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WITH A FULL MOON hanging in the sky in a short few minutes, Remus Lupin dug his hands in his hair, praying that this full moon, he'd be cured. That there'd be no more transformations, no more pain, no more misery or self-loathing, just no more. That he'd never again know what it felt like for his bones to simultaneously break over and over again.
He sat, alone, in the woods. The trees resting in their cozy homes, underneath the dirt. In the morning, he wondered if they'd still be there, of if they'd be in disarray, hanging in their dilapidated state. He was praying that the next morning when he awoke and was rendered unconscious again as his bones broke back into the formation of a human spine, that the blood that inevitably covered him would be that of a deer or any other animal. That this wouldn't be the night where he ended someone's life. Remus Lupin hadn't spoken a word in weeks, a feat unprecedented in his entire life, but this was his life now.
He thought he'd make it through the transformation without crying, but the tears came anyway until he was drowning on them, alone and in the middle of a forest where he wouldn't hurt anyone. Usually, he only ended up hurting himself, awakening to bruises and broken bones that he could no longer get mended in Hogwarts the next morning. He laid his head in between his bony knees, lack of food due to lack of money or will had taken its toll on him. Now, he was practically skin and bones that made each transformation all the more painful.
It was all made even harder with the memory that once he hadn't had to do this alone.
That painful thought was combined when a feeling of disorientation scrabbled his mind. He began to forget the memory that made everything so much worse, yet better. It was all jumbled together, and he was forgetting who he was. He stared out into the dark, alone and afraid and without memory of why he was here. He tried to stand, but his legs gave out, and he smacked his head into the dry leaves, his nose hitting a particularly sharp rock. Everything was foggy and painful when the cracking began, his back hunching over as he made no effort to hold in the scream. No one could hear him.
Remus Lupin was all alone when the beast took form.
The wolf set out to hunt, to kill.
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Ivy Evans once had a gigantic crush on Sirius Black. It had been a major distracting event in her first and second years. That crush had continued on into the last months of her school year at Hogwarts. She was never big on confiding in her feelings to anyone, and instead of talking it out with her friends like any other bitch in that school, Ivy had instead decided to bully him. To make up lies about him. To never show weakness.
In those days, just the act of him appearing from behind a corner, with his stupid dimples and ruggedly handsome jawline and hair that he would not cut, was enough to make her feel as if her lungs had just been squeezed. This had been one of those times. Ivy could tell he was up to some mischief, judging by the shifty look and the way he kept glancing behind him as he walked. She had been paying attention, so she noticed his path was at a fast stride straight for her.
She did not move, instead, continued forward, tucking her quill into her bag and allowing him to get within moments of crashing into her before she said, "Oi. I've taken dance. You'd fall before I do."
It got him to finally look forward at her, his long hair sweeping over his shoulder in that well-brushed sort of way. Where it looked like his friend James Potter had never heard of a comb before, he looked as if he regularly brought one out in between classes. Ivy, having a vibrant curly mane, was slightly envious that his hair looked much easier to maintain. He paused, just moments from crashing into her, and said, "Oh. Ivy. It's you." He then looked around the hallway with a slight grin. "Going to class?"
"It's Saturday." Ivy glanced behind him, wondering what he was doing to warrant such blatant impatience. "Should I be concerned about the direction I am going?"
He glanced behind him, his grin widening. "Oh, I wouldn't worry. I imagine it's hard for anything to catch you unaware," he told her, and the way he was able to look down at her, the way the eye contact never strayed, nearly made her nervous. She wondered if he knew just how badly she wanted to shove him into another room and rip his unkempt robes off. Teenage hormones and all that. There were more important things and she had goals and ambitions that didn't have time for exploring anything else. Oh, but it was tempting.
She didn't break eye contact. "I think I'll take the stairs." She went to turn in the other direction and heard him laugh.
"You have little faith," Sirius said, walking to her side, and placing an arm around her shoulder, steering her back in the original direction she had been going to get to the library. The hallway looked safe, but having known Sirius for three years, she very much doubted that anything that got him to look the way he did when he almost crashed into her wasn't in any way something she wanted fuck with. It didn't help that they had a very unhealthy rivalry that all stemmed from the first train ride to Hogwarts. Since then, the very thought of her trying to expel him made him laugh.
