I LIVE! Don't be mad ^^' I'm working on All the queens Men too!
As I finish typing this, Homestuck has ended, and I don't know how I feel about that.
The Statues of Ptah
George smirked tiredly as his younger brother stared bemused at a very embarrassed Harry Potter. "Creee! Kkkkrrrr-oo-oo-n, zzzzzeer!" The red head raised an eyebrow as Harry's spine things flattened to his head. The brunette seemed to be trying to climb his way into Ron's clothing, clawed hand catching at the tattered and filthy shirt.
" 'Arry, wha..? Stop rubbin' ya junk on me!" He rasped indignantly.
"C'mon Ronnie-kins, give 'em your shirt." George huffed, listing tiredly to the side. "Unless you like it, eh?" He snickered at the high pitched squawk, both of their heads whipped around to stare at him with offended frowns. The scene was very compromising, amusing to those who knew them, but compromising. One side of Ron's shirt was shoved halfway up his stomach, a naked Harry straddled across his lap with his one arm straining to hold back both of Ron's. Yup, very innocent.
A mediwizard approaches cautiously, wand clearly displayed and hand held away from her side. She seems tired and amused a small quirk of the lips as all three stare at her wide eyed. "I'm just going to put some clothes on you, alright?" The wand hand slowly shifts in front of her, tip still not pointing at the three men. Harrys spines slowly stand back up as he stares back.
"Oi, mate," Ron huffed, "Let 'er put some bloody pants on ya." The spines slick back as Harry gives a buzzing whine.
She takes the chance, swirling her wand carefully, materializing a white pair of pants. "That's the extent of my permanent conjuration skill, unfortunately. Trousers are a bit beyond my ability." She shifts closer to George, kneeling next to him. "I need to examine your wounds. Is it alright for me to approach?"
Ron tightens his grip on a tense Harry, nodding his assent. As the mediwizard tilts Georges head to examine what's left of his ear an audible, ominous, whine comes from the still Saviors chest. Her wand glows a soothing white as she traces it steadily along the scabbed and messy flesh, leaving behind a cleaner wound. The beginning of the large, irritated gash starts in the middle of his left cheek, spreading and widening to the width of his hand as it reached his ear and abruptly ended a little after where it used to be.
"A glancing blow with an object, no spell damage that I can detect." She murmurs to herself. "Ferula." Her wand began to shake as the bandages flowing from the spell are guided to carefully wrap the large wound. "There, any other open wounds?" Her question was aimed at George but she gave the restrained Savior an assessing glance, the spines are Harry head beginning to rattle in unease.
"None thanks." Ron's reply is strained as Harry visibly jolts in the bear hug he is wrapped in, eyes glued to the Mediwizards wand. She follows his gaze and winces, lowering the wand away from Georges' face and releasing his chin.
The bandaged man smirks tiredly, "Ta, love." She rolls her eyes playfully, straightening up and leaving to see to another patient. George slumps tiredly, slowly sliding until he's resting against a striped thigh, "Things…are going to change, aren't they?"
Ron's face twists into a grimace, "Yeah, hopefully for the better." His grip on harry had loosened, allowing the man to twist and nuzzle against white bandages, a low and comforting creak issuing from deep in his throat. Ron Didn't mention to his brother that he could already see distrust and paranoia forming among the less badly wounded, focused on those attacked by the strange statues.
6 Months Later
Malfoy Manor is quiet; no breeze ruffles the trees, no animals move. Moonlight paints the massive lawns silver and makes the marble building glow in an ethereal light. Inside, the halls are likewise deserted, doors shut tight and portraits quietly patrolling through the paintings. The opulence of the place is disturbed by a few signs of inhabitance, a few shoes left by a shut door, a vase filled with flowers and a book splayed open next to it. It has the presence of being lived in, the very walls breathing memories and accumulated magic.
Ron Weasley is not asleep; he stares out the window of his shared room, and broods. What's left of his family is piled in the large suite, not being able to stand being apart. Ginny was curled at the foot of one of the large beds, Percy huddled near her. George and Bill were cuddled against Arthur's sides near the top of the bed, pillows scattered and duvet shoved under their heads. The smaller bed held Charlie, where Ron had awoken laying on him. The younger brother ran a tired hand down his face, a lot had happened in the six months after the battle.
After the minister's gruesome end and the Dark Lords demise, the power vacuum was enormous and it took very little time for those not involved in the fighting to start squabbling over it. The wounded and transformed were tired, tired of fighting and reeling from the loss of loved ones, not noticing the political maneuvers until it was too late. A new legislation was put into place using the wizarding worlds lingering fear over Voldemort's Dark Army, a register for those affected by the gold statues. All affected were to be registered 'So that their species needs may be met,' his freckled white arse. Registered Afflicted had been tagged like cattle, a magic infused stamp in the shape of a paw on the side of their neck.
