Acknowledgments: Rpeh on the beta work.

Chapter 23

Harry felt the cool, damp cloth on him as he woke. The pressure interrupted his dream. The images in it, the people inside of his head, all fled before the pressure on his body. He groaned against it, first only in his mind, and then aloud. The cloth withdrew at the noise.

"Harry?" A soft voice asked. The word echoed through his head like it should have been important. But it took him a moment to place just what the purpose of it was. But even then, something about it felt hazy. And then, suddenly, she was there. But then gone as there was only darkness.

He felt lost in it, trapped in it. He knew in his very soul that he would never be able to escape the darkness. That there was no way of getting around it. He was stuck in the darkness for all eternity.

Or, he thought, at least until he opened his eyes an eternity later. Wait, what? He had eyes? If he were to open them it would no longer be dark. Well, maybe an eye? He remembered losing an eye. He could still feel it melting away in the onslaught of Helios's power as he thought about it.

He tried to take a deep breath but instead he coughed. His throat felt unfathomably dry. That thought distracted him from his thoughts long enough for his eyes to open.

Eyes. Both seemed to be working. He blinked away the dim light of the room, alternating between each eye. They both seemed to function as normally as could be expected. His vision was blurry, but his vision was always blurry. The room was unfamiliar. He struggled to keep his eyes open long enough to take notice of his surroundings. They seemed to water quicker than he remembered, and it blurred his vision further. The lids felt far too heavy and he wanted nothing more to close them again. He fought against the feeling and managed to piece some things together.

It was a larger room than the one he'd shared with Ephyra, but not by much. There was a window in this room, but it merely showed the dark cavern outside. There were candles on a dresser in the corner, and another candle on a nightstand to his left.

He blinked against the flickering flame as he continued to look around. His vision blurred against it but the focus seemed to be returning.

He was in an ornate bed made mostly of gold with an embossed motif of the sun all around it. It must have been a king, it was larger than the one he'd been sharing with Ephyra. He was positioned in the middle of it, but noticed extra pillows seemed to litter the room and wondered if a few were tossed aside to give him free reign on the bed.

He saw a mirror in the corner of the room at a vanity but knew his vision wouldn't be good enough to allow him to make out himself so he shifted his gaze downwards toward his own body.

His left arm was completely wrapped in bandages from his shoulder to his fingers, some sort of leaves stuck out around his fingers and he could feel something underneath the bandages all the way up his arm. But there were real, actual fingers there. He could move each of them, which struck him as a good sign. His right arm appeared normal, although it felt pale as he looked at it. As did his chest. He stretched his legs underneath the blankets. He was stiff everywhere, but everything seemed to be functioning normally, down to the ability to wiggle his toes.

He managed to prop himself up against the pillows and looked around the room some more, purely because he didn't think he had the energy to stand up. The vanity in the corner looked similar, albeit more ornate, to the one Ephrya had used in his old room. It too had sun themed embossing around the edges. He was rather bruised and the spots of his skin that weren't covered in said bruises or bandages seemed to have an angry pink tone to them. The growth of hair on his face gave him some pause though, and made him question just how long he'd been out for.

There were also tapestries hanging on the wall. They all depicted scenes that were vaguely familiar to him, myths of some sort, but he was too addled to really pick out anything more than a few vague characters.

Again he didn't think his impaired vision would allow him to make out the details of the tapestries so he didn't spend very long looking at him. His glasses seemed nowhere to be found.

Two doors were open on the opposite wall. One led to a closet, the other a bathroom. Again, both looked larger than what he'd grown accustomed to in the palace. Another door adorned the wall to his right. He assumed it must have led to the palace proper. And his assumption was proven correct a few moments later when it opened and a woman backed into the room carrying a tray.

"Hi," Harry said. The woman stiffened for a moment, standing straight as a board before she turned to face him.

"You're awake for real this time?" Circe asked. She set the tray down on a nightstand. Harry peered at it. There was a goblet of what looked like water and then several potions and salves. He could only readily identify about a third of them.

"Maybe?" Harry said.

"I should have expected that response," Circe said, sitting on the edge of the bed. Harry reached for her absently as she fiddled with the potions, before realizing that she was not Ephyra and had never been very accepting of unwanted touches. He let his hand fall onto the bed and wondered if she'd seen it. She gave no indication one way or the other.

"I guess it was a little predictable," he said. She nodded as he watched her. Her hair was pulled back into a loose tail and not in the intricate braids he was used to seeing her with and her normally pristine peplos had splashes of potion in various spots on it. Both things could have easily been fixed with magic and that she hadn't said something even if he wasn't quite sure what that something was.

If he had to place it, he'd have said she looked exhausted, the dark circles seemed to grow underneath her eyes with each passing moment. That thought sent a pang through his chest as he knew he had to be the cause.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"Like I got hit by a bus launched from the surface of the sun," Harry said.

