Percy laughed as the fast number finished, his hand raised palm-to-palm with the lovely witch who'd asked him to dance. She had the look of the Shafiq family, with long black hair piled elegantly on her head and deep brown eyes that glittered merrily over a strong nose. She'd taken two turns with him, but the room was so loud with music and talking that he still, embarrassingly, hadn't caught her name. He was about to step closer to her and ask, certain she wouldn't hold his faux pass against him, when two tall forms appeared behind her back.

"Excuse us, Miss Shafiq," Adrian interceded politely, having gotten her attention by tapping her lightly on the shoulder.

"By your leave, we've come to seek a dance with Mr. Weasley-Prewett," Graham completed, the very picture of pureblood propriety.

The so-confirmed Miss Shafiq smiled genially. "I suppose I could not presume to steal all of Mr. Weasley-Prewett's time tonight." She turned to smile more warmly at Percy. "Please do not hesitate to come to me should you find yourself without a partner." Her silk-gloved palm slid over Percy's, drawing his hand up to press a kiss to the air above his knuckles. "I will be thinking of you."

Percy felt his face go bright red. He was aware that his family's new position had a lot to do with the sudden attention, but he couldn't help but feel flattered anyway. He gave Miss Shafiq what he hoped looked like a friendly smile. "If I find myself in such a position, I certainly will."

Miss Shafiq granted him another intimate smile and dipped into a curtsey, meeting his eyes under her demurely downcast lashes. With a final nod of goodbye, she swept into the crowd with a twirl of her golden skirt.

Adrian huffed once her back was turned. "Finally." He slipped his arm through Percy's, as thought to keep him from being whisked away by any other cunning suitors.

Percy smiled. It had only been a couple of weeks, but Percy had missed his friends. He gave Adrian a glance-over, intrigued by how the light made his curly brown hair gleam. His pale green eyes matched his sage robes perfectly, and he wore a belt of linked silver disks around his hips that was obviously a family heirloom. The snarling heads of two wolves were carved into the silver buckle in exquisite detail.

"You've been quite popular this evening, my friend," Graham agreed. Gold powder had been brushed on his high cheek bones, a beautiful contrast against his dark skin. His thick black hair had been plaited into dozens of tiny braids ended with gold beads. A broach engraved with the Montague rose clasped his evergreen robes together at his throat.

While neither boy's robes gave away as much as their Quidditch uniforms did, these new outfits still managed to send a sweep of heat into Percy's gut. He looked away quickly, certain his face had gotten much redder than Miss Shafiq had left it. "Yes, well. Word of my family's changed fortunes has certainly made its way around."

Graham snorted. "There are a share of coin chasers, sure, but that's hardly the only reason. Percy, you must know that you look especially gorgeous tonight."

Percy bit his cheek, the little pain squashing his surprise before it could show on his face.

No one had ever ascribed such a word to him before, and frankly he figured that was fair. Orange hair, freckles, and brown eyes didn't really win any awards, and he lacked both the height Ron and Bill had been blessed with and Charlie's ability to gain muscle. Nor did he possess the twins' charisma and charm. Percy was the plain brother, and he'd made his peace with it. Plainness had its place. It had served him well. But the way Graham and Adrian looked at him now, he didn't feel plain at all.

Percy fiddled with the cuff of his robe. It was dark hunter green, fitted tight to his chest and torso but flaring around his legs and arms. Gold cufflinks brought the sleeves back in tight around his wrists, matching the intricate gold brocade on his chest and back. His black trousers tucked into dragonhide boots that clicked on the Malfoys' marble floors. They matched the wand holster strapped to his thigh, available to him through a high slit in the robes. He'd never worn anything so fine in either of his lives. He couldn't have afforded it even when he'd worked for the Ministry.

Narcissa Malfoy had smiled blindingly at him when she'd finished helping him fasten the golden clasp on the high collar. "There," she'd said, "A little polish and a diamond is revealed." He hadn't really believed her, looking at his pale and nervous face in the dressing mirror as he'd thanked her profusely for the clothes and the help getting ready. But now, he thought, maybe he was sparkling. Just a little.

Still, he was hung up on one of Graham's words. "Especially?" Percy asked quietly.

The three of them had been walking as they talked, Adrian and Graham guiding Percy away from the dancefloor and toward the balconies that hung over the Malfoys' acres of gardens. He'd asked his question as the door clicked shut behind them, granting the three of them as much privacy as one could hope for in a room filled with a thousand people. The cool breeze brushed at Percy's cheeks, carrying the smell of gardenias and hyacinths enchanted to bloom year-round.

