TRIGGER WARNING for mentions of suicide near the middle of this chapter.

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: Harry and Co. meet the Peverell Submissive, Cora and some of her Circle. Theo has trouble adjusting to them and Harry spends time bonding with Lewis. Harry's Peverell Seal removal process is also set into motion. He also runs into Quinn and they share a moment, when Quinn starts following Kyle to a secret meeting behind one of the public hot springs. Ithycar and Ilsa sort things out between them and Ilsa and Bharin take revenge on Umbridge in the Wizarding World.

HARRY + KALZIK FAMILY : THE HUNT : DAY 3

Contained Heartcries.

That's what it was.

Harry had finally asked Quinn for an explanation and then tentatively broached the subject of his own potential cry.

Quinn had gamely puzzled through it along with him. Harry vaguely remembered a similar conversation with Bahn on the beach that day he'd met one half of the Deveraine Circle. He'd said it was a Heartcry for Theo—and then for Charlie—but he hadn't been sure.

Not completely sure, anyway.

The Soul Seal might have blocked a soul scream. Quinn mused, appropriately distracted from the scene on the platform below. Especially with the way that Theo's Caspers were so deeply intertwined with you and all that—the Soul Cast—on Theo. I wonder if I could do one for you?

Harry almost shrugged. He didn't exactly mind, though remembering what he could from what Theo had gone through, he wasn't sure he wanted to think about it—yet. He didn't have Caspers and it seemed like they had been crucial to Theo's recovery. "What would it tell you?"

Anything I asked of it, Quinn said, truthfully. Though I would only ask it what was needed to help remove your seals though. Demanding everything of a Soul Cast is illegal, a direct violation of the individual's privacy—and, in very poor taste. He sniffed.

Harry hid a smile. "I'd like to know," he said, at last. "It's just that I'm never quite sure that it's alright—you know? I want to know, to be sure." He gave a decisive nod. "Sometimes I feel almost as if there's a connection and then it vanishes. It doesn't follow all the way through and-"

You think it's because of your seals? Quinn guessed.

Harry nodded. "Part of me doesn't know what to think, but the rest of me is sure that I want them off. If it's blocking something, I just—I want to do this as me. Not because something inside of me is somehow making me react."

Quinn offered an understanding smile. I'm sorry the process is so slow. I've already requested everything needed from the necessary parties to have them removed. I asked Bharin to look into it the day after. He set things in order. Mum actually took a glance at the whole thing and made a few suggestions. Everything should be underway, at least to some degree. If you haven't heard from anyone yet, it is because preparations aren't complete. Seal removals take time and the older the seal, the trickier.

Harry felt a spark of warmth at that. He was pleased to think that Quinn had already acted on his behalf to have the stupid seals removed. Even better to think that it had been for all of them and not just one. "Thanks. Even if they're tricky—they'll still take them off?"

If that's what you want, definitely. Seals are good things—tools, really, but they should never be used on any individual in the way they were used on you. Most seals wear off or lose potency over time, depending on the strength of the Caster and their magical ability. Some Seals can last a lifetime, others are meant to break on an auspicious date.

"So it is possible that I've had a—a Soul Scream?" Fractured memories of Charlie, fire and Theo's Caspers, danced through Harry's mind. He was seeing himself from the inside out and it was a strange feeling.

Quinn's teal eyes shimmered with interest. Many things are possible, especially when magic is involved, but I don't know too much about potential blocks to a Soul Scream. It was my understanding that whenever one was in effect, all soul bonded parties were aware.

Harry slowly nodded. That made some sort of sense. "Would I need to schedule that at the clinic? When would I be able to request you-?"

Ah—request it from the Kalzik Main house or the entire Kalzik Clan and address it to me, I'll receive it there.

"Not at the Clinic?"

Quinn squirmed, looking away. My darling mother lost her temper and so I lost my job, so no. Not at the Clinic. I am no longer employed as Master Healer, my official title and status has reverted to that of a Kalizk Clan Specialist. My speciality is mind-magics and dark creatures.

"You lost your job?"

Not on purpose!

Harry bit his lip. He was thinking of Matron Olivia and the way she'd treated both Quinn and Kyle. He hadn't liked her then and he was glad that he wouldn't have to see her again. At least, if he could request Quinn to be his regular Healer, then maybe he'd never have to see her again. "Can you be my Healer then?"

Quinn pressed his lips together, a myriad of emotions flickering through his teal eyes. He hadn't expected that Harry would ask him. Hoped, maybe, but not expected it. Not until I am cleared—until my Master Healer status is awarded to me, you'll have to see someone else in the family, if you want the Kalzik services.

"Oh. I see," Harry said, disappointed.

Dy's already taken you on. Quinn reminded him. She mentioned that she'd asked for your word after your transformation at the Introductions.

Harry blushed. He did remember that. "So she's my Healer now?"

Er—kind of? Quinn scratched his head. You have to sign things to make it legal and acknowledged, but yes, she is. Once you give her permission, she can work with you and your Circle, if needed, so you won't have to return to the Clinic.

"Alright. I give you permission too," Harry said, decisively.

Quinn opened and shut his mouth. He stared at Harry for a long minute as if searching for the answer to his unspoken question in those earnest emerald eyes gazing steadily back. …thank you. Dy asked first though, so she'll have to rescind her offer before you can request me.

Harry huffed. "Why does it have to be so complicated?"

Because we are simple creatures with complicated minds. Quinn quipped. For now, how about I write up a process check on all of the seal removal requests and send it for you. I'll also ask to handle the Soul Check with the option of a possible Soul Cast. Will that work?

"Yeah. Thanks."

Knowledge is power. Quinn flashed a smile. Since I'll sign off on it though, the only thing you'll need to do, is to sign your written acknowledgement and then show up on time for the appointment, whenever they contact you.

Harry threw him a grateful smile. "That would be helpful. Theo would like that. He's worrying about everything lately."

Quinn smiled. No problem at all. I'll check with Mama for dates and times and such. You'll have to come to the Kalzik Ancestral Home, it's the Main house where we have our best casting grounds and we have to take turns using it. Quinn wrinkled his nose. I'll include a transport portal as well, so don't sign it until you're ready to come.

"Theo and Charlie too, right?"

There will be accommodations for everyone. I wouldn't leave them out and I know you'll want them close for the Soul Cast.

Harry tried to contain his relief and the sudden rush of giddiness. For a moment, he felt that he could have shown his thanks with a more physical token of affection, but his brain was on autopilot and he heard himself speaking. "Thanks Quinn."

Quinn's own smile upped a few watts and he leaned into Harry's shoulder for a moment, before returning his attention to the centre stage in the auditorium.

Harry let his eyelids flutter shut in sheer happiness. The nudge, small as it was, had set off a happy trigger of warm, contented feelings zipping through his empathy threads. It was wonderful on every level and he loved it.

Something inside shifted and twisted, but there was no prompt for anything more. No click. No confirmation—just an acknowledgement, almost.

Quinn? Harry wondered. Maybe. He couldn't be sure. But he could feel Quinn's magic spilling over into him, warm and strong. The sheer emotion of it made him shiver with delight.

Someday? Harry thought. Someday, maybe that twist and click with Quinn. With some effort, he made himself concentrate on the event taking place on the large platform. He watched as another happy submissive was escorted off to the side with her new Intendeds trailing after her. Contained Heartcries. What a strange way to plan a future, he mused.

He tried not to glance at Wikhn, the warm, steady presence beside him, who was also studying the platform. The expression on the dark fae's face, was something that Harry had never seen before.

It was almost an expression of longing.

As if those pink eyes were seeing something completely different than what was actually taking place.

For one painful moment, Harry was reminded of their shared memory—dancing on a darkened club floor, pressed tightly together and the almost click.

The almost click.

Something throbbed in his chest, a dull ache almost as if a wound hadn't scabbed over and was still fresh to the touch.

He was half-reaching up a hand to touch his chest, when he realized that Wikhn was doing the same thing, the expression in his eyes saying that he was a million miles away.

In fact, his slender, pale fingers had already begun to dig into his armoured breastplate, before Dahlia had calmly reached over and pulled his hand down, lacing her fingers through his, while continuing her conversation with Dyshoka, as if nothing unusual had happened.

Harry stifled a groan and fought against the urge to bite or hit something. Base reactions, sure, but sometimes this particular brand of frustration needed a more physical outlet.

For one fateful moment, he'd worried that he was projecting his own emotions out, until he'd seen that brief flicker of anguish on Wikhn's face when Dahlia had taken his hand. Almost as if it pained him to be comforted by her, but at the same time, as if he'd die if he wasn't.

A twisted muddle of everything.

So. Not his feelings then, but Wikhn's.

Oh damn it all.

If that stupid click happened again—he'd—well, Harry wasn't quite sure what he'd do, but he was absolutely sure that he wasn't about to let it end as it had with Wikhn.

Not by a long shot.

CENTRE STAGE, MAIN AUDITORIUM, NEVARAH

"And as a gesture of goodwill and a fine example of the strength of our Air Elementals, our very own Shayla Imaldis, daughter of our Clan Chief, will now be presented as an available submissive for a formal, public courting. She has requested this of her own accord and we are happy to assist her. We give our thanks and appreciation to the Imaldis Clan for this extraordinary opportunity and we look forward to seeing this talented heiress and her future Circle. May the courting be blessed and their Circle strong and unbreakable. May every good trait of our elements be reflected in the very shape of the symbolic title we claim for our Bonded." Princess Dawne ended the speech amplifying spell and turned to wait.

Shayla strolled to the centre of the stage, clad in the most elaborate finery afforded to one of her station. She was dwarfed in the traditional dancing garb of her elemental clan, with pastel-coloured wisps of fabric fluttering in the wind—a visible touch of her element. Bedecked in gold and jewels from head to toe, even her white-blonde hair shimmered, as her beautiful peach wings stretched out behind her, in full length. The silver spines gleamed in the mid-morning sun.

Cheers rose up from the entire air elemental section, growing even louder as a standing ovation began. There were whoops, whistles and shrieks of happiness filling the air.

Shayla glided down from a raised platform, her long, beautiful skirts trailing out behind her, the ceremonial robes and makeup causing her to appear much older than her mere sixteen years of age. She carried herself with dignity and grace, coming to a stop before Princess Dawne, kneeling in respect.

An attendant stood off to the left, holding a jewelry box and approached at a gesture from the Princess. From within the box, a token of acceptance—a glimmering pendant—strung on a long, golden chain, was produced.

The pendant's charm was a golden pair of feathered wings in the shape of a heart, set within a golden circle. It was symbolic and delicately wrought, showing off fine craftsmanship in the details.

Princess Dawne threaded it carefully over Shayla's head, arranging it so the charm would hang in the centre of her chest, visible to all. She smiled in approval and tipped Shayla's head forward, just enough to kiss the crown. "I wish you love and luck, my dear," she murmured, the age-old phrase of blessing granted to those who chose a public courtship.

The attendant offered a hand, which was accepted, as Princess Dawne was whisked off the stage and back to the Royal viewing area and her respective throne.

The three remaining royals nodded their assent and acceptance of the situation, before all the noise died down.

Shayla rose from her kneeling position and smoothed her skirts with a touch of her element.

