Harry twiddled his wand between his fingers, the fine wood moving smoothly across his knuckles as he rolled it over his hand. Catch. Roll. Catch. Propped up on his pillows, his back against the wall, Harry was bored. Insomnia had him in his clutches and was refusing to let him go.

"Kateru-yo!"(1) Liandrel shouted at the gaggle of children rubbernecking in the small, half-toppled shanty. The din quieted immediately, but after a time, began to slowly increase. He pushed his way past into the nexus of the crowd and bent down. The painted form on a Derenokor soldier was collapsed on the ground, the blue paint covering his body purpled in places with blood. Several slits pierced his center mass, though by the shallow breath still clouding over his body, not through his lungs.

"Qidan verukai-an I?"(2) he barked and a large boy unfolded himself from several feet away. Despite his height, the roundness of his face belied his young age. He clutched in a quivering hand a bloody, roughly hewn dagger. Red dripped down his thin, sinewy arms as he held up the dagger for Liandrel.

Liandrel pulled the bit of metal out of the boy's hands and threw it to the ground, kneeling down and tracing a finger over the wound hovering above the man's hip. He rubbed his thumb over the offending slice and it glowed briefly faint yellow. Blood shot up from the wound as the edges began to come together, sealing flawlessly. Another cut, another wound sealed, until all four of them were gone.

The man's eyes fluttered open for a bit and Liandrel picked up the dagger, pointing it at his neck. "Demo... im penso ka eram c'e manem vaer. Suvare."(3) The man looked strangely at him with wild eyes, his fingers going to the stab wounds that were no longer there. "Ma..." he stuttered, staring at Liandrel as if trying to divine some reason for his actions.

"Vaer-yo. Suvare,"(4) Liandrel shouted fiercely, jabbing forward. The soldier scrambled backwards out from under the dagger's point, got to his feet and ran as commanded. He got to his feet, running a hand through his hair as he huffed a heavy sigh. He tossed the dagger to the ground and took a good, hard look at the children surrounding him. They looked up at him with confusion in their large and variously colored eyes. His shoulders fell as he waved an arm; the children scattered back to their homes. He stared into the distance, the rural village spread on the plains, people untouched by the war. The wind blew through him like a mother's embrace, swirling around his body and warming him from the inside.

-cut-

"Ai malan! Im teloim jasaet'h"(5) Liandrel shouted as he stepped through the doorway into the house. He smiled as the pitter-patter of feet rounded the open corridor and barreled towards him. The three blonde children all lifted into the air and crashed into him, Liandrel falling back on the dirt. He laughed as the three troublemakers, all barely the height of his hips, detangled themselves from his long limbs and scurried away, giggles echoing behind them.

"At-tare, malan,"(6) a voice as smooth and rich as vanilla sounded. Liandrel smiled as his wife offered him a hand up. He took it and stood, weaving his fingers between hers and kissing her passionately. She broke away and lead him down through the maze of clay into the open- aired kitchen. Numerous women and men of varied ages pounded meal and roasted meat over low fires. A few of the more elderly persuasion washed spotted leaves and purple roots in the stream that breezed past.

She drifted away from him, bending over the shoulder of a woman who looked much like herself, who was grinding in a mortar some green sprigs. Liandrel looked fondly on his wife. Somarae whispered something into her sister's ear and the two of them giggled. Liandrel found himself leaning against the doorframe as she sauntered back towards him, her long blonde ringlets shaking to the tune of her narrow hips.

-cut-

The ground lay in broken pieces around him, the sea of endless bodies making the ground look like some strange mosaic. He looked up from one of the dead bodies and saw her, standing over him, that great scythe glittering in the sunset.

Liandrel stood up, letting the man's hand drop from his. His eyes drew level with hers, long tendrils of blood caked, indigo hair blowing lightly in the wind over her still bright blue- painted form. She didn't wear metal armor- Derenokor soldiers refused it- but the slices ripped across the heavy leather of her long, armless tunic didn't reveal blood or skin. She was giving him a hard and appraising stare. Her scythe, dripping with the blood of the 50 continent soldiers dead in the valley around them.

She snaked a hand out and clasped a thumb and forefinger around the chain of polished tan stones around his neck, examining them. They were almost transparent, letting the dark brown cord color the beads in a stripe. Healer beads. She looked back up at Liandrel, who's face was stony. His pale brown eyes were trying their best not to look worried. Her face didn't soften as she dropped the string of beads. Using the large scythe as a pivot, she turned and began to walk away, up hill. When she reached the top, she turned around, a dark figure against the dying light of day. The ground exploded beneath him.

Ron jolted from his sleep and promptly fell out of bed, taking the majority of the sheets along with him. "Ron?" Harry called, stopping the incessant twirling and peering over the bed. Ron groaned, picking himself off of the floor and out of his blankets. He walked around his bed to the armoire and pulled open the doors. Picking out a small vial off of the shelf within, he went back to the bed.