Graham and Adrian had their backs to the door, facing Percy. They seemed to present a united front tonight, a change from their usual competitiveness. Percy shuffled his feet and leaned back against the railing. He couldn't imagine what, or who, they were united against.

"Percy," Adrian began, "You do know that we both hold you in the highest esteem, yes?"

Percy bit his lip. He knew that they were his friends, and that must mean that they cared for him, but he wasn't sure he would use those words exactly. "I've been so grateful for your friendship since coming to Slytherin. I have no idea what I would have done without the both of you."

Graham smiled at him—that lovely, bright smile that made Percy's stomach tingle pleasantly. "I know, for my part, that having you join us in Slytherin has been a blessing." His smile turned a little wicked. "Taking out Travers with you has been a true pleasure."

Percy laughed. "A hostile takeover does make the heart grow fonder."

Adrian stepped forward slightly, his face anxious. "And does your heart grow fonder?" He shared a glance with Graham. "For us?"

Percy's heart, so called out, stuttered in his chest. He had thought, at times, that maybe he'd caught Adrian looking at him for a little longer than friendship alone would allow. And, sometimes, he'd felt a sort of tension with Graham that Percy was unfamiliar with but wholly intrigued by. At times he had even looked between the two of them and thought, maybe…

But to hear Adrian allude to those silent fantasies so boldly, with Graham standing beside him, so obviously in agreement, was something else entirely.

Percy swallowed. It did cross his mind to deny his feelings. Despite his knowledge of the past, he had no idea what his future would hold. War was on the horizon. Could he be so selfish as to drag both Adrian and Graham into a conflict he may very well put himself in the middle of? And what of his returned status? Could he lie to them both, pretend forever that he didn't have a whole other decade of years weighing him down? As much as his foolish heart wanted to confess everything to these two, spill all his plans and secrets, four months was not enough time to convince him to give up them up. Not when so many other lives—his father and brothers' lives—depend on their sanctity.

But—

How could he meet Adrian and Graham's confession with anything less than his own bravery?

In the end, his choice was simple. He owed Adrian and Graham, and his own self, his honesty. "It does," he confirmed, the words coming out almost painfully. He braced a hand against the cool marble railing, watching Adrian and Graham with his heart in his throat.

Adrian seemed to sigh, the tension leaving his shoulders all at once. He reached beside him and took Graham's hand, pulling him closer against his side. "We're so glad to hear you say that," Adrian said.

"It would be really awkward if you didn't, honestly," Graham laughed. He squeezed Adrian's hand. "Seeing as falling in love with you is what brought us together."

Percy fought to breathe steadily. "I'm so glad you've found each other." And he was, oh, Merlin. He'd met Graham and Adrian together in a bright nook in the library, trying to beat Charms theory into their heads as third years, and moored himself between then when he made the jump to Slytherin so many years later. He couldn't imagine trying to love one or the other alone.

"But we need you with us," Adrian said. His voice was calm, but his hand clung so tightly to Graham's that the edges of his fingers were white. "We've found you, too, you see. We don't work without you."

Merlin. It was all Percy had ever wanted to hear. All he had ever thought about in the dead of night. But could he accept it?

"There are things about me you don't know," Percy said, his throat so tight he could barely push the words out. "Things I can't tell you. Not yet, and maybe not ever."

Graham smiled at Adrian, then Percy. "You know, we figure as much?"

Percy's heart skipped a beat. "You did?"

Adrian nodded. "You've always been a special one, Percy. But you've been different since last year. Stranger."

Well, that wasn't comforting. "How so?" Percy prodded.

"You walk more confidently," Graham said. "And more gracefully. Like you've been trained to move a certain way, like dancers and duelists move. You check the corners of hallways and the exits of room like my great uncle, and he only does that because he fought in the War."

"You don't treat your wand like a student anymore, either," Adrian observed. "It's never more than a few seconds away from your hand. And your political machinations are so professional, even more than I'd expect of a Slytherin."

"We didn't know you very well before this year," Graham continued, his dark eyes warm and earnest. "The Slytherin-Gryffindor, Dark-Light divide kept us apart. But even we know that this summer something extraordinary must have happened for you to grow up so much so quickly."

