This chapter was betaed by the wonderful brissygirl to provide a smoother reading experience. All remaining mistakes are my own. See first chapter for disclaimers/additional warnings/summaries.

RECAP: In the aftermath of the rooftop incident, everyone is gathering themselves together. Theo asks Ithycar for help with a missing Hermione, last seen in the Hellhound's area. Harry and Co. are taken under the Peverell's protections after Ihtycar's request. A clan war has started between the Deveraines and the Guantrells. Relieved to have Ithycar back with them, the Deveraines gather themselves together for their next big move. Harry and Co. prepare to meet the Peverell Submissive, Cora.

HARRY AND CO. : PEVERELL MAIN ESTATE, GUEST ROOMS : NEVARAH : THE HUNT, Day 2

Vincent came to collect them in time for dinner. He graciously explained that it was an informal event and promised that Henry and Cora would be present. Word had already been sent to the Peverell Clan head about Harry and the requested Seal Removal Ceremony. They would now be waiting until it was approved and the Clan Head came to visit them personally. Any lingering details would be handled in-house by Henry or Lewis, depending on Harry.

This was agreeable news to the trio and Theo's irritation simmered down a few more notches, as he thanked Vincent for the news and made sure all of them were presentable for dinner.

Harry patiently endured the minor fussing, partially because it was somewhat adorable when Theo did it and also because he didn't have the eye to do it himself. Theo—and Charlie, to some degree—both seemed to at least catch a few things ahead of him when it came to turning out well-pressed and dressed.

Charlie smothered a smile when Theo's fussing turned to him, but the warmth in his eyes betrayed a fondness that had now recently surfaced.

Once satisfied that they were perfectly fine, according to his standards, Theo then took the lead. Harry fell into step behind him, with Charlie bringing up the rear.

Lewis was nowhere to be found, but Vincent, was polite enough as he led them through the corridors. He had fixed Harry with a considering glance at first, then begun to explain the different hallways and networking of their floating home.

It was a series of magically linked rooms that led back to their original home. It afforded them the privacy of being close enough to the Hunt to enjoy the social aspect, but without requiring too much interaction on land.

Finishing his explanation of the portals, Vincent asked them to be mindful of the hallways with portal stones in the doorways, signaling that they were off-limits as being personal quarters for a specific Circle or Bonded.

Charlie frowned. "So there's—more than you—here?" He faltered. "Er, that did not come out the way I wanted it to." He ducked his head, sheepishly. He'd been sensing various magical presences, but hadn't seen anywhere near enough dragels to reason it out properly.

Vincent smiled, faintly. "There are several Peverell Circles present," he said, proudly. "Our own, rather, those of us belonging to Henry and Cora, we mostly reside in the western section on this end of the estate." He hesitated. "We would have moved your guest rooms closer to our quarters, but I'm afraid on such short notice, it's a bit difficult to do so."

"The rooms are fine," Charlie said, quickly. "They're really very nice."

"The grounding runes help," Harry added. He had missed the extra feeling of security that had vanished the moment they'd exited the specially prepared guest room. It irritated him to think that he'd often felt so at home in the air—whether on his broom or that fateful flight on Buckbeak—and now, the thought of calmly existing in midair threw him off balance.

"You will grow used to it," Vincent said, simply. "You have Peverell blood in you, air agrees with you on a level that most can only dream of."

Theo scowled at that, but didn't say anything. A beat later, he was lagging behind yet another few steps so that Charlie and Harry were definitely in front of him.

Harry tried and failed to ignore that little detail. Theo's suspiciousness was putting him on edge, but it was tempered with Charlie's perpetually calm nature and that was confusing. He resolved to find a way to weasel an answer out of his Theo at the next possible opportunity. If something was wrong, then he wanted to know about it.

Particularly to know sooner than later. There was more than enough trust between them now—what few secrets they'd shared had certainly eased things in their relationship and Harry wasn't about to let it change for the worst.

They arrived at the dining room, a lovely, enclosed room with no outside windows, decorated with flowers and varying shades of blue and white. It was lit with neat rows of glowing sconces along the ceiling and in spite of the lack of visible windows, the air was fresh and clean.

At the center of the room was a formal dining table of light-colored marble and matching chairs with gently sloped backs and intricate carvings along the sides. Pale, marbled cushioned seats finished off the effect of the table appearing like a giant, cloud, against the blue of the walls.

Vincent ushered them to the chairs and tapped his hands over the table for the proper silver and tableware to surface. The table's plain surface rippled for a moment, as the place settings emerged in perfect coordination. A silvery vase of brightly colored flowers materialized in the center.

Charlie had to smile at watching everything wink into existence, almost the same way it had done at Hogwarts. Old memories. Good ones. Bad ones. Still memories. He studiously pushed them away; they needed to focus on Harry now.

Sharp golden eyes caught his and Charlie made himself smile, surprised that it was easier to do than he'd expected. Theo didn't seem fooled, but he didn't call him out on it. He had a feeling they'd be talking sometime in the future—the kind of conversation that he wasn't sure he was ready for—yet. Then again, Theo was hiding secrets of his own and Charlie wanted to know what it was.

If something had Theo on edge, then it was likely important. Theo had been far too careful and precise in the time that Charlie had known him, to think that it was an accident.

Sure, there were a few unguarded moments, but the wariness that hung around the younger man was too achingly familiar for Charlie to ignore. It was the same kind of maturity he'd discovered in Harry, shortly after their first meeting.

As if there were an old, tired man hidden behind the youthful façade of a magical teenager.

Yes. Definitely something that needed to be explained and explored. Charlie tucked those thoughts away for later, tuning into the surrounding conversation in time to hear Vincent's next words.

"Cora will be here in a minute," Vincent said, checking his watch, after another beat of silence. "She's usually on time," he muttered, half to himself. "A moment…" he excused himself, hurrying out of the dining room.

Theo made a sound in throat and shifted in his seat, almost as if he expected the room to turn against them the moment that Vincent left.

That detail touched a nerve on Harry and he rounded on Theo at once, fully intending to make the most of the moment, with what little privacy was afforded to them. "Theo—if there is something wrong that you haven't told me, now would be a good time. Whatever is setting you on edge is-"

Theo regarded him, mildly. "Walls have ears, treasure," he said, quietly. "Everything is fine."

"Everything except you!" Harry snapped. He was irritated with Theo's behavior and self-aware to know that it was annoying him on more levels than usual. His temper was sparking and he couldn't make himself calm down. "Whatever you're thinking about is affecting more than-"

The dining room door burst open and a slender, blonde-haired young woman came stalking through. She wore a frilly white nightgown that fell to her ankles and a stuffed bear tucked under her left arm. Her hair was done up in perfect ringlets and her lips were curled in a snarl.

"I'm not canceling anything, Desmond!" She said, whirling on the Pareya following her through the double-doors. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to schedule those meetings? Any idea what this will mean for our entire Circle? No! No, you don't. I do. I'm not canceling. If Henry has a problem, then Henry has a problem. That's his problem. Not mine. I've done what I needed to do and I fully intend to keep those promises, as long as I am able."

"Cora, you're not being reasonable. We're hosting guests on behalf of-"

"I'm not being reasonable? You're not being reasonable!" Cora huffed, she came to a stop at the head of the table, scowling at her chair and empty place setting. "I'm being perfectly reasonable. This is important. It's very important for our image and the social standing of our entire Circle. A united front. You have no idea how long it took me to make this happen. Who knows if this oppoturnity will even be afforded to us in the future? It's highly unlikely. I know my contacts and I know what favors are owed to us. Some exchanges are meant to be used. Now where's Lewis? He said that dinner was ready and I have yet to see him since lunch and-"

"He had something to-"

"Find him!" Cora barked. "Now! I want him. Not you. You have worn on my last nerve all day. If you have problem with that, take it up with Vincent. This is not something that I need to be discussing with you. If Henry has a problem with my itinerary, then he should come to me. I do not need your constant hovering, Desmond. It's driving me mad!" She stepped to the side of the chair, tipping her head forward.

There was a moment of stiff silence.

Desmond bowed his head and pulled the chair out, eyes respectfully lowered, but jaw clenched. Cora seated herself with an unladylike flounce, half-slapping his hand away when he went to request the tableware.

"I'm not helpless." She drummed her own fingers across the pale marble and frowned at the china and silverware that appeared for her place setting. "And have someone remove the charms on the Topekea China. You know I prefer that one for guests."

Another awkward moment passed, then Desmond left the dining room, taking most of the tension with him.

Cora thumped her head back against the high back of the chair. She groaned loudly. "I'm losing my mind, that's what I'm doing. I'm losing my mind, in neat, steady increments. There's no two ways about it," she turned bright silver eyes to Harry, an expression of mild apology flickered over her doll-like features. "Hello. It's nice to have you. Please, do excuse my terrible manners, because they're about to get worse." She leaned around the chair, eyes narrowing as a ripple of magic slithered through the room. "Henry!"

Harry winced. He could practically taste the fury rolling off her in waves.

Cora waited another minute, before she popped up from her chair. She stalked halfway to the doors before they opened to show an exasperated Henry with Desmond trailing behind. Neither of her Bonded looked happy at the apparent, incoming storm, but they did stop a few feet into the dining room.

"Did you tell him to change my schedule tomorrow—without asking me first?" Cora perked a brow.

Henry pinched the bridge of his nose. There was a flicker of remorse in his eyes before resignation took over. "Yes—and with good reason, Cora. Please, we shouldn't be discussing this in front of our guests and-"

"Your good reasons and mine aren't even in the same realm," Cora snapped. "You should have come to me first. I am not an afterthought. Outside. Both of you. We need to talk. I won't have you smothering me because you feel like it. Those last two incidents were freak accidents. Nothing deliberate in there. You can't hold them against me and I won't—" She stopped in mid-tirade and flashed a tight smile over one shoulder. "Back in minutes, guests."

