Daryl, hissing in pain. For one shocked second Paul thought that Harry's magic had lashed out at them for being too close, but then he saw that Daryl was clutching his bond mark. Another burning pain alerted the cyan-eyed man to the same spot under his own ear.
Later, Paul couldn't quite say what made him do it…
a sudden impulse… a hunch… whatever…
But holding tight on Daryl's hand, Paul once again reached out for Harry, the mark pulsing and hurting, like it had on the way here… as if it was still pulling and pushing him forward… to Harry…
Incidental he took note of Neville's warning shout, but this time he didn't stop…
… not until his and Daryl's hand had breached the line of protection.
He could feel it then, the familiar sensation of Harry's magic slamming into him, buzzing and humming in agitation, but where it had hurt Neville… It was greeting Paul - and most likely Daryl, too – with what felt like impatience and excitement. Like an energic puppy that had missed its master and was now jumping up and down, rubbing himself against them to reassure itself that they were really there.
"Hush, hush!" Paul couldn't keep himself from muttering. "We came. We're here. We've got you. It's alright."
Relief.
Happiness.
Love.
It was so much. Paul chuckled wetly. When had he started to cry?
"Yeah, us too. Let us take him home, hmm? Lydia is getting impatient ta see him." Daryl mumbled. His cheeks weren't stained by tears, but his voice betrayed his emotions, sounding a little huskier and gruffer than usual.
The agitation dimmed, as did the throbbing in the bond marks, until there was nothing left but a soft pulsing warmth. Calmer and downright content when Daryl gathered Harry's limp body into his strong arms, yet never quite leaving.
A few feet away Neville was gapping at them.
"You got through." He uttered, looking stunned.
"Harry's magic seemed to recognize us." Paul tried to explain, but Neville seemed even more astonished.
"Come, I'll send us back to the horses." The wizard shook his head, muttering about Potter-Luck with a bewildered smile on his face, but when he came too close to Harry, he yelped again when he got zapped again.
"Oh, come on! Harry!" Neville whined as he clutched his hand to his chest, this time adored by a clear red line.
Huffing in frustration, when his old friend didn't even stir, Neville put Paul between himself and Daryl and instructed them to hold on tight to each other.
A nasty sensation of being pulled through a straw later, Paul was hugging his horse in gratefulness, while Daryl pulled Harry onto the bike with him.
He would drive ahead with their little lover, while Paul and Neville would follow. The broad wizard hoped that by then Harry's magic would have calmed down a little and stop trying to work against him.
The way home was uncomfortable to say at least, as soon as Daryl and Harry had left his eyesight Paul had felt the throbbing in his mark again, puckering and pulsing… and he had felt the nausea return not as bad as before but noticeable…
When informed about that, Neville had scratched his cheek in confusion before falling into a contemplating silence.
Back at the Hilltop, Paul rushed to the infirmary where he found Natania and a bewildered Carson. Harry was laying on one of the beds… and Daryl beside him was applying some paste on his burned arm.
"There yer are!" The hunter huffed in relief, rubbing over his bond mark. "Thing's been acting up since I couldn't see yer anymore and wouldn't quiet down until now."
"Were you feeling sick too?" Paul asked feeling worried.
"Naah, just a bit queasy. Feeling tired, though." He rubbed his face as if to keep himself awake, before turning to Natania, who was watching then with an air of fascination.
"Didn't yer say that it was just a stamp of approval?"
"Apparently, I was wrong." The old woman replied flatly, still regarding them curiously. "What are you feeling, Rovia?" She asked.
Paul blinked.
Hungry. Thirsty. Sore.
Relieved.
Exhaustion.
It was falling on him like a heavy blanket, making him feel sluggish and overwhelmed.
This didn't make sense. Sure, he and Daryl hadn't slept much… but… he had eating before they left – well he had thrown up before…
Still, it felt strange…
Like it wasn't quite his own…
Oh… Oh!
Wide eyed he turned to look at the old woman.
"Do you think it's possible that we're feeling what Harry feels?"
"Well, it would explain a few things." Natania shrugged. "Longbottom, come here and run a diagnostic." The elderly woman ordered the young wizard around.
"Already on it, Natania." Neville chirped and was indeed already scanning some results that had appeared from thin air.
"Magical exhaustion, his core seems to be quite depleted, but that's to be expected after controlling the Friendfire for so long. That's most likely what's causing the unconsciousness. Some burns, first and second degree. But you're treating that with the pastes already. Dehydration. All in all, a lot less damage than I feared. Well, well, what did I tell you, Potter Luck!" The young man summarized happily.
