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.

it is also dedicated for every special reader who has taken the time to read and review. You are truly appreciated!

RECAP: Harry and Quinn learn more about each other while Dahlia and Shayla publicly court each other. After a successful Soulscream, Harry and Quinn deal with the after effects. Ron finds himself puzzling over his weird transformation in a prison cell in the Weasley's Basement and faints after seeing a ghostly apparition. The Snape Circle gains Viktor Krum as a Beta and Calida as their Bonded Carrier.

THEO AND CHARLIE : PEVERELL GUEST HOME : THE HUNT : DAY 3

A rather sleepy, grumpy Theo eventually roused himself from the entire tangle of Charlie and soft blankets thrown on the floor.

There was a crick in his neck and one in his back, followed by a throbbing ache in his fangs. Theo stifled a groan, sitting up with some difficulty.

He really did have to remember to stop sleeping on floors and such. Beds were present for a reason. He sat up straight, stretching his arms up overhead in careful arcs, testing his tired limbs to be sure they were in perfect, working condition.

It didn't escape his notice that Charlie was peacefully snoring beside him, looking much younger, his face relaxed in sleep. Theo hesitated, before gently skimming a hand over that tanned face, brushing back a few wisps of fiery hair.

He smiled at the barely imperceptible twitch, before Charlie leaned into the caress.

There was one very obvious brunet missing—Harry—but Theo could feel their shared bond happily thrumming away and knew that he was alright, for the time being.

That was good.

He would probably turn up in the next few minutes or so.

Theo stifled a yawn.

He really didn't like being this high up in the air—it set his fangs on edge—along with every protective instinct he had. The element was simply too—different—considering that Charlie was Fire and Harry was Nameless.

It didn't help that Cora had a pure Air Circle.

Theo tugged on his hair, before his fangs throbbed again. Right. Blood. He would need to wake Charlie after all.

Charlie let his head fall back against the settee, where he sat with a lapful of half-growling Theo. The bite was strong and purposeful, for nothing other than a necessary feed.

He wasn't about to complain, though some context would have been nice. He'd been dreaming something or the other about the twins—a strange sort of dream. Fred had sprouted feathers and George had caught on fire.

Not necessarily a bad dream, considering what schemers the twins were, but the vividness had caught him off guard and in spite of the growing ache at his neck, Theo's bite was very welcome.

It reminded him that he was awake and that dreams were simply that. Dreams.

Charlie sighed, shifting again.

Now that he thought about it, he couldn't see Harry anywhere. The bond between them was humming with happiness, a welcome, but somewhat unexpected feeling, considering the past few days.

Charlie almost smiled. He felt Theo's draw slow and then gentle, almost apologetic licks to the sensitive bite area on his neck. "Theo," he acknowledged, with a wince.

"Sorry," Theo muttered, head nestled slightly in the hollow of Charlie's neck, his body trustingly draped over him.

"S'fine," Charlie said, yawning. He tentatively reached a hand around to rest on Theo's back, inching up towards his shoulder.

Theo huffed a laugh, allowing the warm weight to settle around his shoulders. "Harry's off somewhere?"

"Think so. He feels happy." Charlie snuck his other arm up and around to finally hold his Alpha, pleased when it wasn't shrugged off.

"Good. He needs something happier than all of this depressing nonsense."

Charlie hummed. "And your stoic Alpha act," he nuzzled the top of Theo's head, calling lightly on the magic that Ebony had taught him. It took a minute longer than he wanted, but the privacy ward soon shimmered to life, locking them into their own little bubble. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"

Theo growled. Irritated, but not annoyed enough to ruin his current level of comfort. Charlie was warm and even if their elements were complimentary, he still felt protective.

"You're worrying Harry," Charlie said, quietly. "And me. You know more about this world, its customs and what's expected of—us." He took a deep breath. "We rely on your reactions to let us know if things are alright."

One golden eye stared up at him, curious, but guarded.

Charlie bit back a smile. "So when you're not yourself, we worry too. What's wrong, Theo?"

Silence for a long moment. Then another, quieter huff. "I can't help it," he said, at last. "I don't feel grounded up here—even with the runes in the room, though that probably would've helped. Everything's—off. If it's off then I can't be—I need to know that you're safe."

"We are," Charlie said, simply.

Theo squirmed for a moment, then reached up to tug on his hair again. "It doesn't matter if I logically know that," he said, at last. "Instinctively, I only know that I can't—that I need to be in control of everything or something bad could happen."

Charlie tried not to smile. This side of Theo was different—softer, almost. "You wouldn't let that happen though."

"No," Theo said, slowly. "No matter what, I wouldn't."

"So—you're instinctively on edge because of—elements?"

"When we went to the Council Hall that day—when we were heading to the Clinic—I, well," Theo pushed against the embrace.

Charlie hummed, loosening his grip, but not removing it entirely.

"I requested a blood trace," Theo said, quietly. "I asked for all known living connections to be noted and sent to me. I wanted to—I needed to know what we were up against."

"And?"

"You have family here. Harry has family here. I traced the Peverell's, the Evanson's, and the Prewitt's."

It took two seconds for Charlie to work out what wasn't said. "What was wrong with them?"

"Many people make claims to the Peverell Clan—it's a regular occurrence."

"Oh?" Charlie frowned. "To Lewis?"

"He is the one with a missing brother—the most potential for lost connections tie back to him." Theo explained. "Which means that it falls to him to handle any claim that does not—prove itself."

Charlie sighed. "How many?"

"Too many," Theo turned away. "Some of them rejected to the point of ruin. I was—thinking—of a way that we might submit Harry's possible connection to them and then, he shows up. Right there—looking like—and Harry just—Charlie, I can't. I cannot help what I am or the way I think and-"

"What exactly are you?" Charlie interrupted. Blue eyes narrowed. "What exactly do you think is wrong with what you are or how you're thinking? You care about Harry, yes. You obviously think much further ahead in regards to all of us and our present circumstance, so what exactly is the problem?"

Theo groaned. He pushed away, stretching his own magic out to expand the privacy ward. He slid off Charlie's lap and moved to the settee.—his head now higher than Charlie's. "The problem is that there isn't one yet."

"What?"

"He's being nice now. We can't be sure until the seal's removed and even so, they're all being so—nice. I don't think—I can't—for Harry's sake, if no one else's. I cannot…" Theo faltered.

Charlie patted his knee—the only part he could comfortably reach from where he lounged on the floor. "It's fine. I understand." He paused. "You should tell Harry anyway."

"I know," Theo rubbed his eyes. "Believe me, I know. But he's much kinder than I am. He'll likely ignore everything and one day, see the slightest inference and believe that it was all a lie in the end."

"As opposed to you snapping and snarling and him starting to feel like he's on two sides of the same battle?" Charlie countered. "You know he can't fight the instinctive pull he'll have for you versus Lewis. There isn't any comparison there."

Theo gave him a Look. "At least award me some credit," he said, irritably. "I simply have no intention of ever being anything beyond the barest threads of formal acknowledgment."

"In other words, you don't have like him, you merely have to tolerate him." Charlie shook his head. "Are you sure that's the best route? Harry won't like that." Blue eyes narrowed faintly. "Or would you say that Harry doesn't have to like that, he simply has to-"

"At least until the seal is off," Theo said, briskly. "We have no leverage. We're at the mercy of their element. They hold a significant amount of power, both magically and socially. They're all on edge because of some personal matter and we're currently in their debt because Ithycar has called in a favour. This is far from an ideal situation, so yes. I will tolerate him. I do not have to do anything else beyond that. We are at a distinct disadvantage."

Charlie winced. He turned that nugget of information over and over in his head until he arrived at the conclusion of their current situation. "You will tolerate him," he repeated. "But Harry and I?"

Theo perked a brow. "Your point?"

"You don't—it doesn't matter," Charlie breathed, finally catching on. "We can—but you won't because of—politics?"

"We have not lost all our social graces," Theo sniped. "I do not have to do anything, I do not wish to. Neither do you nor Harry." Theo sniffed. "I was only saying, you are expecting more of me than I am currently willing to give, due to our current-"

"Circumstances," Charlie said, cheerfully. "I know. It makes sense now." He stretched for a moment, tipping his head back to ask for a kiss. There was a moment of pause while his grumpy Alpha considered it.

With a huff, Theo leaned down, pressing the barest of kisses to those full, dusky lips. "Explain it to Harry, when you have a minute. I have things to take care of today."

"More scheming?" Charlie teased. He blinked when Theo tapped him firmly on the nose. "Sorry."

"On the contrary, there's something—something in the air and it makes my scales crawl."

Anything Charlie could have said to that was interrupted by the arrival of Desmond and Henry. The older men were talking quietly amongst themselves when they entered, waking a sleepy Cora from her comfortable makeshift nest on the floor.

"Henry!" Cora chirped. She sat up, looking adorable and sleep-ruffled, as she rubbed at her eyes. "Are you mad at me?"

"And straight for the jugular," Henry murmured, lips twitching. He crossed the room to help her up from the floor, pulling her into a warm hug. "A little—when you didn't turn up in my bed."

She beamed up at him. "We were sorting Harry's favours. He's got loads of them! Very nice names and connections on several of them as well."

"Oh?"

"Mmhm," Cora hummed. She leaned into the hug, stretching up on tip-toe to rub her face on the smooth section of Henry's dress robes. Fancy embroidery accented the shoulders and centre folds, but the rest was plain, dark brown silk.

"Sleep well?" Henry asked. He feathered a hand through her half-twisted-knotted hair. "I thought Lewis was with you."

Cora twisted around to survey the empty nest of blankets and pillows. "He was," she said, puzzled. "He's probably with Harry."

"Ah. I thought we were missing one," Henry said, dryly. "Good morning, Theo, Charlie."

"Morning," Theo said, stiffly. "I think we'll excuse ourselves for the morning. Where would Harry and Lewis be?"

"I'll worry about that," Charlie interrupted. He rose to his feet, standing behind Theo. "You worry about everything else."

Theo grunted in answer, but he was particularly in need of a good hot shower and chose to base his precarious mood on that. Then again, if Charlie was with Harry, then that would mean less interactions with Lewis.

That was good.

Good enough, anyway.

Something was off and he couldn't put his finger on it. The last time he'd felt this unsettled—well—things had not been good.

It wasn't until breakfast that the first stirrings of unease really took root. Theo hadn't received any word from Harry, but Lewis had actually returned and that had set all his guards up once more.

Charlie had spoken to Lewis for a few minutes, before returning to say that Harry was hunting.

Which was good—on one hand—and bad, because Theo still couldn't shake this feeling and now, it was starting to make him twitchy.

He listened with half an ear as Cora and Henry outlined their Circle expectations for the day. They would attend the Hunt, as Princess Dawne had sent a private missive to all major supporting Clans of the Air element, asking for their support in a certain event.

He wondered whether the Deveraines' would show, as Elven Royalty did not answer to Dragel Royalty, but was expected to play nicely within the same field.

Then again, it would take them time to settle affairs. He would have to ask Ilsa what they decided on. It would be worth noting who had been placed on the Deveraines' persona-non-grata list. It would also be interesting to know how they'd settled it.

Though as far as settled went, Cora and Henry were perfectly happy and cosy with each other, considering the argument from the previous day.

Desmond and Vincent had prepared breakfast and provided updates on how the rest of the Circle was fairing as they readied for the day.

With only a few notes of concern for all of them to be wearing Circle colours, Cora had launched into a discussion of which famous Circle was expected to show in the same auditorium section and what she planned on asking for.

Henry listened and offered suggestions, occasionally pausing to touch her—small spells sliding off his hands and slowly smoothing over her ruffled appearance.

From a sleepy, mussed figure, Cora was gradually turned into a wide-awake, well-dressed Submissive.

Switching spells brought out her matching formal wear and she scarcely spared a minute for her own makeup spells.

The entire little routine took a mere thirty minutes at best, which, at that point, Theo was well on his way to becoming truly irritated.

"Theo?" Charlie murmured, beckoning to him from the doorway. He'd returned from his shower, dressed in the outfit that Theo had laid out for him.

It seemed that breakfast was over and he'd met a few of Cora's Circle standing out in the hallway, finishing last minute preparations. Charlie held up a small, folded favour.

It worked. Theo was out of his chair and gliding across the floor to take it from him. He unfolded the shimmery, square piece, skimmed the note and then handed it back.

Three lines stated that Harry was currently with the Kalziks and they would be happy to provide a central transportation point, if needed, as well as the necessary chaperoned benefits, if Harry saw someone who struck his fancy.

A generous offer and very precisely worded—enough of a gesture to soothe some of his irritation. Theo took the favour back, after Charlie had skimmed it and tucked it inside the folds of his robe. The card was imbued with Kalzik magic and would guide him to the best spot for a transportation circle, should it be needed.

"Theo, Charlie?" Henry joined them in the hallway. His sharp eyes caught the motion of Theo hiding the card. "Everything alright?"

"Perfect," Theo said, lightly. "About the preparations for Harry's seal removal—is there anything else required from us before?"

"You have to sign something, I think," Cora said, stifling a yawn as she trailed out from the dining room, allowing Desmond to fuss over her spell-curled hair. "And a blood sample, I think?"

"Yes to both," Henry said, thoughtfully. "The paperwork is a legal release-"

"And the blood is insurance that the ritual will work," Lewis said, smoothly. "It must be tested on a golem before the actual subject."