Desmond and Henry exchanged a look, before both followed her outside into the hallway. A silencing spell went up within seconds, for the conversation was conspicuously absent in the following quietness after the door slammed.

"High-strung," Charlie murmured a bit later. He was still staring at the double doors, somewhat perplexed and slightly alarmed. While most of the submissives he'd met up to this point where poised and powerful, Cora was an entirely different thing.

"More of a quick temper," Theo said, absently. His shoulders relaxed a bit, almost as if witnessing the conflict had set some other worry at ease.

Harry didn't say anything to that. He was silently revising his opinion of whether he thought he'd like this new submissive after all. He didn't think he would. In fact, it was starting to seem like the only Peverell he would like was Lewis—who, incidentally, was the only one that Theo didn't like and Charlie was largely indifferent.

The door burst open a few scant minutes later and Cora came stomping through, looking even more furious than before. "You had no right." She whirled around. "And if you so much as dare—if you even try, Henry. I will veto it and don't you think that I won't! This is no longer up for discussion. Out. Now. I need to eat and I am swiftly losing what appetite I had."

Henry hesitated, a stubborn glint in his eye. "Cora, you're being unreasonable. We're only asking that-"

Desmond scowled. "This is a matter of your safety and your continued well-being and you're-"

"Safety? My safety is fine, Desmond. I have more Pareyas than I know what to do with, more contingency plans than an Heiress and I'm not the one starting a clan war, that's the Deveraine's. If they have a problem showing up in public now that I'm hosting their friends, then maybe they shouldn't have made such connections so obviously in the introductions. Now please, leave me be. I'm hungry and I don't want to talk to either of you right now."

"Cora-" Henry began.

She held up a hand to stop him. "Please, Henry. We'll fight and I don't want to fight and neither of us will settle anything in the state we're in now."

Desmond sighed. He touched Henry's arm and flicked his gaze back to the doors. "She's right," he said, wearily. "I'll send Lewis. Please eat something."

Cora scowled. "I said I was hungry, which implies I will eat something. Leave. Now." Magic sparked visibly at her shoulders, a crackling halo of energy rippling over her blonde hair.

With a grudging nod, Henry did, with Desmond trailing behind.

Only after the door had clicked shut, did Cora's shoulders droop. She stifled a sound somewhere between a whine and a groan, before trooping back to the dinner table.

Tired eyes took in Harry, Theo and Charlie, before she acknowledged them with a wan smile. The frustration trickled out of her, leaving a more mellowed, relaxed temperament in the air as she reseated herself. "I'd apologize for that, but you'll probably see more of it soon. I don't mind your being here. I'm very happy to have some company. They haven't let me out for a bit. Protective instincts and all that."

"Thank you for hosting us," Theo said, smoothly. "I apologize if our visit has come at an inopportune time."

Cora flapped a hand at him. "Don't be. There never would've been a good time, if we're taking their word for it."

"Did something happen?" Charlie asked, before he could help himself. He offered a slightly sheepish smile at Theo's sharp look.

"Something like that," Cora said, quietly. "I might have accidentally upset someone. Accidentally on purpose, mind you. Not that I can explain that to them—they think it was purely by accident."

"Accidentally on purpose?" Harry repeated. He started, when food appeared on the table, the serving dishes magically filling themselves. He hadn't seen Cora's gesture for it and he hadn't felt the magic accompanying it. Odd.

"My family is very—involved," Cora said, at last, as if gauging to see how far she could trust them. "We're known for our technological inventions and at least half of the magical tech trade. We've started an empire and we're pretty proud of it." She set the teddy bear on the table in front of her and rested her left arm on the table, stretched out with her fingers still touching it. "Our trade has expanded to fifteen realms in the past decade. Exponential growth and all that. Fun stuff, lots of travel, contract negotiations and the like." A wistful smile flittered across her face.

Theo brightened. "That's quite impressive."

"Thank you. It's a world I treasure and one that I've grown up in. I'm used to all the things I don't have now and it makes other things a bit more difficult. It makes Nevarah more difficult. My Bonded—bless them—they are too cautious. They don't trust technology the way I do," she grinned. "Which is kind of funny, but also a bit sad."

Harry found himself staring at her outstretched arm. He couldn't help feeling that the bear was somewhat out of place and that her current posture was rather odd, but he didn't know why. That detail, bothered him.

The dining room double doors opened, showing Lewis, who slipped inside, a faint smile on his face.

He started for the side of the table with Harry and then changed directions at Theo's glare. He stood to Cora's left, a hand on the back of her chair. "Desmond sent me," he said, lightly. "Must you scold them so?"

"If they insist on dancing upon my very last nerve, yes," Cora said, firmly. "I won't be babied, Lewis and you know it." She wrinkled her nose. "Could you reset the two pins? I changed the top one out to the Jade bit and it isn't moving as smoothly as I'd like. We need to catalogue that."

"I thought you said you weren't planning on changing them," Lewis said, frowning. "Cora."

"I was bored," she shot back. "And it was easy. Honestly! I said I wasn't planning on it, I didn't say I wasn't thinking about it. I thought a Ruby catalyst might be helpful, but then I'd need some gem fire to weld it in far enough and I didn't have any. Jade was next in line."

Lewis gave her a look. "Process of elimination?"

"You know me so well," she grinned. "If you have time tomorrow, maybe we could try it?"

"With gem fire?" Lewis shook his head. "You know I need a twenty-four pass before we can even use that in Nevarah."

"Before you can," Cora corrected. "I'm allowed. It's practically in my blood. I was just being nice and including you in the calculations," she nodded at Harry and his Circle. "Be nice to the guests, please. I've made terrible impressions already, I'm sure."

Lewis conceded at that, offering a polite smile at Cora's prompting. He then pulled out the chair beside her and opened the teddy bear's stomach to reveal a miniature toolkit of sorts.

Harry stared, dumbstruck in the next few minutes as Lewis removed silver and gold implements from the teddy bear.

Cora calmly rolled up her left sleeve and began pressing a careful sequence over the pale limb.

Cyborg. Harry thought, uncertainly. Wasn't that sort of thing supposed to be in books?

Sure enough, Cora's left arm, began to shift and open to reveal an entirely mechanical limb, powered by magic and machine in equal turn. She'd been talking about her elbow joint, held together with various colored pins of what appeared to be actual gemstone.

Expertly, Lewis slipped out a pale Jade pin for a standard silver one, working with quick hands and a light touch.

Cora didn't seem to be the least bit bothered. She went about eating her dinner, managing rather well with only her right hand as if this was an everyday occurrence.

Theo gave a faint nod of acknowledgement to the trust shown in the small demonstration before them. He was picking up on the present, but faint social cues that suggested that this Submissive was definitely more in command of herself and her Circle, than at first glance.

Charlie seemed to be making notes of his own, his own keen eyes studying the interaction between Lewis and Cora. He cast a glance at Harry, hiding a smile as he saw those green eyes narrow ever so faintly.

Harry silently revised his opinion of her yet again. He definitely hadn't seen that coming—an artificial limb. He could also see why Lewis had been so comfortable with his Medic's title and role.

"Henry said you were hunting," Cora said, at last. She'd eaten a good portion of her dinner, keeping up an occasional direction to Lewis in between of mouthfuls. "Have you any favors?"

Harry brightened. "I did—Theo!" he stopped. "We left them at the guesthouse-"

"They're here," Charlie interrupted. He fished something out of his trouser pocket. "Ilsa gave them to me earlier." A thin, yellowed rectangle was set on the table and nudged to Theo, who passed it to Harry. "She said to only open it when you were in a place where you could look at things. Said it would be better for you to have them near you than sitting in the guesthouse."

Harry relaxed. That was a relief. "Thanks," he said, pocketing the rectangle. "Do you have a room I could use? I mean, you've already given us guest rooms and-"

Cora's smile upped by a few watts. "I've plenty," she said, cheerfully. "You can take your pick. And I'm happy to help you set them on fire, if you need. Favors are so much fun!"

The air in the room lightened by several degrees and the first tangible wisp of magic stretched out, warming it even further.

Harry found himself laughing along with her. For the first time, he was actually looking forward to sorting through more of the dratted things.

Perhaps this stay wouldn't be so terrible after all.

THE DEVERAINES : MAIN HOUSE : NEVERAH, Ithycar's Bedroom

Ithycar bit back a groan of relief when he finally sat down on the edge of the soft bed. He'd used a lot of magic that day and it showed in the way that his bones ached. He used it often and deeply, yes, but this time, he'd used it fueled on pure adrenaline upon encountering the very last scenario he'd expected upon his return.

His protective instincts were still on high alert, but they were now winding down to a more tolerable level. The familiar surroundings of his Alpha's bedroom was definitely comforting and that helped to curb any instinctive stirrings about unfamiliar territory.

The far wall lined with bookshelves and all his favorite war titles. The few printed records of the old Elven wars. Maps from his travels neatly pinned to the wall. Soft carpeted floors—perfect for tired feet or the moments when the bed was too far away from the doorway.

A faint smile surfaced at the last memory of when an angry Loren had unknowingly backed into the room, still fuming about something or the other and completely unguarded. Ithycar had come from the shower in time to hear the tail end of the argument and had opted to help their fiery Gheyo handle his temper in a more delightful sort of way. The scorched carpet had taken forever to repair—as Loren's natural flames were somewhat magically resistant.

Ithy smiled fondly at the patch of repaired carpet that stood out from the rest of it. He'd never answered any of his Bonded's questions as to what he'd done for that, but Loren still turned red from head to toe, every time he saw it.

Old memories rustled around in his head, settling down as he reached over to run a hand over the nightstand, feeling the ambient magic in the room still thickly twined over each thing.