"Clever," she said dryly as she plucked one of the goblets of potion off of her tray and held it out to him. "Here, you should drink this."

"What is it?" he asked, eyeing the green liquid carefully.

"Poison to avenge my dead father after your violation of guest rights," she responded without missing a beat.

"Funny," Harry said. "But for real,"

"It's for the fever and the shivers. You seem better now but you're getting incredibly hot. Don't look at me like that! You tend to start to sweat and shiver uncontrollably for a long while. It should help you stay normal. It's one of the worst things I've ever tasted though so I wouldn't try to drink it all in one go," she said. He took the goblet from her and sniffed at it. It didn't smell any worse than most of the potions he'd encountered. He brought it to his lips and took a mouthful of it.

At first it wasn't bad. It tasted sort of like a mint milkshake. And then he swallowed and regretted every moment of it. He gaged against it as a searing cold flashed through his throat. It felt like a thousand tiny knives were trying to claw their way out of his esophagus. He would have spit it up for sure but he felt her hand on his on the bed and it calmed him. It took four attempts but he got the whole potion down.

"What else do I have to suffer through?" he asked as she took the empty goblet with her free hand and put it back onto the tray.

"I just made an assortment of pain potions and my burn salve in case the wounds opened again. None of them are needed urgently. If you want to enjoy being coherent for a moment I think you'll live," she said, squeezing his hand gently. Harry let his gaze shift to where she was touching him. By choice. By her choice. Without any insistence or assumption on his part.

"Coherent sounds nice," he sighed, intensely aware of her hand in his. Her fingers were small and felt fragile against his. She felt cool to his touch, but as the potion started to spread through him he expected that to change.

"A welcome change," she agreed.

"Where am I, anyway?" he asked.

"This is my room," she said. Harry blinked as he looked around again. It was certainly much nicer than the room he'd been using, and far better than he'd have suspected for the role she'd been filling as a kitchen wench.

"It's nice," he said as they were the only words that came to mind.

"Better than being packed into the basement with the others father deemed useless," she scoffed. And then it clicked. It was her childhood room. He'd blame the injuries if he had to give an excuse as to why that hadn't occurred to him earlier.

"I'm sorry I killed him," Harry said.

"I know," she responded, biting off the words. "It's fine. He deserved it."

"Still, I overreacted. And I did violate guest right. And I know you take that seriously," Harry said.

"He was torturing me, and others, because he could. I don't care what the others have to say about it," she squeezed his hand tightly as she spoke. He had to resist the urge to pull her to him and hold her.

"What happened after?" he asked.

"Almost everyone fled," she said. "It took a while to even get light back in the palace. He provided it all you know. After that I tried to figure out who stayed. And worked on getting you healthy."

"I'm surprised someone didn't try to kill me," Harry said. "I remember being. Well, I remember being very injured. Like, I didn't think there was much left of my body. And quite a few of them strike me as opportunistic."

"Perses and Pasiphae tried. Although I think it was more her idea than his," Circe said. "But I scared them off. They fled back to Colchis I think. The palace seems to be responding to me. It, well, it's hard to explain. It's like I know what the inhabitants are doing if I want to. Once they realized I was aware of their plans they left."

"You're in charge then?" he asked.

"I think so. I was the oldest but never the favorite. It's hard to say. I haven't been able to find my mother and ask. I think she must have fled as well. Or maybe she's one of the piles of dust in the atrium. I can't be certain. I didn't try to figure it out. I was busy," she explained, sounding a great deal like she was struggling with justifying her own actions. Or rather her own inaction.

"And I appreciate that," he said. A frown graced his face. He'd seen people die while he and Helios fought. He hadn't remembered seeing her mother in the atrium that night. But something prodded at the back of his mind. How could she even tolerate him if he killed both of her parents?

"There's still a few around. I'd say maybe a quarter remained. Some just want to try to breed with you to see if they can harness your power in their offspring. Others are just so accustomed to being here that I don't think they could leave if they tried. Most, I think, are just waiting for the parties to resume," she explained. Harry watched her as she talked. She was looking out the dark window of the bedroom, pausing every couple of moments as if trying to make sure she selected the proper words. Or perhaps as if waiting for the proper words to come to her.

"Is that your goal? Start the parties and remain here?" Harry asked, his gaze shifting to the window as well as he lost himself in thought. For a moment his memories flashed back to the more enjoyable parties. He could remember laughing with the other guests, drinking with the other guests, eating anything put before him, enjoying the decadence of it all until it was time to giggle and slip away with Ephyra to spend the rest of the night.

A small part of him couldn't help but look back fondly on it. And, he thought, there were certainly far worse ways to spend an eternity, he thought. A part of him actually longed for the simplicity of the pleasures it would bring.

"I don't know," Circe said, her voice snapping him back to reality. He could feel her eyes on him so he turned to gaze at her as well. Her expression was curious as she looked at him. As if she didn't quite understand the thoughts she was having.