"The actual subject being Harry, correct?" Theo said, tightly. "If there is anything else required beyond that, do let us know. Harry does not appreciate surprises."

Cora blinked. "Good point." She elbowed Henry. "I thought you and Lewis normally handled this. Shouldn't they have already had a scheduled meeting for the preparations and viewing the casting grounds?"

Lewis winked. "Of course. There's simply been so much happening that-"

"Make it happen, Lewis," Cora said, quietly. Her eyes flickered a few shades darker. "Harry doesn't deserve to be walking around with a million seals on him. How's he supposed to even hunt if half of his magic is tied up in seals that are probably blocking a good chunk of his natural instincts? It's barbaric. Seals were invented for protective and guardian purposes."

Lewis had the grace to blush, bowing in answer. "I'll take some time to see that they are properly set in motion. If you'll excuse me from the entrance?"

"No," Henry said, before Cora could answer. "You skipped out on the last two—you can't keep doing that. You know you have to give your current measurements—your wingspan is at least an additional five inches from the last time."

Lewis whined, softly. He hated being measured and feeling like he was put on display. He'd been excused from it the last time and had hoped to escape the rest of the Hunting season without having to actually submit to the requirement.

Vincent rumbled in answer, an authoritative gleam in his silvery eyes. He'd noticed the reluctance and knew there was nothing wrong beyond personal preference. "Lewis."

There was a muttered grumble before Lewis conceded.

"Alright, Circle up!" Henry called out. "Everyone present?"

They arrived at the Main Entrance to the Hunt, with the usual festivities taking place within earshot. Colourful banners and streamers decorated the skies, with several large floats sailing overhead, amidst the floating residences for the Air Circles who were venturing to lower altitudes, likely by request of their lovely Princess Dawne.

Theo and Charlie fell into some sort of position beside Henry and Cora. The Peverell Beta, a tall, silent, dark fellow, stood behind them.

An official statement was given and Lewis suffered through having his wings measured.

Theo observed the Circle's interactions through the entire scene. At one point, he thought he saw Ilsa slipping through the crowd, her short height allowing her squeeze through.

A flicker of familiar magic brushed against him, coaxing him, almost unwillingly, to relax. That perhaps it was not all bad—but the feeling was fleeting and it vanished almost as quickly as it had come.

"…Names please!" the dragel requested, hand poised over her tablet. "Or Circle Name, if you prefer."

"The Nott Circle," Theo said, quietly. "Are there any messages?"

The dragel keyed in the names, handing the tablet to Theo, to check the spelling. He pressed his thumb to a scan reader and a new screen opened up.

"There are two available messages at this time, please tap the screen here to see them." The dragel gestured to the upper right corner of the tablet, before turning to attend to the next Circle in line.

Theo dutifully followed the instructions, relieved to see the two senders.

One message for Charlie, from Ebony, requesting that he join her family's private viewing box for the Hunt, if he could manage it. That was good—at least, as far as Theo was concerned. There were a few more things he wanted to check out and if Charlie was with Ebony, then he wouldn't have to worry about his Beta for a little while.

The second message was from Ilsa—short and to the point that the Deveraines would attend, but in closed ranks. That was enough for now—at least, for him to know that they were close at hand.

The tablet was handed off to another dragel as the line progressed and Theo fell into step beside Charlie once more.

"Ebony would like to see you in the Royal's private viewing area," He said.

Charlie frowned. "Now?"

"She didn't say when, but I assume she'll expect you sometime soon, seeing as we've received her message."

Charlie nodded absently. He was still trying to puzzle out one detail. "There wasn't any of—that. When we came through on the first day."

"Yes, but we're with Cora's Circle," Theo said, nodding towards the cheerful blonde. "What is she known for?"

"Magical Technology," Charlie filled in. "Interesting. You wouldn't know that it's there unless you're looking for it."

"Something like that," Theo half-smiled. "I don't know if Ebony will send someone for you or-"

"I can 'port," Charlie tugged on his ponytail, smoothing it back, almost by reflex. "She showed me a specific portal. I can only cast it in private. I'll wait a bit."

Theo nodded. He started faintly when he felt Charlie's rough hand curling around his own. A sidelong glance showed Charlie to be staring straight ahead.

At last, Theo smiled.

Henry found the designated viewing box several sections into the upper wings of the Great Arena. It was on the opposite end of the stadium where the Deveraines' had been.

Clean and simple, with padded benches and chairs for comfort, along with a smooth, wooden-topped stone table in the centre. Reinforced stone, bearing runes and magical sigils, framed the entire seating area quite nicely, giving off an air of luxury.

Charlie's eyebrows arched upwards. The Deveraines' had brought their own things—chairs, cushions and blankets. Someone had also transfigured a table, if he remembered correctly.

The Circle began to choose their respective seats and Charlie quickly picked a spot on the corner, where Theo was likely to feel less stressed in such close quarters.

"Oh lovely, they used Arkos and Tsuneh," Desmond said, moving to stand near the edge of the viewing box, tracing a finger over the glowing blue runes. "It's only taken them how long to do it correctly?"

"Not everyone has your precision, Des," Cora said, lightly. "I call dibs on the corner chair," she immediately slung her little shoulder bag over the back and patted the area on the outside. "Henry?"

"I'll sit with you," he said, kissing the top of her head. "Once everyone's settled—the Kadel's have requested an audience, I'll be a minute, alright?"

"You don't need me?"

"I'll spare you this once," Henry said, lips twitching.

Cora fairly beamed. "I do so love you," she hummed. "Don't take too long, we're supposed to stand and Spell Raise before the start of the main ceremony."

"I know," Henry said, indulgently. "I won't be but a minute," he checked his watch. "Call me if I linger."

"The Kadels?" Theo stood up. "Would you mind if I accompanied you?"

Henry hesitated for a moment, then shook his head. "I would be glad to make the introduction, if that is what you seek."

"It is, thank you," Theo said, quickly. He nudged Charlie, pulling him along as well.

A puzzled look flickered over Henry's face, but he didn't bother to think it through. It was common enough to broker simple introductions between well-established Circles and newer, smaller ones.

For Theo, it was a good move, even if Henry didn't see the point in Charlie joining them. Still, it was no issue for him. They exited the Peverell viewing box and moved across the aisle where a larger, rectangular viewing section was neatly cordoned off.

Lightly frosted panes of magic shimmered and twisted in the morning light, as Henry knocked twice on the panel over the gated entrance.

From within the viewing box, a tall, imposing figure could be seen, with several smaller ones running about.

"Beware of the children," Henry murmured, pushing the gate open and passing through the protective barrier.

Theo and Charlie followed, albeit a tad more cautiously.

They found themselves standing in a viewing section about three times the size of the Peverell box. The tall, imposing figure, turned out to be a stern-faced woman, clad in shrouding robes of white and grey, with a long, thin pipe held in one bony hand.

"Henry," she said, grimly. "I was unaware you were entertaining guests."

"Maia," Henry smiled, offering a half-bow. "As a favour to a good friend," he said, smoothly. "They are a new Circle and have yet to establish themselves. I did promise an introduction, if you do not mind-?"

"Mama!" Eight-year-old Meg Kadel came up to her mother, holding a broken sandal in hand.

The woman regarded her with unimpressed eyes, before her rheumy gaze settled on Charlie with a heavy weight. She blinked once, twice and then took a long drag on her pipe. It floated beside her as she clicked her fingers for the broken sandal.

It was handed over, to be magically mended without ceremony.

A slow plume of forest green smoke wafted from her lips. She looked from Charlie to Henry, then to Theo and back to Henry. "Come in," she gestured to the lounge and table at the far end of the viewing box. "Mind your step."

They were seated. Maia called out something and shadow stole over the table before refreshments blinked into existence.

Charlie shifted uneasily. He could see about five young children—likely between the ages of eight and twelve, playing various card games on the floor of the viewing box. All the seating appeared to have been pushed to the side. There wasn't a single other dragel in sight.

"You won't see them," Maia drawled. She took another slow drag from her pipe, and leaned away, leaving it floating there beside her. "When they chose their vices, it was for something less visible on this plane. I thought one of us ought to be visible, so bear that burden alone." Her eyes clouded over, one glowing a brilliant blue and the other a bright silver. "Introductions, Henry?"

Henry bowed over the small teacup in hand. "This is Theo, the Alpha, of the Nott Circle and his Beta, Charlie. Their Submissive, Harry, is currently Hunting."

"A small Circle then," Maia said, appraisingly. "What exactly is your Submissive looking for?"

Charlie froze.

"Harry is unusual," Theo said, smoothly. "I'm not quite sure who he has his eye on at the moment."

"Mmm," Maia's eyes narrowed. "Clever answer, I will give you that," she sighed. "Thank you, by the way, for looking after my little Meg." She nodded at Charlie. "She says it was much easier to focus on changing back, while you were talking to her."

Charlie's jaw dropped. He started, faintly, when Theo nudged him beneath the table. "I—it—glad to have helped," he snuck a glance over at the group of playing children. "How is she?"

"She's fine. I think she'll give up her wings," Maia sniffed. "Not my choice, but she seems set on it. She tells me she would rather remain visible as well, so I expect there will be a higher price to pay."

Henry cleared his throat. "Er. Yes. You wanted to see me?"

Maia snorted. "Always to the point, aren't you? And here I was thinking I could have a nice, long conversation, but I suppose you can't leave your little bit alone for too long, eh? She has a habit of attracting trouble for one so young."

Henry's grip tightened on the small teacup, a faint furrow making itself known on his forehead. There were rumours about Cora—had been since the day they'd Bonded. It was irritating him as of late, to ignore them.

"If you intend to ask a favour, might I suggest doing so without insulting me beforehand?"

"An insult? And here I thought it to be a compliment. Your life is surely never boring." Maia laughed, showing gleaming rows of sharp, pointed teeth. "That would be a real pity if it were," she said, lightly. "You though," she plucked the floating pipe out of the air and jabbed it at Charlie's direction. "We'll owe you one for saving Meg. Call it in, if you ever need to." She levelled her gaze on Theo. "I expect it to be used. I hate having them hang out in the open."

Henry muttered something beneath his breath. "Who did what this time?"

"May I speak freely in their presence? For this is your business."

"Speak."

"You've heard tell that the Immortals are waking?"

Henry's teacup cracked. He set it down on the saucer before him. "Now I have. What of it?"

"No reason. I simply thought I would inquire as to the current safety measures and whether you were planning on crafting any true Bloodstones?"

Henry frowned. It was their responsibility as assigned to them through their reigning elemental Royal. The Peverell's were tasked with seeing to any necessary magical stone crafting, particularly bloodstones where the Vampires were concerned.

It was odd that Maia would remind him of such a thing.

Henry's heart sank at the immediate connection of why she would deliberately mention it. Still, he couldn't help it. He had to ask. "And why would you be asking me that?"

"We must do our duty as we always do." Maia said. "However, at present, word has reached me that the Vampires, have decided to grace the Hunt. It has been eighteen Hunting seasons since they have ventured to our beautiful capital city. I thought safety measures were in order."

Henry's frown deepened. "There's been no word from the Shadow Court, nor have the Royals mentioned anything of the-"

Maia's cloudy eyes grew paler, before she shook her herself, suddenly. "They are coming. I only thought we should be prepared."

"Bloodstones?" Charlie spoke up. "You make those—here?" He remembered the various packages that Bill had sent for him. He'd been cataloguing them in the Burrow, when Harry had arrived.

There had been a Bloodstone among them, now that he thought about it. He'd intended to mention that to Bill straightaway, as The Order was trying to win the Vampires over to their side in the war against Voldemort.

"Specifically, The Peverells' make them. They are expert stone crafters, at least in that branch of imbued magic," Maia said, loftily. "They are not good planners, however, which is why I take it upon myself to help them, every now and again." Her gaze wandered to where Meg and the other children played. "At least, for the sake of a brighter future."

"How many?" Henry ground out. He'd gone rather pale. "How many stones are we talking?"

Maia smirked. "Several hundred—at least."

"Henry?" Cora held out a hand to him. The trio had returned, each of them looking decidedly more grim than when they'd left. "What's the matter? Did she ask for a Nightstone again?"

Henry sank into the seat beside her and after a moment, reached over and pulled her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her, his face buried in her hair.

"H-henry?" Cora quieted. "Is everything alright?" She wriggled for a moment, then settled down, leaning into the impromptu cuddle. After a moment, she reached a hand up to cup Henry's cheek, whispering softly.

They conversed for a moment, then Cora shook her head. "She shouldn't have sprung something like that on you. Remind me not to invite her over for our annual-"

Henry kissed her, sweetly. "Don't make promises that end in bad business deals, hm?"

Cora sniffed, her cheeks pink. "Then we're doubling that contract. If they're asking for that sort of thing then they'd best be able to pay for it." She scowled. "Crafting Bloodstones is hard work!"

"Shh," their Beta hushed, settling down behind them. "The main ceremony is about to begin and Princess Dawne is giving the opening."

"Theo?"

"Later," Theo promised, twining his own fingers around Charlie's tanned ones. "She agreed and that's all we need to worry about. When we see Harry again, we can pick a time and have his prophecy retold."

"You think it'll change anything?"

Theo half-smiled. "Who can say? We can only hope. At least, this way, I don't have to worry about when Oretta would find the time to make an introduction."

"They were talking about Bloodstones and Immortals though—Kyle and Quinn—they mentioned those back at the Clinic. That day with Meg. It's all—I don't understand how this is all related."