The rest of the talk in the war room had gone down rather well, considering. There were names and connections made between Circles. A few refused connections, but nothing definite hammered out. He'd taken care to emphasize their intent of keeping close and staying low.

He hated that the best he could offer at present, was to keep to the shadows as they almost always had done. But, it would protect them for now.

When Loren and Greta had swapped out with Edor and Nathan, there'd been angry growls traded between them. The hisses and snarls were more specific from each Gheyo, but he'd only grasped enough to know that someone had indeed tried to breach their wards and was successfully repelled.

Neither Edor nor Nathan had managed to see who it was, but there was a sampling of magic trapped in the wards and they'd wanted Greta to isolate it and examine it more closely.

She'd readily agreed and Aracle, of course, had gone after her, having sent the children on their way.

Children, he mused. Children that were now young men and women, compared to when he'd last seen them. He wondered if they would all bond this season, as it seemed they were more than ready for that next step.

Even Ariki—who had taken after him in so many way—it made his heart ache to think of all that he'd missed in his absence. Ithycar shucked off his robe and then the over tunic, before reaching down to work on the protective leg gear he'd worn on the trek in.

He'd opted to skip a portal for the sake of scouting out the outer portions of Nevarah on his way into the city. It had shown some interesting, if not some slightly disturbing details.

From the outside, it appeared that there'd been a recent Fabrine attack and he could sense that the magical protections were newly reset. Then of course, he'd been picking his way through the upper crust sections of the Hunt, choosing the quadrants where he was most likely to run into some of his Bonded.

It was more fun than simply summoning them to his side or actively tracking them down, mostly because he knew what social circles they moved in and it was always fun to surprise them. They'd never minded before.

Unless, of course, today.

He took a breath, holding it for a beat, before blowing it out. Arielle help him, but Bahn hadn't pushed the limits like this since Kandra. Then again, there were hints that led back to that awful day and Ithycar was tired of thinking about it.

He wanted to sleep on the whole mess and sort through it tomorrow. His travels had worn him down and the elven realm was always exhausting between portals. Of course, he'd only gone to complete his usual duties. It was a small price to pay for the twins' happiness.

Rustling sounded outside of the bedroom door and he listened, carefully. The steps sounded familiar and the light brush of magic could only belong to one person.

Bhindi.

His shoulders slumped. This was not something he wanted to do, but something that was needed. Alpha's duties would always come first because of instinct.

Toeing off his socks, he rose from the bed, gliding over to the door. It opened to her uncertain, hopeful face where she stood, drowning in his borrowed nightwear. He gathered her up in a hug, strong enough to lift her feet from the floor.

She squealed, predictably and hugged him back—hard. "Ithy," she hummed.

"Princess," he returned, peppering her face with soft kisses, amidst her giggles. "Will you actually sleep tonight?" He secretly touched to note that she'd apparently never stopped pilfering his nightshirts.

She flashed a grin with too much teeth to reflect real joy. "The thought of tearing by fang and claw is enough incentive," she said, lightly. "We'll swallow them alive and that's all I want. Well, sort of. I want—I know you've only just returned and we—I can't be with you tonight, can I?"

Ah. She always knew him so well. Ithycar touched his forehead to hers. "No," he said, regretfully. Instinct-wise, he had a few things to square up first and they would start the moment Ilsa visited him tonight.

Bhindi nodded, fiddling with the clasp on his under tunic. "I figured. Do you think—maybe—maybe it's not us?"

He studied her face for a moment, reading what was showing there, than the actual words she was saying. It didn't match. "Anything you want to share?"

"Bahn was—he doesn't do that, Ithy. You know he doesn't."

"I do, but I can't make him tell me, princess."

She bit her lower lip. "I can't either, but Ithy, if it's someone else—if it's for—if it isn't for our sake. You won't—I mean, we'll still—won't we?"

"We'll sort it out tomorrow," he said. There were too many possibilities in those incomplete questions.

"What if it's important?"

"He told Ilsa," Ithycar said, simply. Bahn was rarely predictable, but there was a special bond between those two and he'd never known it to fail. If Bahn had told Ilsa, then they would know the truth soon.

Bhindi sagged in relief, relaxing in his arms. "Oh good. I didn't want to pester it out of him. He's still brooding."

"Delani will set him to rights," Ithycar assured her. "You should join them too. Sleep well."

"You too," she said, squeezing him tight, before kissing his cheek goodnight. "Be up early, eh? I want to hear everything. Where you've been, how things went and—you were alright?"

"As long as I have you, as long as I can always come back to you," Ithycar murmured. "I will always be alright."

Her magic swirled up, rising visibly around her in chains of sparkling white and silver. It twined gently around them as she stepped back. She only smiled.

He watched her leave and then stepped back inside the room. Ilsa would return soon, he hoped. She'd left hours ago.

GHEYO SECTION : TRAINING ARENA : (Ilsa)

Ilsa angrily slashed her way through the entire horde of practice dummies. She tore up the warm-up grounds with nary a care to the destruction left in her wake. Furious was an understatement and rage was stating the obvious.

She wanted more blood, but that was no longer an option. Granted, she'd chosen not to kill the all at the rooftop, but certainly not for lack of effort. Two had died at her claws, the rest had merely been injured. She'd omitted that particular detail from her verbal report—and none of her Gheyos had called her out on it.

They wouldn't.

They knew better and her half-feral state had ensured that.

Instinct for Bahn and their unborn child had spurred her to return, once the threat was subdued and revenge had been partially taken. It had been enough at the time.

Death wasn't something she cared to leave behind in her fury, but sometimes it was necessary. One didn't hold a Gheyo rank and expect to be bloodless and blameless. She'd let them off lightly, considering how her fangs had ached for more.

There was no need to pursue broken ranks, because a single death would have been nothing short of devastating. Two was simply insurance. Ilsa ground her teeth together and lashed out at the nearest statue at the end of the ring. Her blades sliced through, cleanly. Her magic pulverized it afterward.

"I beg your pardon," a deep voice said, cautiously.

Ilsa whirled to her left, claws out, blade level with the speaker's throat. She blinked a split-second later, dropping the defense and skittering a few steps away.

A familiar dark face and muscled figure—Bharin Kalzik.

They stared at each other for a long, silent moment, before Bharin offered a deep bow, gaze fixed on her face—the mark of a Gheyo aware of his status and who he was interacting with.

"I did not mean to interrupt," he said, smoothly. He'd simply meant to announce his presence, but it seemed that Ilsa had been deeper in her thoughts than he'd anticipated. "Carry on."

Ilsa glowered at him for a moment, then hiked herself up onto the low wall surrounding the practice arena. She'd almost worn herself out and had started debating what to wreck next. Perhaps it was time to stop. "I'm finished. What are you doing out here this time of night?"

Bahrain half-shrugged. "Hard to find time to practice with a Hunt in full-swing and his lord and lady all busy with the official meet-and-greet every waking second of the day."

"Ah," Ilsa managed more of a smile and less of a grimace this time as she sheathed her blade and stretched her arms overhead, twisting to try and work at some of the soreness now surfacing. "I'd offer to partner up, but I'm more likely to hurt than help at this point."

"I noticed," Bharin said, dryly. "Though it would be rude of me to ask the cause."

"It would," Ilsa said, calmly. Her golden eyes were still half-black and more brown than gold from any angle. She mentally sifted through her irritation, trying to decide if it was worth attacking anything else. Her temper had worn down to a fairly manageable level and a minor distraction would be useful right then.

"Need to burn magic or something else?" Bharin asked.

There was a longer pause this time, before Ilsa inclined her head. "A bit of both. What do you have in mind?"

"Quinn asked me for a favor some time ago," Bharin fished out a little slip of paper and flicked it over at her. "Involves your favorite person."

Ilsa snatched the scrap out of the air, eyes narrowed. She unfolded the neat paper and squinted at the resulting words. Eyebrows arched clear up to her hairline and she looked from the paper to Bharin, who was calmly tying his dreadlocks into a neatly ordered ponytail with a dark strip of cloth. "Are you asking me to accompany you?"

"Witnesses are always helpful," Bharin hummed. There was merriment in his dark eyes at her affronted look. "Dear lady, I was only asking for your blade. Surely you have the magic to spare?"

Ilsa brightened considerably, slipping off the wall to stand on her own two feet. She twisted the paper in her hands. That was more like it. Being a witness was fine, but in her current state, not very likely. "Gladly."

He smiled thinly, the merriment fading to something like glee. "Shall we then?" He held out something—a Healer's Phial with a strand of golden-red shimmering inside of it.

Ilsa held out a hand.

Bharin clasped it tightly in his and bit the cork off the end of the Phial. He poured the magical scrap over their clasped hands. "Delores Umbridge, Immediate Vicinity. Claiming of Healer's Rights by authorized section twenty-nine, five-fifteen of Accepted Mage Law."

Ilsa's eyes blew from golden to pitch black, her fangs showing clearly in her smile. Some blood and terror. Yes. That sounded just right.

The portal summoned spiraled outward from their hands—fanning out on both sides to include them, stretching out to bridge the gap between Nevarah's nevermore realm and that of their destination.

There was a hissing pop, before they vanished, leaving nothing behind.

ILSA + BHARIN : EARTH : UMBRIDGE'S FLAT

The portal spat them out in a darkly lit flat with very pink walls and too many kitten plates. Ilsa cast a cloaking spell the moment the portal spiraled down and Bharin had reached out into the meager protections over the area.

It fizzled out at their combined touch.

Insufficient magic against two annoyed Gheyos, both without patience and neither inclined to be gentle with their handling. Not at this point, anyway.

They worked their way through the flat, checking the few rooms and noting the distinctly ridiculous decor. At one point, Ilsa wrinkled her nose, flames flickering at her fingers only for Bharin to growl softly.