"What are you doing up?" Ron asked, finally noticing Harry. Harry shrugged and returned back to spinning his wand over his hand. He caught it deftly and pointed it at the door. He spun it over the palm of his hand and pointed it again. Ron wrinkled his forehead at the demonstration, but said nothing. He lifted the vial to eye's height and picked up his wand from the side table.

"Bad dream?" Harry asked. Ron's hand froze, then dropped back down to his side. His shoulders slumped. "Memories, I think. Bloody strange, but at least these were sort of linear. Lots of dead people. And children. But it wasn't anything I hadn't seen before- it was just... organized better." Ron sat back against the wall, his head in thought, and a smile crept onto his face. Harry frowned.

"Go to bed, Harry." Ron said and Harry rolled his eyes. "Here, drink it," Ron offered Harry the vial in his hand.

"Isn't that supposed to work only for you?" Harry asked, giving Ron a sideways look. Ron examined the dark swirling liquid. "Nah, I think it's just supposed to work better for me than anyone else. It couldn't hurt, right?" Ron said. Harry shrugged and took it. Ron got up and fetched himself another vial. He tapped the top of it with his wand and the round bubble of glass at the top fell away. Harry mimicked the action.

"Cheers, Harry," Ron smirked and clinked his glass with Harry's. "We are pathetic. Toasting glasses of sleeping draught..." Harry grumbled and downed the contents. Within moments, the two of them were asleep.

"Rough night?" Ron asked over his cup of tea. He was slumped back in his chair at the head of the dining room table. Both Fred and George nudged each other as a very rumpled Percy slid into a chair. Percy poured himself a cup of tea from the pot and dumped the remaining sugar from the small bowl into his tea. He threw the entire cup back and slammed his head onto the table.

"Aren't they all," Percy replied, annoyed and still face down on the table cloth. Ron furrowed his eyebrows. "That was quite a bender you and Esme went on, Perce. Didn't know you had it in you- practically cleaned the house out of spirits," George congratulated, slapping Percy on the back. "Our little Percy- they grow up so fast," Fred sniffled, wiping an imaginary tear from under his eyes. Ron rolled his eyes and Percy snorted.

"I could fix you up some Hangover Joe?" Charlie asked, coming in from the kitchen with a glass of pumpkin juice. He slid in next to Percy, trying to restrain a grin.

"I'm not hung over. I can't get hung over. I'm just very, very exhausted. Do we have anything slightly more caffeinated?" Percy inquired dryly, propping his head on one bent arm. "You can't get hung over? That's quite a trick," Charlie said, slightly in awe.

"You should see the key through the hand," Ron remarked offhandedly and Percy gave him a daggered look. "Not bloody likely," Percy grumbled, pushing himself back from the table and making his way to the kitchen. "Come on, it's a good trick!" Ron called as Percy swung into the kitchen.

The door swung back open immediately. "That is not even in the least bit funny, Ronald, and you'd do well... Mum," Percy's monotone ground to a halt as he spied Molly walking down the corridor towards the kitchen. Percy pulled his wand from his pocket and ducked into the kitchen.

"Mum, I'm so sorry about last night," Percy apologized as the door to the dining room swung shut behind him. The corner's of Molly's mouth twitched up and she waived her hand at him. "Dear, don't be ridiculous. You were pissed, which I only hope is something that doesn't happen often," Molly replied, but she didn't catch Percy's eyes. Percy frowned and swung in front of her on her path to the icebox.

"Mum... I..." Percy trailed off, and bit his lip. "I wasn't... well, pissed. Tipsy, maybe, but not drunk. I was angry and deliberately being a bastard and I'm sorry. I had no right to accuse you and Dad of being bad parents- you've been the best parents I could have asked for," Percy trailed off. He took a breath and he had his Head Boy look back on. "You took me in when you needn't have and have shown me nothing but infinite patience and concern... I was stupid. I'm sorry," Percy apologized again.

"Taken you in when I needn't have- what kind of talk is that?" Molly asked, her voice a bit strangled. "Percy..." Molly sighed exasperatedly. She took his hand and pulled him to kitchen table, two seats sliding out to greet them.

"I've always tried..." Molly began and stopped. "Percy. I know you've always felt you've been on the sidelines of this family, and I know your brothers certainly haven't helped the situation, but honestly, the line of thought you're carrying on is ridiculous. You seem to think there was some kind of option in getting you back and that we only did it to be nice." Percy opened his mouth to say something, but closed it and glared mildly at the table legs.

"There was no question in the matter, you stupid boy," Molly shouted, slamming her hand down on the table. Percy jumped at least four feet in his chair. Molly glared at him, not angrily, but with pity. "I love you, Percy," she said softly, taking one of his hands in her own. Percy rolled his eyes. "I know that, mum..." Percy started but as he caught his mother's eyes, the words dried up in his throat.