"I don't either, but information is always good and when it's properly sorted, I'm sure we'll have a better understanding."

"Of what?"

"Well, for one, there was that mention of a Night of a Thousand something or the other," Theo tapped his chin. "Then of course, there was the Fabrine the other day. Hermione had a Hellhound's seal imprinted on her, then word is that she's in the shadow sections. Everything hints that there's something dark happening or about to happen."

Charlie leaned closer, allowing his warmth to spill over a touch more than usual. "Later," he said, repeating Theo's earlier promise. "We'll handle it later."

"With Harry too. He needs to know this," Theo squeezed Charlie's hand. "We all should be on the same page."

Charlie choked, jerking forward his hands over his ears, doubled over to his knees. His face twisted in a grimace of pain. "W-what is that?" he managed to say, between gritted teeth.

Theo's expression closely matched his own, as a sound ward sprang to life beneath his fingers. He saw the other Peverell's throwing up their own barriers and wondered why there hadn't been one around the viewing box.

He'd worry about that later. There were twin pangs of pain stabbing through his shared bonds and the closest one, he could pinpoint as Charlie.

The other had to be Harry.

Theo mentally summoned up what reassurance he could and funneled it down through Harry's bond. His next thought was for Charlie and he drew on his Caspers to force his body to relax enough for necessary movement.

"It's a Soul Scream," he said, tightly. "I didn't know Dahlia would call one out. That's—it was—breathe, Charlie. Breathe, come on." Theo leaned against him, one hand still pressed against his aching ear.

He had not been expecting that and it had caught him off guard. Then again, there'd been little to no warning. By the time he'd realised what was happening, it was much too late.

The faint shimmers of various magical shields were glittering in the daylight—proof that other Circles were in the same situation. Some had managed to throw up a shield, others had not.

Magic sparked visibly off of both Theo and Charlie. Their claim marks throbbed viciously, in sync with Harry's shared feelings.

Theo clenched his jaw, working to force the feelings of pain into a mental box where he could deal with it later.

Pain was distracting.

Always distracting. He needed to focus. His Caspers finally took over, bearing the worst of the physical sensations and feeding a blissful, much-needed coolness into his panicking body.

Better. Much better, Theo thought, darkly. He was glad that Harry was with the Kalziks—as Healers, it meant Harry was in good hands.

"I thought—I didn't know that was possible," Charlie gasped out, sitting up with some difficulty.

"It isn't always," Lewis said, from where he was crouched beside them. "Are you alright?"

Theo made an annoyed sound, but waved a hand at Charlie. "Help him."

Lewis didn't answer, but immediately began to cast a series of basic diagnostic spells over him. "You're Soulbonded to Harry, aren't you?"

Charlie gave a wry smile. "It seems that way."

Lewis cocked his head to the side. "Odd, then. It's almost as if your soul never properly responded to the call. You'll probably need to try reactivating it as soon as you possibly can."

"Reactivating?"

"We both knew Harry before his inheritance," Theo said, slicing open his thumb on one fang to paint the runes for healing on his own arm. "I'm fairly certain he didn't use a Soul Cry on me."

Lewis nodded, politely. He would not question the fact that Theo had also reacted to the Soul Scream—which would only be possible if he was also soul bonded. Instead, he cast a mild healing spell on Charlie and watched as it took effect.

"Harry?" Charlie looked to Theo.

Theo's eyes were half-closed, his lips twisted into a near-smile. "He's fine. He's relaxing a bit—but worrying. For us, I think. He is fine."

Charlie slumped in relief. "Why did that affect us? What do you mean—soul bonds and all that?"

"An incomplete soul bond," Cora said, wandering over to examine them. "Sorry about that, we don't usually have shields on our box. Sometimes it makes my arm itchy and really, I don't think there's been a Soul Scream in front of a public audience for at least a few centuries."

"At least a few centuries," Henry grumbled. "Are you alright?"

"They're fine," Lewis proclaimed. "But the Soul Scream-"

"It's probably the seals," Cora said, quietly. "If he's had so many of them and they've been removed after the initial claim, the actual bond was likely never correctly settled."

"How?" Charlie smoothed his hair back, retying his ponytail.

"Soul magic is not something that you can manipulate," Henry explained. "It's almost as unpredictable as Wild Magic. It exists. It is good, but it isn't something you can control."

"Harry's an empath though," Cora said. "That probably puts him a bit closer to that wild magic spectrum. He's probably more powerful than he knows. I would bet all those seals were to restrict his growth." She sighed. "Henry—how long do we have to stay?"

"Hm?" Henry blinked.

"A message came while you were with the Kadels—it's fromTauria. They've been working on the Casting Grounds and they'll need Harry for some measurements and such. We shouldn't make them wait."

HARRY : NEVARAH : DINING COURT SECTION

Eventually, Harry found himself standing in line, waiting for snacks. The thought of returning to the Kalziks for the rest of the day, didn't quite sit well with them. It looked like they would need some time to deal with the recent changes or at least, some semblance of privacy without him being there to witness however it was they would piece themselves together.

It was easier to wander about on his own, though he did wonder how Theo and Charlie had fared. The Soulscream had unsettled him, but it wasn't as bad as he'd expected. It had felt more welcome than destructive and that was such a strange feeling, he couldn't dredge up the energy to be concerned about it.

Theo and Charlie felt find through their shared bonds and he tried to send a few bursts of his current emotional state to them. He was fine. He was safe enough and there were plenty of things happening, enough to keep him busy for the time being.

There were bound to be dozens of places he'd yet to explore and here, in Nevarah, it didn't feel as it had in the Wizarding World. He didn't think that anyone would bother him nor stop him from blindly exploring on his own.

They probably wouldn't even notice.

Harry sighed and pushed away those particular thoughts. He wondered for a moment, what would be the best course of action, before he realised that he'd only met the Kalziks by chance.

He hadn't intended to seek them out and he certainly hadn't promised to return. Perhaps they wouldn't expect him back. Perhaps they wouldn't mind if he was out on his own for a bit.

An almost smile touched the corners of his mouth. For a split-second, he wished Theo was close enough to hold him. To feel those familiar, strong arms wrapped around him, that would be the best reassurance of the sudden sadness he'd felt at hearing Quinn's story.

Quinn.

There was another puzzle he really wasn't sure about. It was nice to think that maybe there could be something more, but at the same time, it almost felt as if Quinn wasn't exactly interested.

Even if his actions said otherwise, Harry mused.

Delicious smells wafted through the air, teasing at his nose and making his stomach rumble. Harry sniffed a few time, trying to separate the smells. There were new scents in the air and some of them made his stomach curl, while others made his nose twitch. Definitely something good, he just had no idea what.

He had no idea what he actually felt like trying, but it was harder than he'd expected to make up his mind. He found himself in the main food court section, with dozens of meal booths and small eateries scattered from one end of the massive open area, to the other.

It was almost like a great field stretched out, with the luxury of a smooth, marbled floor and a shimmering twist of magic overhead to keep the natural light from being too harsh. Dozens of tables and chairs with elegant settings were crowded into the middle of the strip, allowing customers to purchase their meals from any vendor and seat themselves wherever they liked.

A curious, but interesting custom, Harry thought. There were some large tables and smaller ones towards the far end. He was sure he could find any empty space there to enjoy his snacks.

Maybe an idea would come to him on a full stomach.

He was glad Surajini hadn't pressed him for any further details. He'd just wanted to give them some privacy and he'd sensed that Quinn needed something that only his mother could offer. It hurt to think that his own mother would never have that sort of opportunity, but Harry tried not to think of that.

Not now, anyway. He was glad no one was accompanying him, mostly because things worked better when he was on his own. Unexpected mishaps aside, of course.

Now that he stood in line, he wondered how Dahlia had managed to escape to spend the day with Dyshoka. Not that she didn't belong, but he'd thought that a clan war was a big deal.

He hadn't thought that Ilsa would let anyone venture out. Not when Ithycar had seemed to agree with her idea of calling everyone home for the time being. Including the mysterious daughter, Kandra, who had supposedly been the centre of such scandal at the previous Hunt.

He had noticed that Dyshoka had been staying rather close to Dahlia and at times, they were whispering furiously between themselves. Details that he couldn't help but notice.

Their magic was tightly reigned in around them, which was good for his empathy and bad for his curiosity. It hadn't escaped his notice that none of the Kalziks' had questioned her presence there nor her capabilities.

He wanted to know what was happening, but didn't dare ask. Not after the very public scene with Shayla. Still, he wished them well.

Shayla had been nice to him and Dahlia, he supposed, was alright. Dyshoka was in a category all by herself and that led his thoughts full circle back to Quinn.

A low groan escaped. Harry shook his head, trying to focus. A delicious scent wafted out on the air and he sniffed appreciatively, stepping out of the current ordering line to follow his nose.

It was a false trail that he traced back to one of the assisting stalls further down in the food courts. He retraced his steps only to find that the line had grown longer in his absence and he would now have to wait all over again.

A disgruntled chirp escaped before he could help himself.

It was answered by a soothing rumble a few paces off to his left.

It took a moment for the non-verbal exchange to fully register. Harry traced it back to a dark-skinned young man with a kind smile. There was almost something familiar about him, but nothing came to mind as he sifted through the recent interactions he'd had at the Hunt.

The young man leaned back, deliberately making a space in front of him. "You can cut," he said, gesturing. "I don't mind."

Harry hesitated. He glanced, uncertainly at the others waiting in line. He was surprised to see encouraging nods from some of the younger dragels and indulgent looks from the older ones. It didn't seem that anyone minded, from the look of things.

"They don't mind either, it's practically expected," the young man coaxed. He said something over his shoulder and the dragels in front and behind of him, shifted accordingly, allowing even more room.

A tendril of magic stretched out, tentative and curious, almost, in its way.

Harry shuffled closer and then finally stepped into the space.

The young man was dressed in black and gold, with fancy embroidery along the sleeves and collar, with slender white pants and black slippered feet. He had two golden ear cuffs on each ear and a single strand necklace. Muted elegance, but well-dressed and rather pleasing to look at.

Definitely pleasing to look at.

A small smile played about Harry's lips and he took a moment to gather his thoughts.

"Thanks." He waited a beat, then stuck out his hand. He wanted to know more and there was something about that smile that made him warm inside. "I'm Harry."

"Ethan," came the answer. He reached for Harry's hand and they both leapt back with muffled exclamations at the first touch.

A bright crackle of magic leapt between them, leaving Ethan nursing singed fingers and Harry cradling his shocked hand. They stared at each other with wide eyes and matching ripples of instinctive agitation.

Harry opened his mouth and shut it with an audible click. His magic rose up inside of him, insistent and demanding, but an entirely too familiar feeling accompanied it.

Sheer terror overwhelmed him for one awful moment, before Harry stubbornly tamped those feelings away. This was different. It was. This wasn't Wikhn. This wasn't Quinn.

This was just—different. It hadn't hurt, it was more like a static shock that he hadn't expected. Jarring, but not unwelcome. A request for his attention, but not an outright demand.

It was new and hopeful and maybe—if he could just manage to not make a mess of—and then Ethan was tapping gently on his arm, speaking to him in calm tones and Harry zoned out.

"…I can honestly say that's never happened before, but it is nice to know that I was right. I thought you felt special, but I couldn't place it. Are you alright? How's your hand? It doesn't look burned from here, can I see it?"

The words continued on at an even, measured pace, tempered by Ethan's bright golden eyes.

Gold eyes.

Harry stared up into them, mesmerized—noting every single detail that made them different from Theo's. They were so lovely to look at and Ethan really had a nice voice…

When Ethan laughed, at last, Harry tore his gaze away from those fascinating eyes and focused on those thick, dusky lips. He gave himself a slight shake. His mind was dancing around too many thoughts and he had a feeling it didn't want to stop any time soon.

He couldn't think of why he'd really want it to stop either.

"I—you," Harry fumbled for a word. More words. Something, anything, he needed to say something and yet, he couldn't think of anything interesting to say. Everything that wanted to be said, had yet to string itself into coherent sentences in his brain.

Ethan's warm laughter washed over him again, brighter and warmer than before. "It's alright. I didn't know what it would feel like either, but it's—it's wonderful, isn't it?"

The hopeful, tentative feeling in Harry's chest blossomed into a fierce ache. It was very wonderful. The sudden haze melted away and he was relieved to find that he hadn't somehow managed to do anything stupid—no crazy wild magic—at least, not that he could see.

And Ethan was still smiling at him—which had to be a good thing, right?

Standing there all tall, dark and perfect.

Rich, deep skin with pitch black hair cut in a tight crop close to his head—looking very soft. For a moment, Harry wondered what it felt like and it was as soft as it looked.

He swallowed, feeling the new magic stretching out to him again, tentatively still—but present.

Ethan's magic?

Harry wasn't sure, but it felt nice and it didn't seem like it was a rejection. He opened his mouth to try and say something, but the only sound that did come out was a squeak.

A mere whistle of sound that made absolutely no sense to him whatsoever, yet, somehow, that made up all the words he wanted to say. A spark of irritation registered—briefly—before fading. This had happened with Theo before, the lack of human speech, right before—and here, Harry blushed.

Yes. Right before that.

Harry tried again and failed to speak—resorting to gestures. He wanted words, but this would have to do for now. Surely, Ethan would understand. He would know—wouldn't he?

He held out a hand, questioning and uncertain, but wanting to know—needing to know the answer to the question suddenly twining around in his head.

Soulmate?