She gave him a look, but retracted her flames just the same. Using her natural element to bring the entire place down around their ears would do little good and borrowing Loren's flames to torch the entire flat would be far too showy.

They found Delores peacefully sleeping in the master bedroom, swathed in multiple quilts of pink and rose hues with a matching sleep mask over her ugly face.

Ilsa perked a brow.

Bharin merely smirked. He held a hand up for Ilsa to wait, then calmly approached the bed, checking for additional protections. There was nothing else to stop him.

Ilsa cast a look around the room, noting the lack of a wand. She clicked softly at Bharin who looked up then frowned, following her pantomime.

He cast a silencing spell a moment later—on Delores. Her loud snoring stopped abruptly as the spell took place.

"Her wand," Ilsa said, quietly now. "The ones over here always have a wand of some sort."

Bharin poked at the quilts until he could see one chubby, pink-clad arm tucked beneath one of the plump pillows.

"Under her pillow," he said, beginning to draw several long, thin strings from his pocket. "Lift it, would you?"

Ilsa rolled her eyes, but tugged lightly on the hand, the pillow and the hidden wand. It was easy to draw on the air shared by her Circle, without worrying about her earthen element. A moment later, the wand slid out—with Umbridge's pudgy hand still clenching it tightly.

Bharin frowned. He tried to pull it free from her hand, but Umbridge twisted and turned in her sleep, face scrunched up in disapproval.

At that, Ilsa cast another familiar spell from her Circle—the sleep spell used by the Pareya to keep the younger children from running them ragged.

The effect was instantaneous, Delores flopped to her side, boneless. Her fingers uncurled from the wand and Bharin snatched it up. He held it over her head, over the bed, a few feet up in the air, squinting at the distance. A moment later, he nodded. It would have to do.

"Hold this," he said, waving Ilsa closer. "Don't move it."

Mystified, Ilsa inched closer, holding the wand above Umbridge's head. She watched as Bharin separated the thin threads he'd brought with him and went about threading them on Umbridge's person.

Ilsa's breath caught in her throat as she watched him calmly stab an ultra-thin needle straight through one hand, pulling the thread through. In growing horror and fascination, she stared as he carried each thread up to the wand, tying them off, before continuing on.

The process grew more tedious as Bharin began to overlap the threads and twine a few of them through Umbridge's mousey brown hair. It was disturbing, almost, the clinical manner in which he went about, methodically piercing, sewing and threading.

Once satisfied with having used all the threads and tying them back to the wand, he took it from Ilsa's still fingers. A few murmured words kept said wand hovering on its own, before he stepped back from the bed.

The spell continued on, as he began a steady chant, and the strings pulled taut. Umbridge jerked and twitched as the strings fell into place. Tendrils of visible magic sluggishly began to climb, stretching up the strings towards the wand.

Plucking it from mid-air, Bharin now held the wand in hand, moving back and forth in slow, steady movements as if testing for something. When satisfied, he muttered a final word—and the strings vanished, along with the wand.

In a matter of minutes Ilsa realised what he was doing—just as another piece of information clicked into place.

"The Puppeteer," she murmured, half-aloud. Silently, she revised her opinion of the dark-haired giant and the rather spooky reputation associated with his title. A mysterious Gheyo with the ability to manipulate anyone of his choosing—even into death.

Bharin glanced up at her, his dark eyes a rather eerie shade of red. "Few recall that name," he said, simply. "Surprised?"

"…Impressed," Ilsa allowed. She said nothing else, watching him as he went about settling Umbridge in the original position they'd found her upon entering the room. "What now?"

"Watch," he said, simply. "You need only watch. This is always the—fun—part." His eyes glowed an eerie pearl-white, before Umbridge gave a great, heaving gasp.

There was a momentary waver before her physical body slumped to the side in the bed, free of the faintly glowing strands and a wispy, almost ethereal specter of her, remained fastened to the strings.

Ilsa gave a strangled gasp, recognizing the separation between physical body and astral form. She swallowed hard, not trusting her mouth to speak for her.

To think that the Kalziks had such a deadly Gheyo on their side was a complete shock in more ways than she'd ever considered. No wonder they could always conduct themselves in such precise fashion. With this kind of hidden power, no one would stand against them for long.

Not if Bharin had anything to say about it and Ilsa was fairly certain that he alway did. Whether they wanted him to or not. The kinship she'd felt between them seemed to slot in line with her own nature—like omitting certain gruesome details from her reports.

This new shade of darkness around him made her privately glad that Quinn had been the first Healer to lay eyes on Harry. At least, this way, the Kalziks would be on Harry's side from now on.

Proof of that was the very scene playing out before her and she could be thankful for that. Harry and his Circle needed all the help and influence they could manage. There were too many oddities surrounding them and she didn't like it. They deserved to have something far less stressful to begin their shared lives—but fate was never a kind mistress to any.

Umbrige's body began to shudder and twitch, proof of the witch trying to wake. If she had been a normal human, with no magic whatsoever, Ilsa knew that all movement and consciousness would've been completely impossible.

Her stomach twisted at the sight of the body moving in directions that a body was not meant to move. "What will you do you with her?"

Bharin smirked. "The courts can have her," he said, lightly. "I will ask for final rites, if it is an option. Beyond that, I do not care. A creature that dares distort a youngling before their inheritance is even born, to mar them with something as disgusting as a blood seal? She deserves worse than death and had I not signed that slip for Quinn, she would no longer befoul this realm by existing."

Ilsa grunted, all queasiness vanishing at once. She mentally made a note to remind Bahn to keep hold of his symptoms—for surely she wouldn't be weak-kneed at a necessary intervention as this. Now, the need for vengeance was simmering once again in her bones. "She ought to pay."

"That is all that is needed," Bharin said, simply. He directed the physical body up and standing beside the bed, before he drew out another needle. "I want this to—take some time."

Ilsa gave an odd little smile. "Suits me," she said. "The rest of it?"

He shrugged, threading another needle. He began to sew a pattern onto her skin—a symbol for the inter-realm transportation portal. "Do as you like."

Ilsa hummed, turning away. She didn't need to see how he settled the rest of that. It had been disconcerting enough to see the separation of body and soul in a mere instant.

An old-fashioned check register caught her eye and she picked it up, flipping through the pages. Eyebrows arched upwards as she read the galleons present. The key was spelled to the back of the book—with a rather nasty spell—but Ilsa plucked it free without repercussion.

The Goblins would grant her access, so as long as she had the key and that was all that mattered. The foul witch owed Harry, if not Theo, for what she'd done.

Monetary reparation would definitely be welcome. Ilsa tucked the key inside of her bustier and set about examining the rest of the flat. She cast several monitoring spells and tied them down to the earth beneath the building. It would relay information without draining her and provide a useful window into the world, if needed.

She would cause just enough headache to support Bharin's little trick. She smirked. That was one detail she hadn't seen coming though—then of course, having the last name of Kalzik did not automatically make him a healer.

Then again, having a Healer's knowledge only meant a better understanding of how a body worked and what could cause the worst sort of symptoms.

It made her smile grow wider. She would have to thank him for an interesting evening. It certainly beat hacking and slashing in a practice ring.

THE DEVERAINES : MAIN HOUSE : NEVERAH, Ithycar's Bedroom

It was nearly three hours later before Ithycar heard Ilsa's footsteps in the hallway. Much as Bhindi had, she hesitated, not quite making her presence known, but there just the same.

He gave it a minute, but nothing happened.

Ithycar mentally nudged the door open, in time to see her raised hand. He perked a brow. She offered a slight shrug and entered.

He was sitting up in bed, braced against the headboard, sifting through the notes he'd taken for their current situation. It was easier to think when he could see everything in front of him and he'd already begun to draw a few parallels that he didn't like.

Ilsa closed the door behind her, golden eyes half-gold and half-black. They stared at each other for a moment, then she bent and began to remove her tall boots. It took a few minutes with the spelled laces and charms over it for extra insurance during busy duels or fights.

"I didn't think you'd come," he said, at last.

She did not look at him. "I didn't think I would either. But here I am and it seems I don't have a choice, now do I?"

"I'm not pulling rank on you, Ilsa."

"You might as well," she threw back. Her boots were banished to her shared bedroom with Greta and Aracle, along with the travel cloak she shucked off after it.

Beneath the cloak, he could see that she was wearing the same blood-stained armor from before, cleaned with a hastily cast standard spell that hadn't even begun to remove the worst of it. She ran a finger beneath the bustier, checking the points where metal would chafe against skin, if not properly worn.

After another minute of silence between them, Ithycar sighed. "Ilsa."

"Ithycar."

He closed his book, sliding off the bed. His long, pale, blond hair fell into place after him. It was looking a bit bedraggled after the day's activities. Unlike the twins, he was not fond of spells in his hair and painstakingly took the time to tend to it himself whenever possible.

Narrowed silver eyes settled on stubborn golden ones, before he set the book on the nightstand. "Would you help me wash my hair?"

A pained look flitted over Ilsa's grim face. She had expected him to say something else. Her hands clenched and unclenched before she gave a small nod.

He moved ahead to the large master bath, undoing the buttons and clasps of his clothes as he went. The shower area was large enough to accommodate a fairly respectable wingspan, without causing too much indoor damage. It was all smooth white tile and with simple, sturdy knobs and fixtures.

Ithycar simply turned on the taps as he went, dropping his clothes into the laundry chute at one corner.

He cast a glance back to Ilsa, who had stepped inside of the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She was already twisting and pulling at the arm guards, studiously not looking in his direction.

Stubbornness, he thought to himself. Fear. He crossed the small space between them, touching her shoulder to let her know that he would handle the clasps in the back. A Gheyo's armor was no small feat of precise workmanship and deadly promise.

But this suit of armor was familiar—he'd purchased it for her as one of the courting gifts on that fateful day so many years ago.