Were it possible, Percy would have swallowed his tongue. He knew that he was acting differently from his last life, it was impossible to stay the same when fifth year felt so far away, but he hadn't realized it was so obvious. Percy hadn't been too worried, as he'd never had any close friends at Hogwarts, but if Graham and Adrian could tell…

Adrian must have noticed the anxiety Percy felt bubbling in his gut. "You've had our attention for a long time, Percy. I'm sure its not so obvious to anyone else."

"A long time?" Percy asked, confused. "Longer than just this year? Why did you never say?"

The pair exchanged glances. "For my part," Graham said, "I wasn't sure my intentions would be welcome. Your family rejected our society so soundly, Percy. While you never showed us any prejudice as our tutor, I wasn't sure it would be the same if I sought you out personally."

"And you never showed any interest in us, either," Adrian added factually. "You were so closed off after third year. We couldn't even get you as a tutor again."

"You have no idea what a relief your re-sorting was," Graham concluded. He laughed bitterly. "I'd begun to think I'd missed my chance." Adrian, equally sore-looking, nodded.

Percy bit his lip. He could see so easily how he had missed his chance in his last life. Third year was the year he'd realized he needed to buckle down. He wasn't bold and passionate like Bill and Charlie. The thought of making his fortune in some strange foreign nation had terrified him. He loved England, with her prideful nature, sprawling cities, and rolling hills. He'd wanted to help his homeland, and with no little fear he'd realized that politics felt like the natural course to him.

He'd been scared he'd lose his family to his plans. Working in the Ministry required a degree of culture and tradition that was far too similar to the Dark for his parents to support. The Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office was the bare minimum they tolerated, and his father was as far from politics as he could possibly be. Percy, comparatively, had worked as close to the Minister as his age would allow.

To manage what he had, he did eventually have to forswear his family. But it had felt like they'd let him go first, by that point. Like they'd long ago grown bored of him. So he'd kept his eye endlessly on the future, worked hard and single-mindedly. He'd banished all thoughts of personal relationships, to the point that he'd married Cho just to tick the box. Truthfully, he'd given Adrian and Graham barely a second thought once his tutoring commitment ended.

In fourth year he'd replaced his tutoring position—a side job he'd taken through Hogwarts to make a little money—with an extra block he'd used to study more about pureblood society. He'd traded proofreading a third year Ravenclaw's essays for lessons on etiquette, holidays, anything and everything traditionally pureblood. He'd worked tirelessly and, ultimately, been rewarded. Even his family had forgiven him after the Second War, when word got out of the work he'd done to protect Muggleborns by falsifying paperwork and passports.

Percy was ambitious, but he was no genocidal monster.

And then everything had gone to hell again, and his friends and family were tortured and murdered. He'd been given a chance to change that future, now. He'd already started on it. And he knew, staring at Adrian and Graham, what he wanted his next step to be.

"You're right," Percy finally said. "Something strange and also dangerous did happen to me. To my whole family, and to many of our friends. I can't tell you what it was, and I won't stand you asking questions about it." Percy took a deep breath, trying the scrounge up the courage that had gotten him into Gryffindor. "But I do think I love you, and I don't want us to miss that chance."

Graham and Adrian shared a long, searching look. And then, as thought his confession was their cue, they both took long steps to Percy and pulled him into a hug.

"It's okay," Graham said, his long arms tight around Percy's shoulders. "We'll figure it out, whatever it is."

Adrian nodded, his jaw brushing the top of Percy's head. He was the tallest of them, his long arms curling easily round Percy's waist. "We won't search out what you don't want us to know, but we are here if you need us. We want nothing more than to be here with you."

Mortifyingly, Percy felt tears spring to his eyes. He had his arms around either of their waists and his face pressed between their chests. His skin felt hot despite the cold night air and when he breathed, he inhaled their cologne. Sandalwood and something sweeter, like vanilla. He never wanted to leave this place.

"I don't deserve your love," Percy muttered, his face still hidden. "But I will do my best to, one day."

Gently, Adrian guided his face up with a palm against his cheek. "It's not about deserve," he said softly, "Only that we have your love, too."

Percy laughed wetly, a little surprised when Graham reached up to brush away a stray tear. "You do," he promised. "I swear it."

The trio grinned at each other, their smiles blindingly happy and soppy with affection. They were only distracted from each other by the long, swooping cry of a horn. It cut through the night like a sabre through flesh, slicing through their happy murmurs to each other.