He didn't dare ask it aloud, though it weighed heavily in his mind, taking front and centre stage. If there was any sort of bond to be had by them, surely this would be heard, one way or another.

The look of fragile wonder on Ethan's face was mirrored in the way his hand shook, ever so slightly as he reached out to take Harry's.

A single, breathless moment, when they both waited for the spark to repeat and joyous surprise, when it didn't.

They laughed, hands clasped, sharing a private moment between them as warmth began to spill over into each other in steady, calming streams.

"Harry," Ethan said, at last. "Harry." He seemed to be trying the name out and liking how it fit.

Harry made a frustrated sound. His words were still stuck and—oh. Ethan had kissed the back of his hand and touched it to his brown cheek, an expression of utter contentment revealed in the way his eyelids slid halfway shut.

A cautious chirrup came out instead.

Ethan smiled. "I had sent you a favour after your introduction," he said, softly. "Since it was not—rejected—I'm hoping that means you're open to this."

Harry inched even closer. He was definitely open to this. Whatever it was.

"It feels like—a soul bond," Ethan said, carefully. Wonderment and worry reflected in his glimmering eyes, his magic still tempered, his expression still kind. "And I am very—open to this."

A beat passed.

Harry didn't even have to consider it it. Sure, soulbonded sounded nice, but this felt as if it went beyond that. It certainly explained what he was currently feeling and why his empathy was singing with joy. He looked at their joined hands and wondered, briefly, what it felt like to touch the rest of Ethan.

That sounded like a good idea and he was stepping forward and reaching out with his other hand, before his common sense could talk him out of it.

A spark of happiness ignited in Ethan's golden gaze and he met Harry halfway, managing a one-armed hug that seemed to convey the depth of physical closeness that Harry was angling towards. Harry nestled his head beneath Ethan's chin, his ear pressed over his heart, his cheek pressed against the satiny finish of Ethan's formalwear.

A kiss seemed like too much, but those arms wrapped around him was heaven itself, Harry was sure and it didn't need more. It soothed an ache he hadn't noticed before, feeling an empty spot that seemed as if it had only just been created.

To top it all off, Ethan was soft in all the right spots and that made the hug even better. It was a balm of peace and contentment, the likes of which he had never felt before. Harry felt as if he could stay there for ages, never moving and barely breathing.

It felt right.

Magic rose again, twining about them, settling something inside of Harry and coaxing his own dragel instincts further out to the surface. It whispered words of admiration for the lovely specimen in front of him and teased at the idea of making Ethan his.

Permanently.

Several minutes later, speech returned. Harry licked his lips and coughed. He mumbled something into Ethan's chest and perked up when he heard the actual words.

"Ethan!" the name came tumbling out. Harry beamed. He could speak again.

"I hoped that would do it," Ethan said, the smile on his face trembled, then brightened by a few more watts. His hand flexed on Harry's back. "Do you—did you feel that?"

There was too much to feel and no way to properly put it into words. Harry could only smile back.

"I think the line moved," he said, a second later, for lack of something sensible to say.

Someone beside them burst into laughter and a smattering of applause and congratulations trickled their way.

Harry's face grew warm.

Ethan grinned, but the slight duck of his head suggested the same degree of embarrassment. Their own little world was already forming and there didn't seem to be a reason to stop it.

Harry's brow furrowed. An audience was alright for the current situation, but he wanted more out of this encounter—a lifetime more, if it was his to have. If Ethan would agree.

For one awful moment, a shiver of doubt flickered through him and he couldn't think of a way to phrase such an important question, but then Ethan was still holding him and the inner demons of his mind, fled to darker corners.

"Would you like to—talk?" Ethan ventured. "I'm sure you have questions and I would love to know more about you."

Another wave of emotion washed over Harry. So that's how he could phrase it. He'd remember that for next time.

"Here," someone said, handing over a wrapped bundle. An older dragel, with an indulgent look on his weathered face. "I took a main platter for two—enjoy yourselves." He nodded at Harry. "You're very lucky—this one's a good catch."

More applause sounded out.

Harry blushed fiercely and buried his face in Ethan's chest. He'd always hated being the centre of attention—even if it was for a good reason. Nothing good ever seemed to come of his fame and fortune.

"That is very kind of you. We appreciate it," Ethan said, smoothly. He released Harry's hand to take the proffered takeout container, but didn't break away from the one-armed hug.

"Is there somewhere that we could-?" Harry prompted. He tried to think of a place where they could talk quietly, but his choices were limited and neither option sounded particularly appealing at the moment.

"May I 'port you?" Ethan asked.

Harry nodded.

He felt the rush of magic as Ethan called out "Temptrificus ergen!"

Golden light flared up around them and the enchanted portal sprang to life beneath their feet. Familiar sensations and familiar magic—Harry let himself fall into it.

The marketplace walkway glowed briefly—then everything vanished.

Harry found himself standing on a plain, grassy bank with the water's edge off to the side. There were a few lone trees stretching up to the sky and not a single soul in sight. He wondered how much of the grassy shore he'd actually seen, given how many times he'd randomly arrived there, seeking solitude.

A near laugh sputtered out. He really did have a twisted kind of luck, but at least it had some kind of taste. This would be a good space for talking, as long as he didn't think about Alec.

Stupid, stupid, Alec.

Harry stubbornly pushed the thought of the blue-haired annoyance out of his mind. There was something much better to occupy his thoughts. Something special.

Ethan still had an arm around him—one that dropped when Harry pulled away. The smile dimmed a bit, but his expression softened.

Harry winced internally. Alec that done the same thing—though his own reaction had been a bit more physical. He couldn't help flinching away, it was practically instinct, there were too many things always after him, trying to kill him or attack him. It was easier to keep to his own, but still.

He would make it up—at least to Ethan.

"It's quiet here," Harry said, softly. "Thank you." He looked down at the wrapped takeout containers they'd been gifted.

"You're welcome. Allow me to introduce myself properly." Ethan's smile remained. "I'm Ethan Hartwood," he said. "I used to spend my afternoons here—it's always so peaceful. The shores are almost always unoccupied during the Hunt." He paused, "I sent a favour after your introduction walk. Seeing you triggered something almost like that spark a few minutes ago."

"Really?"

"Mmhm. I've been dreaming about you for awhile and I didn't know why. I didn't realize until I saw you at the introductions."

"D-dreaming?" Harry stammered. "About me?" He couldn't stop the blush that began to surface. He hoped it wasn't too obvious.

Ethan nodded. "I kept seeing your eyes and feeling your magic, but it was almost like you were always out of reach. As if you were too far away and no matter what I did, I couldn't come close enough."

Harry swallowed. There wasn't exactly anything he could say to that. He hesitated. "I felt something—sort of. When we first came here, to Nevarah. I don't—it doesn't feel—I don't feel." He stopped.

Ethan tipped his head forward. He wouldn't press him for details. "Would you like to sit over by the trees? We can talk for as long as you like."

"Yeah. That'd be great."

Harry fell into step as Ethan headed for the little grove of trees.

It was a small cluster that seemed rather out of place, considering how open and treeless the rest of the plains were, but Harry figured that everything was like that, at least in this area of Nevarah.

At least, it seemed like there was always plenty of openness near the water's area, perhaps so the Merrows could see if anyone approached them, well in advance.

Ethan choose a partially shaded spot beneath two trees, to set down his own takeout container. His movements were graceful and fluid, his expression thoughtful as he squinted up at the trees.

Harry set his own down as well and fumbled in his pockets for something to transfigure. A picnic blanket would be good and maybe a few pillows. He fingered the pretty buttons on his overshirt. Theo probably wouldn't be happy if he took them off—but a simple reparo would fix that.

Later. Sort of.

Harry started to tug on the buttons when he caught sight of Ethan still staring up at the trees. That was curious enough to draw his attention and he watched as Ethan seemed to be gauging something, before placing a hand flat against the trunk.

He pressed, leaning into it, feeding his magic into the gesture. His eyes glowed brightly and when he was finished, Harry found himself staring up into a fashioned nest of sorts. The thick vines twisted back and forth, gradually becoming sturdier with the overlap as they wove themselves together.

Harry perked a brow. That was unexpected. "Your element is earth, right?"

Ethan chuckled. "Earth isn't limited to just earthquakes and grounding spells." He patted the tree. "Need a boost? The view's worth it. Promise."

Harry looked from his hand to the woven nest. "…I can climb."

Ethan grinned.

They made their way up the tree and into the makeshift nest—which somehow managed to be more like a viewing platform of sorts, suspended between three trees in a sort of triangular shape. There was a slight give in the middle and it swayed gently in the air with their movements.

"Button?" Harry offered, when Ethan began to bite a thread free from the fancy cuffs of his shirt. He popped off one of the fancy specimens and held it out.

Ethan looked from him to the button and stifled a laugh. "Thanks." He held it up to his lips and whispered something that sounded like a several voices muttering to each other, before a muted flash of gold produced the desired result.

Harry waited, perched on a branch while Ethan spread a thick fluffy picnic blanket over the twisty branches. Not a bad transfiguration, he thought to himself. "Want another one?"

"Two, if you can spare them." Ethan hummed.

Harry twisted them off and handed them over. Two more blankets joined the first as Ethan levitated the takeout containers up to their new space.

"You sent a favour?" Harry asked, at last. He tried to remember the line of potential suitors that had shown up at the Deveraine's viewing box after that eventful introduction walk. He eased down from his chosen branch to cautiously test the strength of the platform.

The blankets were soft and he felt a tad guilty about tromping over the pretty patterned surfaces with his fancy boots. The transfiguration held nicely though and Harry chose a spot to settle into.

Ethan had been right—the view was gorgeous from here. He could see beautiful blue waters for as far as his gaze could reach. They darkened just a touch, a bit out of reach, but visible if he squinted.

The air was a touch cooler, but still warm and the natural warmth of the daylight was offset by the faintest breeze as the leaves rustled around them, adding a gentle constant song in the background.

Harry smiled. He watched as Ethan made his way opposite to him, walking carefully along the squishy blankets and settling down within arm's reach.

That was nice.

"I did—I started the moment I saw you across the walkway. Actually, I could only think that you weren't a dragon, but you were the one with the green eyes. It was a bit much and I—well, I passed out. When I woke, it didn't seem right to barge on over to your viewing box without any sort of context, so I sent you a favour instead." Ethan paused. "I'm guessing you didn't have a chance to open it?"

"Probably not," Harry admitted. "It's been—daunting. Lots of them. This is—all new to me."

"Ah," Ethan said, knowingly. "You caught everyone's eye. They have good taste."

Harry smiled. "So do you."

"Bonded?" Ethan asked. He gestured to the takeout container and it floated over to him.

"Yeah. You?" Harry inched a bit closer, near enough that the faint magical pull growing between them didn't ask for more. This definitely felt like it would end in a good place, his empathy was currently composing symphonies to accompany it.

"No. I'm usually the chosen," Ethan joked.

Harry perked up. "W-what are you?" he asked, wincing inwardly at stumbling over the question. He hadn't meant for it to come out like that.

"Pareya," Ethan said, cheerfully. "I guess it isn't as obvious as I thought. You really didn't see my favour?"

Harry gave him a Look. "If I'd seen it, I wouldn't have-"

Ethan held up a hand. "Sorry, sorry, but by the rules of the Hunt, I'm not even allowed to do this-" he gestured to the blanket and their current surroundings. "If I've sent a favour and you haven't accepted it."

"And if we're soul bonded?" Harry challenged.

Ethan's smile morphed into something of a smirk. "Good catch," he said, lightly. "There are loopholes for that, but to be on the safe side—do you mind if I recall it?"

Harry frowned. "What will that do?"

"It returns to me and I give it to you in person. If you accept, everything continues."

Harry thought about that for a moment. His magic was humming with interest. His empathy was still happily making its acceptance known and he really didn't see a reason to be stalling. Everything about the situation seemed—decent. "Sure—go ahead."

"Thanks," Ethan stretched out a hand into the distance, eyes closed.

Harry felt his own eyes closing as the weight of the powerful magic stretched and sang around them. He'd never felt this kind of blatant power before—a lazy, but vast expanse of energy that was loyal to the one it belonged.

That was nice.

It was also a silent point he awarded to the handsome dragel, for his manner was kind and his manners were sweet—his magic was simply sugar on top of everything else.

For once, maybe he was lucky.

He heard a slight thwap and then Ethan was holding a folded favour of pale green in hand, the white seal unbroken. He offered it to Harry with exaggerated ceremony.

Harry made a successful grab for it and automatically elbowed Ethan to stop the playful attempt to grab it back. He didn't hesitate to break the seal and scan the contents.

They were very straightforward. Name, Ethan Hartwood, male, twenty years old. Element, Earth. Rank, Pareya. Social ranking, lower noblility. Bonded, no. Comments—and here, Harry nearly dropped the favour.

Ethan had told the truth.

It was a handwritten note detailing a recent dream and shift in magic, suggesting that it was very possible they had a soul-bonded connection of some sort and asking whether Harry would be willing to meet to discuss it.

Somehow, seeing it written in such simple script and feeling the sincerity of the magic enclosed with said favour, made it even better. It was a relief and the permission to acknowledge the sudden yearning that blossomed inside of him.

"Harry?" Ethan's thin brows furrowed together.