She froze at the touch of his hand, allowing his nimble fingers to twist, pull and open the complicated clasps that kept the armor safely over her vital areas.

When he knew she could handle the rest of it herself, he kissed the top of her right shoulder and headed for the steaming shower.

Stepping beneath the first spray of hot water, Ithycar bit back a pleased sigh. He'd been looking forward to this particular simple pleasure the entire trek from the Elven Realm to Nevarah.

A moment later, Ilsa joined him.

The washing ritual was half-Elven and half-Gheyo. He made sure there wasn't a hint of foreign blood anywhere on her person. She handled his hair as if it were her own—an elf's preferred vanity.

They didn't speak.

There was nothing to be said between the necessary routine of taking care of each other. Eventually, they reached the point where he knew she was stalling and she waited for him to call her out on it.

He did.

They exited the bath, wrapped in fluffy towels, a bottle of lotion carried to the bed. Ithycar was first, settling himself comfortably, before squeezing out a dollop of the one body lotion they'd all been able to agree on.

Ilsa sat silently on the bed in front of him, allowing the gentle massage to her back and shoulders. She was still slightly hunched in on herself, waiting for the storm to break.

The favor was returned and soon, she sat in the middle of the bed, with Ithycar at the end, braiding his long hair into neat strands. Eventually, he turned and took it from her rough hands, quick fingers finishing up a task he'd mastered since childhood.

She watched him from beneath hooded eyes, before slowly turning her head to the side, the slightest sign of Gheyic submission—for him to take his Alpha's rights.

There was a quiet huff from beside her. Instincts and unspoken cues were fine, but words would eventually have to come forth. "Ilsa."

No answer.

"We need to talk this through."

"Then talk," she said, biting off the word.

"Well? Have I missed something?"

"…If I was only reaffirming our bonds," He frowned. "I think our bonds are fine. I can feel you very clearly and I-"

"What else do you want from me?"

"I don't need anything from you, Ilsa. What I want, is the truth—what is apparently so horrible and terrible that you haven't been able to tell anyone—even yourself. It's so awful and dark that you've kept it locked up inside of yourself to the point that it's left you like this."

"I haven't done anything!"

"Didn't say that you had." Ithycar's frown deepened. "Is there anything you'd like to tell me?"

"Yes. Hurry up with it so I can at least sleep tonight." She sat up straighter, bristling faintly.

Silver eyes narrowed. "I'm not taking anything from you that you're obviously so unwilling to give."

"Unwilling?" Ilsa cried. "As if I've ever denied you what was-"

"Everything about you right now is screaming so loudly, I can't hear the permission you're forcing yourself to give me." Ithycar said, quietly. "You won't even look me in the eye—I would say that's fairly-" he stopped.

Ilsa twisted to face him, fierce golden eyes swiftly bleeding to pitch black. "Like what you see?"

"I'm not the enemy," he threw back, meeting her gaze with his own steady silver eyes. "You should ask yourself what else I've seen."

Brows furrowed—predictably. She had never liked his matter-of-fact way of laying out everything she wasn't ready to hear just yet.

"Curiously enough," Ithycar began. "Your children don't feel the slightest bit neglected—even though you've been missing for nearly their entire lives—if time is to be believed."

Ilsa's hands clenched into tight fists, her body deceptively relaxed.

"They spoke very highly of your—friends—who came to visit them. Interestingly enough, I'd never even heard of them. Friends with very similar quirks. Too familiar quirks, including," Ithycar inspected his fingers. "Carved wings."

Ilsa lunged for him.

He wrestled her for a moment, before their movements were locked in a stalemate of sorts. Him refusing to give more, her refusing to push harder.

It was a pointless fight, but a meaningful gesture on both parts. He would acknowledge that he'd pushed against something that had hurt and she would admit that it had hurt.

"I saw your wings, Ilsa. They don't heal overnight. But I know where your heart lies and I know your loyalties. You couldn't help but look out for them—they are your children. But you didn't even take Greta with you. Greta, your soul bonded love."

Ilsa tried to pull free of his hands.

He held on fast. "But you let Aracle find you. Aracle who manipulates time. Who said you never even asked him to change anything. Aracle that is just as soul bonded to you—as Greta."

"I would never take advantage of that bond." Ilsa ground out.

"I didn't say you did," Ithycar released her. "Aracle who didn't have a clue about your wings. Which begs the question of when did you actually do it and what would have made you do it?"

"If you must lecture me, then hurry it up,"

"Lecture?" Ithycar snorted. "If that was all I wanted of you, Ilsa, I would have done that the moment I touched foot on this realm—make no mistake. This requires more than a mere lecture."

Ilsa blanched.

He smirked, faintly and finally released his hold on her. That was one threat that always had his Bonded straightening up in a hurry. "You loved your wings. It was one of your few vanities. But you are loyal. Something must have come up, something that would have either called me back, taken Delani and disrupted the Twins. Something that would have turned everything inside out." He tapped his chin. "Curious, you know, that we've been in the good graces of not just one, but two royal families while I've been—away. Not just the Earth Royals, as per your element, but even the Air Royals." Sharp silver eyes narrowed, meaningfully. "You're welcome to fill in any gaps, I've missed."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ilsa said.

He reached for her again, slowly, cautiously, folding his arms around her stiff, frozen figure. "The easiest answer is that you've made time to hide in the pits," he whispered. "But Greta was there, surely you would have seen her and she swears she didn't. Which means if you were there, then it must have been for something else on someone else's behalf."

Ilsa quivered. Her eyes squeezed shut.

"Keep your secrets, loveling," he touched his lips to her ear. "I have never demanded them of you before."

She came to life, pushing him away, eyes wild, tears brimming at the corners, rage pouring through her veins. "You have no idea what's happened since-!"

"I won't punish you for doing the right thing—or the wrong thing, if that's how this looks in your eyes. If that's what you're waiting for, eternity is before us. You've done nothing deserving of such treatment."

"I'm not—it's not, I can't-!"

"I can't help you, unless you let me."

"You can't help me with this!"

"I can try, loveling, I can't clear that guilt away, unless you're ready to let it go." He held out a hand to her.

She trembled, visibly, before turning away. After a long moment, she hunched forward on herself, hands cupping up to hold her own arms in a semblance of self-comfort.

Ithycar waited a moment longer, then moved to slide off the bed. He turned down the covers a few moments later, a silent prompt.

She slipped beneath them, curling up on her corner of the bed, refusing to meet his eyes.

He slid between the sheets, mentally tugging at the lights to turn them off. Shifting closer to her, he willed himself to sleep.

Morning came quicker than it should have.

Ilsa felt him wake in the way his body went from lax to firm, sleep-warmed skin pressing more deliberately against her naked form.

She didn't even remember when she'd shrugged out from the borrowed nightshirt. Her mind had taunted her with cruel memories in fits and spurts to the point that sleep was torture.

In the end, she'd given up, tears of frustration trickling into her ears as she tried to contain emotions that her body refused to hold inside.

"Thank you for keeping guard all night," Ithycar murmured, sleepily. He shifted even closer to her.

She barked out a laugh and rolled onto her side, so he wouldn't see her face. Of course he would have slept soundly through the entire ordeal. Instinctively, it would have seemed quite normal of him—except that she was irritated and he was closest to her at the moment. Close enough to work out that frustration, anyway. "How kind of you to avoid the fact that I didn't sleep a wink."

Large, slender hands smoothed over her stomach and thighs, one hand moving up to squeeze her breasts, the other slipping lower.

Ithycar hummed, hazy eyes gradually brightening as he nestled closer, pressing a kiss to one bared shoulder. "Sorry you didn't sleep," he said. "Glad you're in better humors."

"I'm not!" She threw back, but it was a losing battle. It had been years since he'd touched her, after all. His familiar hands in those special places. An experience her body remembered, even if her mind couldn't conjure it straightaway.

The playful skill that had pulled her talents to the forefront, the special training that every ACE received before their title was officially bestowed.

He chuckled, teasing a bit more, before gently coaxing her to turn over to face him. They didn't have to wake the entire house just yet. There was still time.

"This is backwards," she managed to say, right before he kissed her tasting of sugar and blood. She hadn't even noticed when he'd eaten the sugar. And then her hands were curving up to pull him closer, to press herself forward, unable to deny this instinctive pull.

"Hardly," he said, between kisses. "I'd say it's very equal. Ladies first."

Pleasantly sated for the day, she lounged in his arms, basking in the warmth and afterglow. His chin hooked over her shoulder, his braided hair tangled between them. Her neck bared to his fangs—should he care for it, her hands resting atop his where they curved around her waist.

"Thanks for the welcome," he snarked.

She elbowed him.

He laughed and nosed her shoulder, where the fading bite marks lingered. It made him smile to see them there, for she could speed the healing, but had chosen not to. "Thank you," he repeated, quieter.

She turned away, avoiding those knowing eyes.

They would not speak of this again, but it had been cleared. Strange as it was. He would not hold it against her and she—well, she had not suffered in silence after all.

It was precious and uncomfortable in the same instance as she allowed herself to be held. The experience both soothing and frustrating, as she was glad to have him back, but her inherent nature wished for their positions to be reversed.

He followed her restless movements and kissed her shoulder as the last mark faded away. "They had no right to ask you," he whispered. "You didn't have to—but you did. Thank you."

Ilsa growled, faintly and twisted around, reversing their positions, her arms locked around him from behind, her body twining easily around him as she shifted from her shorter form to a taller one.

"Don't mention my wings again and I'll accept that," she muttered. "I want new armor."

"Oh?"

She squeezed a little tighter, drawing a slight huff from him. He was good at gifts and always knew the right set of armor for her unorthodox fighting style. "Yes. Something pretty and shiny. Make it up to me."

He laughed. "I did bring you a present."

"Did you?"

"I always do."