Under Natania's snort and eye roll, Neville proceeded to spell serval potions directly into Harry's stomach, all the while careful to keep his distance so he wouldn't accidently aggravate the green-eyed man's magic again.
"What are you feeling now?" Natania send another critical look at Paul, that had him snapping to attention.
"Uhmm… better I would say." He patted his own body down. "Less exhausted, not so thirsty anymore… I guess…"
Questioningly he looked at Daryl who nodded in confirmation.
"What does that mean?" The archer was frowning at Natania and Neville.
They were supposed to be the experts… but then Neville had told them that their bond was the stuff of ancient fairy tales, who'd knew what was going on.
"It's possible that Harry's magic is trying to lessen the strain on his body. It could be using the bond mark as a pathway to do this."
"So, we're sharing his injuries so to speak…" Paul tried to clarify. "Because I didn't feel any of the burns.
"But I did." Daryl huffed out quietly.
"For real?! Why did you say something?" Paul cried out, but Daryl simply shrugged.
"Didn't seem important then. Thought it was stress, ya know? But therefor, I didn't puke my guts out."
Paul groaned in embarrassment.
"So, you're both idiots for ignoring your bodies like that." Natania stated drily, causing Paul to blush and Daryl to glower at the bedding.
"Natania." Neville admonished her, chuckling softly. "They were worried out of their minds…"
"And what are supposed ta do now?" Daryl grumbled, still holding Harry's much smaller hand in his own.
"Go along with what you're feeling through the bond." Natania shrugged again. "At the moment it's our best bet, besides taking care of his injuries. We'll need to wait for his body to heal his magical depletion."
A little more instruction would have been nice…Paul blinked, before taking a deep breath, trying to feel what he should do now.
What did the bond tell him?
What did Harry need from them?
Close
Stay
Tired
Love
Sleep
Stay
Close
Come closer.
Don't leave.
Paul inhaled sharply, staring dumbly at Daryl and Harry.
Had he just imagined that? What was that young, childish noise? Was this Harry? The bond?
Why had this felt like a very small child tugging at his pant leg?
Daryl seemed to hold Harry's hand even tighter than before.
Deciding to put those question, that nobody would be able to answer anyway, on hold, Paul turned to Neville.
"Can you make the bed bigger, so all three of us can fit?"
The good-natured wizard just laughed and complied easily, making the bed twice as big and by it look of it, fluffed out the matrass.
Nodding in thanks, Paul started to take his shoes and shirt off.
"Alright, that's our signal. We're leaving! Holler if you need us." With that a smirking Natania dragged Neville and Carson out of the infirmary.
"Rest boys!"
After that both him and Daryl crawled into the bed with Harry, cradling his smaller body between them.
A sweet warmth and content settled in Paul stomach at their closeness.
This was nice.
Together they watched Harry breathing and maybe it wasn't just a trick of the light, falling through the window, that the wizard's face looked a little less pale.
They stayed like that for another two days, lulled in by the steady and strong beat of Harry's heart and the relief that he had regained a healthy complexion again but their little wizard hadn't woken up.
Thirst, hunger, soreness fading. But what stayed was a faint nausea and a heavy exhaustion. Paul couldn't remember when he had ever napped that much.
Neville would make sure that Harry was hydrated and supplied nutrition potions but even he was getting worried.
"His core is slow to stock up… he shouldn't be still this depleted." He frowned at yet another diagnostic sheet. "It's almost like something draining him even now… but I can't think of anything that would cause…"
The broad mediwizard stopped and quickly cast another spell.
When he read the new paper sheet his eyes went wide and he hurried to show it to Natania and Carson.
The obstetrician-gynaecologist's face paled drastically, as he turned to stared at them in bewilderment, while Natania took one look at the result before throwing her head back, barking out a laugh.
"What's wrong?" Paul asked, feeling worried and irritated at once.
What was going on?
"Nothing's wrong per se… no, this should be alright." Neville was scratching his cheek, apparently flustered. "But I think I found the reason for the constant drain and why Harry has yet to wake up. Considering all this is quite spectacular. I mean, I never thought… That's why I didn't check for this immediately… Potter Luck! Natania, I'm telling you this is the Potter Luck! He'll probably be unconscious a little longer. At least a few more days… and Paul and Daryl absolutely should stay close to him! Oh Merlin, this is probably the reason why the bond acted so weird…"
"What the fuck is going on? I ain't understanding a damn thing!" Daryl roughly interrupted Neville.
Natania sent them a toothy grin.
"What Longbottom forgot to spell out in his rambling is: Congratulation gents, you did the impossible! Potter is pregnant."