A warm wind blew through the auditorium as she continued in her solitary walk. In the centre of the auditorium's concrete floor, a large, carved, casting ground awaited her. Glowing runes showing charms activated for safety, both that of her own and her potential suitors, decorated the surface.

A series of circles set inside of each other, each progressively larger to house the ones inside of it—with a small space in the very centre. Shayla moved until she stood directly on that spot. With a flicker of her hand, the voluminous skirts rippled out from her, settling on the stone stage, hiding the carved circles from view and surrounding her with the pale, pretty colours.

Deathly silence stole over the arena. Tension began to build. For several long, agonizing moments, nothing happened and nothing was said.

Then Shayla bowed her head, hands clenched at her sides, before she sucked in a breath, threw her head back and screeched a loud heartcry to the sky.

The silence broke—right along with the audience's control. The sound echoed in the aftermath of the forced silence and the reactions came quickly.

A flurry of activity and colour rippled through the viewing boxes, wings bursting out from beneath formal dress and magic sparking visibly in the air as instinct came to the surface.

Dozens of Dragel Alphas took flight, aiming straight for the protected stages. They landed, some of them squabbling amongst themselves before approaching the sectioned off circle where Shayla resided.

Some were permitted to venture closer, while others were stopped by a nearly invisible wall of shimmer that sprang to life. Whatever her requirements were, they appeared to be in proper working order as two of the Alphas who had squabbled with each other, were refused further entry.

A handful of others were permitted, to continue forward, but it was immediately clear that there was some sort of magical webbing set in the floor.

Shayla rolled her shoulders back as she eased herself down to sit on the stone floor, head held high, hands folded in her lap as she studied the approaching dragels.

Her silvery eyes were nearly pitch black, narrowed to slender points, scales visible along the sides of her cherubic face. Something off to her left made her jerk around and she snarled, before repeating the heartcry, twice, each time louder than the first.

It had nearly the same effect as the first time, but also served to rile up the dragels who had already responded to her initial call. The second wave of answering screeches and dragels came trickling down from the stands, some landing far off to the ends of the stage, others venturing closer.

None had tried to aim directly for her, a good sign, considering that it now appeared this would be an elaborate and drawn-out courting process.

KALZIKS AND HARRY : VIEWING BOX

In the Kalzik viewing box, Dahlia grew unnaturally still and exceptionally pale. Scales rippled along the sides of her cheeks, fading back into her tanned skin. Her eyes had shifted to a sudden, brilliant golden hue, unlike her natural colour. They were bright and brimming with power.

Dyshoka started faintly, her mouth in a grim line as she looked from the stage to Dahlia and back. Mei and Wikhn both made sounds of obvious distress, worry in both of their faces as they moved towards their Ace and flinched back at a barely restrained wave of magic.

Emily's twin tails lashed from side to side and her own brown eyes had darkened. Kyle immediately moved out of expected range of what he knew of Dahlia's wingspan, half-shielding Emily behind him—as he tried to subtly move further away from her.

In fact, it seemed almost everyone was clearing out a respectable amount of space between Dahlia and Dyshoka.

Harry wondered what for—until he felt it. Her aura, thick and dark—cruel, almost in its pure form. It made his breath catch in his throat and it made his magic shrink back inside of him. It was almost as if she were an emissary of Death and he wasn't worthy of a reaping.

A hint if light touched the edges and that, Harry could plainly see, was Dyshoka, attempting to reach out to her lover, with gentle hands and a careful, trembling smile.

Harry turned away from them, unable to watch and wishing he could move further away from them as well. He only knew that something important was happening right now and he wasn't sure he wanted to be this close to it. He tried to move only to find that Quinn was holding his hands and had whisked away the snack bowl at some point.

Don't move. It'll draw their attention. Don't interrupt. Just pretend that everything's alright and don't look at them. Quinn thought, fiercely. We should have moved sooner. I'm sorry. Bear with it—please. Breathe. Breathe. Pretend that you didn't notice. She can't notice you right now.

Harry squeezed the hand back—hard. How was he supposed to pretend that everything was alright and—ow. Alright. Not squishing Quinn's hand back, as he apparently had no qualms about returning the favour.

That earned him an eyeroll, before the grip gentled considerably and their position registered. Quinn had switched hands—one holding Harry's the other, wrapped around Harry's waist, drawing him closer to Quinn's side—and his warmth.

That made Harry bite back the sound in his throat that wanted to be heard. Part angry-screech and half-annoyed snarl. Being closer to Quinn was a good thing, but the timing and circumstances sucked.

He didn't like this. It was almost as if they were offering Shayla up like some kind of distinguished trinket for—

Calm down, Harry. It's alright.

Stop saying it's alright! Harry thought, fiercely.

…Shayla is fine. Everyone else is fine. This is a public courting. She's initiated it. She's doing this of her own accord—they even announced that at the start. No one is forcing her to do anything. There hasn't even been any bloodshed and no fights for-

They'll fight? Harry twisted in Quinn's embrace—he hadn't even noticed when Quinn had stopped holding his hand and started holding him.

Quinn squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he had a headache potion and trying to think of an easy way to explain this to Harry. It was perfectly ordinary by Nevarean standards, though a bit rare, considering that Shayla was a Clan Heiress.

Maybe. I don't know, Harry. Sometimes they do, not always. Usually, it's a magical test of some sort. See the circles on the ground that she first cast? The glowing ones that are hidden under her skirts? She was using them to test for magic compatibility. There's nothing wrong with that and it shows that she's giving this legitimate thought. If they're not compatible, she's not considering them and they have to retreat. Look closer.

I am looking, Quinn! But she's up there like a—like a piece of meat and she's not. She's a lady! She shouldn't have to—she could have anyone she wants. The words came streaming through the shared mental connection, before Harry could double-check them. It felt more like a public auction, with Shayla's stats displayed on one of the large screens and more dragels leaping out from their viewing boxes to fly down to the stage.

She isn't being forced into this. Quinn repeated, patiently. She has the right to choose and the right to refuse. We can't interfere with her choice. This is what she wants. If it helps, look off to the corner there—see the dragels in the shadows? The ones who are escorting those away? She's rejected them and they are leaving—peacefully. No fights.

And Harry couldn't hold his silence anymore. He was remembering the moment on the beach, after the Deveraine's little party. How his magic had reacted before Theo and Charlie had settled things between each other. How Shayla and Soula had fed their magic into him.

How it had left impressions of their cheerful, fun personalities behind.

How it didn't fit the image of Shayla on stage just then.

How it didn't seem to work at all and he knew that something else was happening—something he couldn't put his finger on.

"That doesn't make it right! She's more than this. She's a-"

"A child," Dahlia said, coldly. "And she's acting like one too."

A harsh chill washed over Harry with those angry words. He dared to look over to see Dahlia, in spite of Quinn's earlier words. She was staring fixedly at the large shimmering screen that hovered over their section of the stadium, showing Shayla's calm expression and the necklace she wore. Her eyes no longer held a hint of colour in them. They were now pitch black and her scaled arms were folded tightly across her chest, her hands already clawed.

"Dahlia-" Dyshoka tried, flinching back a few seconds later when purple magic lashed out at her. She took a step back, then cast a glance over at Harry and Quinn, her magic stretching towards them.

Quinn flinched a moment later.

Harry looked between them. Anything he could have said was unnecessary when he felt Quinn's magic traveling through him and the spell echoed in his own mind.

Ororo carmena.

Dreadful fascination settled over him as he watched Quinn lurch to his feet, protectively standing in front of him.

For one awful second, Harry loathed the feeling of those arms leaving him and then, he was sitting alone, with Quinn protectively in front of him—and Dyshoka.

"Dahlia—pull yourself together. Don't you dare take your frustration out on my sister!"

Dyshoka shot him a Look. "Quinn, that doesn't help anything. Don't interrupt this." She frowned. "And you shouldn't be using that spell." Dyshoka pressed a hand to her mouth and then one to her chest, where Dahlia's claim mark resided. She gave a pained whimper as the marks began to burn.

"Why would she-?" Dahlia's voice cracked. Twin, angry tears leaked out from the corners of her eyes. "Arielle."

Quinn's fury receded and his severe expression softened into something of understanding. He inched a tad closer, his Healer's aura fanning out around him in flickers of teal light.

"She made her choice and now it's your turn. If you want to try, you have to jump now. Before she stops the call. Three times is the final count. She won't ask again," Quinn said, firmly.

Dahlia's shoulders twitched and shuddered. "She should have asked me first," she rasped out, eyes fluxing from black to a brilliant, vivid purple, proof of her mixed elemental heritage.

Something passed between Quinn and Dyshoka once more.

Dyshoka dodged to the side, waving a hand at Harry and half-pulling him to her with a flicker of magic. "Over here," she hissed, softly. "Her wings are large enough to reach you there."

Stumbling over the benches, Harry found himself standing in a slightly shielded corner with the Kalzik triad.

Surajini looked equally grim. Hiram didn't look very happy at all. Patrick was silent, but on guard and Harry had the feeling that neither of them liked the interaction between Dahlia and Dyshoka—but that none of them would interrupt it, not when it seemed like Dyshoka was reaching her on some level.

Satisfied that Harry was safe for the moment, Dyshoka ventured forward again. "Yes—yes, she should have. I'm sorry she didn't. But that's over now. It's already happened. You need to make your own choice now, alright?"

"Someone should have stopped her," Dahlia said, pained. "She said she never would be one of them up on a stage, calling for perfect strangers—"

"She's calling you and you know it."

"Dy—I—someone should have—no one—you don't understand."

"We can't understand," Dyshoka said, carefully. "We don't know what you know. But what you should probably do—is go. Now. Before it's too late for—"

"Now, Dahlia!" Quinn's voice cut in.

There was a single flinch and then Dahlia lurched forward to the railing, eyes hooded. Magic twisted and twined around her, until her head fell back and a loud, agonized screech rent through the air.

Her wings exploded out from her in a flurry of blood and fabric, flinging tiny bits of skin and scale about the viewing box. She moved easily to perch at the railing and then launched herself downward with a powerful leap. She streaked through the air with devastating speed.

Her halfling transformation completed itself in mid-air.

She landed at the far end of the courting area with visible crater in her wake.

Much like Ilsa had done at the beach.

Harry gaped. He'd never seen her like this and now he was no longer worried for merely Shayla, but Dahlia as well. His empathy was uncertain, twining tighter around him, the earlier calmness gone.

She was morphing and changing, even as she walked, growing taller and more muscled, her wings shifting and growing more plated.

He felt when her true aura slashed out.

It was calm, dependable and authoritative. It left no room for negotiation and spoke of darkness with depth and lightness with strength. It was absolute.

Definitely nothing like what Harry had felt before. He coughed, sagging back against Surajini, who hugged him, briefly, then nudged him into another pair of arms.

Harry started, faintly, until he realized it was Quinn's arms wrapping so carefully and gently around him. He leaned into the unexpected embrace. This was one slice of heaven he would enjoy, as long as he could. Confusion caught up to him and he cocked his head to the side. "What was that?"

Dyshoka stood by the railing, her head bowed. She turned back to Harry, a half-smile visible. "That was something that needed to happen," she said, her smile sad. "It will be very busy here in the next few minutes, but Quinn can tell you what's happening." She frowned. "And turn that spell off, brother-mine. I didn't ask you to use it and I will be very disappointed if you keep it up. I only said for you to tell her to jump. You know very well I can't interfere."