Ilsa hummed, feeling the final threads of their bond snapping into perfect harmony. She nosed at his bite area, silently asking for the last measure of his acceptance.

Ithycar merely stretched his neck forward, baring it to her fangs. He purred softly as she drank a few token sips.

"Are you hunting today?"

"I have names to track," Ilsa said, licking her lips. She relaxed against him once more, mind whirring busily. "Check in on Theo and Harry, won't you?"

"He makes you worry still."

"Harry can't help it," Ilsa yawned. "He's a trouble magnet and he's not even trying."

Ithycar stifled a laugh. "Theo will be grey before his first century."

"As will Dahlia," Ilsa said. "Do you approve?"

"Of the Kalzik girl?"

"No, she's fallen for that Imaldis heiress, you know the one, Shayla?"

"They're a good match."

"They're fighting," Ilsa drawled. "I don't want to know how they'll make up with each other."

Ithycar stifled a laugh. "It's that bad?"

"Probably worse. Dahlia has scars from something she won't talk about and Shayla seems to think she isn't the one at fault. It's a mess."

"They'll sort it on their own." Ithycar said, easily. He knew this particular daughter tended to live her Gheyo instincts—just as Ilsa did. Like mother, like daughter.. "They usually have in the past."

"Except that this has been carrying on even before the season started."

"Oh?"

"Came to a bit of a head, recently. It worries me."

"Many things worry you. How is Bahn?"

"Twins, Ithy. He's having twins. I'm terrified."

"You will both be fine."

"You know that. He knows that. I don't know that." Ilsa retorted. "Can we get up now or are we still cuddling?"

Ithycar laughed.

HARRY AND CO. : PEVERELL MAIN ESTATE, GUEST ROOMS : NEVARAH : THE HUNT, Day 3

Harry stretched, carefully, feeling his bones creaking and groaning in protest as he transitioned to wakefulness. He puzzled out that the hard softness under him was Theo and the warm wall behind him, was Charlie. That made perfect sense in his muddled head and it allowed him to wake in rather good humors.

Blearily, he peered around the room, relaxing almost at once, as familiar surroundings made themselves known.

After dinner, they'd all retired to one of the main sitting rooms, which was vaguely reminiscent of Prince Raspen's room—a nice, lightly furnished space with a large fireplace and plenty of soft rugs.

Harry had taken up a position on the floor, surrounded by a sleepy, but content Charlie and a still, mildly disgruntled Theo. Granted, Theo's mood seemed to have lifted during the dinnertime conversation with Cora and Harry had hoped it would stick.

They'd talked of pureblooded things—empires, business and inheriting necessary duties and roles. Theo's golden eyes had lit up enough for Lewis to sneak a second serving of cloud cake onto Harry's plate—without being noticed.

Of course, after dinner, the calming atmosphere had followed them to the sitting room and more fun things had begun from there. Harry had opened the magical package of favors and settled down to start sorting.

With Lewis and Cora's help, he'd started in on the daunting pile of favors, feeling infinitely more cheerful about the process since the moment he'd first received them.

They'd sorted out all of the female ones, with polite rejections and a few notices of interest for the ones who had sought friendship and not courtship. He hadn't known that favors could request friendship instead. They asked for either an alliance between Circles or simply as a dedicated opportunity to scout each other out to see whether such an alliance was useful to both sides.

Overall, it had been an enjoyable evening that stretched into the wee hours of the morning, where they'd all eventually nodded off.

Lewis had fallen asleep curled around Cora, his wings angled forward, shadowing protectively around them.

Favors were still scattered plentifully about the floor and some of the stacks had fallen off the tables and chairs from their giggling, nighttime sorting.

Harry wiggled his toes and feet, checking each limb in turn as he attempted to move and felt Theo's half-hearted bite to his arm. A wordless attempt at communicating too many things that his Alpha wasn't quite awake to explain.

Stifling a grin, he bent to kiss Theo's warm cheek. "M'fine, Theo," he murmured, gently pushing the sleepy, contented feelings through their shared bonds. "I'm up and it's only a trip to the loo."

The bite turned into a lick and Theo's golden gaze faded as he let himself return to sleep.

Smiling fondly, Harry disentangled himself from their tangled limbs, standing up for a full body stretch this time. He watched as Theo subconsciously shifted closer to Charlie, to take up the empty space he'd cleared.

Testing his magic, Harry was relieved to find that it was still there—and strong—and that the few flashes of queasiness he'd experienced from the shift in land-to-air living, were practically nonexistent now.

He exited the room as quietly as possible and then recounted his steps from the previous night. It was easy to find the guest bedroom and a fresh change of clothes.

A shower was definitely needed and Harry took his time, appreciating the luxury of the perfectly heated water and the fluffy guest towels.

Theo's choice in clothes were still a touch too formal, but Harry was only mildly surprised to find that it was growing on him. It was hard to feel like his confused, school-boy self, when the mirror image staring back, was every inch of pureblood perfection.

That note, he did have to give Theo, Harry decided, squinting into the mirror as he attempted to flatten his hair down. It was nice not to have to wear glasses and today, it seemed that his eyes were glowing even greener than before.

Hanging the wet towel out to dry, Harry checked the room quickly, before stepping out into the hall. A flicker of a presence caught his attention and allowed his expression to remain neutral when he caught sight of Desmond waiting for him.

Sitting on the floor, deceptively relaxed, eyes bright as if they haven't slept, the Pareya looked up at Harry's approach. "Just you?" he inquired, politely.

Harry's brow furrowed, faintly. "Has something happened?"

Desmond shook his head, tugging on his hair for a moment, as if to keep from saying what he wanted to. "Are the others up?"

"…I don't know," Harry said, slowly.

Desmond managed a smile. "Breakfast then, yes?" He turned away, starting down the hall and stopping, when Harry didn't follow him at once. "For all of you?"

"Sounds good," Harry said, reluctantly trailing behind.

Some of his confusion vanished when he was escorted back to the sitting room and greeted by a yawning Lewis, who frowned at Desmond.

"She's still sleeping," Lewis said, slipping out and closing the door behind him. "Exhausted herself—last night. You shouldn't trouble her so."

Desmond hissed, eyes narrowed. "I'm not the one that is troubling her with things that she doesn't-"

"I'll pick up some of those sweet buns she likes for breakfast. You can take care of everything else, yes? The other two aren't awake as yet either, so you'll have some time."

"Lewis!"

"She's eaten them every single morning since we've been here and one of us has to pick them up," Lewis said, calmly. He rested a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'll even take Harry with me, how's that? One less thing for you to worry about, eh?"

Harry glanced between the two of them, not quite grasping the conversation-within-a-conversation. He was surprised when Desmond's shoulders slumped and he turned away with a muttered phrase.

Lewis only smiled and ruffled Harry's hair. "And that's that, eh? How about some breakfast, just the two of us?"

At that warm, wide smile, Harry could only find himself grinning back, charmed and pleased in the same moment. He'd hoped there would at least be a few minutes when he could visit with Lewis—at least, without Theo being territorial and Charlie having to keep the peace. This was the perfect opportunity.

Pushing another ball of happy contentment through his bonds, Harry tried to keep his joy from spilling over too exuberantly. Breakfast wouldn't really take that long—and Theo liked to sleep late anyway.

As did Charlie.

They wouldn't miss him for an hour or so—after all, it was the Hunt and he'd be in good company.

"Sure!"

HARRY + LEWIS : NEVERAH : AIR ELEMENT SECTION OF THE HUNT

Sweet buns, Harry discovered were a delicacy that was entirely Nevarean when he found out what went into them. The ingredient list alone had made him gag, but Lewis had coaxed him to try a few bites and now, he was hooked.

Chewy, syrupy and surprisingly filling, studded with candied nuts and bits of fruit, the breakfast food was something best suited to a once-a-week treat, instead of daily fare.

As if reading his mind, Lewis laughed. "Cora is very particular these days," he said, still chuckling. "And it's not that sweet. There's still protein and fiber in there, but the-"

"Don't tell me," Harry said, clapping his hands over his ears. "Don't tell me again. I don't want to know what's in them. I wish I didn't know what's in them."

Lewis winked. "Yes, yes. Fine. Every Submissive has pregnancy cravings though and hers just—" and here, the smile faded.

Harry straightened up. So that's what it was. He'd wondered at the almost hints and the way the faintest tint of sorrow had wrapped around their entire Circle. It would definitely explain the dissent between Pareyas and the way that Henry had been so cautious—at least to his Submissive instincts.

"Did something happen?" he asked, gently. "I mean, I feel as if we're intruding at a bad time and-"

Lewis blew out a breath, settling back in his chair. His expression was far more solemn this time than Harry could ever recall. "A stroke of misfortune," he said, at last. "Follow the clues, because we're not to speak of it. Of course, if you know what I'm speaking of—then it's not a problem."

A careful nod was Harry's answer. It wouldn't be the first time he'd puzzled through things on his own to know what was meant to be said.

"Cravings, yes?" Lewis said, ticking it off on one finger.

Harry's brow furrowed. "Cora?"

A minute shrug.

"She is?"

No answer.

"She isn't?"

Lewis looked away.

Harry felt a stab of sympathy for the young woman, who had been so determinedly cheerful last night. Something stirred inside of him, already wishing for some sort of revenge—even though he had yet to know the full story. "What happened?"

"A freak accident. She said she was fine and—she wasn't. Not quite. At the last check-up, it was confirmed." His jaw clenched. "We should have watched her more carefully."

Harry winced. No wonder there was such discord. The underlying threads of hurt and confusion he'd been sensing could all be tied back to this. No wonder they were all on edge. Something of this magnitude would definitely affect them all—and given that he hadn't seen or heard of any children—it would have been their first child.

Silence hung between them.

Lewis added more sugar to his tea and drained the cup in a few swallows.

Harry hesitated. "I'm sorry," he said, at last.