"Sometimes, I don't know if you do," Molly said. "I won't lie to you Percy: we've been on a difficult road, you and I," she remarked, leaning back in her chair. She didn't have to say anything else; her eyes held all of the guilt and inability she felt, balanced precariously as tears.

The two of them, with Percy's hand still grasped in Molly's, sat at the kitchen table. Seemingly caught in memories, they were silent for several minutes- the only sound echoing in the kitchen was the bare echo of Molly's thumb rasping against the wrist of Percy's white dress shirt as she worried the top of his hand. "You know," he broke the silence, looking up from the floor to him mum. "I don't think I turned out too bad. All things considered."

A smile cracked on Molly's face. "You think so?" she teased and matching smile cracked on Percy's face. "I'm not usually wrong," he shot back, his back straightening a bit in the chair. Molly nearly snorted. "Then it must be true," she said simply, rising from her chair. She dipped down to plant a kiss on Percy's forehead before releasing his hand and going to the stove.

"Good morning, Esme," Ginny said cheerfully as she went into the restroom. Esme flushed gently pink in her heavy black robe, and returned the greeting. Ginny pulled a comb from the drawer under the sink and began running it through her hair, the carroty strands shimmering in the day light breaking through the high window. Esme was quiet as she traced her lips with a light shimmer, stealing glances over to Ginny.

"You're sure getting dolled up," Ginny said conversationally and Esme blushed deeper. She put the lip gloss back into the small, green plaid bag, but said nothing as she pulled out an eye pencil and jabbed it under the lens of her glasses, tracing her lower lids with it. "Eyeliner... someone is dressing to impress," she smirked, putting her comb back and grabbing her toothbrush. Esme was having trouble blushing any harder, but she backed away from the vanity and took off the robe.

"How do I look?" Esme asked innocently. She wore a gauzy black skirt that floated and swirled just at the top of her calves and a brilliant, red silk strapless top that clung to her waist. The short, black velvet riding jacket had the collar turned up so it framed her pale, unadorned neck. Ginny raised an eyebrow and whistled under her breath. "You might kill him," Ginny replied, chuckling.

Esme looked genuinely confused for about a moment. Once realization hit, she gasped and snapped the cloak back around her body. "Oh! NO, no, no... really?" Esme stopped, opening the robe and taking a good look in the mirror. She cocked her head to one side in heavy examination, then shut the robe and shook her head. She twisted her hair and clipped it to the back of her head. "Dad is getting me out of the house. I don't know where we're going, but I found this get-up hanging up in my closet, so I figured I'd better put it on," Esme explained, running a finger around her lips and wiping the excess gloss on her work robe.

Ginny guffawed, decorating the mirror with flecks of toothpaste, which the mirror had something to say about. "Snape picked that out?" she asked incredulously, giving an apologetic look to the mirror, who sniffed snottily. Esme snorted. "Are you kidding me? He probably had some sales clerk put it together- you've seen my father's style. Runs heavily into black- late gothic, early crypt. Although, the thought of my father going into a muggle clothing store is hilarious by itself."

Ginny spit out the remainder of her toothpaste into the sink and washed her mouth out. "Well, still. Percy's eyes are going to fall out of his head. In fact, I might steer clear of all my brothers at that."

Esme put her hand down on the counter and sighed. "I can't believe how embarrassing I behaved last night... if he doesn't think I'm some cheap... maybe I should change?" Esme sighed again and stood back up. A smile bloomed on her face.

"You know Ginny... I've got some lipstick that would look great on you," Esme said, her voice full of potential. Ginny gave her a strange look. "Well, there are two gentlemen on the premises who you happen to not be related to. Harry: dark, mysterious, tortured; and Neville: shy, caring, quirky," Esme laughed, pulling the black cylinder out of her bag and ripping off the top. Ginny rolled her eyes and Esme pouted. "Hey! Turn about is fair play! Snarky comments about Percy mean you get snarky comments about Harry and Neville. It's only fair."

When Esme came downstairs a few minutes later, she found Percy still in the kitchen with Molly. They had now been joined by Charlie and Neville, who were rehashing last night's Arrows game. Percy was drinking a rather large mug of coffee at the counter while Molly was dumping cut chunks of carrot into a large stew pot. "Percy?" Esme called out from the door.

Percy looked up from his mug. "Esme, you're looking well this morning," Molly said cheerfully, turning from the cutting board. Esme gave her a small smile and motioned Percy out of the room. Percy put down his cup and followed her out.

"How are you feeling, Esme?" Percy asked, a bit timid. Esme didn't answer him, but looked avidly up and down the hall. She grabbed his hand and dragged him past the dining room and stairs to the library and shut the door. She nailed it with a locking charm and took a deep breath.