"Why not?" Harry asked. He ducked at her Look.

Quinn exchanged a glance with her, before she turned away, rearranging her dupatta. She busied herself with checking over everyone. Quinn looked down at Harry, who was still half-looking up at him, as best as he could without giving up the hug.

"Don't say it's complicated," Harry warned. "I want to know what's happening and I'll know if-"

"Dyshoka has precognitive gifts," Quinn said, matter-of-factly. "But the rule for anything with future sight or precognition, is that you can't interfere. Especially in a Key Event or during an auspicious time."

"It is a gift that plagues my family," Surajini said, quietly. She stood behind them now and rested a hand on each of their shoulders. "It is nothing to worry about Harry, but I am sorry for the scare. I haven't had the chance to talk to Dyshoka lately. I didn't know she was working with a prediction." She glanced at Patrick, who shook his head.

Hiram's frown deepened. "Dyshoka," there was a hint of reprimand in his tone.

Dyshoka's shoulders slumped. "I couldn't," she said, lightly. "That was one of the turning points."

"Dy!" Surajini looked appropriately horrified. "How much of this are you-"

"She's my world, Mama. I can't lose her," Dyshoka murmured. She moved to stand at the railing once more, her sharp eyes zeroing in on the stage below where Dahlia and Shayla seemed to be speaking with each other at last.

Quinn rubbed at his throat and growled faintly, when his mother thumped him on the head.

"Turn it off, Quinten."

There was a flicker more of gold than blue-green in those teal eyes, before Quinn muttered something and the spell was abruptly cancelled.

"Something's happening!" Laxmi called, from where she half-leaned over the rail, with Alejandro beside her, a flicker of magic keeping her from falling over, while they studied the scene unfolding on the stage below.

Harry followed Quinn over to the railing himself, pleased when one of Quinn's arms remained loosely wrapped around his waist. Muttered gasps rose up from the surrounding crowd. He stared down, squinting at the stage and felt Quinn press against his shoulder.

"What's happening?"

We missed the initial suit. Shayla has to acknowledge Dahlia's arrival, before it can progress any further. Once she does, it's back to testing magic. If the magic sticks, then they're allowed to approach.

"And after that?"

Quinn did not answer.

Apparently, in the few short minutes, Shayla had been refusing each suit until Dahlia had shown up. Now, Dahlia stood at the edge of her little stage, making no move to venture further, but speaking something that wasn't broadcasted on the screens' speakers.

Harry watched as the conversation stretched out and at one point, Shayla lunged forward, trying and failing to provoke Dahlia into a reaction.

It ended with Shayla kneeling on the ground and offering the precious token, at last.

Dahlia only knelt in response, asking one final question, before she accepted the token for what it was.

The following minutes were confusing and difficult to process—for a great shadow stretched over the entire stage and only a crackle of visible purple energy made it clear that it was Dahlia's doing an no one else's.

The Royals seemed unperturbed and by default, so did everyone else. Harry fidgeted, uncomfortable by the display of magic and the apparent acceptance.

The glimpse of Dahlia's anguish and temperament had been unexpected, but then, there had been flat out defiance on Shayla's face when she'd taken the stage.

Perhaps they were alright after all?

From within the shadowed stage, the first gasps started up and then an unearthly howl rent through the air.

For one single moment, Harry couldn't hear anything. Could only feel his heart beating erratically in his chest. Could only think that this was what it felt like to see a world building itself together, one single stitch at a time.

The sound echoed in his soul and screamed through every sense. It was as if it was reminding him that there was more to his life. That this was not it.

There was a future, there was light, there was hope and most of all—there was love.

For him.

For the light that burned inside of him, that made it so easy to reach out and help those around him.

As quickly as it had come, the feeling vanished and the magic went with it a moment later. The cry was not repeated.

But several loud cracks of sound were accented with brilliant flashes of light, streaking through the hazy air and stabbing down onto the stage.

Wikhn made a noise from beside him and Harry turned in time to see Mimei stiffen and vanish as a bolt of light snatched her up and deposited her down on stage.

Several portals of brilliant white-blue spiralled to life, circling the shadowed space that now began to clear, showing Dahlia standing tall in her transformed glory as a Gheyo Alpha. Cradled to her chest and looking as if she'd always belonged there, Shayla stood with her head tucked beneath her new Alpha's chin.

They glowed in tandem, golden and violet, watching as new dragels stepped out from the portals, each of them bearing a glowing seal of claim.

"W-what is it?" Harry asked.

Soulscream. Quinn projected, carefully. I don't know how she managed it—probably a Gheyo thing, but she's managed to trigger her Alpha's transformation and it called all of their soul-bonded to come to their side.

Harry's breath caught in his throat, coupled with a sudden, fierce sense of longing and a desperate need to have what was on the stage below.

The immediate sensations were confusing and he broke them down enough to realise that someone else was projecting. Someone close enough for his carefully guarded empathy to pick up on.

Someone like Wikhn.

Someone like Quinn.

Harry heard another crack and he choked, stumbling into Quinn, as Kyle and Emily vanished next.

Wikhn's stricken face spoke volumes, his pale pink eyes growing steadily darker, his hands clenching the railing.

Harry steadied himself—and turned to Quinn only to find the same expression of complete despair and hopelessness wrought on his expressive face.

"Quinn—Wikhn?" Harry faltered. They looked as if all light had left their world and it didn't make sense. "What—what just?"

"Give them a moment, love," Surajini was there, warmth and light, swirling around her as she descended on their little group. "Quinn, sit down. If you cannot sit, then walk it off." She cast a glance at Wikhn, her direction unspoken.

Wikhn sat without further prompting, his gaze vacant as the dragels on stage began to form a line leading up to Dahlia and Shayla. He watched, silently, as claims were made and magic was tested.

It would be a strong Circle, for there were many powerful dragels that had answered that soulscream. Only a handful of them had come from the actual auditorium, suggesting that those who had been recalled were holders of rare talents or immense magical ability.

"Surajini?" Harry tried. "What's happening?" He turned to her, allowing the gentle hands to guide him away from the railing—and Quinn—and the strange scene below. "Is everything—is it alright?"

"I believe they will all be alright, it's a bit more showy than some of us are used to, but it is alright," Surajini said, a hint of pride in her voice. "They will have a very powerful Circle."

Quinn stepped away from the railing, his face shadowed as it had been before. He turned away and left the box, the faintest of sniffles heard.

Surajini stopped Harry from reaching after him. "He needs a moment," she said, softly. "What is lost is rarely ever found in these sorts of things." She held an arm out to him, invitingly.

Harry tried to nod, but felt his capacity for confusion and mental agility fading away. He gave into her hug and sat there, soaking up the attention of her hands stroking through his hair and the warmth of her pressed against him.

He sat.

He waited while the remaining claims were staked and the union was publicly blessed. He watched when Lady Paielda made her presence known from the stands.

He sat, transfixed as Dahlia and Lady Paielda fought each other, for the right for her rank to rise higher than Ace and for her to be properly acknowledged by her fellow Gheyo-kind.

Loud cheers of joy rose up in the stands around him as the entire affair was celebrated in high fashion.

The noise grew to be too much and the lingering emotions coursing through him were becoming more difficult to push away. Harry straightened up.

"How come—Kyle?" he faltered. For both Kyle, Emily and even Mimei had vanished at the sound of the Soulscream.

Surajini's smile was kind. "That is Quinn's story to tell," she said. Her voice and manner equally soft and tempered. "It is not that long ago, after all. Still, I cannot tell it in his place, suffice to say that if you should ask him. He will tell you." She framed his face with her hands. "And Harry, if he tells you. Would you listen, dear one?"

Harry nodded, once. Of course he would. There was no reason for him not to.

Surajini rose from the bench and kissed his forehead. "That is all I could ask. Go. He likes to walk on the footpath behind the pillars near the grey rocks. Take a left after you reach the ground floor. You will see what I mean."

Harry went.

He did notice that Wikhn was nowhere in the viewing box, but he couldn't tell when the fae had left.

No matter.

He'd deal with this one step at a time.

Quinn was indeed where Surajini had said he would be. Curled up at the far end of a warm, black rock, staring out into the distance, unseeing, his teal eyes nearly vacant

He started, faintly when he spotted Harry, a pale flush of pink dotting his face. He offered a slight grimace, which might have been some semblance of a smile, if he'd been in lighter humours.

I'm not good company right now, Harry.

"I didn't come because you were," Harry said, honestly. "I was—worried. I guess. You alright?"

…Now? No. In a little while, probably.

"Want to talk about it?"

…No.

"Mind if I sit here then?" Harry made his way up the rock and took a seat at the top, with his own feet hanging over the edge, instead of cross-legged, like Quinn.

Suit yourself.

They sat in silence for an unbearable five minutes before Harry had to speak. There were too many questions and he was worried for all of them. Kyle and Emily had been kind and friendly—even Mimei had been alright. But they had vanished onto the stage with Dahlia and Shayla and apparently joined the new Circle.

The entire experience had been bizarre at best and confusing no matter which way he painted it. Then again, there were still plenty of things he didn't know about dragels and Nevarah.

"Quinn?" he ventured when another agonizing beat of silence stretched too long between them.

You're the only one who hasn't asked about the scars. Quinn projected, lightly.

Harry froze. His gaze strayed to Quinn's high-collared formal robe and the lack of the colourful dupatta he usually had around him. In fact, now that he thought about it, Quinn always had something around his neck, or high-collared shirts, as if it had to stay hidden.

A detail that was interesting, as Harry could definitely recall how torn and scarred it had been, from the very first time he'd seen Quinn, shirtless at the Clinic.

"We all have scars," Harry said, quieter. He could see how his own life would have been different if he'd been able to hide his own scars—the more visible ones, anyway.

Some of us have more than others. Quinn agreed. Even you—with all of your seals and secrets.

Harry managed a half-hearted smile.

I wish I'd never done it, you know.

"Done what?"

Hurt my sister.

Harry turned the phrase over and over in his head, trying to decide if Quinn meant Dyshoka or someone else.

As best as he could figure it, the only sister that fit that bill was Dyshoka—the only one he'd seen that stood out from the rest of the Kalzik women.

There was a special bond of sorts between the sibling pair and he had a feeling that there were many memories shared between them, building upon each other, to lead up to that lovely relationship they had now.

Which brought him back to the puzzle—as far as Harry had seen, Quinn didn't do anything to trouble her. At least, not since Harry had known him.

"When?"

Quinn laughed, silently. Only you would ask when. Anyone else would ask why. His smile was sad—a near mirror of Surajini's expression from earlier. Would you like to hear a story? I'm afraid it isn't a very happy one and it's rather—stupid.

Harry didn't hesitate. "Tell me."

Once upon ten years ago, I let my untrained-temper dictate my future. Quinn leaned back, bracing his hands on the warmed rock surface behind him. He turned his face up to the sun, eyes closed. Did anyone tell you that I used to be an Alpha?

Harry blinked. Had he heard something like that?

I was. A very arrogant one. I thought that I was the gift to all realms and no one was stupid enough to tell me otherwise. I was absolutely unbearable. My parents didn't know what to do with me and nothing they did or said, stuck. We fought so much, now that I think about it, I wish I had those years back. The time when I didn't have to answer to a rank and was just—a child. He looked away for a moment. As far as I was concerned, they were forever wrong and I was forever right. Stupid of me, really.