"And Ephyra?" Harry asked. He wondered if he should. Part of him dreaded the answer. The Nymph had been good company, a good distraction as it were. And he hoped his actions hadn't hurt her. She'd been asleep across the palace. She had to be fine.

"As best as I can tell she went back to her father's palace," Circe said. She lifted her hand from his and rested it in her lap. "A couple of her sisters dragged her out when they found out father was dead. They think their father will want revenge."

"Great," Harry sighed.

"Nothing will come of it," Circe said. "Poseidon and Oceanus, according to the gossip, have been at each other's throats for years. He'll be too busy feuding there to do anything about a brother he was indifferent to at best."

"Hopefully," Harry said. His thoughts shifted back to Ephyra, a pang of nostalgia flooding through him. His eyes wandered back around the room as he wondered if the last time he'd see her would be as he got out of bed and peer down at her back as he left the bedroom. Had he known what was to come he'd have said something to her, kissed her, anything.

Which was an odd thought as he had it, given that he didn't think he cared all that much for the Nymph. But, she'd been fun for a time. And it just felt like too much had been left unsaid. He ran a hand through his hair and turned his attention back to Circe. Her hands were in her lap, crumpled into fists and she was looking anywhere but at him.

"It won't," Circe said with such confidence that he had no choice but to believe her.

"I'm sorry about Ephyra," he said quietly. Memories of her reaction to finding out he'd slept with Phyllida flashed through his head. But all she did this time was squeeze his hand harder and look away from him.

"It's fine," she said.

"I," He started, but no words came. He wasn't sure where to take the conversation from there and was surprised when it was Circe who continued.

"She was. Well, she is, I guess. My friend. She used to visit me on the island before her father found out she was doing it. She always hated Scylla and was always friendly with me. She likes water plants," Circe said. Harry still found himself unsure of what to say.

He looked away from her, his eyes shifting to the corner of the room where something stood out to him. A couch was pushed into the corner near the vanity. A fuzzy blanket was strewn over it and one pillow rested at the end. And then something occurred to him.

"Wait, if this is your room, you're not sleeping on the couch are you?" he asked, his eyes flashing back to her. She looked startled by the question as her own gaze shifted toward the couch in the corner.

"Well I had been," she said.

"I'm sorry. I can move to a…" he started but she silenced him with a wave of her hand.

"No. I could have easily gone to another room as well. It just didn't seem prudent to leave you alone," she said.

"Oh," he responded, thinking she might have had a point with that. And if people were afraid of here now, that would have provided a great deal of protection itself. He raised his hand to scratch at his face, finding the stubble forming there to be annoying. But it did give him some idea of how long he was out for.

"You should take your potions," Circe said.

"What are these for?" he asked, sliding his hand under his chin and scratching.

"Just restorative draughts. One is for calories but I guess I could get you some food now that you're awake. Then the paste is for the burns. They're healed on the surface but the magic tends to linger inside. And, well, it feels good," Circe said.

"Oh, yeah, it does," Harry said. He felt his face flush as he admitted to it and felt parts of him stir under the blankets as he remembered just why he knew that. Circe again looked at everything but him.

"I'll get you something to eat," she said, standing and fleeing from the room. Harry closed his eyes and lay back against the pillows, wondering if he should have attempted to down some of the potions.

He must have fallen asleep as the next thing he remembered was her shaking him awake. He yawned as he opened his eyes. Again, his vision seemed blurry as the world came into focus around him.

"Is that bacon?" he said after inhaling deeply.

"Yes," she said, placing a plate of it on his lap. He sat up on her bed and grabbed a piece of it with his fingers, eating it in three bites. It didn't take him long to finish the plate. She offered him a goblet of water as soon as he did.

"Thanks," he said, sipping from it.

"I figured since you've had the potions while you slept you should at least be allowed something that tasted good," she shrugged.

"I agree with that," Harry said. He placed the goblet down on her bedside table and returned to her pillows, his hand again scratching at his face.

"Would you like me to get rid of that?" she asked.

"What?" he asked, not quite getting her meaning.

"The beard," she said. "Although it's a disservice to call it that."

"Cute," Harry rolled his eyes. "But sure, it itches. I normally do it with magic but if you want to."

"Sit up, scooch forward," she said.

"Uh, okay," he said, obeying her. The room spun a little as he sat up too quickly, but orienting himself only managed to distract himself from her crawling onto the bed behind him. She transfigured the goblet into a straight blade and one of the potions into a bowl of shaving cream and a brush. She summoned the mirror on the vanity over and it floated in front of him.

"Sit still," she said and he froze as he realized what she was doing. He watched her in the mirror as she carefully brushed the shaving cream onto his face and then flipped open the straight razor and went to work. It didn't take her more than a couple of minutes. She ran her hand gently across his face when she finished, sending a shiver down his spine.