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night," Esme quickly recited. Percy sat on one of the tables and looked at her oddly. "What for?" he inquired. Esme fiddled with her work robe and leaned back against the door. She looked up.

"I nearly drank my body weight in spirits, had a nervous breakdown, passed out, woke up and did it again. Lather, rinse, repeat! I can't even imagine what you must think of me right now," Esme grumbled, balancing her head in one hand. Percy opened his mouth to speak but Esme sighed, cutting him off. She started to stalk back and forth across the door.

"I'm really not like this all the time. I'm a nice, stable person," she shouted, exasperated. "I'm not some basket case who has a meltdown every time You-Know-Who is mentioned and then drains the entire house of alcohol before physically assaulting..." Esme trailed off, stopping in front of a book case and sliding down it. "I'm sorry," she muttered, drawing her robe around her knees. She looked up and sighed. "This little demonstration isn't helping my case, either."

Percy slid off of the table and crouched down in front of her. "Do you feel better now?" he asked. Esme looked up at him and shrugged. "Better? Not particularly. Mainly embarrassment. And stupidity. Which I suppose is an improvement over last night," she replied dryly. Percy chuckled and pulled her up to a standing position.

"You know, last night I wasn't entirely sober myself. In fact, for several whole minutes, the words 'severely inebriated' come to mind," Percy explained. Esme was looking down at her hands, which were still in Percy's grasp. He didn't seem to notice; but he did notice the words that just came out of his mouth and visibly winced. "That's not what I wanted say," he added quickly. The slight blush that was creeping from his collar added to his rumpled look.

Esme looked up from her hands to Percy. Her green eyes looked large, simply outlined in dark brown pencil, the lashes long- Percy could drown in them. He bit his bottom lip and his vision refocused. "You look really nice today, Esme," he remarked suddenly. Esme looked down- the ensemble underneath her robes were hidden almost completely from view. When she looked back up to contradict him, Percy was glaring over her shoulder.

"Don't let us bother you," Fred joked from the door frame. Esme turned around and saw Fred, George and Charlie standing in the doorway, with matching smirks on their face. Esme's face blossomed red. She looked back at Percy, who wore a very sly grin. "Right," he said simply. He let go of Esme's hands and pounced forward.

"Damn my eyes!" George shouted playfully as Fred and Charlie lobbed cat-calls in their direction. Esme's eyes flickered open slightly, a devious look in her eyes. She launched herself forward, toppling Percy to the ground, the kiss unbroken. "Woah..." Charlie whistled low and the library door slammed shut. "What!? It was just getting good!" they could hear Fred holler from the hallway.

Esme rolled off of Percy and the two lay side by side for half a second in silence. Then they both burst into laughter. "chuckle, chuckle That was perfect- you couldn't possibly have played that better," Percy laughed, rolling onto his side and clutching his stomach. Esme giggled. "It was too good an opening, I had to take it. giggle Did you get a good look at Charlie's face?"

Percy laughed even harder. "I thought his eyes were going to shoot out of his head! And Fred and George... I think this is the closest thing to a prank I've ever gotten on them," he exclaimed. The two of them fought to sit up on the hard wood floor.

"Oh I don't think I'll ever hear the end of this, will I?" Esme chuckled, primly wiping the corners of her eyes. "Well, I think I just went up in everyone's standings," Percy replied, smiling. Esme rolled her eyes. "Then it was all worth it, was it? Now I'm a raging alcoholic AND a cheap tart. Yay for me!" Esme cheered, taking off her robe and flapping her hands in front of her face, trying to get some air. She got to her feet and took off the jacket and sat down on a table, gripping the sides as she tried to shake the lasts of the laughs out of her.

Percy almost choked on his tongue.

He got up slowly and stood in front of Esme, leaning forward so that his hands covered hers on the table. "Not cheap," he smirked. Esme laughed but was interrupted when Percy snaked a hand along her jaw line. Esme looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

"You don't have anything to be sorry about," he said and Esme couldn't meet his eyes. He could feel Esme's hand tense under his, threatening to clench right through the table. She looked up, a sad look on her face. "Percy, I..."

The thought in her head dissolved as Percy captured her lips tenderly with his own.

Author's Notes: Hooray! Done! I ran out of motivation half way through the chapter and I managed to get it back last night, so here is it. Yay! Love and kisses to db, Miss Piratess and my chocolate- loving fiend, Schizo13.

Also... if you're reading this story, Wild Spirit of Darkness2, thanks for reviewing Jumper. I can't believe it's been 3 years since I wrote that and I honestly don't know how you came upon it, but thanks!

Translations of above wordage (although I think the intent is obvious):

1. Shut up!

2. Who did this?

3. Hmmm... I think you should run. Now.

4. Run. Now.

5. Oh honey, I'm home!

6. Welcome back, dear.