Harry frowned. He had a hard time trying to picture the selfless personality and quiet temperament that he knew of Quinn, with this far-fetched idea of arrogance.

Quinn half-smiled again, as if guessing what Harry was thinking. Oh, I was terrible alright, believe me. The last Hunt was my debut to society. I was insufferable then, picking fights everywhere and causing trouble, because I could. There were a few pretty faces and I liked them. I thought I could impress them and so—I let the worst of me show, because that was what they wanted to see. I was a complete fool.

"What happened?"

You have to understand that Dy and I, we've always been—close. She looked after me the most when Mama couldn't. She just had something special. Always calming. Always smart. Always quiet—she was the only one who could sneak up on me. I never wanted to disappoint her. Even when everyone else was—irritating—she wasn't. I don't know why. I still don't know why. She's just—Dy.

Quinn shifted uncomfortably and then to let his legs hang over the side of the rock, like Harry.

We were on our way to the auditorium, waiting to be checked in and measured. A Fae clan was also waiting in line and for some reason, one of them started talking to Dy. I didn't like the look of some of them and when they started laughing and scoffing, I told them to knock it off. They didn't, but they were quieter. Then one of them said something and one of their elders overheard. I don't know what it was, but it warranted an apology that the fae wasn't willing to give.

Harry winced. He could almost see the way this would turn out. "W-was it—Kyle?"

Quinn shook his head. No. Kyle was never that sort. It was one of his brothers. At the time, they all looked alike to me. Dark skin. Green hair. Elvish tongues. I couldn't tell them apart back then. Fae wings are rarely visible and without them, they look just like the Elves. Kyle was talking to Dy later in the day, about something or the other—he'd scraped or cut. She patched him up. They were talking and having a good time and I—I saw red. I told him that I didn't want some filthy fae grovelling around my sister, who was too good for the likes of him. Dy was quite embarrassed and I think she would have told me off, if I hadn't used my Alpha Look on her. Kyle simply looked me over and said that the choice was Dy's and I should learn to be a kinder brother and not irritate my sister.

"And that set you off," Harry said.

Oh it did more than set me off. I'm not sure how the fight started, I only remember thinking that I would be the one to finish it. But Fae always travel together and he wasn't alone. His brothers came to his aid and mine—didn't. I suppose they thought I needed to learn a lesson and since they couldn't lay hands on me, it didn't matter if someone else did. Dy panicked and tried to break us apart. Someone threw a spell and she meant to take it for me. I had enough presence of mind to stop it. To stop her, but I took the hit and it nearly killed me.

Harry swallowed. A sense of loneliness and regret washed over him, with a bone-rattling ache as if he'd been completely run-over and then pieced back together. The feelings faded as they ran their course. His empathy was hard at work, it seemed.

Quinn placed a hand over his heart, a phantom pain accompanying the old memory. That shocked all of them and the fighting stopped. By that time, our respective family Circles had appeared and they weren't happy. Dy was crying and I couldn't make her stop shaking. I was bleeding everywhere and pure Healer's blood—well, that's a recipe for disaster. One of them said something and I— Quinn faltered. His hands clenched.

Harry remained still.

I attacked them and I meant to kill. I took down four of them before anyone reacted and Dy, of course, tried to stop me. I was half-feral by this time, mind you and I didn't know it was her. Kyle took the blow intended for her and we fought terribly. I didn't stop until—until—I realized that I couldn't quite breathe and I couldn't hear myself anymore. We were spelled apart and Gheyo's restrained us, so we couldn't fight. Healings were started—but it was too late. The damage was done. It was much too late for a mere healing.

"What happened then?"

Dy was furious. But I was out for about three weeks. Mama was beside herself. Papa returned from one of his trips. Father was—well, he wouldn't even look at me. I later learned that the Elves had asked a blood price of them—because of me. Mama had begged him not to give it to them. Quinn sighed. I still don't know what he gave them in exchange for it, but long story short, I didn't heal well. I'd caused a lot of trouble for our Circle and many other problems. Around that time, they discovered that my body was rejecting the healing, because of my magic, my rank and my Kalzik speciality, everything was a great muddle. I was pulled out of the healing trance and had the most confusing conversation about my rank and life. It was consequently erased in the saving of me. They brought me home and I—had a falling out with Dy. She was so upset and I was confused. She'd never been that way with me and it was a harder blow on top of everything else. Alejandro was insufferable, because we always fought and I won—except for now, my instincts told me to run and hide. So he chased and I hid.

"How did Kyle-?" Harry bit back the rest of the words wanting to leap out. He wanted to hear Quinn's story on Quinn's terms.

I thought living was unbearable and I hated myself so much, I wanted to die. I tried. Several times. Fate had me in hand for someone always managed to save me. The last time—it was Bharin. Unlike the others, he didn't take me home straightaway. He lectured me for a while and some of it went through my thick skull. He took me home and Mama was so relieved, she asked him to stay for dinner.

"I thought Bharin was always," Harry shook his head. He hadn't meant to interrupt. "Sorry."

Quinn's mouth twitched. He seems that way, but he's actually the last Bonded for Mama's Circle. He was a joker and roamed about as he pleased. He wasn't afraid of physically manhandling me into whatever it was that I needed to do. He was the best at it. He fell in love with Mama. They courted briefly, after they realised that I responded better to him than anyone else.

Dy had stopped speaking to me by then. A few weeks later, Bharin was making me exercise every day and I stumbled across a very awkward scene. Kyle was working for someone at a bistro near the water's edge and not doing a very good job. They reamed him out and told him he was fired. He asked about his day's wages and was told to leave or else.

We spotted each other and he turned away. I didn't. I tracked him down and he tried to run, only to find that his injuries were acting up. I convinced him that I meant no harm, but he didn't have much of a choice. I checked his wounds and panicked. He was in such a bad way and I didn't know what to do.

He didn't think there was anything wrong. His clan had dismissed him for all the trouble he'd supposedly caused and his mother had also been threatened with exile. So he'd let them cast him out and was now looking for work and a place to stay. I took him home. Just like Bharin, Mama let me keep him.

A few weeks later, Dy took over my physical therapy and when Father gave the option of having mental links established, she was the first to volunteer. Kyle became my voice and I—here I am.

Harry's heart ached with the sheer sadness twined throughout the twisted tale. He still had some trouble picturing Quinn as a cocky teenager causing trouble, but he could see how things could easily change in a blink of an eye.

So much had changed for him, after all, in a matter of minutes—seconds even.

After a moment, he reached out and rested a hand on Quinn's own.

Quinn tried to smile. I ruined his life. Because I didn't want him to talk to the one person that he's apparently soul-bonded to. That's why he has Emily, you know? Because I made a stupid comment one day and things were awkward. Next thing I know, Emily is there and Dy is off with Dahlia. I didn't mean to—it just. This wasn't how it was supposed to be!

"Nothing ever really turns out the way we usually want them to," Harry said, matter-of-factly. "Take me for example."

Quinn gave a silent chuckle, but the laughter didn't reach his teal eyes. I always hurt the people I mean to save.

"You didn't hurt me."

That's different.

"So you didn't mean to save me?" Harry countered. This thread of self-loathing was somewhat familiar. He'd gone through similar stages thinking of Sirius and Cedric. It had never helped. But other things had.

That's not what I meant!

"Then what did you mean?"

I-It's not that simple, Harry.

"Then stop making it complicated. Haven't you talked to each other since all of this happened? It doesn't look like Dy holds anything against you. Or Kyle. They both look as if they worry more for you."

You can't know that and they don't—they don't. Quinn shuddered, hiding his face in his arms. They can't.

His pain was real and fierce in that moment and Harry rubbed his own chest, trying to will the empathy-ache away. He needed to work on some strong mental shields. "Maybe I don't," He allowed. "But have you talked to them?"

There's nothing left to say now.

"Now that they are—together?" Harry faltered. "Or now that it all seems-"

Pointless? Quinn filled in. Doesn't seem that way, it is that way.

"It's only the way you want it to be," Harry said firmly. The Kalziks were too close-knit for it to be anything else. He'd seen that closeness first-hand in the easy way they interacted with each other and the way that Surajini had asked Lord Gorgen's Gheyo's for a favour—on account of Dyshoka. The way that Bharin and Kyle had rallied around him during those dark moments at the Clinic. The way that Dyshoka had trusted him only moments ago—knowing that he would be able to carry out what she needed.

Yes. Definitely not the way that Quinn was seeing them through the painfully tinted lenses of his old memories. The trick was trying to make him see otherwise.

Surajini came for Quinn.

Harry barely registered her presence, but Quinn had reacted at once, sitting straight up, eyes bright and shimmering.

She'd approached them then, a knowing look in her pretty eyes as she folded both them into a hug that squeezed the breath from them.

Quinn huffed and squirmed, before giving into it. Harry was too shocked to fight it. He simply let himself be held and marvelled in the fact that she'd included him—for the second time that day.

Eventually, she released them both and checked them over in turn—before making Quinn drink a potion and asking Harry if he was hungry.

Seizing the opportunity for the excuse it could be, Harry volunteered to find some snacks. He skipped off before either Kalzik could stop him and waved, cheerfully, until he was out of sight.

Quinn needed some privacy and it seemed, some time with his mother.

That,Harry would never, ever begrudge him.

CHARACTER SNIPPET : RON WEASLEY : TORVAK ESTATE OF SEPTIMUS WEASLEY

Ron stirred faintly, sucking in a breath of stale air and dry dust. It woke him with the coughing fit that followed and he painfully struggled up to sit with his back against the cool, brick wall.

It had been hours since they'd escorted him to the basement.

Well, prison was more like it.

The basement was much deeper than it had a right to be and there were far too many empty cells lining the walls for Ron to be anything other than absolutely terrified.

His grandmother, Cedrella, had left him a dinner plate—sliding it through the slot on the cell door. There was an indescribable look on her face that he didn't even want to try to figure out.

All of his attempts to speak had come out in a mishmash of squawks and screeches and he'd finally given up on the matter when someone had taken his wand and threatened to use it on him.

That was a surprise in itself, but it had been enough of a shock for him to hold his tongue. He'd never wished for Harry's luck or Hermione's eloquence more than he did at this point.

True despair hadn't settled until he'd heard the clang of the cell door and the great metal lock being turned by the key kept by his grandfather. He wondered, briefly if Percy would tell their father, but that had left his mind when he'd heard the ruckus at the stairs.

Fred. Good ol' Fred. Merlin bless him. He was apparently in a shouting match with someone—who had they left to guard him anyway?—and they were insisting that he couldn't come to visit.

Ron strained to sit up, against the painful aches of his changed body. He grimaced as his throbbing feet began to scream for attention. He hadn't really paid much attention beyond the fact that he'd gotten feathers for hair and a freakish claw-hand. And probably a wing too.

It was hard to tell.

He thunked his head against the cell wall, wincing when it hurt—he hadn't meant to use that much force, but it was just that—he'd been dreaming! That was all. He'd been dreaming and seeing himself drinking the potion and turning into a magnificent golden Torvak.

It had been a good dream. He'd turned into gold and flown around on the Quidditch pitch with Harry. They'd had a Seeker vs Seeker sort of match, because really, unlike Harry, Ron could play any position. He'd grown up with siblings after all and they took turns.