"I could have done that myself," he said quietly, leaning gently back against her.

"But you shouldn't have to right now." she commented. She shifted her legs out and after a moment or two he found his head in her lap as she massaged his temples with the lightest of touches.

He stared up at her as she did so. She wasn't looking at him, instead choosing to peer out the empty window. Her lips curled downward into the slightest of frowns. There were dark bags underneath her eyes and the skin of her face seemed ever so slightly tear stained. He focused on the blemishes for a moment and then a thought struck him. He shouldn't have been able to pick out that much detail on her face. He still had no idea where his glasses were. Yet her face before him was clearer than he'd ever seen it before.

"Holy shit! I can see!" he shouted. He reached up to touch his face, to make sure his glasses weren't there. For a moment he could feel the phantom sensation of them on his face but his hand met only skin. His hand slid toward his eyes but Circe's slid down his face and moved it away.

"Don't touch," she said. "They're still healing."

"But my vision," Harry said, he let his eyes dart around the room, taking in everything. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed it sooner. While the blur was slowly fading, everything looked more precise. It was as if he had the perfect prescription on.

"It might not be permanent," Circe said. She leaned over him and reached her hand out, a small glass vial with a dropper top shot into her hand.

"What?" he blinked.

"Seth said the magic might over-correct and it may return to normal eventually after being healed. He told me to give you these drops when you woke up," she said, holding up the vial.

"Seth?" Harry asked.

"I reached out to him when you were injured," she admitted. "I didn't know if I could heal you. He actually laughed at me. The prick said as long as you were still breathing, you'd be fine."

"Uh, thanks for doing that," Harry said as he let his head rest back into her lap. He knew how much she disliked talking to the other man. Begging him for help must have made her feel like a total failure. But still, she'd done it for him.

"You're welcome. Now stay still," she said quietly. She slid her hand slowly up his face and pulled downward just below his left eye. He held it open for a moment but blinked before the first drop hit, causing it to deflect worthlessly off of his eyelid. She glowered at him and tried again. It took three attempts for the drop to finally land in his eye. The watery fluid blurred his vision more and he blinked against the irritant as she switched to his other eye.

Thankfully, she got that one on the first attempt. Harry blinked rapidly as the coolness from the drops spread through him. His vision grew blurry again but once he'd blinked away the excess water it seemed to focus even more so than it had before.

"Thank you," he said again. She nodded and they sat in silence for a few moments until she shifted him off of her lap.

"I do think you should try to get some sleep. I mean, I know you probably don't want to…but it's after midnight and Seth said you'd heal faster asleep than awake," Circe said.

"How long am I going to be on bedrest?" he asked.

"Knowing you? I suspect you'll get bored in the morning and get out of bed yourself, despite any healer's protest of your wellbeing. And then you'll have nothing better to do so you'll try to help," Circe said.

"Help with what?" Harry asked.

"I'm fixing what you and my father destroyed in the Atrium. It's slow going, things don't like to be restored after being melted by his magic," Circe said.

"I see," Harry said. She reached for a purple potion and offered it to him.

"This one will help you sleep," she said.

"Okay," he said, knowing better than to argue with her. He drank it down and immediately found the warmth of sleep started to overtake him.

"Sweet dreams," Circe whispered as she waved the candles away.

Harry tried to shake off the annoyingly groggy feeling of a drug-induced sleep as he woke the next morning. It took him the better part of fifteen minutes to work up strength to bother getting out of bed.

His eyes shifted to the corner of the room. The blanket and pillows had moved from the couch, but there was no other sign of Circe in her room.

It took him a moment to get to his feet. His limbs were stiff from being in bed too long, but it was a feeling he was perhaps alarmingly familiar with. He paced around the room for a few moments, just to make sure his arms and legs were obeying him.

His eyes gave him some trouble. Despite his vision being pristine, his brain still constantly told him he needed his glasses. So he found himself moving more cautiously, as if he couldn't see obstacles in his way, as he paced. And there was the strange feeling that his vision would improve even more if he were only able to find his glasses. He knew that wasn't how any of it worked, but the thought still lingered in his head.

He stepped into her bathroom and peered around. He didn't really intend to take a bath. But there it was, and the water felt incredibly wonderful. He mixed in some of her soaps and a familiar flowery aroma filled the room. He fell asleep in the water.

When he woke he felt better, his muscles more relaxed and less annoyed at being out of bed. The water was cool enough that he figured it best to climb out of the tub and attempt to start the day.

He spent a moment looking at himself in the mirror. She'd removed the bandages on his body at some point and he looked mostly normal. The definition he'd developed while training with Seth and Silverberry was still there. And his muscles all felt almost eager to be used.

He found some clean clothing left out on the nightstand and dressed before stepping out into the hallway. Three changes were apparent immediately.