"You really heard me…?" Harry faltered. Memories and emotions clashed into a muddle as he remembered the strange fight, Theo's capers and the scream that had torn something inside of himself. So that's what it was. "You—I can't-"

He felt his chest tighten and for a moment, he had to look away. How many more potential Bonded were walking around Nevarah, waiting for a chance encounter with him? He definitely needed to go through those favours at the earliest opportunity and—

Ethan touched his shoulder. "Just one chance," he whispered, huskily. "Please?"

Harry twisted around to look at him, alarmed. "I wasn't refusing. I just-"

"Look at me, for a minute," Ethan murmured. "Just a moment—please?"

Hesitant green eyes focused on beautiful golden ones.

Something sparked inside both of them, deeper and more meaningfully than before. Deliberately and with renewed purpose.

Harry sucked in a shaky breath as he finally felt the elusive feeling that had teased him before.

A simple shift and twist.

Shift. Twist. Click.

He clutched the favour to his chest, huddling over it as he felt the activated soul-bond reach out—followed by Ethan's immediate acceptance. It began to settle into place with startling ease.

New feelings rushed to the surface, a need to be closer with each other. To draw closer and mingle in every intimate way afforded to them.

A faint itching all over their skin, as if magic were searching for a claim mark that had yet to be placed. Visible wisps of magic shimmered at the surface—dragel tattoos making themselves known on any patch of uncovered skin.

When Ethan's smooth brown hand slipped into his own, small, pale one, Harry turned straight toward him.

He couldn't tell which one of them moved first, but it only took a few seconds to be wrapped around each other, clinging, tightly as magic continued to work in and through them.

Harry's soundless cry was muffled in Ethan's neck as he clung to the larger figure, desperately soaking up the rush of happiness, relief and best of all—acceptance.

As if there'd never been any question at all, that Ethan would have wanted anything or anyone other than Harry.

It made the awful ache in his chest die a slow death as Harry focused on breathing. He trembled as the magic between and around them, grew even stronger and more potent. Pulsing, vibrating and—celebrating?

As if it was glad they were finally together.

He felt hot tears splashing down his shirt collar and pulled away enough to see the happy tears streaming down Ethan's face.

Embarrassed, Ethan tried to wipe his face with one sleeved arm without releasing his hold on Harry.

Harry caught him before he could, tugging the arm back around himself and twisting to sit properly in Ethan's lap. There were faint threads of worry, but a touch of his mind allowed his empathy to verify the feelings present.

It reflected back that there was only stubborn gladness present. Nothing more. Only happiness and a deep sense of relief and wonder mixed together.

This time, the smile that Harry allowed, fairly shone from his soul. Cradling Ethan's face in his hand, he let his fingers smooth over the high cheekbones and strong jawline. The lightly scaled skin of grey and black, with a few faint flecks of gold, as the creamy dark skin melted away to even darker scales.

Ears sharpened upwards into points, eyes morphed and the prominent nose narrowed into slender, more dragonesque features. Harry gave a short laugh of delight.

He found himself filled with giddy laughter as twin tears trickled over his own, unsteady hands. He smoothed them away and patted at Ethan's pretty scaled face and then his hair.

Pleased to find that it did feel just as interesting as it looked. Sort of soft, sort of wiry. Textured. Fitting. Too short to run his fingers through, but just right, somehow, for Ethan.

The arms wrapped around him were strong and steady, a hint of lean muscle beneath the fancy shirt—even if there were a few cuff buttons missing. There was a quiet sniffle and then Ethan was smiling again, blinking back the steady tears of happiness.

All Harry could think was how adorable that was. His own eyes burned with unshed tears from the full strength of their shared emotions. He leaned in, movements slow, hands braced on Ethan's shoulder.

Ethan tilted his head to the side, allowing Harry to make the first move.

The first kiss was awkward, but sweet. The second one was better. The third was just right.

They broke apart, trying not to smile and failing as they snuck glances at each other, the solemnness of the moment broken with renewed lightness.

Harry relaxed, thinking that he could definitely grow used to that handsome face and warm laugh.

"I can't believe I found you," Ethan murmured. He bumped noses, drinking in Harry's expressive reactions to each of their interactions.

"I can't believe you want me," Harry whispered back. He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to believe he'd just blurted out the question he hadn't planned to ask.

"You are all that I need," Ethan whispered back. He kissed each eyelid in turn and then Harry's trembling lips. "I am honoured that you would accept me."

"Can I see your wings?" the question came out, idly, as Harry continued to play with Ethan's earrings. They were fancier than Theo's, with little dangling pieces and they made pretty sounds—to him at least.

Ethan didn't seem to mind and given that they were resting in each other's company, content with the closeness currently afforded in their present situation. Harry had already traced over the swirling tattoos along Ethan's scaled face and he wanted to see more.

He also wanted to talk a little more—something, anything—before instinct took over completely.

Not that he had a problem with where this was headed, but simply because he wanted more. So much more. It felt as if there was so much time to make up for and the amazement of Ethan's acceptance had yet to wear off.

Harry didn't care.

This sweet, private little moment was the healing he'd craved to soothe the two disasters he'd experienced. To think that he had the rest of his life to spend with someone this special, who had regarded their own chance meeting as something wonderful—was exhilarating.

All Harry could think of was more.

So much more.

"They're very ordinary wings," Ethan said, lazily. "Very ordinary, but if you get me out of this shirt, I'll show you."

"You just want to take your shirt off first," Harry accused, leaning back enough to stare up at Ethan's scaled face.

"Maybe I do," Ethan teased. "There are so many buttons, after all. You might beat me to it."

Harry snorted. But that was enough of an answer, enough of a dare. He wriggled free enough to move freely.

Hands explored, patting and searching at buttons and collars to expose a bit more skin. Harry lost his robe and two more buttons—that became two thick, fluffy pillows to add to their makeshift nest of sorts.

Ethan surrendered his over shirt and undershirt, revealing even more, beautifully dark skin and swirling black tattoos along his entire torso.

Harry tried and failed to keep his hands to himself. He stroked and touched every where that he could reach, chasing the tattoos almost, searching, instinctively, for the right spot to place his claim mark. There were so many good ones and he couldn't make up his mind.

"What?" Ethan asked, when Harry's hands lingered on his chest, palms flat, as if trying to sense something.

"Claim mark?" Harry asked, slowly.

"Neck is good," Ethan said, shoulders twitching as he called his wings to the surface. "Whichever side you like. I'd like to show it off, if you don't mind it being seen."

"Hmm." Harry slid his hands upwards, brushing lightly over those dusky nipples, before curving up around Ethan's neck. He ignored the minute shudder, for it matched the one he manfully willed back.

Ethan's eyelids fluttered in pleasure before he leaned forward, touching their foreheads together once more. His wings came bursting out in terrific shudder, stretching out around them both.

Harry laughed in sheer delight.

They were gorgeous. Massive, compared even to Charlie's wings, it seemed. Rich black ombre, bleeding to a very light beige with abstract slashes of gold along the spines and thicker webbed folds.

Tri-color wings.

What a lovely detail.

That was all he needed before he jerked away to tug at his own shirt. He froze when Ethan's hands brushed over his, taking over the task. They were quick and efficient—spelling him free in time for his own silvery-peach wings to stretch out from his achy shoulders.

A breath of awe passed between them.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He rolled his neck to the side, trying to work out one of the kinks. Sleeping on the floor of the Peverell sitting room had not been the best of ideas—not when there'd been a perfectly decent guest bed in their guest room, but he would make up for that tonight.

Sort of.

"They're wonderful," Ethan praised, gazing up at them in admiration. "They suit you so well—and they look even better up close."

"Really?" Harry rubbed his arms, self-consciously. They were rather small compared to Ethan's impressive wingspan—large enough to enclose them in a semi-private space—even with Harry's wings open, but not stretched.

"Mine have always been freakishly oversized," Ethan said, dryly. "They say it comes from my grandfather's side, but no one else in my family has wings like these. I can't help the size or the colours—they sort of—bled in and stayed that way. I thought there would only be black and gold, but then it changed."

"I like them," Harry said, straightening up. "I think they're wonderful. They suit you just fine."

"Really?" Ethan echoed.

Harry felt a smile tugging at his lips. "I like the colours. It seems right."

There was a beat of silence and then Ethan's stomach growled—loudly.

And then they were laughing, the serious mood broken.

"How about we eat that," Harry pointed to the takeout container. "And continue the wing stuff later?"

"Eating first, kissing later?" Ethan suggested, innocently.

Harry flicked him on the shoulder. They traded smiles and continued to steal glances at each other as they moved to sit closer to the centre of the viewing platform. They sat, shoulder to shoulder, sorting out the fried treats.

Every so often, they would feed each other, occasionally nibbling on the fingers offering said morsel. The takeout container was emptied rather slowly, but to the complete satisfaction of the new couple.

Harry took a deep breath. "I-is this how it's supposed to feel?" he asked, hating how small his voice sounded. He didn't want this little moment to end, but it was so wonderful, so dream-like almost, that he was afraid it wasn't real.

Ethan was quiet for a moment. They'd been talking about the Hunt and what they'd seen for the day. This question had come from nowhere, yet fit just perfectly. "It feels different for everyone," he said, honestly.

"How is it supposed to feel?"

Ethan's wings rippled, as they seemed to have a habit of doing, when he was thinking a bit harder. "Some say it feels like peace. Like something that was missing has returned and everything's alright again. Other's say it feels like being ripped in two and stitched back together, but somehow being better than you were before."

Harry made a face. That sounded painful. He would much rather have the peaceful version. "How could that be?"

Ethan shrugged. He drew his knees up to his chest, resting his arms atop them. His wings remained curved around both of them, blocking the sun and wind from making their little hideaway too uncomfortable in the open air.

"It depends on the person. Some people say it's like putting a puzzle piece in the right spot. It clicks. "

Harry stiffened. "W-what if it doesn't?"

"Depends on the person," Ethan said, voice considerably softer now as he studied Harry. "Sometimes, there's something wrong with the soul cry or the soul scream and only one end of the bond is activated."

"Can the other end ever be activated—or is it just never there?"

"That's what magic is for—and dreams. Usually, if you've any sort of soul connection, they say you'll dream about each other. If you don't, then your magic will call out. When you meet—it'll be like today. Sparks flying. Magic reacting. Everything just—different." He paused. "Different for all the right reasons."

Harry swallowed. He let his hand turn over, palm facing up from where it had been tracing patterns on the fluffy blanket. "It clicked," he said, half to himself.

Ethan's hand slipped into his own, fingers interlaced. He squeezed, gently. "Yeah. So did mine."

Harry leaned to the side, head resting on Ethan's bared shoulder.

They stared off into the distance for a while.

"..his name's Theo," Harry said, tracing shapes on Ethan's arm that was loosely curled around his waist. They were sitting together again, Harry on Ethan's lap. They were talking about Theo and Charlie, how they'd met and what had seemed right about them.

"That's a nice name. Short for Theodore?"

"Yeah. A junior. His father was a senior. It's a fancy pureblooded name," Harry said. "But, he's what I needed. Stubborn though. Secretive, kind of. Sometimes I don't understand him."

"Oh?"

"We're staying with the Peverell's right now," Harry explained. "We don't—have a place of our own just yet and I have a lot of," he huffed. "Seals. I have a lot and we're trying to have them removed."

Ethan's wings twitched again. "When you say seals—how many are we talking about?"

"I'll explain later, but right now, one of them is a Peverell seal, so we've been staying with them instead of the Deveraines'. They're currently hosting us until the Peverell seal is removed. We don't exactly have our own place yet. We were staying at the Deveraines' but things were complicated."

"What happened to the Deveraines'?"

"Clan war. The Vaughns."

Ethan shuddered. "Lucky draw?" There was a sad note to his voice.

"You know them?"

"I know of them. I know to stay out of their way and never give them a reason to think that I have a problem with them."

Harry frowned. "They're that bad?"

"Power requires responsibility, however not everyone thinks that way. There are some that believe having power means they can lord it over others. It isn't the expected or common way of thinking, but there are always a select few. So the Peverell's won't host you for the remainder of the Hunt?"

"I don't think so—I'm not sure. Even if they were, I don't think Theo would like it."

"Oh?"

"He says the element is bothering him, but I think it's something else. He won't tell me. I don't know why. His mentor is Ilsa Deveraine, which you probably already know, but she asked her Alpha to help us. He knows Henry Peverell, so he asked Henry to host us."

"I am sure we could occupy a few rooms at my family's Main Estate, if needed. They wouldn't mind much, considering that it is the Hunt." Ethan frowned. He tucked away the detail of Theo and resolved to puzzle over it later. "What about your Beta? Does he mind it? What's he like?"

"Charlie? I don't think so. He hasn't said anything, in fact he's been spending a lot of time with Theo. I think they needed each other. He's a fire type. Taller than Theo. Has nice hair and a nice-" Harry stopped, feeling his face warm.

Ethan poked him to continue.

Harry groaned. "Nice hair and a nice arse."

The rumbling laughter prompted an elbow to the stomach, but Ethan couldn't help it. "He sounds fun," he said, at last.

"He's the oldest, I think. Theo has two years on me, but I didn't know that until we came here."

"Anyone else?"

Harry shrugged. "Almost, but no."

"Oh?"

And the stories came tumbling out. Alec. Wikhn. The shock of transitioning from the Wizarding world to Nevarah. The lack of magic. Visiting the Clinic. Learning about the seals. The many seals still on him. Staying with the Deveraines. More about the Wizarding World. Things. All the things that had been bothering him so far.