But this was a good dream. He'd won. He'd caught the snitch before Harry and it had been blood wonderful!

And then he'd fallen from the sky and the entire image had crumbled around his shoulders as he came to find himself standing on broken glass, immense pain rippling through his entire body. He didn't think he'd forget Cedrella's look of absolute horror as she'd witnessed his transformation.

She'd returned to the room to finish the potion and somehow, he'd been in there and managed to swallow most of it.

His stomach clenched horribly and he contemplated whether it was worth trying to stand and hobbling to the door to retrieve his dinner tray, or if it was best to stay off his feet.

They bled sluggishly from where he'd stepped on the glass and no one had healed it. And they'd taken his wand. Still, he wasn't sure that he would've been able to speak to cast anything.

It was too quiet, almost.

The silence filled every corner of the dark, shadowed cell. There was a single white stone in a corner—a marble, almost—that glowed brightly, casting a soft glow about the stark space.

Ron wondered, idly, if they would come back for him. If it were Hogwarts, someone would have to find and bribe Snape to make a potion to turn him back to normal.

Well, probably not bribe, but they would have to do something special, he was sure. Snape hated Gryffindors, but Ron didn't think that Dumbledore would allow him to refuse to help a Hogwarts student.

Sort of.

Dumbledore had been a bit off lately. Not that Ron could put his finger on it, Hermione was the smart one of their group, after all. He was just the sounding board—of sorts. Never offering any actual ideas of his own, simply trying to prod both Harry or Hermione towards some sort of compromise.

Sort of.

Ron sighed. His stomach growled loudly in protest and he glared down at it. Walking was such a chore right now and he didn't—oh Merlin save him!

Right before his eyes, a floating spectre of flowy white peered down at him. A short, thin figure with sharp, angular features and pretty, dark eyes.

There were ghosts down here! Ron scrabbled in the dirty floor, wishing for a weapon and nearly fainting in relief when the apparition faded away.

What was that?

A chill swept through the cells and somewhere, out of sight, a cell door creaked open. Ominous in its grating, squeaky sound, followed right by the sudden white glow of light that seemed to fill the entire corridor, or at least more than illuminate the entire block that Ron could see through his cell door. Soft, careful footsteps echoed.

A white face peeked around the corner, glowing bright.

Ron yelped.

The face jerked back, out of sight. The sound of feathers ruffling and stretching, filled the air before the face peeked around again.

Ron sucked in a breath.

"Please don't," the face said, sweetly. "I really don't like loud noises. It gives me headaches."

Ron squeaked.

"I'm not a ghost." The face said, after a long moment. "I'm just as real as you are."

This time, Ron did faint.

SNAPE CIRCLE + VIKTOR KRUM : NEVARAH : THE HUNT, Day 2

"My Circle is on the veranda," Severus said. He gauged the measure of his words by the way that Viktor Krum's fingers tightened around his drinking glass. He had purposely omitted the names and ranks, wondering if the stoic young man would dare to ask.

The rank was a bit tricky to tell, but Severus had liked the way that Viktor hadn't flinched. The way that he'd walked up and introduced himself. The straightforward manner in which he'd attempted to navigate the conversation.

Granted, there were many reasons to dislike him—but not enough to turn him away. In fact, seeing him now, after time had passed from that wretched tournament, there was finally something else in his eyes.

With Igor taking a vested interest in his special student, Severus hadn't put much stock in him. In fact, it'd seemed that Viktor was definitely a more physical being than an intellectual one and there'd never been any evidence to suggest otherwise.

Then of course, he'd taken out Hermione Granger to the Yule Ball and if that hadn't been worthy of a raised eyebrow, Severus would forever hold his tongue on the matter.

It was rare and surprising enough that Weasley hadn't taken Granger himself, but Severus had chalked that up to youthful stupidity—and Viktor's eye for pretty things.

Now that he didn't consider that, there had been moments. A few fleeting glances where something hadn't quite aligned with the public's opinion of a talented Seeker. Times like when he'd watched Krum face down the dragon in the tournament.

Then the stricken expression on his face when someone had finally broken the news about Cedric. Severus had made it a point to be everywhere during that troublesome year.

In that case, he'd been busy trying to keep eyes everywhere. It hadn't helped that his Snakes had been restless and Dumbledore's golden boy—Severus stopped himself before he could travel down that terrible train of thought.

There were moments where he wondered if perhaps, he'd been able, in some way to save Cedric. Yes, Merlin help him, he hadn't cared about any other student—save for making sure that Potter lived and his Snakes did too—as long as they wished to. Then everything was alright.

"…May I join you?" Viktor asked.

Severus swirled his drink in his glass. He watched the way that Viktor's shoulders squared, but the rest of his body remained relaxed. A sign of control and a detail that the younger man was testing his magic in the way that it didn't seep out and reach to him.

That was an excellent gesture and it was worth noting.

"This way," Severus said, abruptly. He didn't feel a very strong connection, but it was enough of a spark that he'd take notice of it.

Particularly since he hadn't noticed any other sparks anywhere else. For a moment, he wondered what sort of element that Viktor would be—as the soft brown eyes didn't hold the usual hint of the Earth element, but they weren't pale enough to be Air.

Curious.

Viktor held up a hand for a full bottle of Shamsah—a spicy, but intoxicating brew that gave a boost to the magical energies of the consumer.

Severus doubled it and asked for a nonalcoholic beverage and a platter of assorted appetizers. Draco would likely need something and if he didn't then Calida was sure to. They'd decide about a meal as a group.

Or Calida would, anyway. She was the one with cravings and they were all suffering from the dubious pleasure of sharing them right along with her.

He led the way out to the private balcony. It was down a ways towards the back of the restaurant and there were thick dark curtains over the entryway.

A spell pulled it aside for Severus to enter. Viktor stepped in after him. The curtains fell back into place and the muted sound of the restaurant faded away with the contained silencing spell over the private dining area.

Draco was draped over the comfortable lounge seating that circled the hardwood table. His robes were open and splayed to the side, his usual, superior look on his face. His silver eyes gleamed, a smirk playing about his lips that suggested he'd just told a joke and was enjoying the reactions of his captive audience.

Cuddled up to Terius' side, Calida leaned against him, snuggled into his indulgent embrace, as he whispered in her ear. She had one hand resting lightly on her baby bump and her shoes were off and resting on the lounge on Terius' other side. Her pretty dark eyes were wide with amazement as she listened to Draco's unbelievable tale.

Terius surveyed both of them, a fond look on his face. There wasn't a single flicker of worry on his face, but the way that his eyes were more black than silver was the only giveaway.

Severus tipped his head to Viktor. "Draco," he drawled, the faintest hint of iron in his voice—an unspoken request for his submissive to sit up and display a more professional appearance. He didn't mind if they were more casual around each other, but first impressions were always important. "Viktor Krum has asked to join us."

Almost at once, Draco straightened up, his silvery eyes narrowing faintly as they lit on Viktor. He didn't speak right away, but his first words came streaming into Severus' head.

The silent conversation took mere seconds, the pause of a breath and a smile. A moment later, Draco waved towards the unoccupied side of the lounge. "You may join us, if you like," he said, a hint of the Malfoy superiority teasing at corners. His shimmering gaze flicked up to Severus' and away again. "I was starting to worry, Severus."

Viktor twitched faintly. A glimmer of disapproval surfaced at Draco's tone, but a sharp glance between the Alpha and Submissive showed none of the reaction Viktor had expected. From his own family Circle, there had always been absolute respect and now, as he thought of it, a constant tension. This sort of interaction was different.

Not unwelcome, just different. He could sense that something else was taking place other than what he could see, but he couldn't make out what it was. His stomach roiled in uneasiness, but he tamped it down with a healthy dose of curiosity and want.

This was definitely something he wanted and he doubted such an opportunity would ever present itself again, if he didn't snatch it up this instant.

There was no answer to Draco's statement, Severus simply ignored it. "Did you want lunch here or is somewhere else more suitable?" He spoke to Draco, but his gaze flicked to Calida who stirred, looking rather sleepy from her corner.

"She'll be fine here," Terius said, feeling her forehead, his hand lingering against the soft wispy bangs that escaped her braid. "The more she can rest, the better."

"…Your Carrier?" Viktor asked, surprised. He couldn't help it. That was the very last thing he'd imagined from Severus or Draco.

Draco straightened, looking mildly offended at Viktor's reaction. He looked to Severus once more—another silent conversation—then, with a twitch of his fingers had his robe floating over to cover Calida. Half in modesty and half in affront. Calida was his Carrier and he didn't care for her to be visually examined by anyone who wasn't a part of their Circle.

Calida murmured something drowsily and pillowed her head on Terius' shoulder. A hazy ripple of magic stretched out from her, a Carrier's protection while she rested. She pulled Draco's robe a bit closer, enough for a good-sized handful and near enough for her to breathe his scent.

"Our first," Severus said, shortly. The last thing he needed was questions in the wrong order and Draco's pride surfacing. Heavens alone knew how offended a Malfoy could be at the smallest of perceived slights. He sent a deliberate mental prod through their shared bonds, a reminder to act with some decorum. He then seated himself beside Draco, trusting that Terius would be fine with Viktor.

"My apologies," Viktor said, quietly, sensing that he had somehow upset them without meaning to. He made sure to direct his gaze to Draco, who sniffed, but didn't acknowledge nor refuse the apology.

Severus pretended not to hear. He began to pour drinks into the glasses that materialized onto the dining table. "You're here alone?"

Viktor flushed. He seated himself with care and deliberately turned his gaze away from the napping Calida and the all-too-aware Terius. "I have no next of kin here," he said. "If that is what you mean. A friend brought me to the realm. I have roots here, but we haven't had to use them."

"Your parents?" Severus tapped the glowing pearl stone at the centre of the table. It would call one of the wait staff to their veranda booth. The appetizers would be arriving soon and a meal would help to ease some of the awkwardness between them. "Extended family?"

"I don't know beyond my own," Viktor said, honestly. "There was a great deal of confusion—things have become—worse," he allowed. "I stayed at Durmstrang as long as I could, but there are stirrings of evil things and deaths have become very frequent." He did not add the disturbing note of his near assassination. That could wait. Sort of. It would be pointless, unless he returned to the Wizarding World and perhaps, with luck, he never would.

Severus nodded, as if expecting that very answer. "There was tremendous confusion everywhere," he allowed. "Who came with you?"

"Ivan," Viktor settled back into the comfortable lounge seat. He was forcing himself to relax, but his instincts were already riding close to the surface and he didn't feel the least bit threatened. He would be safe with them, for now. "We are roommates. His family is known by the name of Volkov."

"Impressive," Terius said, speaking up from his corner. "I know of them. I have heard tales. They are known for their work amongst the werewolves."

Severus manfully willed back a shudder, managing to suppress any reaction save for the curling of his toes inside of his boots. He despised all dark creatures, largely linked back to the unfortunate encounter with a certain Remus Lupin, so many years ago—but most recently—with the wretched Vampires and the cursed hounds that Voldemort had sought to ally with.

Not to mention his own damned luck that seemed to draw dark things to every new path he chanced to try. Werewolves were his own special brand of personal dislike, however, and he would have to swallow that to some degree—if he intended for his evening to continue on to a fruitful end.