The three of them looked up and realized that the party inside had gone quiet. Peering through the glass balcony doors, they saw that the lights in the ballroom had dimmed and the guests disappeared. The only motion was the enchanted statues who'd served the guests throughout the night and the house elves, who worked together to clean up the mess of the ball and make the room ready for the rest of the night's rituals.

Before they could make any comment, a great cheer followed on the heels of the horn's blast. It must have come from the front lawn, a huge greenspace on the other side of the manor, but it was so loud Percy could hear the celebration clearly. Following the cheer was what must have been cries of a war party on horseback, the hooves of their many steeds breaking through the night in a cacophonous thunder.

"What on earth?" Percy asked, pulling away from Adrian and Graham's embrace to stare out over the garden. The spelled wisteria and other unseasonably fragrant and blooming flowers stood beautiful and silent in their plots. Across the sprawling boxwood maze, however, Percy could make out a parade of lights racing across the hillside.

Graham laughed, his hand reclaiming its place on the small of Percy's back. He was obviously unwilling to give up a privilege he'd so recently earned. "Right!" he said jovially, "You must have never seen them before."

Percy stared. "Who?"

"The hunters," Adrian clarified. His hand found Percy's, a position he used to subtly reel Percy in closer to the pair of them. "Probably about a hundred of the adults have ridden out in search of sacrificial prey, while the rest will stay behind to lead the rites with the minors and prepare the feasting fires."

"Yeah," Graham grinned, "And all through the hamlets around these parts the Muggles will talk about how the Wild Hunt rides again tonight."

Percy snickered at the silly Muggles obligingly with his loves, but privately he did admit that the sight of the hunters' glow in the distance was a magical one. In the pitch dark, it wasn't hard to imagine that those flickering Lumos charms might be tricky will-o-the-wisps, looking for unwary humans to lure away.

"What it also means, I take it," Percy said, looking back at Adrian and Graham, "Is that we have a few more minutes to ourselves before the rest of the guests return?"

The guests being a group that included their parents and elder siblings, who really should have been better chaperoning the group of sixteen-year-olds with romantic intentions. They were bound to remember that when they realized that no one had seen Graham, Adrian, or Percy for at least a couple of hours.

Graham, of course, tossed his head back and laughed. "Right indeed, dear. And what would you have us do with all this free time?" He queried with a playful leer.

Adrian elbowed Graham in the side. "Not that we would ever do anything untoward, of course." He smiled at Percy. "At least, not yet."

"I'm sure we can think of something appropriate to keep us occupied," Percy said, lowering his lashes in his best approximation of a flirty glance. His newly declared loves laughed and pressed in close, and for that moment, absolutely nothing else mattered.

Sirius whooped as his stallion heeded his urging and turned his fast cantor into a breathtaking gallop. He was riding Black Midnight, a scion of one of the Black family's thoroughbred abraxan lines. He'd never before been gratefully that the family trust was set up so that businesses like the Black stables would keep running in his unlawful absence, but he'd become so the minute he'd realized he'd need a steed for the Malfoys' Yule hunt. Sure, he could have borrowed one of Lucius's gorgeous animals. But, in the heart of him where his family pride had never really died, it felt amazing to be on his own stock. Especially because Black Midnight was threatening to overtake Lucius on his own star abraxan, Celestial Imperium.

"I thought it was rude to try and outpace the host of the hunt?" Bill called to him, comfortably astride his own mount. The Wealseys and the Prewetts were both more interested in art and antiquities than abraxan, so both Bill and Charlie rode Malfoy steeds. It had been a bit of a surprise that both Bill and Charlie were adept riders, considering the poverty the boys had been raised in. But apparently a curse breaker's life took one to places only abraxan could reach, and the same was true of dragon sanctuaries.

"It is." Lucius called back from the lead, playfully incensed. "But rudeness has never stopped a Black!"

"Bah," Sirius spat, grinning. "You're just scared I'm going to beat you!"

Lucius laughed, his white-blond hair shimmering in the darkness. "You'd have to match me first!" With a sharp whistle, his steed put on a bolt of speed that had Sirius's eyes widening in disbelief.

"Damn," Charlie yelled beside him, watching in awe as Lucius darted ahead in a white streak. "He really doesn't fuck around with his horses, does he?"

"Abraxan!" Bill corrected loudly. They were all yelling over the sound of their steeds' pounding hooves and the whipping wind. "Not knowing the difference can get you shot in Turkey!"

"When the fuck were you in Turkey?" Charlie shouted back.