Harry finally stopped for a breath. He couldn't believe he'd said so much in such a short time—granted there had been a few information transfers for the sake of brevity, but still.

Ethan was so easy to talk to. It felt like he was truly listening and that he cared about everything that Harry shared, no matter how big or insignificant.

Like how Theo didn't like Lewis and how he'd left that morning without leaving a note—but somehow had never gotten back to them. How Quinn had prompted him to send a note and then how he'd watched the strange courtship on stage of Dahlia and Shayla.

Still, his frustrated thoughts returned to Theo and how things had been since they'd met Lewis. "…And I don't know what to do about it!"

"Have you asked him why?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes. I have. At least twice and in two different places and without an audience, even. I don't understand. If there's something I should know about Lewis, can't he tell me? What is so horrible that he has to act like they're our enemies when we're their guests and definitely not in a place to be-"

"Don't hold it against him. Alphas can be like that sometimes," Ethan said, soothingly. "It's not their best trait, but they do tend to hoard knowledge and certainly little tidbits of gossip about families or individuals that catch their fancy. I'd wager he's found something and doesn't want to tell you, because he thinks it'll change something."

"If it's that important, he should tell me anyway!" Harry burst out. "I'd rather know than not."

"Would you?" Ethan asked, mildly. He held up a hand to stop Harry's expected protest. "Let me put it this way, if he knew something bad about Lewis, something really rather disconcerting, say—oh, I don't know. Think of something. I don't like thinking about bad things. They tend to happen when I do, but for arguments sake, suppose he's soul-bonded and had a child with a non-bonded dragel and has been hiding them for all these years."

Harry blinked. "Dragels can do that?"

Ethan bit back a laugh. Of course Harry would pick up on that, rather than the idea of a theoretical problem. "Realistically, no. It would depend on how unloved the dragel felt. Most soul-bonds are very receptive and reactive. You feel and then you feel some more. If you were feeling neglected, then the one soul-bonded to you would feel compelled to move out of their way to try and help or fix whatever caused that feeling. The same for children. It's highly unlikely there would be any child out of wedlock, because the instant you wanted a child, your body would comply—with that particular Bonded. It's why some Circles have no children at all, save for one or two between whatever soul-bonded ranks they have."

"Ranks?"

"Pareya are the most common soul-bonded in a Circle. Sometimes a Beta. Or an Alpha and Sub, but usually a Pareya in there somewhere."

"And there's nothing else that would cause that?"

"Well, sometimes, there's a stronger soul-bond in a pair that desperately needs each other, but they haven't met. For whatever reason, they Bond apart from each other and when they meet, it's an explosive meeting. Often times, those two will remove themselves from their respective Circles, if permitted and claim Solitary."

Harry pulled a face. He didn't see how that would really work out. He hoped that wasn't a possibility for him. If there were more soulbonded out there—and it seemed quite likely—he hoped they would wait. He would find them. He would do his best to find them.

"Sometimes they return to their Circles after a time, sometimes they don't. Depending on the Circle, they might take turns sharing spaces and Bonded. It's different for each instance and depends on the bond and the dragel."

At that, Harry rearranged himself to move from Ethan's lap to twist around and face him. He bit back a smile when Ethan refused to release his hand and they wound up thumb wrestling instead.

"So you're saying that Theo must be hiding some deep dark secret about Lewis and that's why he's been all high and mighty little Alpha?"

Ethan nearly choked. "I wouldn't put it that bluntly, but probably." His golden eyes danced merrily. "There has to be something that's tipped him off, based on what you've told me. He sounds like the kind that would suffer in silence if it makes everyone else alright."

Harry scowled. That did sort of sound like Theo, but then again, that was very Slytherin.

"Has anyone else caught your eye? It sounds like you've been all about the Air section. I'm surprised you didn't turn a few heads."

Harry flushed. "If I did, they didn't react."

"Their loss," Ethan said, humming. "Have you visited the The Dive? There's usually more interested ones there."

"What's that?"

"A point where there's a very large and deep crevice that is so far down you can't see the bottom. It's at a peak point with good drafts and the Air types like to practice falls and dives there. They'll usually show off during the Hunt. Any spectators that show up there are expected to be Hunting or interested in hunting. The ones that are interested as well, will usually come on over."

Harry mentally tucked that bit of information away. That was yet another thing he hadn't known. "Is it far from here?"

"It's closer to the Air territories, but not impossible to reach. We could go there, if you like."

"Later," Harry said, dismissively. Preferably after he'd had Ethan to himself and introduced him to Charlie and Theo. He wanted to spend as much time with Ethan before dragging him into the thick of his complicated life.

Ethan's lips twitched into a near smile. "Has there been any progress on finding your mentor? Anything in the library's hall of records or so?"

"Theo checked some kind of record," Harry said, thinking back to their first day. Theo had taken them to register for something or the other, before they could visit the Clinic. He'd remembered that. "We've never been to the library, but it was brought to the Royals' attention and Lord Cunningham took over."

Ethan whistled. "The Cunningham's are nasty pieces of work. Every single one of them has a kill-count that would make a Hellhound envious. It's high. Abnormally so. They're a bloodthirsty bunch and their Submissive, the Lady Cunningham, is known for taking feral Gheyos and taming them down. She's Bonded with nearly every one that she'd brought back."

"Really?"

Ethan shuddered. "Really. The gifts on some of them are as dark as they come. It's even said that they have a rune master among them, but it's never been confirmed."

"How does that work? Runes, I mean? Over here?"

"It's a type of magic, I suppose. It's kind of in addition to our native magic. It's older and more arcane. You can't fully use it, unless you're born with an affinity for it. Good runes glow blue. Secondary runes are red. Bad ones or ones burning out, are black."

"You know rune magic?"

Ethan shook his head. "Arielle, no! That's a bit much for me, but it kind of comes with being a Pareya. You have to understand types of magic and how they can affect you or your Bonded." He fluttered his right wing. "Look closer at the middle spine—here." The wing curved closer to be in Harry's view. "See that tiny little black mark there, near the gold stripe? That's a rune for protection. It means that beyond my natural abilities and wingspan, if I use my wings like this—" and they both curved inward, creating a private little bubble, with a tiny circle of light streaming in from above. "It would allow me to use them as a shield without draining my physical or magical reserves."

Harry half-smiled, staring up at them and marvelling to himself how wonderful magic was, to think that Ethan could walk around with these magnificent wings always hidden. "Is your element fully earth?"

Ethan chuckled. "One of my Da's is an Air type," he explained. "But he hates flying. It's almost comical. He bonded to an Earth Circle, because he wanted to stay on the ground not hear people laughing about his lack of flying."

A broad grin stretched over Harry's face as he tried to picture a dignified air dragel who couldn't fly. The smile faded.

"Harry?"

"I can't fly either. I—when I met Lewis. A portal broke. I was falling and I couldn't fly. I thought that I would-"

And then Ethan was pulling him forward into a hug that was so tight, it made the tiny splintered pieces of that memory fit together again.

"It's not a crime to be unable to fly," he said, quietly. "You will learn. It isn't something you manage overnight, unless you have an affinity for air. Removing your seal might help with that and even so, it takes a lot of skill and effort to be more than good. Breaking a portal is very impressive. It speaks to your magic."

"But you can fly, can't you?" Harry challenged. He pushed against the embrace, glad when it didn't give. "My magic's been haywire since I've come here."

"I had a special flying tutor," Ethan countered. "My wingspan was larger and longer than average, so I couldn't attend the usual classes. That particular Da, irritated Mera for something or the other that week and so she announced that he would teach me how to fly—or apologise to her."

Harry choked back a giggle. "He taught you to fly?"

"He did and he never apologized." Ethan said, chuckling. "I still don't know what it's over, but every once in awhile, he'll bring it up when they want him to do something he doesn't want to do." The fondness in his voice betrayed the smile on his face. "You'll have to meet them, whenever you're ready. They'll love you."

"Will they?"

"At the fact that you think my wings are wonderful and you don't care that I'm—well," Ethan touched his forehead to Harry's. They stared into each other's eyes for a long, quiet moment. "That you don't care. That you'll take me exactly as I am."

"I like you already, exactly as you are," Harry said, truthfully. "There's nothing to dislike."

"Yet," Ethan quipped.

Harry snorted. "Sure. If that's what you want to tell yourself."

Ethan laughed. "So tell me more—you had that look on your face when you were talking about the Cunningham's."

Predictably, Harry blushed. "What look?"

"The one that says, I think I'm sort of interested in something, but I'm not one-hundred-percent-sure-of-myself, so I'll wait a bit. That look. You were talking about one of their Gheyos."

Harry brightened. "Hadrian. But, he's—contracted or something. He's not available for courting."

"You don't know that for sure," Ethan said, sensibly. "What are the terms of his contract?"

"He never had the chance to tell me."

"And you're writing him off already?" Ethan perked a brow. "Harry, Harry—you can't write him off before you've even given him a chance."

"I'm not, he just—we haven't."

"Have you attended any of his fights?"

"No. I don't know how."

"That's easily fixed," Ethan announced. He shifted his wings, allowing them fall back into the open air once more. "First, we need to see a Hunt fighting schedule. That's where all the Gheyos of every rank put in for the chance to either publicly spar with each other or to take down elemental golems."

"What's a golem?"

"Like an elemental robot of sorts. It's made entirely from the chosen element, usually over clay or rock and it moves as if it's alive. Golem fights are used to show off a signature move or a partnership between two Gheyos of complimentary ranks. Sometimes for new Gheyos who aren't sure about sparring with someone else. Usually for the experienced ones though."

"Complimentary rank?"

"Pairs that fit together," Ethan finally pulled his hand free, so he could tick them off on his fingers. "See, Ace and King. That's the most important pair of all."

"Why?"

"Well, the Ace is usually very powerful, but controlled and they oversee the wellbeing of all the Gheyos, as a whole, while also making sure the entire Circle is protected. A King, is more—well, personal. He is concerned with the individual wellbeing of all the Gheyos, the Ace included, and wields a significant amount of authority himself. Or herself. It's an important position. They're also supportive of the Ace."

"Supportive how?" Harry found himself playing with Ethan's fingers, tugging on the ends and pairing them off in twos. He half-heartedly dodged the flick to his forehead, grinning to himself.

"Well, if the Ace wanted to do something that all the Gheyos disagreed with, if the King backed him, they would all have to be in agreement. If the Ace had a moment where they were at fault for whatever reason, the King would be the only one able to stand in for them. Either to shoulder the punishment or disgrace or to mete out disciplinary action of their own. It's a unique and complicated relationship."

Harry wrinkled his nose. "Definitely complicated."

"Any pairs you know?"

"Ilsa Gorgens and Greta," Harry said, absently. "But they—Ilsa's been gone for a while." He trailed off, thinking back to the varied reactions in the Deveraine's viewing box. "Is it a bad thing to have your wings carved?"

Ethan blinked. "Depends," he said, slowly. "Sometimes, in certain fights, wing injuries don't heal properly. The webbing has too much scar tissue or a tendon wasn't properly aligned or something—and either, you can deliberately fix it. Say, like rebreaking a bone to set correctly, or you can magically repair it. The magical repair is more painful. Some Gheyos have opted to have unsightly scars or heavily marked portions of their wings carved out. It's not a good thing, but it does have a purpose."

"But it would hurt, wouldn't it?"

"Like you couldn't believe," Ethan said, softly. "Some Gheyos have opted for certain cuts or designs, instead of taking a single hole in their wings and being done with it, they have it matched up on the other side, almost like a design. Over time, their bodies eventually attempt to regrow skin and scale. A thin, clear film might grow over it. Sometimes it turns cloudy and that makes it a bit sturdier for flight. It's said that the ones who have it done right, can fly faster and sharper than those who haven't. It also eliminates blind spots, to some degree, because not everyone can sense things outside of their wings. Being hyperaware is a good skill for a Gheyo to have, but the results of a carving are rarely pretty. To have them carved in the first place, there's more blood and magic involved than most could stomach. Depending on the Gheyo, they would also need to be heavily restrained."

Harry nodded, feeling chills rushing up and down his arms. He thought of Greta's reaction and how Aracle had soothed and comforted her. Now that muted horror made more sense, as he thought back to how her massive, plated wings seemed almost impenetrable.

"So which do I need first?" he said, pushing the darker thoughts away. He could puzzle through them later. Ethan was answering his questions without any hesitation and Harry wanted to keep talking for as long as his new Pareya would let him.

"Ace. Typically the Ace. Sometimes you can take a Joker on first, but usually, you need the Ace. The other ranks won't fall in, if they don't have someone to follow. That's why they're usually the last additions to a Circle. It's usually Alpha, Beta or Beta, Alpha, then Pareya—as many as you like—a Rheyo, if you wind up with too many before you find an Ace. Then you fill the Gheyo ranks."

"Aren't there other ranks in between?"

"Like what?"

"The Deaveraines' have an Advisor."

"Ah. That's more of a special rank, like how you can have a Royal or so in there. You can have a Consort, if that Bonded is underage—and if they agree to it and they'll hold that as their rank and grow into it, instead of something else. There's Advisor, Healer and Carrier as well."

"Which is?" Harry prompted.

"Advisor is usually older and fairly well-versed in politics or trading. They know names and connections. They like seeing and being seen," Ethan said, ticking them off on his fingers. "Healer is a personal healer for the Circle and they have to keep up their status even when Bonded. Carrier is the one who will bear the children—or help with pregnancy symptoms."