He lowered his lips to her ear, making her too aware of his body near hers as he did. While they definitely never dated, mostly because one James Potter thought she was a raging Slytherin bitch, and both he and Sirius shared a brain cell and an opinion. Also because Sirius Black was an arse. While Ivy quite liked his beautiful face and his nice body, she wanted to hex his voice so all that came out were the squawks of a chicken. Much, to his horror, like she did her first year when he wouldn't stop making snake noises every time she came into study hall.
"If you turn right, instead of left at the fork," he said in her ear. "You will miss the flood and be on time for your little study session at the library."
"You should study too," she informed him. "Maybe then you'll do better in dueling." She ripped his arm from her shoulders and turned back towards the stairs, not taking his advice on the hall.
"Don't you trust me?" Sirius asked with a laugh. Ivy turned to look back over her shoulder at him. His eyes had been dilated, his smile nearly infectious, but Ivy didn't relent because she had many suspicions on what else he had that was infectious.
"What a stupid question. Were you dropped on your head as a baby?" Ivy snapped back.
"Bold of you to assume I was ever held," he said, too quickly, walking over to follow her to the stairs. Down the hallway, there were countless screams coming from the left at the fork. She glanced over her shoulder as she continued to walk.
They made eye contact again, and he smiled sheepishly. "You liar." She had no heat in her voice since all the heat she was capable of producing had gone somewhere else.
"Don't you want to know the details of the prank?" Sirius looked quite proud of the accomplishment and judging from the screams of anger and panic, it was probably funny. She, however, refused to laugh at a single thing he ever did. It was a matter of pride. It was a matter of stubbornness. It was a matter of fuck him.
"No," Ivy said with a sneer as they approached the staircase. She walked rather fast, but Sirius had long legs, allowing him to keep up.
"I almost died," he cooed, but Ivy only flipped an uncaring strand of curls behind her shoulder and continued walking whilst counting in her head to make sure she didn't miss her pace before the staircase changed directions.
"Very good. Keep it up."
"You don't mean that."
"I've told you many times," she said, skipping the next step since it often triggered a surprise move in the stairs. "To drown yourself."
"If you had gone left, you wouldn't have been affected by the prank. I promise," he said, and her scowl deepened. "It was just a little plant that grew really fast when subjected to water. It was ingenious."
"I'm sure it wasn't your idea," Ivy replied, now wishing he would either stop talking or walk slower so she could leave him behind.
"I am a mastermind behind everything," he defended, adjusting his unkempt robes as he caught up with her fast stride again. He began to wonder just how she managed to walk so fucking fast since he'd never seen her exercise. He had never seen her on the quidditch field, the one thing he was certain she was not good at. He'd never know because she refused to even try something she didn't think she'd be a prodigy at. Then again, it wasn't as if he were actively watching her. Lily was the prettier one after all, even if Sirius found her to be a different sort of arse. Ivy was funnier, more sly, with darker humor that he found almost enthralling. She wasn't uncomely at all.
"Weren't you the idiot who tried to fight the giant squid in Black Lake?"
Sirius scoffed, remembering quite intimately that terrible dare that he hadn't backed away from. "Well, maybe the giant squid was being a prick."
"You're a prick."
"Ohh. Good one."
She turned around, now facing him, placing a palm against the stone railing. "Stop talking to me. Stop following me. We both know you don't come to the library on a Saturday."
"Maybe I'm trying to work on some," Sirius paused, smiling, walking up to another step so he could be closer to her. Her face hovered over his, too close. He was able to smell her perfume, a delectable cherry scent. "Dueling techniques from a master." It was the closest he'd come to admit that she was better than him. She often went toe to toe with a few select students at school, but she knew she was the better one at magic. She knew she was better. She did nothing but study.
Ivy stepped away from him, two steps so she could get some distance.
She never hung out with friends. She never laughed in the hall with them. She never did anything but magic. It was all she cared about. Sometimes, however, she would look at these little groups of friends, laughing and always together, and feel something akin to envy. She swallowed thickly as he stepped up two steps, so he was just below her face and he smiled again.