First, rows of torches lined the hallway, all lit, providing a little illumination. Harry remembered thinking Helios had provided all the light in the building. He'd known that wasn't actually possible, but with the Titan out of the picture there seemed to be other sources of light in the palace.

Second, there were fewer people hanging around. Normally there would be people here and there, laughing or eating or anything. It had been rare that he'd been able to go somewhere without seeing someone. But now he walked down the hall without any indication of another living soul in the palace.

Third, it was much smaller. He could tell that right away. It appeared to be how it looked now, just four hallways with rooms surrounding an atrium. He closed his eyes and focused for a moment and there she was. He could feel her in the atrium, casting spells left and right, having a conversation with someone.

He walked straight to the atrium. He could feel her smile as soon as he entered the room. She turned to him and beamed, waving away one of the former servants as she focused on him.

"Feeling better?" she asked.

"Much," he said.

"Great," she responded, perhaps too brightly. She placed her hands on a melted column near him. "I was just trying to fix these columns."

"How can I help?" he asked.

"Are you sure you're up for it?" she countered.

"Nope. But I may as well try," he shrugged.

"Okay, But remember, they'll pounce on you if you seem weak," Circe said. "So just stop if you get worn out."

"Okay," Harry said, again thinking it best just not to argue. He walked over toward the pillar she was working on and started showing him the restorative spells she was using. They were difficult spells and had very little effect on the melted pillars. But after a few attempts, he started to see the stone turn back to its decorative shape.

They talked while they worked. Although the topics weren't of any importance. Harry hardly remembered most of them. He asked her why she was restoring the palace and she'd just shrugged her shoulders and said that it felt like the right thing to do, so she was doing it. It was her home, after all.

But she'd stumbled over the word. He could understand why. It was her home as much as Privet drive was his. But it got her talking. She talked about memories of growing up there. Of her return there after Seth, and of how her family treated her for most of her life. It wasn't a very happy conversation. But she smiled as she spoke, and the stories kept coming out.

They didn't stop until he pressed his forehead against one of the pillars and closed his eyes. It was only for a moment but that was all it took. Circe was next to him after an instant. And then they were at a long table in the atrium with food spread out before him. He ate quietly, observing the rest of the people who had stayed.

He didn't recognize most of them. Although he thought it looked like most of the serving staff as opposed to the revelers. There was limited conversation during the meal as most seemed only interested in keeping their distance from both he and Circe.

But, despite the tension and their qualms, she played the role of host perfectly, making sure that everyone had what they needed. After, with a full stomach and some alcohol in him, he found he was rather tired.

Before he really voiced that, Circe was leading him back to her bedroom. It was the safest, she said. And after how everyone skirted around him at the meal he thought she might be onto something. So he didn't protest.

The routine continued. He never saw her in her room. If she slept there, as she claimed, she came to bed long after him and left long before him. She was present everywhere else he went. She met him for breakfast, usually after he'd walk, or attempt to jog, around the palace for an hour or so, and they worked on something until lunch, which she served as well, and then they focused on restoring the atrium in the afternoon. Dinner followed and then bed shortly after.

It was, Harry thought, a fairly dull routine. It reminded him strangely of his time on Aeaea with her. Which, he had to admit, had probably been the dullest part of his journey so far. Except now she was more personable and more present. He always had the feeling she knew where he was and what he was doing now. Of course, she could have known that before and he was simply more attuned to it now. He didn't have to bother looking for her in his mind as she always seemed to be there.

Other faces started to show up as the days passed. He recognized none of them by sight, but a few by name. They all seemed quite interested in just what could have killed Helios, and oddly fascinated by Circe. They were pleasant to her face, and she was a gracious host. But when she wasn't there they referred to her as The Witch and openly opined what punishment would be in store for her for the death of her father.

Harry wondered if she knew how they talked about her. For a while he debated telling her about it. But part of him knew that she didn't need to be told. If he knew it, she knew it. And she had far more experience with dealing with these people than he did.

Again, he lost track of time. If asked, he would have sworn that the days were never quite the same length in the palace. Sometimes they seemed to flash by in instants, other times they seemed to be fifty hours long. He didn't know how long he'd been there. He didn't know how long it had been since he'd killed Helios. At first, he suspected others to show up and try to avenge the Titan. But as Circe had predicted, no one came looking for vengeance. And so that thought faded from his mind.

Eventually, they did finish the restoration of the palace. Harry finished the last pillar himself, tracing a hand over the flutes in it once it was done. Circe watched from afar as he completed the work but said nothing.

Harry peered around once it was done, an oddly empty feeling spreading through him. The work was done, he knew. And because of it, there was no reason for him to stay. Circe was home, she was safe. She'd made it clear before her abduction that those were her ultimate goals. And that she wasn't very interested in continual traveling with him. She was off her island and she had a place where she belonged. She would be fine.