"Last Christmas dinner!" Bill yelled. The brothers broke into bellowing laughter.

Sirius laughed, too, throwing his head back and relishing the way the cold night air tore through his hair. He generally wasn't much for the cold anymore—Azkaban had seen to that—but this was the sort of cold that almost felt hot. Only the skin of his face was open to the air, but that was enough to make his whole body feel tingly and alive. The rest of him was dressed in layers of winter robes, with a thick leather riding cloak covering him from neck to toe. There was a hood, too, but Sirius was indulging himself. What Severus didn't know wouldn't hurt him, right?

…Until Sirius came back sniffling with a cold, but he had every confidence that his love would crankily nurse him back to perfect health.

Sirius smiled to himself, his usual private reaction to thinking about his husband. And husband he again would be. He'd taken his own quiet jaunt into Diagon Alley after all that memory business, relying on the discretion the Goblins offered his level of clientele to get him in and out of the shopping district with none the wiser. From his family vault he'd liberated the Black Consort's ring.

His last life, Sirius had been too deep in Light propaganda to offer the ring to Severus. And, honestly, he'd still been too resentful of his family. There was trauma there that Sirius had never really dealt with, he'd come to realize. The months he'd spent living with Narcissa had given he and his cousin a lot of time to talk about the ways their family had made them suffer. But while Narcissa had confided in Lucius and sought the aid of the most ironclad mind healer alive, Sirius had fought a war, lost almost every person he considered his friend and family, rotted in Azkaban for thirteen years, and then plunged face first into another war. By the time he'd met Severus again he'd barely been coherent enough to watch Harry's back, let alone deal with his own fucked up brain.

He'd forever be grateful that he'd found enough honour left to apologise to Severus. He hadn't known at the time how much he would come to adore the man he'd bullied and nearly killed as a child, but his choice as a man had paved the way to his happiness. And soon, he hoped the choice he'd made to propose to Severus with the Black Consort's ring would lead him to even greater happiness.

A curve came up ahead of the hunting party and Sirius slowed his Midnight to compensate. Lucius had been slowing for the last while too, and soon they were riding more or less beside each other. Their mounts barely showed any strain, changing speed easily and obediently. Besides being winged and capable of flight, abraxan also had twice the stamina and strength of the best horses.

The other riders were quite a distance back, moving more cautiously over the unfamiliar, icy grounds, but also giving a polite distance to the Lords Malfoy and Black, who even from a distance did seem to be speaking in confidence.

Sirius patted Midnight affectionately as he eased off the reins, promising extra apples after the night was over.

"You'll spoil him," Lucius cautioned. He was still grinning. He hadn't stopped grinning, in fact, since the horn blew and sent the hunters on their way. His own cloak was thick white wool trimmed around the neck in ermine. When they rode through a puddle of moonlight, both Lucius and his steed all but disappeared against the foot of snow on the ground. In the forest, against trees with bows heavy with snow, he'd be almost impossible to see. Even his crossbow was painted ivory.

"As if you haven't been bribing yours with sugar cubes all night," Sirius quipped. They'd slowed to a lazy walk as they approached the edge of the forest, letting the rest of the hunt catch up. It was a fair size, Sirius thought, at least three dozen acres left just as it had been when the Malfoy ancestors came over with the Normans in 1066. Sirius's own people had fought for Harold II, having been kicking around Britain since their progenitor made a daring escape from Rome following some scandalous behaviour with an emperor or three. But soon his ancestors were as highly valued as any Norman court sorcerer, and then made lords again in their own right.

Adaptability, thy name be Black.

"A pity I couldn't convince Remus to come tonight," Lucius said, as much to himself as to Sirius.

Sirius looked around. It was indeed a beautiful night. Cold and clear, every star in the sky shining, and the moon, not full, but far brighter than it ever was near a town or city. Severus had laughed in his face when Sirius had needled him about coming, claiming that the minute he gave up a blissfully warm hall and fragrant ritual fires for "a drunken rampage through a frozen hellscape" was the minute Sirius should have him committed. But Remus was far more outdoorsy than Severus, and come to think of it, probably would have enjoyed the ride more than whatever ceremonies were going on.

"He thought his wolf might upset the abraxan," Lucius confessed to Sirius's wondering quiet. "When I told him I'd never raise such flighty mounts, he came up with a litany of other excuses." Lucius hands tightened on the reins. "I can't decide if he still doesn't trust himself or if he just doesn't feel safe here."