"I'd rather burn the place down than get within meters of studying next to you," she shoved a finger into his chest, forcing him back down.
"Fine," Sirius said, still smiling as he drawled out the words. "The left really was in the clear." He backed down one more step. "I'd never prank you, Ivy."
"I know it was you and your insufferable friends who filled the Slytherin common with ducks, chickens, and geese last year."
His smile continued. "That was Remus's idea. I was just fine doing rubber ducks. It was an easier spell." He scratched his chin sheepishly, and when he did that, Ivy wanted to back him up into the stone railing and snog him. She didn't because other things were more important than puberty. Like her grades or her integrity or her pride. "Remus's plan was harder, but we decided, ultimately, funnier."
"You are all arses," Ivy said with another sneer, remembering that she was deathly allergic to feathers and almost died. Not that Sirius and his group of friends knew nor cared. Unfortunately, all of Slytherin knew and now slipped feathers into her bed. It was actually worse than the snakes. It explained why she hated mail day. It explained why she was going to absolutely crush Remus fucking Lupin.
He was such a perfectionist, so polite, and a stickler for the rules so long as those rules didn't touch his friends. Hypocritical arsehole.
Just as Ivy turned around to leave him there, he spoke again. "You can trust that I'll never lie to you. The truth is far more fun." He had likely been hoping she'd take the hallway and turn right just because he said go left. Thus, she'd walk into whatever terrifying prank he and his dickhead friends had set up.
"I wouldn't trust you even if you were Dumbledore himself."
"Now you're just being mean, little Ivy," Sirius told her, and she opened her mouth to say something else, to say anything at all. Whatever those words were, however, were lost when he
moved one more step down the stairs. Her eyes widened, as she watched his step in slow motion.
"No, you tosspot, dickhead!" Ivy exclaimed, but it was too late and his clumsy ass was firmly planted on that step.
"What's the matter?" Sirius asked her, but the staircase answered for her, and she watched it spring to life, a mind of its own, causing both students to grip onto the railings just to keep from falling. Instead of just moving, normally and untimely to connect to another casing, it turned right, connecting with nothing on either side.
So, there they were, floating in the middle of the castle, on stairs that connected to nothing. Sirius watched Ivy slump, watched her eyes roll back as she planted her arse on one of the steps. If this event didn't affect his evening, he would have thought the prank to be a solid win. Now, instead of going to celebrate with Remus, James, and Peter, he was stuck here with a she-witch who had no sense of humor. At least, where he was concerned.
"Well, fuck me," he muttered, leaning his weight against the railing. His voice caused her to look up at him, her Slytherin tie was so badly done, nothing like her sister's orderly appearance. She managed to make that unkempt style so purposeful, not lazy, causing it to look rather good.
"Yeah," she said, her voice coming out like knives. "Fuck you."
"Sorry I didn't memorize the steps," he muttered, now leaning his elbows on the railing, resting his chin into his palm.
"You memorized every word you need to say to piss me off. Why not memorize the stairs too?" Ivy shot back, and he pressed his palm to his chest as if she had offended her.
"You are being very rude, miss Evans."
"The steps reset in twenty minutes. We don't have to talk," she answered back, just as quickly. She began to dig through her satchel, searching for the Hi-Fi cassette player that would drown out his voice. Undoubtedly, he would not be able to be quiet for 20 minutes.
And it was nowhere to be seen, likely still at the foot of her bed, in her chest, locked with fifty different spells because her roommates were malicious bitches. She wondered how far the reach of the Accio spell was, but ultimately decided that it was very likely for it to slam into a wall before reaching her, even if she could get it out of the chest. She didn't have a spell to fix electronics since magical folk didn't own electronics to even come up with a spell to fix one. What bullshit. I'll make my own.
Instead, she took out a pen and notebook to start brainstorming a rework of her last spell.
"No need to be so testy, little Evans," Sirius said, glancing over the other steps. "Maybe there's another step that will put it back to normal."
"Yeah, there is," Ivy said with an unamused deadpan.
"Oh. Where? Let's put our brains together," Sirius said, and his enthusiasm made her cringe.
"It's the step over there," she said, pointing to one of the last steps down. He stood on it.