The faintest of smiles lingered on Lewis' face. "Thank you. Last night was the happiest I've seen her in some time. I was worried about her."

They dallied for a while, talking of Harry's recent adventures since arriving in Nevarah and snippets of the Wizarding world he'd currently left behind.

Concerned, Lewis had asked about every bit of information relating to the Peverelle's and whether there had ever been any sort of contact.

Skirting the issue, Harry answered as best as he could, saved from having to answer any more personal questions, when one of the servers approached the table with a written request from a Circle across the room.

Lewis scanned the note, reluctantly agreeing, bargaining for the breakfast treat to be paid for in exchange for the following conversation that would require his medical knowledge.

"I shall inform them," the server said, cheerfully. "Thank you."

Lewis nodded, brows furrowing as the server hurried off. He cast a small smile at Harry. "Sorry. I'm always interrupted like this whenever I venture out on my own. Is there anything you wanted to do today? Anywhere you wanted to see? Something that caught your eye?" Lewis winked. "Or someone?"

Harry flushed, struggling and managing to keep the blush down to a minimum. Perhaps he could trust his luck today, the morning had started out alright after all. "It's fine. I haven't been to this section yet—maybe I'll walk around a bit."

Lewis hesitated. "By yourself? I mean-" he backpedaled at Harry's look.

"I've been fine on my own," Harry said, firmly. He would not let Lewis hover over him. "You have something important to do. I can call Theo or Charlie, if I need them. Besides, the whole point of this Hunt and my—hunting—is to walk around and feel attracted to different strangers. I think I can manage that on my own."

Lewis managed a sheepish grin at that. "I-I suppose so. Well—here," he drew out a green teardrop charm on a silver cord. "Use this if you need me. Break the gem and think of me."

Harry gave a wry smile. "Thanks." He slipped the bracelet on his left wrist and rose from the table. He headed for the exit, lingering long enough to see that Lewis had gone over to speak with the Circle requesting him.

The morning air was charged enough to deliver a faint feeling of excitement as he exited the outdoor eatery. It had been a light, airy space of white metal furniture and round tables with wispy tablecloths.

In fact, everything in this section seemed stubbornly white—or in shades of pale everything—with long wispy strips of fabric adorning every pillar. A giant, roofless castle almost. Harry wandered through the main walkway, down from the eatery sections and further out towards the grand arena that he could see in the distance.

That was some where ahead of him and they'd entered the Hunt from the other side of it the day before. He was reasonably sure of that.

He could hear music being played from various sections, contributing to a happy haze of noise. There were no familiar faces around him nor any magical pulls to any discernible directions.

Theo and Charlie's bonds were still locked into a peaceful slumber, so Harry figured he had plenty of time to explore on his own. There was bound to be something interesting somewhere.

He was partway towards one of the large, sheltered viewing spaces, when a head of forest green hair caught his eye.

A beautiful, dark-skinned woman, clad in simple robes with no visible markings, moved easily through the crowd, her gaze fixed on something ahead of her. A faint pulse of worry followed her, tugging lightly on Harry's empathy.

Harry followed the stare, surprised to find another green-haired individual moving through the crowd ahead of her. This time, this one was very familiar.

Kyle.

The Medic was staring determinedly ahead, lips pursed in thought. There was nothing unusual about it—until he half-glanced over one shoulder and veered off in a completely different direction.

Several beats later—the woman did the same.

Harry stared. That was unexpected.

Intrigued, he started after them, rubbing his chest faintly at the feelings trickling through his empathy. Fear, hope and a desperate yearning.

Odd.

The chase turned out to be more complicated and definitely more of a chase than Harry had expected. To begin with, they kept in sight of each other several times, when Harry almost lost them.

The pull on his empathy was strong enough for him to pick up the trail each time and he couldn't help the growing sense of worry as eventually, he found himself outside of a hot springs with a large waiting line.

Kyle ignored the line altogether and ducked through a rear entrance, with a nod to one of the employees there.

The woman followed him several minutes later, showing something in her hand that prompted the employee to allow her entrance as well. For a moment, Harry wondered whether he ought to continue following them, but his curiosity was piqued and he wanted to know what was happening.

He started forward, only to be caught by a hand on his shoulder, which spun him around to meet very familiar teal eyes.

"Q-quinn!" he blurted out, only to have Quinn clap a hand over his mouth.

The teal-eyed healer frowned, putting a finger to his own lips, before dropping the hand over Harry's mouth. His pale brows furrowed together and then he picked up Harry's hand, lacing their fingers together to establish the needed mental connection.

They won't let you in without a healer's card.

Harry reddened. "Er-"

This way. Quinn tugged on his hand, backing into the crowd and angling for the tall, privacy fence lining the start of the hot springs.

Harry stumbled after him, alternating between mortification and giddy excitement when the hand linked with his, tightened accordingly.

They made their way through a barely visible footpath through the decorative greenery beside the tall fence, until they were hidden from view by the customers.

The path continued on 'round the fence and then veered off into various directions, each likely leading to a different hot spring section. There were signs out in the open, denoting each section by rank.

Various dragels could be seen and sensed, through the foliage.

Quinn didn't pay any attention at all, instead, moving with stealthy grace and single-minded focus.

"Quinn?" Harry whispered.

Don't talk. Use the link. As long as I'm touching you, if you think to me, I'll hear you.

Harry stifled a groan. This was worse than the game of Creeper from the previous day. His hand grew sweaty, but Quinn didn't seem to notice.

…Why are you following Kyle?

I could ask you the same.

H-he was acting—different.

So you just decided to follow him?

I was worried!

About what? He can take care of himself. He's a fully trained Medic and Fae as well. They're resilient.

…And yet you're still trailing him too! Harry thought back, fiercely.

Quinn squeezed his hand a little tighter than necessary, but didn't bother to answer that.

The little footpath ended before another length of privacy fencing. This section of the fence separated one of the employee sections from one of the bathing areas.

Intense feelings of joy and fearful gladness came swarming through Harry's open empathy. He cringed, knees buckling as the full wave of mixed emotions registered.

Quinn's quick hands caught him before he could touch the ground, dropping to a crouch beside him, half-supporting, but absently listening.

Harry clutched at the soft sleeves, head pillowed on Quinn's shoulder, as another wave of empathic feedback rocked through him. He was starting to regret this little adventure, when he heard Kyle's voice.

"…I'm sorry I couldn't before."

"…It's alright. I know it's—hard for you. I tried, but—it didn't work. I'm sorry I couldn't see you sooner. My beautiful, beautiful boy."

The conversation became more indistinct as the voices dropped lower and the dialect changed to a language that Harry had never heard before. He guessed it to be a Fae tongue, but couldn't say for sure.

Quinn's shoulders slumped and he sat, fully, on the ground, head bowed.

Harry felt his body grow slack beside him and then, a few moments later, he was gently pulled onto Quinn's lap, head cradled against the stiff collar of Quinn's over robe.

Quinn…?

…A minute. Just a minute—do you mind?

Considering that his current position wasn't exactly terrible—in fact, it was more enjoyable than anything else—and given that the alternative wasn't the least bit appealing, Harry only shifted closer.

He started, faintly, when both of Quinn's arms circled around him and sudden, fierce bolt of sadness stabbed through him.

It tore through Harry with horrifying clarity, making his magic scream and twist, as it struggled to process the feedback quickly enough. Then it faded to a tolerable throb with a desperate, aching hope that grew smaller and smaller, until there was nothing left.

Quinn, was all that Harry could think. Quinn's feelings? Over Kyle? Kyle's meeting? But the woman—and then he could hear their voices again.

"…Someone's coming. You'd better leave. Quick."

"But-!"

"Don't worry about me. I can be here. You can't. Please, mother-!"

"Kyle-!"

"I promise I'm alright. Please be the same. I love you."

A ripple of protective magic spiraled over Harry and he sat, frozen, in Quinn's lap as the sound of hurried footsteps and rustling grew louder and nearer.

Kyle burst through a section ahead on the footpath, ducking through a convenient makeshift door in the privacy fence. He did it with the ease of grace that suggested he'd done this before.

Without a backward glance, he raced off and away, having only dashed a fist against his face, to smear away any telltale tears.

Quinn-! Harry couldn't keep still anymore. What was that? What's happening?

Something that I can never fix. Quinn said, releasing him. Sorry—didn't mean to grab you like that.

Harry scowled. That wasn't what deserved an apology. He was still scowling when Quinn gently shifted him off to sit on the ground.

Several long minutes passed, the silence stretching out between them.

Eventually they gathered themselves together, brushing off dirt and grass, before making their way back through the footpath and slipping away, unnoticed, from the hot springs.

Quinn held his silence still, walking with his head down and shoulders hunched inward. There was a darkness in his face that Harry hadn't seen before.

Twice, he tried to speak up and each time, the anguished expression on Quinn's face, kept the words trapped in his throat.

They walked together for nearly an hour, until Dahlia and Dyshoka spotted them. They were greeted joyfully and Harry found himself caught up in the Kalzik family preparations once more, as he was easily included in their Circle and lead to a viewing box, much like the one the Deveraine's had.

"You look well, Harry," Surajini said, fussing over him for a minute, bangles tinkling gaily and warm, steady healing magic spilling easily from her fingertips.

Her hands fluttered about Harry's face, stroking over his forehead, eyebrows and nose, before tapping his cheeks as if testing for something. "Are you having a fun morning? Who found you this time?"

"Who?" Dyshoka echoed. "It's not a game!" she protested. "And if you're serious, it was your very own Quinn. They were wandering around with serious looks on their faces—honestly! You'd think if they were courting or something, they'd look less grim about it."

That line jolted Quinn from his thoughts and he blushed a healthy shade of red—right along with Harry.