The Malfoys had kidnapped as many as they could before the Aurors began knocking on doors, Lucius' political influence and status giving him a heads up to the act before it happened, not enough notice to stop it, but enough to do something about it. Lord and Lady Malfoy had rallied their army of house elves and began kidnapping the Afflicted in a bid to save them from what was shaping up to be a life of misery. The frightened creatures were stunned and left on the decadent floors of the Manor as they continued to bring more and more, house elves freeing those that understood and were willing to help. After, when the rescuers were almost comatose from magical fatigue everyone found out why and how. Draco Malfoy, their beloved son, had been Afflicted. Large jackal like ears rose from his head and flickered at the lightest sound, his jaw extended in a short muzzle filled with sharp teeth. His pale skin replaced with a thin, ebony coat of fur, contrasting sharply with his still white-blonde hair and icy eyes. He was the cause and he was the one to rally the elves, their magic perfect for pinpointing people and creatures along with the fact that most wards didn't block them from entry.
And so the seat of the Dark Lords short reign of terror became The Haven. Family and friends still human were allowed in only after a questioning of Veritiserum proved their intentions. A surprising number turned up at the doors once the Afflicted were taken. But only a fraction of them were allowed access to the Manor grounds. The Afflicted learned to 'love one another,' as it were, after that.
Ron slipped quietly from the room and walked down the hall, neatly and absently dodging the decorations and various belongings forgotten on the ground. He didn't need a light, even without the large windows to let in the moonlight; he could find his way to this wing blindfolded. The south wing of the manor had been converted, again with the help of the house elves, to hold the more picky creatures. Hybrids and tropical Afflicted ended up in this wing, along with those that needed a space to call exclusively their own. The massive scar on the red heads leg from a Sphinx Afflicted was evidence enough for that. Calming Harry down from his possessive fit had been interesting afterwards though.
Throughout his musing, Ron had made his way to the large south wing and picked his way carefully to a rope hanging in the further corner. This particular rope was colored a bright yellow, to protect from confusion on what rope leads where. He gave it a tug and began climbing it clumsily, the scar tissue in his leg pulling uncomfortably. A clawed hand reached down and helped pull him up once he was close enough, heaving him onto the sturdy floor. "Hey Ron, what are you doing awake this early?"
The red head smiled at his transformed friend, panting lightly from the exertion, "Oh, ya know, thought I'd take a stroll."
Harry rolled his eyes- well; Ron thought he rolled his eyes. The things were solid green!-, "Riiiight. And Malfoy doesn't try to chase cats." Ron smiled sheepishly at his friend, rubbing the back of his head. "Well come on in, mine as well stay here till the hour is actually decent."
The thing Harry had somehow built was a lot like a beehive in shape, but with a hammock thing in the corner and some sort of wicker, he really hopes its wicker, chairs added once the Afflicted savior had snapped out of his instincts. Ron sits in what he's dubbed 'his' chair, facing his one armed friend as he drops into a similar chair opposite him. They just bask in each other's company quietly, the dawn beginning to rise and dying the air grey. It's as the light is beginning to turn a beautiful pink that Harry finally speaks again, "You don't usually come up here without using a levitation charm Ron. What's wrong?" The red head winces and runs a hand through his hair, is he really that transparent? "Yeah mate, ya kinda are. Even I can read your face like an open book."
He chuckles mirthlessly, "Sometimes you're too observant for your own good, Harry." His spines raise and an eyebrow arches expectantly. "It's just stress. Can't sleep." The spines on Harry's head start a low rattle. Ron attempts to avoid his expectant best friends gaze, looking everywhere but him. The buzzing slowly turns to a rattle as the red head continues to avoid answering.
"Ron."
He says nothing.
"Ron."
Arms cross and he stares at his feet.
"Ron, please."
His friends pleading tone is his undoing. Ron glances at his friends' concerned face and sighs. "Really mate, it's just stress. I'm worried about all the instincts that are starting to turn up in the Afflicted. Pretty sure I saw a harpy eyeing veela."
The solid green eyes seem to soften, "Ron the instincts are always there. It's a sign that everyone is healing and accepting themselves."
"I doubt if the Malfoys will let everyone just start...breeding, willy nilly!" Ron burst out, worry lining his face. "And! And we don't have the supplies for that! The grounds can only support so many even with the house elves and nature Afflicted helping out!" He's gesturing sharply, trying to get his point across even if he's not sure what it is.
"So, we need to find more sanctuary? Or pull an Atlantis for all the magical creatures? Warding and making a small country 'disappear?'" That damnable eyebrow was raised again.
"Yes! Either that or hold seminars to help everyone hold back their instincts!" HE throws his hands in the air in exasperation.
"Ron," Harry began, voice grave and holding an undercurrent of insect-like buzzing, "Holding the instincts back is hard. Unbelievably hard. Every morning I wake up and spend time wrestling with my need to expand my 'hive.'" He hooks two fingers in the air when he says hive, but his expression stays serious. "I'm not a common creature, but at the same time I have this feeling, screaming at me, to expand and make more of me. Now for a species we thought extinct, that feeling is a voice for them. Still screaming. We're getting to the point where shutting it up is our main priority. I'll talk to them, but we need to find a better place."
Harry had begun running his hand through Ron's hair sometime during the speech, his voice reducing to a soft chirr as he saw the red head had fallen asleep at some point during his speech. He nuzzles his best friend's hair, murmuring, "We'll think of something. Don't worry. We just have to hurry; this peace won't last much longer."