"This one?"
"No, three more down."
"There isn't one three more down."
"No. Trust me, it's invisible. Step on it. In fact, give it a good hop. Both feet," Ivy said with a sneer.
Sirius leaned on one hip with a look that was surprisingly sassy, nearly enough to make Ivy smile. "Are you trying to kill me, Ivy Evans?"
"No, not kill. I'm hoping that the fall would merely incapacitate you to the point where you can't move anything below the forehead."
"What does that mean?"
"Ever heard of Steven Hawking?"
"Ever heard of manners?" Sirius then had the audacity of sitting next to her, as if he had any place there. She glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, a tinge of bitterness in her face. "I don't exactly wanna be here either, but we can make the best of it."
"Making the best of it would require us sitting in awkward silence for 17 minutes."
"Why are you so bitter all the time, Ivy?"
"I thought it was obvious," Ivy replied, desperately wishing for her headphones. "I don't like you or your friends."
"How can you dislike the marauders?"
"That is the dumbest name I've ever heard in my life."
"Hey, it's better than when James would refer to us as a foursome. Rumors were getting out of hand."
"You're welcome for that."
Sirius placed a hand on his chest, his offense visible on his face. "That actually checks out. Rude, but it checks out." He leaned back, resting his elbows on the stairs behind him. "I can't believe I'm missing out on guy time for this."
"I doubt they miss you," Ivy said with a sigh, staring in the opposite direction of him.
"Maybe I can Accio my broom," Sirius suggested. "I don't mind you riding behind me."
"I'd rather fall to my death," she answered back quickly.
"Then you can ride in front of me," he retorted.
"I'd rather you fell to your death," she said, irritated that he laughed.
"Don't you trust me?"
"I told you already. I wouldn't trust you if you were Dumbledore."
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The irony was that now Ivy trusted Albus Dumbledore just as little. Her theory was that when Sirius, Peter, her sister, and her brother in law, all fell into a useless category, Dumbledore couldn't be bothered to think further on the matter. This left Ivy in the awkward situation of some giant twat flying straight into the flat. It was a new one, one that Ivy had moved into after the current muggle owners took a trip to Florida for the summer.
It was a spacious penthouse, overlooking merry old London. Bacia had said the giant windows would make fucking more fun. Ivy hardly liked the topic of fucking so close to where she sleeps, so she changed the subject when a falcon flew in from an open window. Said falcon transformed into Horus moments later, allowing Ivy a moment to finally realize why he changed his name.
"Falcon, Horus. Clever," Ivy said to the grinning and now very naked man. She waved her hand, conjuring a blanket from mid-air and tossing it at him.
"What a prude. Of all friends to make, Bacia, you find the prude," Horus said, glancing towards the dark curly-haired girl who was still looking at his exposed body with a raised brow.
"I'll cut it off," Ivy warned, and finally, he covered himself with the blanket.
"It's not like animagus can keep their clothes upon transformation," he defended.
"She turns into a crow all time," Bacia said, gesturing to Ivy with a shrug.
"Not all time," Ivy said with a frown, crossing her arms. The irony of her feather allergy was not lost on her here. Thus, only when she needed to would she transform. In the training with McGonagall's advanced transfiguration class, she had been hoping to take the form of a snake or an animal she could be around. When she transformed into a crow, she was mortified. When she transformed back, the aftereffects left her in the infirmary. Animagus transformation success, but ultimately, useless. What a waste of a year.
"Anyway, I'm here to discuss payment." Horus made a swiping motion with his hand and was clothed once more, transfiguring the blanket into slakes and a button-down blazer with some dress shoes. Ivy's lips thinned, watching how the tight pants hugged his legs, and decided that she didn't want her blanket back.
"You haven't even done anything," Ivy commented with a snort.
"The process of seeing if you even can astral project is an invasive one. I'd like the number of sterling you'd pay me first."
"Several hundred. Does that suit you?" Ivy asked, and he shrugged, pulling out his wand. "Where were you keeping that?"
"Not important, sit down." Horus waved his wand on one of the handbags next to the couch, before reaching in and pulling out a briefcase. "Is this Chanel?" He asked, referring to the bag. Ivy shrugged, waving at the Chanel logo. "It's nice." She took notice of the spell, figuring it was one that connected any bag to a different area of space. Ingenius. Ivy made a note of it.