He was grateful for the detail that no one but Death's Hound could control a Hellhound and by default, that meant that Voldemort couldn't enslave or recruit them. He supposed that small mercies were good.

At least, in this case.

"Not those," Viktor said, shaking his head, a moue of distaste on his own face. "The Ice Wolves. They live amongst their caves and breed, train and keep them as guardians. They are Realmwalkers. Those wolves. They do not shift, to my knowledge, but they do share magic and the wolves are quite intelligent."

The quiet pride in his voice stopped Severus's dark memories from spiraling too far out of control. There was a glimmer of respect stirring inside of him for that, as what little he knew of the Ice Wolves didn't register in the Wizarding World.

He really did need to visit the Nevarean library. Soon.

Terius had promised to take him, as it wasn't exactly in the centre of the Hunt, but more along the outskirts of the main city. He had yet to venture too far into the natural city itself, as there were too many things weighing on his mind. Still, he was looking forward to some busy days with more information than his brain could comfortably process.

A terrifying prospect to any normal, average soul—but he was Severus Snape and it would be a minor challenge. He would enjoy the excursion in more ways than one. Perhaps that was what had sparked his interest. There had seemed to be something more to Viktor than first glance and this was very telling.

"How long have you been with them?" Draco asked. His voice was deceptively light and he smiled up at the waiter who appeared between the curtains with a large tray of assorted appetizers arranged in an artful display.

Severus leaned back, holding his tongue as the table was magically set and the portioned servings set into small plates for easy dining. He gently nudged Calida's mental link, sifting through her surface memories for a hint of her current cravings.

He rather hoped it was something savory and not sweet. Her last sugar craving had nearly given him a toothache.

Drinks were refilled and and full menus were distributed to each of them. The waiter promised to return in several minutes and disappeared back into the heart of the restaurant.

Draco ordered a light round of finger foods and another set of suitable appetizers in addition to the current platter. He'd done so in a wager that dinner would be a long, drawn out affair.

Severus sent a faint bolt of approval through their shared bonds, specifically to Draco. He hadn't realized that Draco had been paying attention to these sorts of details. But he did appreciate it—the longer he could spend with Viktor, the better he could verify whether the stocky Beta was worthy of them.

"A month," Viktor said, when attention had returned to him. "Neverean time. The equivalent of a week at Durmstrang. It has been a tremendous relief to reside here for the time being."

Draco nodded. He was quite relieved himself, given how much they'd been through before arriving at Nevarah's troubled gates. Correction, his In-Law's troubled doorstep, Nevarah was alright—so far.

Viktor took a tentative bite of a crispy salted pastry. His bushy eyebrows arched up to his hairline as he chewed and swallowed, before inhaling the rest of it.

Draco almost smiled. He liked that particular one too. It was nice and spicy. "Any news?"

"Nothing useful," Severus said, smoothly. He didn't care to hear a repeat of what he'd already asked for, at the counter. Draco should know better than to ask for one. As it was, there were some things he wanted to confirm before sharing his suspicions with his Circle. He most certainly would tell them—keeping secrets at a time like this was likely to end with multiple deaths.

Terius coaxed Calida awake, tempting her with different items from the little line of plates he'd made in front of them. She reclined comfortably in his arms, indulging his instinctive need to hold and feed her. Contentment sang through their shared bonds as she sampled each appetizer in turn.

The effect was visible in the way that Severus finally straightened and relaxed—in his own way. His considerable height no longer seemed to be curling in on itself, but rather, calculatingly stretched out as he nursed a glass of the Shamsah. Viktor had good taste.

"Are you hunting?" Draco asked, bluntly. He couldn't help it. It didn't appear that he was, but Viktor was a rank he couldn't make out and it irritated him on a level he couldn't place. It looked almost as if Severus had figured it out, but he hadn't so much as deigned to share it with the rest of them and Draco wanted to know.

Viktor stared at him for a long minute, his expression a mixture of muted surprise and veiled interest. "I am," he said, at last. "Beta rank," he added, before Draco could ask.

Terius hid a smile.

Severus took a long drink.

Draco perked up. Ah. So that's why he hadn't been able to place it. Good. Viktor was an interesting sort—though there was one specific thing to keep in mind, as far as Circle politics. "That's good. Curious. How are you with vampires?"

"Vampires?" Viktor looked from Draco to Severus—who was studiously pouring a fresh drink, this time of a strong Bloodroot Cocktail. "They are not my favourite sort."

Terius chuckled. "It looks like you'll fit right in then," he said, smirking. "Welcome to the Snape Circle, Mister Krum. We're a bit mad, but I promise it isn't catching." He held out his free hand. "Councilman Terius Baronsworth, the Pareya."

"Pleasure," Viktor said, formally. He shook the proffered hand, surprised at the strength of the magic behind the gesture. It seemed he was about to be properly welcomed.

"Our Carrier, Calida," Terius said, nodding to the young woman. She flashed a smile that was all fang and no bite, even as her dark eyes glittered with interest. "And you seem to know Draco and Severus already."

"From the Wizarding world," Draco supplied. "But not our school, from Durmstrang one of the three that participated in the Triwizard Tournament."

"Ah," Terius said. He remembered reading something about that in Hogwarts, A History. There were notes about the famed tournament, including the notice that all participants had to be aged seventeen or older, due to the danger level of the challenges.

Viktor's tight smile turned pained. He was spared having to answer any further to that, when the waiter reappeared, prepared to take their orders.

"…And that's how we wound up here," Draco finished. He inched a little closer to Severus—had been doing so since he'd officially finished his dinner.

Severus was sure to have noticed, he was certain, but the dour man hadn't so much as acknowledged him and Draco figured he could stand to push his luck a little further. After the initial awkward questions had been laid to rest, they'd been able to have a somewhat interesting conversation with Viktor Krum.

Interesting to the point where Draco was definitely curious to know whether the Beta was still as fit and well-muscled beneath those elegant robes as he'd been since the last time he'd seen him.

In fact, the longer they sat, talking, the more restless Draco could feel himself becoming. It had started as a faint tickle in the back of his mind, but now it had grown to an annoying, buzzing presence that he wasn't sure he wanted to ignore.

It was equally hard to ignore the fact that he was fairly certain Viktor and Severus were flirting.

At least, that's what he wanted to read between the lines of their sarcastic barbs—given that Viktor was smirking over his drink and Severus's dark eyes were fairly shining.

Oh yes.

Definitely flirting, Draco decided. He could count the number of times he'd made that particular expression appear on Severus' face and it had usually ended on rather enjoyable notes for both of them. He sincerely hoped Severus wasn't about to change his pattern now.

Then again, the man was a creature of habit wherever he could possibly manage it.

Calida only watched, occasionally stuffing her mouth as if to keep from saying something, her occasional smothered giggle hidden in Terius' shoulder.

Terius seemed rather amused at the entire exchange, only helping along their conversation when it had first started and now, he sat back—much like Draco had—watching it unfold.

This was certainly a first for all of them, watching a Bonded Alpha testing a potential Beta.

Not that Draco really minded. He'd already made up his mind that he liked Viktor well-enough for the open rank and now, he was interested in furthering that interest. Instinctively, he could tell that all Severus had needed was his approval and he would take care of the rest.

That was fine by him. Personally, Draco would have preferred if they were somewhat more physical about the little dance of dominance taking place, but he supposed he couldn't have everything given that—oh. Severus had moved out of range.

Again.

Damn the man.

Refusing to pout, but dearly wishing to, Draco sat back, tucking his hands beneath his thighs. He was definitely restless and he was sure that it was the thickness of the potent magic in the air.

Severus's pheromones, probably—and maybe some of Viktor's? That was hard to tell. He'd never had to sort more than Severus or Terius' before.

Someone said something and Severus rose to his feet with all of his lovely height and deadly grace. He slipped out between the curtains and Draco stared after him.

There was another beat before Viktor's eyes narrowed and he slid out from the table to hurry after him without a single word.

Draco looked to Terius, who seemed to be trying his best not to laugh. He'd missed the exchange of who had said what. "Do I want to know?" he drawled, unable to hide the spark of irritation at potential secrets being formed out of his reach.

He liked secrets. Liked them even better when he was a part of them. This looked like one in the making. At least, given the face that Severus had made and the glint in Viktor's eye.

There wasn't too much to read between the lines there and Draco was curious enough to know if it fit right. He could almost picture it and it had been driving him mad to try and stay still—and keep his hands off of Viktor for the entire evening. That was one reason why he'd kept on inching closer to Severus. His Alpha's strong presence had helped to curb some of his immediate impulses.

"You like him?" Terius queried, instead. He had a fairly good idea of where this evening was headed and quite frankly, it was a huge relief to him. They had needed more than the mere three of himself, Draco and Severus. A triad was meant to be a cornerstone of a Circle.

"Do you?" Draco countered, a hint of knowing in his silvery eyes. It would shift their rankings just a bit if he were to accept where this was headed. Terius wouldn't be demoted, but it would certainly ease a load of responsibility off of him.

Terius sniffed, nose in the air—half for show than actual attitude. Sometimes Draco could be rather perceptive. "He's easy enough in personality. Magic seems decent."

Draco hummed in answer. Viktor was not conventionally handsome by any means—specifically, Malfoy means—but there was a rugged quality to him that somehow managed to even out the scales.

Good-looking enough, Draco supposed. Pureblooded, at least, it seemed. He'd listened with half an ear, but it hadn't really registered. He was more interested in knowing things.

Like what kind of element Viktor had and whether he enjoyed his rank as a Beta—and if—if he would let him watch.

Draco couldn't hide his smirk. Oh yes. That was a definite one. He wanted to see that, for sure. It must have shown on his face, for he was pulled from his daydream by the muffled snickers of Terius.

"Go on then," Terius said, between chuckles. "You'll only sit here and wonder if you don't. I'll see if I can wake Calida. Be ready to port when I find you."

Draco made a sound of agreement and slipped from his chair. He paused long enough to press his Circle charm into the payment square at the corner of the table. They would charge it to their account, tip included.

With that out of the way, he was now free to move. He'd been dying to follow the pair and having Terius' approval only made it better. He slipped through the curtains and tracked the thread of Severus's bond all the way toward the shadowy alcoves.

Terius said to be ready for a portal, so he would make sure to convey that message. Eventually.

The little darkened spaces in the back of the restaurant that had caught his eye and Terius' open disapproval. Calida had surreptitiously explained that it was a semi-private place for Intendeds to place a claim mark on each other, but that sometimes, it went a little further there, hence Terius' well-cultured disapproval.

Personally, Draco was inclined to agree—that is, except for the present moment, which, by all standards, was far more entertaining and since it was mostly hidden from public view—completely acceptable.

Severus had backed Viktor right up to the wall, whispering something in his velvety tones that had Viktor's magic flaring out around him a deliberate aura.

Draco didn't really care what Severus had said, he trusted the man to know a good thing when he saw it and was interested in how the evening would turn out. It was quite clear that Viktor had no problems with such advances when the talking turned into a rather aggressive make-out session.

Oh yes. Definitely acceptable, Draco noted. He took up a position in the half-hidden doorway of the chosen alcove, both as a deterrent for any other possible dragels seeking privacy and also because it was definitely enjoyable to watch this dance of dominance play out.