But what of him? That thought concerned Harry. He didn't like to think about it. But it was something he had to think about now. He was half a millennium away from his home, from a place where he really belonged. And he'd spurned the chance to go back and instead had rushed off, against the advice of everyone around him, to rescue Circe.

And now he was stuck. The finality of that struck him. He had nowhere to go. He knew she'd let him stay. She was too good of a host to send him away. And she owed him at least that much. But did he want to? It wasn't his place. But it was slightly more appealing than living through the history of the world he already knew. Perhaps had Ephyra stayed he'd have been more interested.

He shook that thought from his mind. Yes, she would have certainly made the nights more fun. But he didn't feel any sort of deep connection for her. He longed for her presence for the physical comforts it would bring, not for anything else. But she would have been a companion to provide some color against the bleak monotony of the days.

After the evening meal he retired to Circe's room with the thought that it may be for the last time. He forced himself to stop thinking like that. He didn't want to dwell on it. He decided, as he stripped off his clothing and threw himself on the bed, that he should get some sleep before starting the next phase of the rest of his life.

He woke some time later as something shifted in the bed next to him. His sleep-addled mind not registering that the warm weight in the bed next to him should have been a concern. Instead he rolled onto his side and threw an arm around the body, his hand resting on her stomach, his ring finger tracing over her navel.

His first thought as he touched the familiar soft, warm, skin was of Ephyra. She must have returned. She tensed against him for a moment, as if surprised she woke him before her body started to relax against his. His hand traced upward, over the warm flesh of her stomach and the gentle swell of her bare breast before returning to her stomach.

His face pressed into her hair and inhaled. He did not catch the familiar scent of salt water and a warm day at the beach. His eyes opened wide as an earthier scent filled his nostrils. It reminded him of roots, herbs, potions and long afternoons gardening. He closed his eyes again, slamming them shut to see if his hunch was correct.

He could feel her there with him, sense her there. Her back pressing against his chest. He could feel his warmth against her, her warmth against him. She was there, with him, in his arms, in her bed. It took him a moment to formulate a thought.

"Circe…" he let her name linger in the darkness of the room. She tensed against him once more as he spoke, giving him the impression she did not wish to be in bed with him.

"Harry," she responded. Silence followed.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked.

"I wanted to," she responded.

"You made it quite clear you didn't want anything remotely like this not too long ago," he said. She didn't respond immediately. In fact, he half wondered if she'd fallen asleep before she finally spoke up once more.

"Things change," she said.

"The only thing that changed is that I killed your father," Harry said.

"I suppose," she said, letting her voice trail off in the darkness.

"You know how I feel," he said. "You come from a family adept at manipulating emotions. You've talked about how your brothers and sister often used it against you before you learned better. You don't want this. Why are you here?"

"I didn't use you," she started, but she fell silent. She shifted away from him slightly. Not enough to disentangle herself from him, but enough that their bodies no longer touched.

"What do you want?" he asked, trying his best to make his voice stern but not harsh.

"You," she said, her voice hitching as she spoke, a sniffle coming from her a moment later. The thought that he'd made her cry sent a pang through his chest. Although he had to wonder if they were crocodile tears.

"Circe," he started. But to his surprise she interrupted him, talking into the darkness of the room.

"I know what I said to you back in Italy. I know what happened before I was kidnapped. I know how I acted the entire time we were together. But honestly, Harry, I was happier than I can remember being in a very long time. I was free. And despite my best efforts to prevent it, we had fun. I knew you were falling for me. I was the only woman around. It was to be expected. But I'm so much older than you. And you know what I am. I didn't see a way that it could work out," she said. She sniffed again, swallowing hard and taking a moment to compose herself.

"You're saying you lied to me," he said. Of course, he'd always known that.

"I did," she admitted. "I thought it would be easier. I thought if we were involved that it would end poorly and it would ruin any friendship we had or any chance of getting you home. And I know what you did to come here. And I know that you did it for me. Despite the fact that I broke your heart, and that I hurt you. Your first instinct was to try to protect me. To save me. I didn't think you actually loved me. I didn't think you even knew what that word meant. But you gave up everything to come after me. And you didn't even hesitate to do so. And I had to ask myself if maybe I was the one who didn't understand what it meant."

"I'd never let anything hurt you," he said. "And you gained your home back."

"What?" she asked.

"You're in charge of the palace. You're home," he said.

"This isn't my home, Harry. This isn't even really where I grew up. It's my family's house. I don't have any real connections here past that," Circe said.

"You seem to be adapting nicely to being in charge," he said. She snorted. He made a mental note to save the memory.

"Raised well, I guess. By someone else," she said. "But you're distracting me."

"You're naked with your ass practically pressing against me and I'm the distracting one?" he asked. She tensed again and shifted ever so slightly away from him.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"Don't be," he said, pulling her back toward him. To his surprise she let him and some of the tension seemed to fade from her body. She wiggled against him in an attempt to be more comfortable. "Keep talking."