"You are such a ponce," Bacia said, sitting down on the floor in a criss-cross. Ivy watched with a blank expression. "He's an idiot. Eccentric, but he does, unfortunately, know what he's doing."
Ivy's top lip curled up, but sat down next, mirroring her form, one foot resting on each thigh in a proper padmasana. Bacia smiled, now putting her arms behind her back with one hand holding the other wrist.
"Aren't you two flexible?" Horus commented.
"Kiss my arse," Ivy replied.
"With all those yoga classes," Bacia said with a shrug. "You could probably kiss your own arse, darling."
"Anyway, the process is quick. I light some candles," Horus opened the briefcase with his wand as he spoke, and small candles hovered out and surrounded Ivy. Bacia dropped the pose and sat normally with a slight smile. "Dim the lights. Set the mood." The light dimmed with another flick of his wand, effectively turning the windows all black to jot out the sun. "Make it romantic." When he said that, the record player began to play Berry Manilow. Ivy barely let one word flow out of the record before she waved her hand and the record flew off the player, crashing and shattering against the wall. "Make it romantic," Horus repeated with an amused smile, causing more light to emit from the candles, burning quick and bright.
"I'd prefer it if you didn't narrate the experience," Bacia said with a roll of eyes.
"I'd prefer to be back in bed with the twins, but here I am, out of the goodness of my heart," Horus said, gesturing for Ivy to close her eyes. "I'll prepare the herbs while you relax your aura."
"I don't know what that means," Ivy said, her eyes still open.
"It means," Horus said, pulling out some herbs, sage, and other roots, and beginning to grind it by hand. "Your energy is all wrong. You have to be relaxed for this process, otherwise, it will hurt." He shot her a grin. "Like anal."
Ivy glanced over to Bacia, her eyes narrow. "I am calm."
"Whatever. You do you," Horus said, as Ivy stayed in her yoga pose.
"Mhm. Sure," Bacia said, leaning back on her elbows. "You should probably know, the process is a little painful even if you are relaxed. So think happy thoughts."
"I'm not trying to get to neverland," Ivy replied, finally closing her eyes.
"Well, we warned her," Horus said, getting down on his knees in front of her. "You have a lot of protective charms on you. Dismantle them."
The very idea of doing that set every piece of her on edge, but she trusted Bacia just enough to assume that the man she brought wouldn't attempt an assassination. Besides, the wards she placed on the place had to be enough to withstand a few minutes. She had dropped the ones that would stop someone from flying in, assuming he was going to arrive by broom, not bird.
She flattened her hands, tracing small symbols into her arms. Wandless magic was a matter of understanding how magic worked with precision and Ivy understood it. She understood how the energy looked and felt and worked. Disarming a spell, especially one that she cast, was so much simpler than actually creating one. Every spell left behind spiderwebs, and if you pull the right strand-
Ivy plucked the web of energy around her, watching the entire thing crumble apart.
If you pull the right strand, the rest loses their integrity.
"Begin." Ivy closed her eyes again, more on edge than ever. She heard him sigh, but he closed his eyes next.
"I'm going to have to touch you. Is that okay?" Horus asked, and she nodded.
Ivy didn't care, but when Horus began the enchantment, it felt as if all the hair on her body had zapped upright, and she was filled with a sort of static. She spoke after a moment, "We will find out if I am able to astral project, but have you given thought to what we can do if I can't?" Ivy asked, but due to her closed eyes, missed the glance between Horus and Bacia that spelled a sort of dread.
"We'll cross that path when it comes," Horus said, his voice gentle as he threw some sort of herb over her. Finally, he touched her.
His hands slid over her face, running over her cheeks, brushing along her forehead. It was only the tips of his fingers, but it felt as if his skin were ice, and it was coating her. His fingers must have been coated in a thick layer of some kind of liquid, perhaps Marula or juju oil judging by the smell, and it left a thick layer behind everywhere his fingertips touched. Slowly, they brushed over her nose, and the smell, thick and potent, was gone. The room, that once smelled strong of herbs and spices, was gone. She opened her eyes, seeing the light of the room, the dark skin of Horus, glistening with that same oil. His fingers brushed up her cheeks.