This was nothing like how it'd been with Terius. Though, granted, when his Pareya had joined them it was under less than stellar circumstances—but he'd grown fond of him already. A fondness that was slowly turning into a well-tempered love, in spite of the rocky start.

It was that thought which allowed Draco to fold his arms over his chest and lounge against the doorway, more relaxed than he'd been since they'd come to Nevarah.

There were a few moments where he'd interacted with Viktor during the fateful Triwizard Tournament, but he'd been somewhat soured upon the act of Viktor asking one Hermione Granger to the Yule Ball.

Not that Draco had expected to be asked, but Granger, of all people? That had been something of a blow to his pureblooded self, especially having heard so much about Viktor and his interesting past.

A fresh wave of magic rippled out from the alcove.

Draco smirked. There was a hint of blood in there and he knew without looking that Severus had taken the first bite—staking his claim in the acceptable, age-old way of their kind.

There were robes rustling, a few strained gasps and then Viktor's breathless voice.

"…Only as long as it is…acceptable…for-"

"Terius will not mind. He will be glad. Calida is only our Carrier, she is not bonded to us. If you mean Draco, then your answer awaits you there," and here, Severus stepped aside, his head tipped towards the doorway.

A flushed and panting Viktor peered over that darkened shoulder to where Draco stood, braced against the doorway, looking every inch of smug, impeccable pureblood perfection.

Draco smirked. "By all means, carry on," he said, lightly. "But if you need a specific invitation—will you join us for the night?"

Viktor swallowed. "The night?"

"And the rest of our lives, however long or short they may be?"

Something flickered through Viktor's dark eyes, but he only pondered the words for a split-second before he grunted. That was satisfactory enough. "As you wish."

Severus growled from his position where he had Viktor pinned against the wall. "Satisfied?" he rumbled. "Or will you require more convincing?"

A spark flared in Viktor's hooded eyes. "More—convincing…" he murmured, leaning forward to meet Severus halfway. They kissed for another, long moment. "But so we are all aware-"

"Wait until Terius comes," Draco interrupted. "He'll bring Calida and said to be ready for a portal."

"You're all air types," Viktor muttered, bristling faintly as Severus began to pay attention to his neck with warm, biting kisses—a contrast of soft lips and sharp fangs. He was torn between allowing such ministrations or pulling away from the vulnerable position. He winced at one particular bite. "I'm not—air." He said, recognizing the non-verbal reprimand for what it was.

"No," Severus said, softly. "You're not."

"Is that a problem?" Draco asked, his voice equally soft.

"Only if it's a problem to you," Viktor countered.

"Draco?" Severus prompted.

There was a quiet sniff and then Draco opened his mouth as if in a yawn, before the quietest high-pitched heartcry filled the small, shared space. It was quiet enough for the dignity of the moment and loud enough for all dragel instincts to come rushing to the surface for all of them.

Viktor swallowed hard, a murmuring burble building in his throat. He managed to give an answering chirrup, before Severus captured his attention once more, speaking in those delightful, smooth tones.

"I am a difficult man to live with, much less to be bound to," Severus purred, his dark eyes seemed to glow. "But such as I am, I would judge you on your merits and not your element, whatever it may be."

"And Draco is young and I am short-tempered," Terius said, materializing out from the shadows with a sleeping Calida cradled in his arms. He'd come at once, at the sound of Draco's heartcry. "Calida is Calida. We are expecting our first child and my protective instincts are not always easily explainable. Severus speaks for us all—I do not dislike your element."

Viktor half-laughed, a near desperate sound as if caught between laughter and tears. "We all have secrets," he whispered. "We all have scars."

Severus gave his own dark smirk. "That'll do," he approved. "Terius?"

There was afrission of white-grey magic and then a portal soundlessly sprang to life beneath their feet. It swallowed them whole and left nothing behind, only the alcove, as empty as it had always been.

Terius had managed a decent portal as they were all deposited, standing, near the bed in Severus' Alpha's quarters.

It was decorated in muted shades of black, forest green and navy blue, with the occasional hint of gold, lurking at the corners. Not the least bit welcoming or inviting, but somehow suiting Severus just the same.

Terius was the first to move, setting Calida down on the bed and swapping out her dress robes for more comfortable nightwear with a snap of his fingers.

She stirred faintly and turned sleepy brown eyes towards all of them.

Viktor caught the glance between Pareya and Carrier, brows furrowed. "You said the Carrier was not yours," he said, quietly.

Severus regarded him silently for a moment, then inclined his head at the noted observation. It was a detail he'd planned to remedy as soon as the opportunity presented itself, but he hadn't made the time, given how hectic things had been since their arrival. It certainly hadn't escaped his notice how close Terius was to the pretty, dark-haired Carrier and how easily she had managed to slip into their lives.

Personally, he didn't care to put too much thought into whether she would suit them or not. She either did or didn't.

As far as he'd seen and noticed—she had. In fact, she'd rather grown on him, just a touch. Her easy way of handling Draco, her knowledge of languages and Nevarean culture—and her innate sense of authority whenever Terius seemed likely to put his foot in his mouth.

Yes.

A good thing.

Too good for the likes of them.

But fate had already granted him one speck of light and Severus was grateful. If it deigned to grant him two more, he would certainly take it. Never, ever, would he refuse it. Not any more.

Viktor's words had caused the pair on the bed to freeze, almost as if caught, their expressions nearly identical. But it was Calida's clear brown eyes that sought Severus' dark gaze.

Draco snorted, breaking the moment. "She's ours well enough," he said, stiffly. It had bothered him at first that Terius hadn't thought he could carry their first child—not that he'd known the first thing about it, but a Malfoy could do anything and he'd been upset at the lost chance. But seeing all that Calida had gone through on his behalf, it had eased any of that discord—and he'd learned just how unprepared he'd been for that sort of responsibility.

It hadn't helped that she'd quickly proven to be a smart, capable woman, resilient in the face of the few things they'd faced together and unperturbed by Severus's grumpiness or Terius's worrying.

Even his self-loathing.

She'd taken it all in stride.

So Draco had automatically deemed her worthy. She fit their awkward little Circle of sorts and he liked her enough to wonder whether it was something done.

Asking a Carrier to join.

He'd meant to ask Severus about it, but the time had never quite been right.

Calida stared at him now, her rich brown eyes softening into unspoken emotions. Terius stood protectively by her, one arm wrapped around her shoulders, the other supporting her in front. She turned enough to kiss his hand.

Draco let himself smile—briefly—and gave a tiny nod. This would be up to Severus, but he had no objections.

"Is that your condition?" Severus asked. He moved away from the door—and Viktor—to begin removing his layered robes. He accepted Draco's questing fingers to undoing the cufflinks and the charmed arm guards he'd worn beneath them.

Viktor blinked. "Condition?" he repeated. "No—merely an observation. I—it seems that," he faltered, frustrated. There were so many jagged, broken pieces to the four dragels before him, that he didn't know which one of them to help first.

Calida smiled, warmly, taking pity on his sudden confusion. "Many things are not what they seem," she said, kindly. "We are not broken—only bent, no matter how it appears on the outside. This is, however, what you are asking to join."

"And you are happy with this?" Viktor countered, locking pitch-black eyes with her still brown ones.

She smiled. Her eyes lightened to a brilliant shade of gold as she rested a hand atop her small baby bump. "I am well-cared for," she said, repeating the familiar, rote phrase of every Carrier.

Terius started, faintly. "Shadow," he murmured, before he could stop himself. For he'd just seen the floor move and to his knowledge, such things did not happen. Not when he was sober, anyway.

Viktor scowled, his cheeks coloring with a healthy flush.

Draco leaned around Severus, trying to see what had already been revealed when he hadn't been looking. "Shadow?" his brow furrowed. "That's your element?"

Viktor began to undo the myriad of clasps along the front of his own dress robes. He avoided their gaze, a sliver of embarrassment slipping through. He would have liked to hold onto that detail for a little longer. "And what of it?"

"Nothing." Silver eyes glimmered with mischief incarnate.

Severus flicked him, lightly, upside the head. He ignored Draco's deliberate tread on his foot in retaliation. "It suits you," he said, carefully. He moved towards the bath. "We are all Air as you noted, but Calida is Earth."

Terius made a sound in his throat. He'd come from Earth and Air parents. His affinity for Air was natural and prevalent, but the underlying connection to Earth was what had drawn him to Calida all those years ago.

Severus disappeared for his nightly shower and Draco threw up his hands in exasperation. "We're in the middle of—this-!" he gestured between them and the frozen Viktor. "And he's off to take a-?"

"He needs privacy, Draco," Terius said, wearily. "And it will take a minute for him to gather his thoughts into something that he-"

Viktor's eyes narrowed. He slipped out of his robe and dropped it over Draco's gesturing hands. He ignored the indignant squeak, bending to kiss the top of Draco's head, as he strode towards the door.

Terius opened and shut his mouth with a click, when Viktor didn't hesitate to open the door and step in after Severus, locking it behind him. He looked down where Calida shook, silently on the bed.

Laughing eyes met his and she gave a slight shake of her head. "Let them sort it out," she said, turning to Draco. "And put that in the closet with the others—come join us."

Soothed by the offer, Draco sniffed and waved the robes aside to the closet, effectively undressing with a few handy spells as he strolled to the bed.

Terius stepped aside to allow him to climb up onto the soft space, turning to tend to his own needs of less formal clothing.

Calida accepted Draco's help in settling into the corner of the bed where the two walls met. She braced against it, surrounded by fluffy pillows and soft blankets. When she patted the space beside her, he managed to blush and slipped in beside her.

A few minutes later, they were kissing, softly, unhurriedly before Terius joined them, the bed dipping under his weight as he crawled over to their corner.

"I think," Calida said, breaking away. "It will be an interesting night."

Draco smothered a laugh. He almost wished he was in the shower with Severus, just to hear and see what was happening in there. All sound had vanished once Viktor had entered—a standard silencing spell, of course.

Terius smirked. There were some lovely sparks there, he knew. And they would certainly burn bright, if given half a chance. "Very interesting," he agreed, settling onto Calida's other side and twining an arm about her silk-covered waist. "In the meantime, I think we can amuse ourselves."

"Oh?" Calida perked a brow. "Can we?"

"Yes," Draco said, leaning across her for another kiss. "Let's."

"Draco?" Her smile wavered, for once, precious second.

His gaze softened, silvery eyes gleaming with infinite understanding in spite of his youth. He leaned in close and let the rising heartcry leave his lips.

Calida's eyes slid shut, a single tear slipping out of one corner. She murmured something indragel and turned to the side to kiss his cheek. "Yes. My answer is yes."

NEVARAH : DAY 4 : SNAPE CIRCLE, Private quarters

Severus awoke with a silent groan that he barely managed to keep from filtering through the shared bonds.

Including the two new ones he sported besides Terius' initial claim mark. Draco's mark almost looked lonely now. He had a faint itch to prompt Draco to find another Intended for them, if only to even the marks out.

Damned Viktor.

Something shifted to his right and Severus counted off the first dozen potion ingredients at the start of the alphabet to keep his composure intact.

Last night should have been calm and enjoyable.

Or something like that.

Instead, he'd been stripped down, laid bare and pieced back together by a wisp of a young man that shouldn't have known any of the darkness that he did.

He was consequently rewarded for whatever had passed between them in the following hours, on a level he hadn't seen coming either.

Then again, he hadn't seen a double-bonding either.