In that moment, Sirius realized something that he probably should have figured out at least two months ago: he was friends with Lucius Malfoy. It had been such a slow progression that he'd barely noticed it. They'd tolerated each other well enough in their last life, as one does when their best friend marries a man they don't particularly like. But between fighting to get Harry's custody out of Dumbledore's wrinkled claws and catching Sirius up on enough politics to make the Black lordship useful, any remaining enmity had worn away.

Sirius was a little stunned to admit that he didn't just trust and respect Lucius, but actually liked him. His wit was as dry as expensive sauvignon blanc and he was twice as dramatic as any playwrite, but that was what made him fun.

If marrying Severus Snape wouldn't have given his nineteen-year-old self a heart attack, becoming pals with Cissa's poncy fiancé definitely would have. Slytherins, Sirius thought with no little awe, really did have a way of slithering past one's defenses.

But, back to the matter at hand.

Sirius blew out a hard sigh, his breath making a puff of fog in front of his face. "You know better than anyone what a crock of shit Rem's life has been. You've made it immeasurably better, but unlearning all the habits take a while. Especially when things went so bad last time."

Lucius nodded. Likely what Sirius had to offer wasn't anything he didn't already know. But Sirius had learned lately that hearing someone else say the words out loud helped. Lucius was a man used to getting his way through money, power, or sheer force of will. It had to be disconcerting, facing a problem that none of those things could be used against. Especially when you only wanted to help your husband.

"You're right, of course," Lucius said, squaring his shoulders from where they had sunk ever so slightly down. "I shall simply have to redouble my efforts to ensure that things do not go so badly again."

Sirius snorted. "As if your current efforts aren't already burning you at both ends. Have you even slept in the last two days?"

Lucius rubbed a hand across his face. For a split second he looked totally exhausted. Pepper Up Potion had likely covered up any physical mark, but Sirius could see the tiredness in his eyes. It was gone when Sirius next blinked, however, locked away behind Lucius's impeccably controlled façade.

"Changing the key institutions of Wizarding Britain is hardly a walk in the park," Lucius said. He sat primly in his saddle, the picture of a pureblood wizard enjoying a gentlemanly ride.

Sirius snorted. "Especially when you're trying to do it inside a fortnight," he drawled. "It's a hell of time frame you've given yourself."

"I have to move before the Wizengamot became militarized," Lucius insisted sharply. "If the Dark Lord rises and we go to war again, civic reform will be the last thing on their minds. I have to strike now."

"I know," Sirius soothed. Malfoys were such a prickly bunch. "And you've done a damned fine job. I'm just saying to make sure you sleep, too. The rest of us can cover for you for at least eight consecutive hours."

Lucius smirked. "You have no idea how much I mean to have accomplished in eight hours."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know, our whole plot would fall apart without you." One hand on the pommel, he offered his hand to Lucius. "Now, let's put our plots on the backburner and have some fun. Biggest stag gets bragging rights for the year?"

Sirius hadn't shot a fucking crossbow since he was maybe sixteen, so odds were definitely in Lucius's favour. But he didn't mind losing this bet. Lucius could use the easy win.

Like Sirius hoped, Lucius laughed. He clasped Sirius's arm firmly and grinned. "You're on."

He guided his Celestial Imperium—a truly stunning, purely white animal—a few steps away from Sirius, then up into a rear. Clinging on with one hand, he waved to the hunters with the other. His steed flared his glorious white wings in a mirror of his master's sudden playfulness.

A cheer went up through the crowd, which was just now catching up to meet them. With a final wave to the assembly, Lucius shifted his weight to bring Celestial back down.

And promptly slid from his saddle, a gout of his hot blood smacking Sirius's face as a crossbow bolt tore through Lucius's chest.

It's been literal years, but every so often some wonderful reader sends me a review for this story and suddenly its plot invades my mind again. About two months ago I decided that the only thing to remedy this invasion was to finish off the beast. That kicked off weeks and weeks of revisions as I tried to bring this thing up to my current standards, but I think it's as smooth now as its going to get. If I have left an error unedited, please let me know and I'll do my best to clean it up.

I thank you all for your incredible patience as I battled the real world, which included some horrible feelings of betrayal and anger after JKR's terrible world view came to light. I only hope this story makes it obvious that the Wizarding World I believe in is one where all people, regardless of race, gender identity, or place on the LGBTQ+ spectrum, can find their place.

Sincerely,

BlackRoseGirl666