"You can keep your eyes open if you want to, but it makes the process a little scary," he whispered, so close that she could feel it against her lips. The pain that began to bubble in her skin was intense, a bit like frostbite, a numbness that made her try to back away from him, but his grip on her face was so tight that she couldn't move away.
She went to whimper, but as his thumb brushed against her lips, coating them in oil, all that came out was soundless air. She went to speak, but nothing came out. It was as if he had just extracted her tongue. She closed her mouth, wishing for the safety of her wards, but she refused to mess up the spell she was paying him for. His eyes were gentle, inviting, as his fingers moved slowly to her eyes. She couldn't close them, didn't want to miss the subtle magic that was happening as he made a circle around each eye simultaneously with his thumbs. Then it was as if she had closed her eyes as blackness fell over her. Her heart was drumming, fear erupting as she lost the ability to see. She still heard his breaths, perhaps better than before, even if she could no longer see, no longer speak, no longer smell. The fear quaked right through her as she felt his fingers begin to move again, this time towards her ears.
Ivy realized what was happening, easy enough as he was taking each of her senses one by one. So she realized what was next as he came for yet another one. His deep breaths disappeared, and she felt as if she were in complete quiet, complete darkness. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced, and when she felt his hands drag down her body, trailing icy pain with it, she tried to pull away, but the numbness, the lack of awareness of anything around her, stripped her of any ability to do anything. Finally, even his touch disappeared.
It was as if she were dead, stranded in the middle of the dark abyss, unable to stop it. She tried to do anything, to scream, to make it stop, but nothing happened. There were moments, lasting forever, that it almost felt akin to falling, but never landing anywhere. Just floating in the middle of nothing, unable to move or ask for help. Finally, a voice echoed in the darkness.
"What do you see?" Horus asked, but it was so loud that she wanted to cower away, curl up into a ball just to escape it.
Nothing, she thought, but even her thoughts were too loud.
"To some, it appears as a cord of light, to others a great snake. Do you see anything?" Horus asked, and his loud voice filled her with so much pain that she nearly felt like dying all over again.
No. Stop talking, she thought, trying to think quietly to no avail.
"Pity. These parts going to be a little painful." Horus's voice was now so loud that she felt as if it were the thing killing her, but what came next was the final thing. All her senses came back at once, and it was blindingly bright, horribly fragrant, too loud, and her skin felt too sensitive. He let her go, watching her fall back, covering her eyes. Her clothes were restricting, too rough, too tight, "Sorry about that. It affects everyone differently."
Ivy didn't answer, just focused on her breathing.
"I'll wait," Horus said, and she heard his loud body stand, heard him begin gathering his supplies, heard him wash his hands of the oil, heard every last breath and action of him preparing himself tea. Finally, he placed a cup near her head where she laid against the ground.
"What's the prognosis?" Ivy whispered, wincing at the sound.
"Drink your tea," Bacia ordered, and Ivy sat up, removing her arm from over her eyes, but still closing her eyes as she blindly grabbed the tea. Even the steam was too hot, so she chanted a small spell to make the liquid lukewarm before taking a sip.
"Prognosis," Ivy ordered, and Horus cleared his throat.
"Well, bad news first. You are definitely not an air spirit. Your essence is very tied to your body." Horus's voice forced Ivy to open her eyes, her vision blurry from the light as she winced but ultimately forced them open with all her willpower. Spots danced over her vision, everything as unclear as if she had looked through a kaleidoscope. She waited for them to focus as if her eyes were lens on a camera.
"What are my options?" Ivy asked.
"Your options are to come up with a new plan," Bacia said with a stern frown. "Some people are earth spirits. You can't change that."
Ivy glanced at her for a moment, but her gaze went straight back to Horus. "Magic is infinite. It's old. And people are predictable. What are my options?"
Horus took a sip of his tea, his eyes never leaving hers. "There's a way I've heard of," he admitted, sending Bacia an apologetic smile.
"There are better ways," Bacia interrupted, but he only waved a hand.