Harry pinked. "How does that even work?"

"With a great deal of magic and buckets of communication," Ethan said, seriously. "It depends on the Submissive and the Carrier, but it's usually beneficial to both sides, especially if it's a Circle's first child."

"What about a Royal? Is it even possible to have one?"

"Depends on the Royal," Ethan said, holding up a hand. "Yes, yes, I know I'm saying everything depends on something, but it does. That's the way this works. It's a give and take between two parties that reach a mutually satisfying agreement. Royals are tricky and it doesn't necessarily mean a crown royal, it can simply be someone of a royal bloodline. They'll have the highest social standing in your Circle and be equal to the Alpha, but are not expected to wield that authority unless there is a very difficult situation of sorts. They might take the lead in a social situation, but they aren't the Alpha. Does that make sense?"

Harry scowled.

It sort of did and it sort of didn't. It sounded like more trouble than it was worth. He silently hoped his own Circle wouldn't be so large that he'd have to keep all of that straight. It sounded like too much of a headache!

"How do you know if you're courting one? Is it a big deal?"

"It's the royal's duty to share their status and from what I've heard and seen of the last instances with that, they were very private affairs. Rather normal, I mean, royals are dragels too, simply with a different title attached to them."

Harry nodded, at last. He supposed that made some sort of sense. "What about Aces, then? Is it that hard to court an Ace?"

"Oh no. You can try to court an Ace, but they always court back," Ethan brightened. "It's not one-sided in the least, so if you are courting and something doesn't click right, they will politely excuse themselves and usually you won't know what you did."

"That doesn't help."

"No, it doesn't. They are a somewhat secretive bunch though. They're very particular about things and they can be downright vicious, whenever needed. An Ace usually has to to feel a connection with you first, before they'll even consider accepting a suit. If it isn't there, they won't accept your court. More often than not, you will feel a connection that they've already felt—so it's rare to have a courtship broken off for incompatibility. "

"What about the King? What next?"

"Aces usually have a preferred King or type of King. There's different kinds. You know, dark and broody, light and funny, traditional or nontraditional, sensual and vibrant. A preferred element or creature type—it's very popular to have mixed-dragel type the past century or so." Ethan was silent for a moment. "They're also the Alpha of a Gheyic triad. There's the Ace, the King and the Queen. The King supports the Ace in their handling of their affairs and people. The Queen supports the King. They are all, in turn, supported by the Ace. Very reciprocal. While handing the King ranking off to the next higher rank, is an option, if both the King and the Ace are unavailable, it's not the same as a natural born and trained King."

Slowly, Harry nodded. He was thinking of Loren and Edor, the way that Bahn had effectively cut that down before anything had started. Now it made more sense.

"So I would have to court them all in order?" He frowned. "That's—hard."

"It's tricky," Ethan admitted. "But not in that way. Once you find an Ace, they have a preferred King. You just have to decide if you like that one or not. If they don't have one, then you can search for Kings, specifically and explain you're looking for compatibility. They'll kind of pick for you and usually, they're a good match—so you would feel a connection as well. From there, the Queen will usually gravitate towards you and then you'll have your Gheyic triad. Once you have those three, it doesn't matter which Gheyo shows up next. If you like them for their hair, their charming wit, the way they they look in heels or the strength of their magic—they'll fit in. You'll instinctively know who will work and the ranks assemble as you add them."

A sigh of relief came from Harry and his shoulders slumped in relaxation. He'd expected it to be much more troublesome than that. Compared to the rest of his adventures since arriving in Nevarah, that was almost easy. "That's all?"

Ethan kissed the back of his hand. "No so complicated, now is it?"

Harry couldn't help it. He laughed. "When you put it that way, no." He admitted. "It's sounded like a very—difficult thing."

"An Ace's favour is hard to gain, but think of it this way. If they don't like you for who or what you are, then you're probably nowhere near a good match. If you keep that in mind, then you're alright." Ethan paused. "Now that one you seem to have in mind…"

"Hadrian," Harry supplied. "His name is Hadrian. He has a blood title. He wears a mask and-"

"And he's with the Cunningham's, I know. You've said it at least twice," Ethan teased. "He sounds wonderful. I bet he has a combat contract with them—probably for some bet or the other that he might have lost. You can ask him again, when you see him and in the meantime, we can visit him on the sidelines and watch a few of his fights."

"Can we?" Harry perked up. "How does that work?"

"When you attend a fight, that's showing your interest. At the end, you can send a drink down. Knowing their favourite drink is a plus and if you attend more than three fights, you can send a favour down with the drink, the fourth time. You can send an energy snack or a trinket too. But you have to know what they like or they won't even touch it." He winked. "It's fun to watch."

"Is there a limit?"

"A limit?"

"On what you send or how?"

"Quick study. You are expected to make your mind up between five to ten viewings," Ethan recited. "Usually, most figure out what they want by the fourth viewing, so it doesn't matter. But after the fifth and up to the tenth, if you haven't sent a drink or a token of interest, you're asked to withdraw and not attend any more private fights with that particular Gheyo. Especially if the sentiment isn't returned."

Harry nodded. That would make sense, he supposed. So he changed the subject. He skipped the bits with Quinn—but mentioned that he'd been staying with the Kalziks for the day.

"They are very good people," Ethan hummed. "Lady Kalzik once sewed my head shut." His eyes glimmered with mischief. "A sporting accident. I took the brunt of a fall to save someone else and nearly split my skull in two from colliding with a magical barrier."

Harry squinted at him. "Did she make sure your entire brain was inside before she started sewing it up?"

Ethan playfully tackled him in answer.

They wrestled around—very carefully—on the viewing platform, until Harry gained the upper hand, due to Ethan's wings making it a bit difficult for quick manoeuvres in small spaces.

"Ah, uncle, I give!" Ethan relented at last. "You're a quick one, aren't you?" He'd folded in his wings at the last second, but it hadn't given him an advantage. His words earned him another tickling jab before Harry settled down beside him.

Together they stared up at the blue sky. Harry's wings had folded in as well and now the fluffy blankets felt nice against his shirtless self.

"What about Merrow? Do you know anything about them? Their courting and all that?"

"Everyone knows about them, but some know more than others. It really depends on the Merrow. Some of them are rather stuck up, but that's just how they are, or so I'm told."

"Some of them are worse," Harry muttered, thinking back to Alec and the hurtful words on the pier. The way none of their interactions seemed to mesh well, beyond the fact that they were both apparently annoying each other in equal measure.

"Sounds like you like him," Ethan countered. "Merrow are said to have the uncanny ability to make anyone hate them, that's a feat in itself. They're sensitive—according to folklore—at least, to their respective Bonded."

"I doubt that," Harry said. And the full story of Alec came tumbling on out.

Ethan listened, patiently, with few interruptions. When Harry finished, Ethan sighed. "Sounds like he's all shards of sharp things. Cuts himself when he's cutting others down."

"Don't know. Seems pretty tough to me," Harry snapped. He looked away, thinking of how Alcandor had ordered Alec away. Of how Kieran and Alec had interacted in their twisted, strange sort of way. Still, a sliver of hurt lingered, for he hadn't meant any harm. Not in the least.

"Sounds more like he's hurting and you are too," Ethan said, calmly. "Merrow blush purple, you know. The next time you meet, I would suggest you watch his face very closely. If he's blushing. He probably likes you and hasn't a single clue what to do about it."

Harry jerked around to stare at him. He scowled. "What makes you think I want to even see or-"

"He's turning up when you're around—by yourself. He hasn't physically attacked you. He has helped you twice, once in your dragel form and another when you blacked out on the beach. He probably wants to talk to you and can't do so in a civilized manner," Ethan's lips twitched. "If you're interested, that is. If you aren't, then just avoid him. He'll pick up on that sooner than you can imagine."

Harry hesitated. That seemed a little harsh. It made him think of Dumbledore and those moments when he couldn't even speak to him, because Dumbledore had thought it was better to ignore him—for his own safety.

"Merrow would rather save face than have to confront you about whether you like them back. The ones that usually surface for courtship are more—tactful." Ethan hummed. "But in the past, there have been a few renegades that surfaced and broke the rules a bit. They mellow out as they age and are often very competent and protective."

"I don't know," Harry said. "Charlie's a fire type. They don't like fire types."

"They don't have to like them," Ethan countered. "They simply have to tolerate them. They have to like you." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Everything else can work out from there."

Harry sputtered and the tickle war started again. He squirmed with Ethan's quick hands and then it went downhill from there.

They wrestled and tickled until, at last, Ethan was over Harry, braced on his arms, faces close together.

Harry felt his breathing quicken and realized that he wanted to continue further. Not to stop here. Not to wait for the night. To continue on, where kisses turned to touches and something more.

Now he could see how Dahlia and Shayla had worked out. Sure, they had known each other, but not closely and they hadn't been courting, but this time, it made a bit more sense.

"You're thinking loud enough for me to hear you," Ethan hummed, placing a kiss on Harry's left ear. "You have to mark me first."

"Neck?" Harry double-checked.

Ethan tipped his head to the side.

No other invitation was needed. Harry called out his fangs and bit at the spot that seemed the most appealing.

He felt magic stretching out of him and into Ethan, working to make the claim mark as he held his fangs in there.

A faint twinge of pain registered as he felt Ethan's own fangs notching into his shoulder, somewhere below Theo's own mark.

His body trembled in anticipation and Ethan's hands stroked soothingly along his sides. His blood tasted a little lighter than Charlie's and almost familiar.

When Ethan pulled back, he cradled Harry as the familiar burn of magic flared around the bite, forming the claim mark that would now mark their relationship forever.

Harry squirmed faintly, feeling the old burn that was now proof of another claim mark etched into his very being. A minute later, it still burned, a faint sheen of sweat settling on his skin.

Ethan kissed the ear closest to him, a short gasp of his own as the marks continued to solidify.

A cry of relief came when it was over and Harry rocked forward to rest his damp forehead on Ethan's sweat-slicked shoulder.

"Ow," he said, after a moment.

Ethan laughed. "What you said."

"Have you ever traced names through the library records?" Ethan asked. He slipped his shirt on, magically doing up the buttons. He began to dismantle the transfigurations, repairing his sleeve cuffs. "Your robe's over here."

Harry caught it, slipping it on over his shirt. It was definitely more rumpled than Theo would've liked, but that was the least of his worries. That was what magic was for, after all. "Never been to the library here," he said, voice muffled as he tried to untangle himself from the mass of fabric.

"Never?" Ethan repeated, incredulous.

Harry gave him a look.

Ethan held out his hand. "Want to go?"

Harry looked from the hand to the eager golden eyes. Ethan had suggesting checking out The Dive, but the Library sounded fund as well. "To look up records?"

"Family trees," Ethan said, wiggling his fingers. "It'd explain some connections and you could even look up something on your mother's side, the Evanson's?"

It took a half-second for Harry to lurch to his feet, pulling Ethan up with him. "Let's."

Ethan grinned. "It's a good place to start, since you don't know anyone here in Nevarah. There's bound to be a family tapestry of sorts and we could find something out from that."

"How far is it?"

"Not far. Portal?"

"I thought you could fly."

"…You will regret that," Ethan said, cheerfully. He bent to swoop Harry up in his arms.

Laughing, Harry locked his arms around his neck, a content curiosity feathering through him. "I'll judge that myself." He bit back a startled yelp when Ethan simply stepped off the edge of their little platform.

There was no room for any kind of—whoa! Harry's thoughts stuttered out to a happy fusion of disbelief and rapturous joy.

Ethan's wings were very powerful and he was definitely more aware of them, regardless of their massive size. They were airborne and climbing higher in a matter of seconds, it seemed.

Harry relaxed in those capable arms, head pillowed against Ethan's neck, as he timed his breathing with the steady beat of those beautiful wings.

"There's the library," Ethan announced, several minutes later. "Isn't it marvellous?"

Harry squinted at the fancy stone roof gradually growing larger. He blinked a few times, unable to reconcile himself with the fact that while there was a roof, there didn't seem to be walls.

In fact, it looked as if there were four massive black dragons, each holding up a corner of the ornate roof—sleeping peacefully with their heads pillowed atop their feet.

"T-that's not a library!" Harry squeaked, before he could stop himself. His grip tightened around Ethan's neck, because this was a bit too close to the memory of hurtling towards that Horntail on his broom.

Except that the massive black dragons were sleeping and Ethan only looked mildly concerned at his reaction. "Don't tell me you've never seen a Nytura before? I thought you said you had one."

"That's a Nytura?!"

They touched down on the outside walkway of the library and Ethan kept an arm around Harry, who was still somewhat in denial at the large, slumbering Nyturas.

More dragon-like than little Shadow had ever seemed, Harry was speechless as Ethan finally released him and shrugged back into his fancy over shirt, his massive wings safely hidden away.

"How is that a Nytura?" he demanded. "It doesn't look anything like Shadow and he's barely bigger than Crookshanks!"

"The more knowledge they consume the larger they grow. These four are the keepers of the library," Ethan said, calmly. "What's a Crookshanks?"

"Hermione's cat—my—my friend's familiar."

"Ah. I didn't mean to shock you." Ethan said, softly. "But I thought you know. They're lovely creatures. Very loyal."

"But they—but Shadow?" Harry tried to show the size with his hands.

"They start off awfully small and test a few shapes before they settle into one," Ethan said, thoughtfully. "Yours is probably just a baby, but if you let it learn things, it'll grow faster. They also like to hunt."