"There isn't really anything more. I just, well, I know you love me. And that thought scared me. But now it doesn't. Now I'm ready to admit it back. I love you. My home is where you are. And I will gladly devote myself to getting you back to yours if it means I can be with you," Circe said.

"Circe," Harry said. He pressed his face into her hair once more to try to brush that thought from his head. It had the opposite effect.

"I'm serious, Harry," she said. And then as if to prove her point she rolled onto her back and pulled him onto her. He stared into her eyes in the darkness of the room. They glowed ever so slightly gold and looked wet, like she was fighting against tears. She bit her bottom lip nervously as she looked up at him. "I want you. If you want me I'm yours. Forever."

He didn't respond. At least not with words. None came to him. Instead he lowered his head, slowly, as if he was afraid any quick movement would spook her. Until his lips were on hers.

It started slow. A mere brush of his lips to hers. He hesitated, half expecting to feel a knife slide into his ribs, or his body to be transfigured around him into some animal form. But those options never came. Instead her soft arms wrapped around him, her fingers tracing over his skin.

It spurred him on. He deepened the kiss and she responded in kind. She tasted of fruits and chocolate and he lost himself in her lips. He could feel her pressing against him as her lips met his.

He kissed her until she slipped her lips from him, tilting her head away from his. She was panting softly in the darkness and he resisted the urge to quip about cardio fitness. He didn't want to stop kissing her so he just shifted to her neck. He thought she might have said something, or tried to, but all that came out was a pleasured gasp.

Whatever the noise was, he quickly decided that he wanted to hear it more so he explored every inch of her to coax it out again and again. It didn't take him long to figure out just what brought such wonderful responses out of her.

He didn't know how many times he kissed her or caressed her or for how long he teased her. He lost himself in the joy of simply doing it, of tasting her, of pleasing her. He was kissing her navel when she slid her hands into his hair and pulled him back to her lips.

Her legs hooked around him as she kissed him. He pressed himself against her, letting his weight rest on her as they continued to kiss. It didn't take long for her to pull away from him. Her eyes were filled with longing as they locked onto his. She opened her mouth to speak but he silenced her with a kiss, keeping his eyes on hers.

He did that three more times, until she looked completely besides herself. When he thought for sure she would hex him if he didn't move on he lifted himself to look into her eyes. Even in the darkness of the room he could see the flush on her skin. He stared into her eyes until her lips parted once more and then he pressed into her.

She squealed, her eyes going wide in surprise as her nails dug into his skin and raked down his back. Her lips flew to his neck and she bit him harder than he would have expected. He waited until her lips left his neck and then he kissed her again as he started to move.

It was slow but perhaps not as gentle as he should have been. He savored every moment of it, watching her, teasing her more, and loving her.

After, they lay in a heap on the center of her bed, having managed to get underneath at least one of the blankets. Her head was resting on his chest, her hair fanned out around him, an arm thrown around the rest of him. He had an arm wrapped around her, his hand resting on the small of her back as two of his fingers ran in a gentle circle over her skin.

"That was," She sighed into the darkness.

"Amazing," he said.

"Mmm," she agreed. He closed his eyes and enjoyed her warmth on him. He thought he should have said more. But no words came to him. Unfortunately, neither did sleep. He slid his hand up and down her back gently, enjoying the closeness and the soft feeling of her rhythmic breath on his chest.

"Circe?" he whispered, fully expecting her to be asleep. But she shifted slightly against him and responded.

"Yes Harry?" she asked.

"Should we maybe talk about what we just did?" he asked.

"Yes," she responded. She shifted against him, burying her face in the crook of her neck. "But it can wait until morning."

"Okay," he said, finding himself more content than he had in a very long time. And exhausted as well. He closed his eyes and sighed happily when one final thought came to him. One last thing he should say.

"Circe?" he whispered again. She pressed harder into his neck in a way that reminded him of when he tried to get away with not waking up in the morning.

"Hmm?" she intoned sleepily.

"I love you," he said.

"Love you too," she mumbled. She stretched against him for a moment before burrowing back into his neck. He closed his eyes, feeling like a weight had been lifted from him as he let sleep take him.

It seemed to take him longer to wake in the morning, memories of the night before coming to him. A deep breath brought a familiar scent to his nostrils. He turned his head and felt strands of hair tickle his nose.

They were spooning. He wasn't quite sure when their positioning changed but he didn't mind. He tightened his arm around her. She stirred against him as he did.

"Morning," she whispered.

"Morning," he responded. He kissed the top of her head before adding. "I could get used to this."

"Me too," she said. She reached back with one hand and traced her nails over his bare shoulder and arm.

"Do we have to get out of bed?" he asked.

"I'm comfortable," she said.

"Me too," he agreed.

"We will have to get up eventually though," Circe said.

"Mmm," Harry agreed.

"Although, you were the one who wanted to talk about it," she said.