"You're free to find them. I'm only offering the information," he said with a flippant wave.
"What is it?" Ivy asked, urging Bacia to keep her protective nature to herself. "It's only information, and I deserve to know if I pay for it."
"It's dangerous, as you can see from her very angry face," Horus said glancing over to Bacia with one last, rueful smile. "It's called the sah-khet-sekham." Horus leaned against the table. "It's an old ritual, like ancient Egyptian old. It has the ability to separate your physical body from the spiritual body."
"Yes, but it has so many unknown risks," Bacia said, her voice with a hint of urgency. "It hasn't been properly tested or had its results recorded. It hasn't been peer-reviewed. There isn't enough information that would secure safety."
"Sounds like most magic," Ivy said, forcing herself to stand. "Can you do the ritual?"
Bacia took a deep breath. "Just like that? You're not even going to search for other options?"
"I have searched," Ivy retorted. "Before I called you, I searched."
"Horus is a coward-" Bacia said.
"Hey," Horus interrupted, but Bacia continued.
"But there are other astral projectors out there. Pay one of them," Bacia urged.
"Even if I wanted to," Ivy said, her lips thinning. "Sirius won't talk to someone he doesn't know, and I don't trust anyone to ask what needs to be asked. It has to be me."
"There must be-" Bacia began, but Ivy waved her hand, and all that came out from Bacia's lips was air, no sound.
"I'm only getting information, for now, relax," Ivy said, glancing back to Horus. "Can you do the ritual?"
Horus slipped some alcohol from a flask into the glass of tea with a smile. "No, but I know someone who can. My grandmother. Not a cheap request and she also doesn't deal in money. Important that you know that." Horus glanced towards a fuming Bacia with a smile. "I'd reverse the spell before she blows up this muggle housing."
"Alright," Ivy said, relenting with a sigh as she reversed the spell.
"The ritual is capable of working, but your spirit could be separated forever," Bacia said in a single breath. "It's a fate worse than death. But spell me again, and I'll show you a worse fate than that."
"Deal," Ivy said with a tilt of her head. "I'll think on it, okay. Take all your warnings into account before I make my decision."
"That's all I ask," Bacia said with a sigh of relief.
"I've thought it through. Contact your grandmother," Ivy ordered, and Horus shrugged.
"I can't stand you sometimes," Bacia said with a frown.
"Then by all means, sit down," Ivy replied with a smile.
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Emma Vanity was bent over a microscope when the loud snap echoed over the white sanitized room. She didn't look up as she felt a hand on her back, rubbing small circles. She did, however, say, "You're late."
Damocles Belby scoffed, his lips pulled into a smile. "You never greet me with a kiss. How cruel."
"You never greet me with child support," Emma stated with a thin, unamused smile as she finally stood up straight, her belly swollen.
"It's not even born yet," he said with a sigh. Emma finally chuckled.
"Did you get it?" Emma asked, finally noticing the mangled state he arrived in. He stared back at the former Quidditch captain, now a Ph.D. certified genius. Where Damocies had extensive knowledge on magical diseases, she had sought out all areas of medicine, including seeking out a highly controversial muggle doctorate, much to her family's dismay.
"Do I look like I got it?" Damocies was working on two hours of sleep in the last two days, and the spells he had applied had done their job on keeping him awake, but he was more irritable than ever. Emma's frown deepened.
"We need a live sample."
"Now isn't exactly a safe time to come out as a werewolf," Damocies dropped his bag on the table, eyes weary and his shoes dirty. She took out her wand and performed a simple cleaning spell, keeping the room as sanitized as ever.
Emma Vanity didn't let her frustration show, she took off her glasses to rub her eyes, taking a deep breath. "You'd think they'd be lining up to get this whole thing solved."
"Give it time," Damocies told her, and she leaned her head on his shoulder, letting him rub her back. "I did get the aconite though. Fresh batch."
"The grant money is running out," she whispered as he stared up at the ceiling. "What are we going to do?"
"Request more. That's all we can do."
Emma pulled away, saying nothing. Where he had spelled away sleep, she hadn't dared do that with the pregnancy having gotten in the way of so many things. "We only have so many swiftlet nests left."
"What about the vark?"