Calida's mark on his bicep throbbed faintly and he grimaced, mentally resolving to make sure the potion regimen he'd assigned her was doing what it ought to be. Perhaps he could tailor it a bit more for her needs or now, that they were bonded, he could blood spike it for her. It was odd to feel the two new connections inside of his mental barriers, but he supposed he'd grow used to it in time.

He certainly hadn't intended to reject them—if they were willing to take a chance with him, then he would do his best to protect them. Even love them, if his heart would allow it.

As if on cue, Calida stirred faintly from where she cuddled into his right side, her head pillowed on his shoulder, her body warm and soft, compared to his lean muscle.

He cast a glance at her, noting that her face was relaxed in sleep. Her thick black hair had escaped the neat plait she'd made the night before. Now the shiny strands feathered over both of them with only glimpses of his pale skin to her darker tones.

To his left, Viktor was pressed up against a sleeping, half-sprawled out Draco, who hadn't taken any kind of care for his fellow bedmates, once given in to the clutches of sweet sleep. On Draco's other side, Terius had taken up his usual position, half draped, half-snuggled into him.

That drew a faint smirk from Severus. Just watching Draco being half-smothered by the attention had turned him on to a few quirks of his own that he'd never acknowledged.

Last night had been very enjoyable.

It had been the kind of evening they'd all needed in some way or another. It was surprising, really, the difference it made having Viktor there.

Severus hadn't even had the time to really draw out his personality, but his presence and his magic had made such a notable impact that it hadn't even mattered.

He was almost sure that they'd find ways to manage and would, in time, grow properly accustomed to each other. Arielle knew that it would take time for their sharpness to dull in the right places and grow deadlier in other ways.

"Stop scheming," Viktor slurred, sleepily. He'd been pulled from his comfortable, dreamless sleep by the annoying niggle in the back of his head of his Alpha being awake and alert. The bond was too new for him to leave it be, so he roused himself enough to determine whether there was any sort of threat or not.

There wasn't.

Severus nearly snorted. As it was, he didn't deign to answer that, but tightened his grip on the sleeping Calida and focused on dredging up a few mental exercises for his—

"Severus?" Calida's voice was rough and hoarse. She yawned and pouted, transitioning easily from sleeping to wakefulness. A split-second later, she pulled a face and sat up, beginning to untangle herself and her hair.

He rose easily, with her, holding up the covers for her to slide out and bolt to the loo. He followed her at a more leisurely pace, pausing to fish out a clean pair of pants from the dresser. He found her dry heaving over the toilet bowl, attempting to hold her hair back from her face.

A minute of privacy was all he felt that was needed as he filled a small cup with clean, cool water from the sink.

She accepted it with a grateful glance, sipping on it in tiny mouthfuls, one hand spinning a golden glow about her queasy stomach.

He joined her then, snatching up a comb from the sink to help sweep her hair back. He let her sit back on the floor, braced against his legs, as he combed her hair into some semblance of smoothness, to twist it into a suitable braid. He could feel her unease through the fledgling bond and attributed it to a too-late breakfast.

"Potion?"

She glanced up at him, golden eyes shifting a few shades darker. "Blood." She countered.

He took the cup from her hand and helped her up, one hand automatically curling around her bare waist. They stared at each other for a moment, then he sighed and stretched down, shortening the gap between them.

She stood on tip-toe, hands reaching up to pull on his neck. Her drinking etiquette was by far the most formal. She kissed the chosen spot once, twice and a third time, sucking lightly, teasing with her fangs.

He felt the touch of her magic, rendering it painless before she actually bit, her fangs sinking easily into the skin. Here, he couldn't help but note that her fangs were larger and shorter than Draco's—providing a sharp, blunt bite. She remained perfectly still, drinking at a steady, respectable rate, punctuated by quiet chirrs.

He almost smiled, turning his head as best as he could, to breathe in the scent of her honey-sweet hair.

Something inside of him shifted and twisted, settling into place. His free hand slipped up to cradle her head, encouraging her to take more.

Draco yawned, waking up to the enjoyably confusing sensation of two mouths and two pairs of hands playing in tandem with his sensitive body.

The night had been vigorous and memorable in more ways than he cared to relive right then. He could feel the twinges of soreness where his magic had yet to catch up. His new Claim marks ached and burned with the sensation of foreign magic etching itself into his very being. A feeling that would fade in time, but still lingered, uncomfortably as his dragel settled into the new reality.

He stifled a whimper, biting his lip when he felt a rough, warm tongue laving at one nipple. From the sturdy warmth to his right, Draco could make an educated guess that it was Viktor and that would put Terius on his left.

The barely-there claws scraping down his stomach and left thigh made him quiver. Yes. Definitely Terius. He was always precise with his claws.

Viktor bit, lightly.

Draco shuddered, pleasurably. His body woke to the most delightful greeting and he finally let the first sound escape.

"Oho," Terius murmured. "I think he's awake."

Viktor chuckled, darkly. "Not completely awake," he said. "I think he could use a bit more convincing."

Draco groaned.

It was a bit longer than he'd wanted it to be before Severus stood in the kitchen, stirring a pot of bland breakfast cereal. A simple breakfast seemed like the best. He stirred the creamy mixture in neat figure eights.

Wrapped in a fluffy white robe, feet tucked up beside her, hands wrapped around a steaming cup of ginger tea, Calida watched him with bright eyes from her perch on the countertop. He'd wanted her to sit at the table. She'd wanted to stand beside him.

They'd compromised.

She enjoyed the sight before her now, tracking his movements between sips of tea. These moments were precious now.

He moved with quiet efficiency and deadly grace, starting up the preparations for an omelette, chopping and dicing vegetables with an expert hand. She'd had a sudden craving for a breakfast burrito of sorts and so he was doing his best to make it happen.

As far as he could recall, the only time she'd tried such a thing, hadn't been in their company and she couldn't remember who or where she'd acquired the taste from.

Her description had been detailed though and he had enough of his quick-thinking to figure out what he could whip up in the kitchen. Potions were recipes after all and he could work with that.

Considering how he was sure the remaining three of his growing Circle were busily exhausting themselves, he guessed they would likely to turn up equally famished to the breakfast table.

Severus continued about his cooking, falling into a familiar, comfortable routine. He'd always felt at his best among potion ingredients and simmering cauldrons. Chopped vegetables and a boiling pot were close enough.

"Kiss for your thoughts, Severus?" Calida asked, sliding off of the counter to stand on her own feet. She came to stand beside him, and took over stirring the breakfast cereal, adding in a dash of cinnamon and a scoop of sugar.

"They aren't worth that much," he countered, but accepted the brush of lips to his cheek.

"You're worrying about that girl, aren't you?"

"If The Hound came and took her, then it is now the Hound's business." Severus said.

"Are you convincing me or yourself?" Calida asked. She tasted the cereal and added another scoop of sugar.

He nearly smiled. "We need to establish a few more connections—I'm not—we're not in a stable position right now."

Calida nodded. She could understand that and she definitely did not want to return to the strange wizarding world. "Will we—we will stay?"

"Definitely," Severus said, without hesitation. "There is no reason for me to return any more." He was surprised how easy it was to say the words and the lack of guilt that accompanied it. There was absolutely no regret about staying in Nevarah now—not anymore.

Calida relaxed a fraction more. That was good. She didn't know that there would be any peace for them in that confusing Wizarding World they'd left behind. "So that leaves what we will do here? You are very good at brewing things," she mused. "Have you considered opening a brewery or an apothecary? You could also work in contract with a Healer's Clinic."

Severus tipped his head in acknowledgement. He'd considered a good chunk of that—and matched it against their current finances. Granted, they weren't dirt-poor by any means and all currency that had pooled together upon their bonding was now within his grasp, but he had no desire to act hastily.

This would be done right, this time.

There was no use in worrying over Hermione. She had Harry Potter's luck, when it came down to things. Fate would treat her well, as long as she was alive. Whenever their paths crossed again, he would see if there was any help he could offer and the debt would be settled between them—unspoken as it was.

"There are places in the shopping district," Calida ventured, when she sensed he was slipping into his usual thoughts once more. "You could tour them, if you like. See if something catches your eye. It is busy enough and the rent is not too much. My sister has a dress shop there. She's good with her hands and has an eye for colour. Been in business for about, ah, seven years? Says the place is better than she first thought."

He made a sound of encouragement, bustling around from the counter to the range, adding a handful of dried fruit and nuts to the pot.

They would also have to make contact with the Vampires here and establish the same threads of communication and authority as they had in the woods, that fateful day.

Soon though.

For now, Severus thought, he was almost content and that was good enough.

"There are also open seats on the Councils," Terius said, shuffling into the kitchen with a half-open robe draped around him. He accepted Calida's good morning kiss, returning one of his own.

A cup was found and tea to fill it, along with a refill for Calida, before he made his way to the table, nudging Severus ever so gently on his way over.

The prompt was almost expected, for Severus paused in mid-step and leaned the slightest fraction forward for the nuzzle that Terius had to give. It was a very welcome gesture to Terius, who fairly glowed at the minute acknowledgment.

"What kind of Council?" Severus asked, returning to his current task.

Terius sighed, the moment lost. "I know you do not like them," he began, holding up a hand to stay the words he felt coming on. "But the Vampires are very happy to deal with you for whatever reason they have yet to divulge to the others they have come into contact with. You have their protection, whether you want it or not and they respect your opinion. It is not something that is easily earned among blood and fangs."

"I have no desire to become a Councilman with a legion of-"

Terius shook his head. "I don't think that would suit you either, however, there are other options. You could always be an independent advisor or hold a social status as a High Lord on a general council with dark creature inter-realm-relations."

Severus hummed, faintly. That was more along his lines. It wasn't that he particularly minded the Vampires, it was simply that as of late, they'd done nothing but make his existence rather miserable. He squared his shoulders and let his thoughts settle. He didn't have to decide on anything, but it wouldn't hurt to listen to what his Pareya had to say.

Terius relaxed and began to outline what he had in mind. There were options available for all of them—if they were willing to step forward and try.

A/N: Hey everyone! This chapter has been taking its own sweet time in spite of my attempts to hurry it up. LOL. I hoped to get it posted sooner but time is so scarce right now. Urgh. I'm home safe from my travels, so thank you for all the well wishes there! I'm glad to be home and I think I need a vacation from the whole thing. :P Traveling is exhausting and I've been trying to catch up on a lot of sleep.

Anyway, so now Dahlia and Shayla are a 'thing'! yay for any of my femxfem shippers out there. I love this little pairing a lot and really had to pare down the amount I actually put into this story. (hopefully I'll have a short novella to release on them, maybe when I'm getting out the 5th part of the Dragel's Song...). So-what'd you think of Quinn's story? How he got those scars? What about the Quinn x Harry moments? Let me know what you think-and as always, thank you all so very much for reading and reviewing!

Your encouragement makes my day (and yes, I will post chapter 100 soon. I just have to make Brissy's changes and add in a snippet. Any particular snippets you all want to see next? I've added Ron in this one and I'm planning to hop back to the action with the Cunningham's, Voldysnort and Fred in the next one.

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:

Theo, Charlie-(with the Peverells)

Harry (with the Kalziks)

Snape Circle (in a new apartment, courtesy of Terius)

Deveraine Circle members-(at their home)