Surajini laughed, tweaking Harry's nose. "Oho? Is there any truth to that? I cannot say that I have any complaints whatsoever, but he is a handful." She winked at Harry's red face. "He's so picky you see," she stage-whispered, before turning 'round to tease her son.

Harry didn't think his face could turn any redder, but was sadly mistaken in the following few minutes.

Thankfully, the teasing stopped as several rounds of entertainment began in the arena below. The Kalziks settled down accordingly, some of them paired off and the rest of them clustered together.

Harry was lumped together in the cluster with Dahlia and Dyshoka, closest to the viewing box railing. They shared plenty of snacks and drinks, chattering between each other about the Circles presenting and the show taking place below.

As far as he could follow, they were auditioning Submissive's from High Noble families, some of them following tradition and others simply choosing the path of a public venue for a contained heart cry. It was interesting to see the way they each took the stage, demonstrating a creative or practical skill and then ending with a dragon's screech that made his bones rattle.

Each time, there would be answering calls from the audience and individuals would come swooping down from various viewing boxes to join the Submissives. on stage. A quick, but effective selection process would follow. The entire show would end with a temporary claim staked on the intendeds, while the bonded Pareyas monitoring the courtship would escort them safely off the stage to a more private setting.

It was a curious affair, by everything that Harry measured it against. He was curious and somewhat alarmed to see how the entire process played out in front of him.

As if sensing his initial aversion to it, Dyshoka calmly settled herself beside him, looping one of her arms over his and pointing out each step with helpful explanations.

The Submissives' in question had all given full consent before participation and there were many older and experienced Bonded present to assist whenever and however needed.

So far, Harry hadn't seen anything to contradict that. It helped him to relax a bit, especially when Kyle came to join them in the viewing box and Quinn's mood had shifted to one of forced happiness.

Harry was somewhat glad that Wikhn and Mimei weren't present—but they arrived later, with exaggerated apologies to Dahlia for their apparent tardiness.

In good enough spirits to ignore it, Dahlia had simply waved them over to join the little cluster. It was that gesture that had Harry sandwiched between Quinn and Wikhn, balancing a bowl of snacks on his lap. At that, Harry had silently given up, determinedly focusing on the stage below.

Ignoring the fact that Wikhn had politely greeted him and sat pressed against him, shoulder to hip—due to the number of them crowded onto the viewing bench.

Any protest against that was effectively negated by the fact that Quinn was pressed up against him on his left side, a warm, steady presence, sadness rolling off him in tempered waves, with the occasional brush of hands as he helped himself to the shared snacks.

Yes, Harry decided. Definitely giving up.

HERMIONE + OLIVIA. : NEVARAH : THE HUNT, Day 3

"So more than one friend?" Olivia asked, skeptically. "I don't know, that's different. Surely if they aren't native, it wouldn't be that hard to track them." She frowned at Hermione, who was busying herself over by the bookshelf, oblivious to the toddler on the floor beside her.

Hermione mumbled an answer, fingers tracing a one broad spine in the corner of the bookshelf. She tried to pry the volume free, the words only registering halfway.

Olivia's gaze narrowed faintly. She clicked her tongue against her teeth, gaining the toddler's attention and directing him out of the room, with a slight maternal pull on his instincts.

There were many things that bothered her about having an unexpected houseguest dumped in her lap. Never mind who had brought her, the last thing Olivia had needed—was another complication.

Things were troublesome enough without having to explain to her Alpha that she'd lost her position at the health clinic. Far too complicated to relate how she'd managed such a feat—given that nepotism had originally landed her there.

Oh, there were plenty of other things she would have liked to do—Arielle knew that she hadn't cared to be dealing with another one of her family's stupid charity projects, but it had made good money.

That had been important to her Circle. Not to mention having one of the actual Kalziks listed as an official healer—that had boosted the clinic's reputation several times over.

And yet it was the same stupid Kalzik and his ridiculous fae counterpart, that had ruined everything.

Well, except for the unexpected visitors. She'd investigated on her own, after all—customers who used fancy names to earn immediate service were always on her watch list. The little wisp of an Alpha had thrown around the name of Gorgens—as if it had meant something.

Perhaps it had—in a way. There had only ever been one child granted the use of that particular name and she'd never expected to see them in her clinic. Least of all with two Bonded reeking of wizard magic and entirely too clueless for their own good. He hadn't even recognized his mentor's own daughter—a detail that Olivia had found to be quite curious.

It hadn't helped that the Kalzik duo had all but instantly adopted them—exerting themselves over their allotted contracted healing measures—and then having the nerve to blame it on her.

The little Alpha was paying for everything—it was a good bonus for the clinic. It was all fine, until that stupid Gheyo had shown up and then everything had gone to pieces.

"Excuse me?" Hermione's hesitant voice was slightly louder than her normal tone. She seemed to have one hand stuck to the bookshelf, the book desired now in her hand.

Olivia waved a hand over her shoulder, undoing the protective charm with a snap of magic that would grant access for reading the book.

And conveniently erase all knowledge of having read it once the book was returned to the shelf. Oh well. Not her problem. If the earth witch wanted to read those kinds of dragel books, it was entirely her choice.

The thin wail from the nursery drew her attention and Olivia rose from the table where she'd been sorting paperwork. She shuffled the folders and papers together, before sliding them into her work briefcase.

It locked with a basic charm, protecting the immediate information from prying eyes. She left the room, rolling her stiff shoulders back. If one twin was up, the other was sure to follow, never mind that she'd placed separate spells on them in hopes that the nap would last longer than usual.

Pity the earth witch wasn't any good with children. It would have been useful.

Hermione could not breathe the sigh of relief as Olivia left the room, heading in the direction of the quiet cry.

She was uncomfortable in a house with so many small children, most of them wanting to climb all over her or be held and sung to.

As much as she hated it, those particular things felt very far out of her realm of comfort. Her voice wasn't anything spectacular—not that she knew many songs appropriate for children—and her body still ached from the magical ordeal she'd survived and so acting as a living climbing post was out of the question.

The most bothersome detail was the way that Olivia's disapproval fairly radiated off her in large, unavoidable waves. Hermione felt sure that the older woman had to know what she was doing, but couldn't verify it.

She hadn't been able to push away the uncanny feeling that Olivia was lying to her about something, though she couldn't yet put her finger on it.

It hadn't escaped her attention that Olivia had begun directing her children away from Hermione and that she always locked her briefcase with a charm, any time she moved further than arm's reach.

Almost as if it were a habit.

But too precise to be accurate.

If she'd had any other wits about herself, Hermione would have tried to look a little closer. But she was currently a guest in a place she knew nothing about, culture-wise or otherwise and had no desire to lose, at least, a roof over her head and a decent meal.

Those necessities were most certainly not to be overlooked.

Maybe later.

When she was ready to leave.

She didn't think Olivia would mind if she left sooner rather than later.

Their large library had eased some of Hermione's worries, mostly because books had often been some of her closest confidants through the years. There were more secrets, worlds and magic between those pages than anything else, to her, at least.

Thinking back to the lonelier days with few friends—if they were to be called that—and then discovering Hogwarts, Harry and Ron—made her hands twitch in frustration. Having her wand with her, was not, for the first time in some time—an instant solution. It would be useful, yes. But she needed a plan of action.

A good one.

Everything had been a mess since that stupid day.

There'd been no sane reason to walk out in the Forbidden Forest and try to die! Surely she had more brains than that. But then again, there had always been something off for quite some time, almost as if someone were pulling strings behind the scenes.

Something that was different now that she was—wherever she was. Things were a little clearer, a little brighter—and yet, still darker at the same time.

Things like the odd scars that seemed carved into her stomach, an intricate design of symbol and status. That same seal had been on the spine of the book that had caught her eye, thus piquing her interest.

A thin golden line that twined effortlessly into the very same seal she bore. A detail she'd glamoured over, the first chance she had.

Somehow, she didn't think that Olivia would appreciate knowing that she was housing a Hellhound's Consort. Particularly not if her calculations were correct—the actual main hound himself.

She stifled a shudder, trying not to think of those damning red eyes boring straight through to pierce her soul. Everything about that man—or hound—had irritated her and she did not want to run into him again.

At least, not before she found Harry.

She'd hoped there might be some information in the book about the seal, the house it belonged to—and perhaps, about dealing with hellhounds, particularly if one happened to be linked to them.

A/N: Hey everyone! This chapter has been a bear to edit. Ugh. You would think I've learned to write somewhat shorter, but at 16k words, I guess it isn't happening. I tried my best to keep from having another monster chapter. Sorry! I hope you enjoy it anyway. LOL. I don't think anyone can complain about length-it has grown 2k words with just the edits. Yikes.

RL Updates : I have some work-related travel coming up and it will be over the course of the next six months. This, of course, has turned work into a flurry of activity with new hours and other craziness in there. I know you all are waiting on updates and I do wish I had time to dedicate to this story, the way that it deserves. I have an hour, sometimes two, tops-most afternoons, in which to cook my lunch for the next day, take a shower, do some laundry and then bed. Wake up, rinse, repeat. Weekends are my primary time slots and I try to write as much as I can when I can.

Many thanks to brissygirl who made sense of my odd typos and suggestions for the story. She is an absolute darling and has relayed your wishes for nore snippets and getting plot points tied up. In this chapter, I tackled Hermione and Revenge on Umbridge, so we'll get to see some more snippets soon. Hang in there!

Thanks for your support and kind reviews here on TBDH and my indie project, The Dragel's Song. Welcome to the new readers. Thanks for reading!

REVIEW RESPONSES WILL BE POSTED as I have the time to spare-and I honestly haven't had the time for a while now. I'm truly very sorry for that, but I still treasure every review-thank you for your comments and encouragement!

STATE OF CHARACTERS:

Harry, Theo, Charlie-(with the Peverells)

Deveraine Circle members-(at their home)