"Hunt?" Harry squawked. "So if these four—these four—decided to hunt and-"

"They would trade off with another one of their own or possibly one at a time. Taking turns or something. You know. They are very intelligent."

Harry made another sound in his throat. It took a moment for him to calm down—and then recall the previous conversations he'd had with every single individual who had seemed absolutely amazed at the fact that he had a Nytura. "What am I supposed to do with-?"

"When they're that large, they'll usually settle down at home and guard your estate," Ethan said, calmly. "They like to be useful like that and if you travel a lot, then they'll hang onto a useful shape as long as they can, so they can travel with you. Beyond that, they become protective guardians."

"Why can't you people ever speak plainly?" Harry burst out.

Ethan stifled a laugh. "Because we are simple creatures with complicated problems? Don't worry about it," he said, lightly. "Coming in?" He gestured to the wide open section of the library.

In spite of the fact that there were no outer walls—seemingly only a roof and a floor, with endless rows of bookshelves in between, Harry still couldn't see the natural light on the other side.

"It's anchored in the centre," Ethan said, as if guessing his mental puzzle. "Some of it is underground. To protect it, just in case of an attack. Knowledge is power, after all. Come on, it's a nice library."

"Right," Harry said, faintly. He let himself be pulled on into the stacks of shiny, colourful books.

For a moment, he could only help thinking that Hermione would dearly love to be here with him.

"I think I've found something!" Ethan crowed. "Come look at this—it's a family tapestry."

Harry slipped the yellow book back on the shelf, hurrying on over. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually enjoyed himself in the library, but there were all sorts of interesting books and he'd already found several he wished he could read.

True to his word, Ethan held up a large roll of aged cloth with a few metal hangers at the top, several inches revealed to show names and faded faces, along with a scripted heading.

It reminded Harry very much of the Black Family Tapestry at Grimmauld Place.

Except for this one read, The Full Heritage of the Esteeemed house of Evanson.

"Why would they leave their family tapestry here?" Harry wanted to know. He helped Ethan carry the large roll over to one of the viewing tables in the corner.

"Most families have copies sent to the library," Ethan said, setting his side of the tapestry on one corner of the table. "In case of a fire or accidental magic or something, there'll always be another copy of that record somewhere. They have the original, of course, but some things shouldn't be one of a kind."

Harry didn't comment on that, but he dutifully helped to unroll the massive cloth, eyes widening as he saw the wealth of names before him. This was even bigger than the Black Family Tapestry.

"It mirrors the original," Ethan said, noticing Harry frowning when he couldn't sense any ambient magic from the actual tapestry. "Which is why it's an accurate record. Come over here, you'll probably want to start from the bottom and work your way up. The names might be more familiar here."

Harry moved over to check, marveling at how the names were grouped into Circles and still managed to show children and deceased in a neat and orderly fashion.

It wasn't until he stared at the very bottom of the tapestry that his heart clenched in his chest. His mouth grew dry and his hands hung uselessly at his side.

From the very bottom of the tapestry, his own name stared up at him. It showed his parents marked off as deceased and his own name below theirs, now linked in a Circle's formation, showing Theo, Charlie—and Ethan, as he watched it script into place.

The unnerving part was more so the names to the left—the one of Petunia, Vernon and Dudley Dursley.

Names that were unmistakable in their presence, but muddled and blurred—almost like his parents.

As if—as if they weren't alive.

"Harry?" Ethan prompted from the other end of the table. "Is everything alright—Harry!"

Harry took a step backward, eyes fixed on the name of Vernon Dursley as the tapestry continued to update itself and completely blurred out the fat faced man. A skull and cross-bones appeared to the lower right of the picture, but the deceased tag did not appear.

Something he had once wished for and now, did not understand whether it was true or not.

"It's alright, it's alright, it's alright," Ethan chanted, pulling Harry away from the table and straight into his arms. He held tight even as Harry stumbled, knees buckling. "Shh. It's alright. I promise you, everything is alright. Talk to me, Harry. What's wrong?"

"W-what does that mean?" Harry croaked, clutching at Ethan's shirt, unable to deny that he felt infinitely safer and stronger in those arms than away from them. "The skull and crossbones?"

Ethan stilled, searching out the very symbol that had made Harry ask him in the first place. He swallowed. "It means the individual has not yet died—because someone has placed a death seal on them before they could pass on. If they are no longer among the living, then they are marked as such."

Harry's choked cry was muffled in Ethan's shoulder. He barely felt when Ethan walked them away from the table or the kiss atop his head.

"How would a muggle wind up with a Death Seal?" Harry wanted to know. He fisted his hands in Ethan's robes, a sinking feeling working its way into his stomach. "That's not possible, tell me that's not possible."

Ethan hesitated. "If someone dragel cast it on them or someone with a significant creature heritage and a knowledge of sealing spells. There's different types of Death Seals." He rubbed one hand up and down Harry's arm and back, trying to soothe him.

Harry burrowed deeper, pressing against the arms holding him tight. The despair that had seized him was irrational, almost, in it's sheer expression, but he pulled himself together with the same quiet efficiency he'd always afforded himself.

"Is it—someone you know?" Ethan faltered, as if unsure of how to phrase the question, based on Harry's unexpected reaction. He'd picked out Harry's parents, noted the deceased tag—and then realized there were still somewhat living relatives, albeit without a dragel Circle.

Harry nodded, once. He didn't really want to talk about this now—and if he had to, then he wanted to do it when Theo and Charlie were around as well. There was very little chance of him ever repeating this horrible mess again.

Quiet footsteps seemed to echo in the room and Ethan growled faintly. He straightened, turning to angle his body so Harry was half-hidden in the shadowy corner that they'd chosen.

Harry sniffed once, twice and frowned. That scent was almost familiar. He leaned to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of the approaching stranger. Surely it couldn't be-?

"You are intruding on a private matter," Ethan said, carefully. He patted Harry's shoulder to keep him still. AGheyo was approaching, wearing an elegantly plumed face mask. "Might I suggest that you return to the archives at a later time?"

EVANSON MANOR : JUN, BRIAR, REGULUS AND GEORGE : NEVARAH

Jun glided down the empty hallways, sticking to the farthest ends of the corridors, the rear hallways that her Bonded rarely traversed. She'd seen that they'd built their house into the cliff, with plenty of room and passageways for children to run and play.

It had been her special touch to their new home and now, it made it easier for her to make her way to her study without attracting the attention of anyone else. They would still sense her, yes, but she wanted some semblance of privacy.

Their reunion had been difficult and stressful, no matter how grateful they were for each other's presence. She had left to pay her respects to her late mother in the Hall of Remembrance.

She had gone alone.

Briar was still sleeping—she could feel that through their shared bonds. Rian had offered to accompany her, but she had declined. The sadness in his eyes had said that he understood her refusal, but hadn't liked it.

She'd kissed him goodbye and left, cloaked in the dark, depressing blackness of her mourning garb. It was strange and sad in the same instance. Standing in front of the marbled square that bore her mother's name and watching the shimmering, eternal flame that would celebrate the life lived.

It had taken a great deal of control to keep her empathy in check—and to hold it together until she was far away enough to dig a hold and ground her emotions and magic.

Her mother had been dear to her. So very dear.

Her father had been that way up until she'd met Briar.

The broody rebellious Submissive that had earned himself such a reputation that even her father had refused to allow her to court him. There had been talk of admitting him to a Pareyic Coven for a season, to see if it would remedy his personality.

Jun sighed. Ha. As if that would've done any good. She'd fallen for him in the same breath that he'd fallen for her. Hard and fast, with enough stubbornness and soul to know they belonged to each other.

Enough.

She pressed a hand to her forehead and started faintly when strong arms curled around her waist. "I thought you were sleeping."

"How could I?" Briar murmured. He hugged her tight from behind, his face pressed to her back. "I'm sorry I didn't join you."

"…you didn't have to."

"I wanted to." He said, simply. "Next time, call me."

"Briar—"

"She was kind to me when no one else was and she cared for you." He released his hold, allowing Jun to turn in his arms. He met her sorrowful gaze with all the openness he could muster. "She was a good mother and I am—sorry for your loss."

Jun's green eyes grew impossibly wide. They shimmered, until the tears welling within, spilled down her cheeks. She pressed one hand to her mouth, her magic warring inside of her, before she crumpled forward, clutching at his head.

He held her as best as she could, his hands fisting in the give of her dress fabric. He sighed, softly, tamping down his own emotions. They weren't settled, not by a long shot, but she would always be his Alpha an he would always be her Submissive.

She cried for a long while.

Eventually, they transitioned from standing to sitting in the corridor, with Briar braced against the wall and Jun half-curled in his arms and lap, her face buried in his shoulder, her fiery hair splayed over them both.

He stroked her hair and held his silence.

Her clawed hands made holes in the fabric of his shirt.

They sat together, the lack of interruptions allowing the reconnection from the previous night, to continue.

Briar sighed. He leaned down to touch his forehead to hers, as she stretched up to meet him. Her hand tangled in his hair, holding him to her, as memories flowed between them.

The shared connection was broken with the approach of two pairs of feet. Jun was the first to move, her grip in Briar's hair, slackening enough to allow him to turn.

He started to move, but she stayed put—in turn, keeping him in place, beneath her. He glared at the rather physical direction, but couldn't comment as Regulus and George came into focus.

"Jun!" Regulus was the first to speak—and blush—when he caught sight of them.

George mirrored his reaction seconds later, when his sharp eyes caught up to the scene on the floor in front of them. He opened and shut his mouth, apparently thinking better of whatever comment he'd been about to make. The expression that briefly flickered across his face, was one of fond exasperation.

"George, Reg," Jun greeted.

Briar growled faintly from his position half-wedged under her, pinned against the wall. He didn't like it and his instincts were starting to stir, but Jun had yet to release him and he knew better than to push right away.

Jun stared up at them for a moment, before her emerald eyes narrowed. Her lip curled back and a sharp hiss had both newcomers immediately dropping to a crouch on the floor. Their heads were higher than hers and in her present state with her empathy still curling at the edges, it was best for them to be on guard. Briar, she knew and would instinctively trust.

George angled more to stay behind Regulus, who eased himself down to sit fully on the ground. A beat later, George did the same. For several long minutes, no one moved.

Jun sniffed and then pushed away from Briar, reseating herself on the floor with her back to the wall. When Briar made to stand, she caught his wrist and pulled gently. Her green eyes flicked up to him and then to her empty lap.

He held her gaze with his own angry one for a few seconds, then sighed, shoulders slumping before he gave into it. Cuddled onto her lap, minutes later, he let her tuck his head beneath her chin. It was an old, familiar position for both of them and he didn't realise how much he'd missed it until now.

"Jun?" Regulus ventured, after a while.

"I'm bored and staying indoors is giving me a headache," Jun said, flatly. "Why don't we all take a breather and visit the Hunt for a bit?"

Briar started, his eyes glowing red. The last thing he wanted was to visit the Hunt and most certainly not in the state of—

"Some fresh air would be nice, don't you think? I'd also like to pay a visit to my father and George, darling, you need to be registered. We should also see about whether you have available family roots here in Nevarah. Would you like that?"

George perked up at that. He'd been curious about that on his own, but considering the circumstances, there hadn't been a good time to ask about Jun's promise. The dull ache in his chest, throbbed faintly. He reached up to rub at it. It had grown worse since their arrival in Nevarah and he had yet to know why.

"I don't want to attend the Hunt," Briar grumbled, squirming in Jun's hold. "It's too much fuss and I don't like any of the-"

"Behave," Jun said, lightly. "You know fully well that my return will be made public and out of courtesy, we are obligated to greet the Royals first—before they request a formal audience of us?"

"They've never requested it of you earlier than five years at most," Briar began. "There's no reason for you to be so accommodating to them when-"

Jun bit him, calmly.

He froze, eyes flaring bright red. The bite served its purpose and he settled, faintly, but bristling at the unspoken reprimand.

"You haven't explained to Lord Aiden that I've returned, have you?"

Briar stiffened. He gave her a Look and then twisted, quick enough that she couldn't stop him, before he bit back, digging his fangs harshly into her neck. His thoughts streamed through her mind, their heartbeats synchronizing as if it simply couldn't be helped.

Jun laughed, wincing at the minute movement that jostled his bite. "You'll have to tell him and we'll retrieve Zephy while we're at it."

An angry whine came from Briar, but it was muffled, half by the fact that his mouth was full and because he was only protesting for the principle of it. Things were always interesting with Jun around and whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was glad she was back.

Oh it would take time—a great deal of time—before any sort of normality returned to them and their daily lives. But until then, this was a start and he would take it.

Yes, he would definitely take it.

A/N: I am not happy with this chapter, I had typed up another 5k words to go with it and did a copy paste into my chapter 101 file...and lost it. all 5k. -facepalm-. I've retyped what I could remember, but it doesn't sound as good as the first time around. SIGH. I hoep you all enjoyed it! The long-awaited chapter 100 and the first of Harry's Pareya.

How do you like Ethan? Yes, he did "come from nowhere". Sort of. There are hints. If you look in the snippets, you might sorta kinda find them. 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 I've added in hints of the Kadels, the Immortals tne whole Prophecy thing, along with Jun and George. Yay! Progress! LOL. Chapter 101 is going to be a WHILE in coming now though, so please enjoy until then.

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.

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 Ethan in the Library)

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

Deveraine Circle members-(at the Hunt)

George (with Jun and the Evansons)