"I guess I did," he said. She didn't say anything but her hand rested on his arm, the warmth of it feeling quite wonderful on his bicep. "Did you mean it?"

"Of course," she said instantly. A thousand questions flashed through his head, a thousand things he wanted to ask her. But the words didn't come. One thing though, one word, stuck out from the night before. And that word came to his lips.

"Forever?" he asked. He wondered if the word had a different meaning to the two of them. He knew she was thousands of years older than him, that she'd been alive through eras that, despite his seeing them, he'd never understand.

"Forever," she agreed and he couldn't help but wonder if maybe their definitions weren't as different as he assumed. He was silent then, losing himself in thought as his qualms slowly melted away. He was interrupted only by a complaint from his stomach.

"Breakfast in bed?" she asked.

"No," Harry sighed. "As much as I hate to say it, I think we should get up."

"I guess," she sighed. But she stretched and did disentangle herself from him as she slid out of bed. He lingered in it, taking the time to admire her nude form as she moved around the bedroom. She seemed to notice and then played up to his gaze before slipping into the bathroom. He just barely resisted the urge to follow her.

They walked to the atrium together for breakfast. He noticed she'd left her hair down and he vaguely recalled saying he preferred it that way, and wore a loose peplos that he'd recalled leering at on multiple occasions.

They spent most of the day together on one of the couches in the atrium. A few of the nymphs came up to Circe to ask questions or chat during the day. They all seemed a little bit hesitant around Harry, but he kept to himself and they had their conversations with Circe. Some seemed interested in how the palace was going to run, some asked her permission for things in the palace.

It was shortly after dinner that she led him back to her bedroom to spend the rest of the night. Not that he was complaining. And they settled into a routine for the next week or so. She spent most of her days running the palace. He grew restless far more quickly than he would have expected.

After the restoration work was done he needed something else to keep his interest. At first he focused on figuring out exactly how he'd sustained Helios's attack. He found he could focus his magic around himself and it would diffuse almost any spell cast on him. After a few days of practice he realized he did it almost constantly without even being fully aware of it. And that his power seemed far easier to draw than he remembered it. Seth's words about limits once again rang through his mind.

When he brought it up to Circe she'd said he'd been doing it more or less since she encountered him in Sorrento, and she assumed it was a trick Seth showed him. Thinking too hard about that, though, brought up more questions than answers so he tried to find something else to do

That led him to Helios's chariot and he started to figure out exactly how it worked.

It took him a few days, but he did eventually crack it. He took it for a brief spin around the cavern one evening before dinner. He'd only almost crashed it three times when he decided that was probably enough for one day. He flew it past Circe as he brought it in to land. She managed to look both annoyed and amused as he weaved far too close to one of the columns. He saw her head toward the atrium as he landed and he hopped off of the chariot to follow her. His only thought being that maybe an eternity here wouldn't be that bad.

He was halfway to the atrium when he noticed it. The shimmering light distracted him first and he turned his gaze to the main entry of Helios's palace and there it was, floating a few feet off the ground. He stopped in his tracks. He could feel it then, and he wondered how he hadn't felt it long before.

The portal lit up the cavern almost as much as Helios had while he was alive. Harry immediately felt himself drawn to it. He could see images in it. A city in the evening hours played out before him. He recognized the models of cars and the clothing on the people moving around inside it and a pang shot through his chest.

Home. His time. It was all there before him. Exactly like the last portal that he'd run from except a slightly different destination. But this one he didn't have to run from. He could step through it and he could be back at Hogwarts within hours. He could see all of his friends again. He could be home.

"Harry?" Circe asked behind him. And thoughts of home vanished from his mind. He turned to see her walking toward him. Her eyes focused on the portal. "Is that?"

"Yes," he answered. "It seems like it's from my time as well. I could go home."

"Wow," she said. And he knew that she, like him, thought that missing the last portal had closed the loop, that he'd missed his only chance. She stepped up next to him and stared into the shimmering silver land before her.

"I'm not going to go," he said. She turned and looked at him, her brows furrowed as she looked up at him.

"Why not?" she asked. "You can go home."

"You're here," he said. It was the simplest answer he could come up with. But it was the truth. He knew it as soon as he said it. While he still longed for his friends and his home. He didn't think he could leave her again.

"And soon we'll be there," she said, looking toward the portal.

"But this is your home," he said. "You shouldn't leave. This is where you belong."

"I already told you, Harry," she started, sounding rather annoyed as she spoke. "This isn't my home. My home is with you."

"But," he started but she ignored him. She took his hand and pulled him toward the portal. He stumbled for the first step but recovered quickly. And after two more steps he entered the portal, with Circe at his side.


Author's Note: As always thanks for reading and reviewing I do appreciate every comment I receive. If you'd like to support me more the next to chapters of Ithaca already live on my PAT RE ON at TE7writes.

Thanks again!