"There's enough of that. And the silver dittany. But we need more nests," Emma took a deep breath after she spoke.
"They aren't exactly easy to find," Damocies said, "Perhaps we can work the potion without them. Even if we get the formula right, these ingredients are-"
"I know," Emma agreed, taking a deep breath as she leaned back against the lab counter. "But it's a start, and we are so close."
"We need a better supplier, a cheaper option," Damocies said, running another hand through his hair. "Something that will let the money we have last." Emma glanced up at him, her face just as beautiful as the day he fell in love with her. Then, it turned into the face of the woman who divorced him, the woman who disagreed with everything he said and did.
"You are the one who spent the majority on trials I told you weren't going to work," she criticized, and her face was drawn into irritation that he was tired of seeing directed at him.
"That's the point of science, Emma," Damocies interjected, just as hotly. "Trial and error."
"I told you it wouldn't work. I showed you proof, specimens, and MRIs of it not working," she replied, referring to the data she had collected. "You take so little value in muggle medicine that you refuse to listen to a thing it has to offer."
Damocies's face went red, but he held down the anger that had erupted in him. It was a losing battle, arguing about something that already happened. "I value your contribution."
"But not above your own," she said, running her hand over her hair, pushing bangs back. She had given up everything for the dream they shared, to find a cure. To do something extraordinary for the wizarding world. Every step forward was met with such resistance. "Let's just not fight."
"One problem at a time," he agreed, watching the dark circles below her eyes with a tinge of worry deep in his gut. "We have to look for a new supplier. Someone who doesn't raise the market by forty percent."
She took a deep breath, her brows drawn. "We can look for someone in Knockturn Alley."
He scoffed, "You are not going to Knockturn Alley." He glanced down at the baby, and she ran her palm over it, lifting it up to alleviate the burden had had against her organs. She took a deep breath, too exhausted to fight with him.
"You need me," she said, her voice weak and tired. She had known Damocies for so many years, and one thing that had always been abundantly clear was his awful social skills. He had a way of making even the simple act of purchasing a book turn into a humiliating experience. He frowned at her words, his own brows drawn in worry.
"I need you to be healthy," he said, finally touching the swelling bump that made everything so complicated. She hardly had it in her to tell him any of what she was feeling, hating herself for even thinking it. "Even before the war, that was no place to be. It's worse than ever. Crawling with Death Eaters."
Emma scowled, that same shameful feeling rising in her. She had to stomp it out before it made her say something she'd regret. She took a deep breath, counting to 10 before she answered him. "I'm a Vanity," she reminded him, her lips pressed tightly together. "As you've had no problem letting it be known in the past, I find it odd that it's a problem now."
"Believe it or not, I've always been trying protect both you and our vision."
"Our vision wouldn't have even made it past your notes without me," she answered, feeling the baby tug against her bladder. She wanted to scream, but she wasn't her mother. As a matter of fact, she wasn't her family. "I'm exhausted." She didn't want to have this same fight again.
His face immediately scrunched into concern, his eyes worries. He pressed his hands against her shoulders, inspecting her. "Should I take you to Mungos? Is it the baby?"
She didn't want to go back. She didn't want to do a lot of things. But she was dizzy, barely standing, and when he saw the blood, linking from her trousers, his entire body froze. She followed his gaze, her entire movements halting. That familiar revulsion nearly gave out her legs, but he was holding her up already.
"We have to Saint Mungos," he begged, and took his hand off of her.
"I'll go," she agreed, glancing over to the ingredients he had brought. "You need to prepare them. If they spoil or go bad, you'll have get more." Damocies's face scrunched up, as if he couldn't comprehend what he was listening to.
"Forget that, I'm not letting you go alone." His stern voice, set with worry and guilt, was yet another thing that revolted her. Emma didn't voice any of her thoughts, merely brought his face in her hands.
"I don't need you." She didn't say the words gently, or kindly, but there was so anger in her voice. It was the same tone she took when she read aloud her dissertation. He found her absolutely exquisite and more than a little frustrating. "But hundreds, if not more, need us." She let him go, lifting her wand from her lab coat. "Prep and freeze the samples."
She didn't give him a choice. With a crack, she was gone.