Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Harry Potter, Labyrinth or anything else you recognise.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, I hope to have a new chapter out soon!

Chapter Twelve

"I think I'll call him Jareth. He's got my eyes."

5th June, 2005 – The Balcony, Harry's Unused Apartments

Harry restrained a flinch as Talemario lowered himself down to sit next to him. He could not repress a small gasp of surprise when he felt one of his brother's wings unfurl to wrap around him. The gesture of comfort meant more to him than he could say.

"Want to talk, Elessar?" He said softly, and Harry shook his head.

"Not really. Sometimes, I find myself very weary with explaining my feelings to people." He replied, though not unkindly.

"I can understand that. I hope you don't mind if I talk. All I wanted to say is, you don't have to explain yourself. What you're going through – what you've been through, well. It takes time, I think, to come to terms with that. More time than you've had so far. Aside from everything that happened with the wizards, you've had several big shocks, these last few weeks. So, don't worry about what everyone else is thinking of you. Us – your family and Jareth, we love you, just as you are. You need to give yourself time to heal, everything else can wait." Talemario said, and Harry smiled gratefully.

"Thanks, I – I mean thanks for understanding." He said, and turning a little, he allowed his head to rest on his brother's shoulder, snuggling into the wing which wrapped him up so securely.

Time.

Yes, time he had now aplenty. Not only did elves live a lot longer than humans or wizards, but as Jareth's mate he would likely live forever. These trials would pass, and more would come, but now he had the time and support he needed to deal with them.

5th June, 2005 – Harry and Jareth's Sitting Room, Jareth's Castle

Jareth looked up from the documents he had been half-heartedly studying when he heard the door open and close. He was relieved to see it was Elessar and that he wasn't looking too upset. Clearly, whatever it was his elder brother had told him, and he assumed that Talemario had found him, had made an impact.

"Come and sit with me?" He asked and Elessar smiled, happy to do just that.

"I – Tal and I had a chat. He told me I don't need to feel bad if I'm not over what happened, you know, with the wizards." He told Jareth by way of explanation.

"I can't tell you how pleased I am that the two of you have already become friends. I confess that I was worried that this influx of family might be too much of a shock for you. I do not mean to imply that you are in any way lacking – far from it. Many lesser people would have broken down by now I think." He paused and noted the amused look in Harry's eyes. Jareth smiled. "Perhaps I should desist and let you speak, hmm?" He said and chuckled.

"I do appreciate what you are trying to say, a'mael. I think if I didn't have you, then I probably would have collapsed into myself by now. In fact, according to Griphook, I'd be dead. But don't think I'm only with you because I'm grateful, there's so much more to it than that." Harry came forward and straddled his lover's lap, the glint in his eyes far from innocent.

"Well now, this is far more interesting than whatever I was reading before you came in." Jareth murmured, tilting his head to place light kisses up the side of his mate's neck.

"I've been learning more elvish, Jareth. Would you like to hear some?" Elessar asked, and his King nodded his assent.

"Jareth, corm corm'amin." Harry mumbled. Anything else he might have said was cut off when the King covered his lips with his own.

Later in their bedroom, Harry paused to consider his position. Not literally of course, he was more than happy to be where he was, tucked up next to his love, his head resting on Jareth's shoulder as the other man slept.

Even though so much had changed, he still felt like he was Harry Potter, and he wondered if, despite everything, if he would always feel that way. Being who he had been set up to be came with so many obligations, and if he was honest, a truck load of guilt. Misplaced guilt as well, since he really should never have had anything to do with that world or the people in it.

There had been some positive points of course, though at that minute he was hard pressed to remember any of them. The only thing he could thing of was the deep bond he had forged with Hogwarts herself. He knew that she had bemoaned the fact that she first couldn't do anything proactive to assist him in the war, other than shelter him and let him in on as many secrets she possibly could. She had led him to several hidden volumes of knowledge which had allowed him to unlock some of the power inside him, and it was that which had given him the edge when it came to facing Voldemort.

When he had been forced to leave the school, he was heartbroken, and he was well aware she was too. Later, when he had been arrested and his magic bound, the severing of their bond had caused both of them great pain. According to rumour, it was about that time that various little oddities had cropped up at the school. It was small things, like the showers refused to produce hot water for weeks, the food kept going off now matter how many charms were placed on them and not even Hagrid could step foot in the Forbidden Forrest.

Although slightly childish, he did appreciate the revenge she had taken on those who proclaimed to be his protectors. They were in the order of pranks, which made him and he knew that was why she had done it, even though she was then unable to tell him herself.

He stopped to imagine what his life could have been like had he been allowed to grow up with his real parents. Would he have ended up a spoiled brat like Draco Malfoy? Though, to give him his due, he seemed to have outgrown it to some degree.

Thinking it over, he decided it was unlikely. After all – look at Tal. He was the Crown Prince, and he was anything but arrogant. And Caredessi too – she was a lovely person. It made him very sad that a childhood with the two of them and their parents had been denied him. Especially because of some selfish, degenerative and downright horrible wizards had decided to capture him like some oddity to be studied and then used.

He drew closer to Jareth, wanting the comfort of the fae's body to reassure him and remind himself that he was far away from those people now, and well outside the sphere of their control.

Now that he had had time for reflection, he really did believe that if the Fates truly did intend to punish the magical world for what they had done, they were doing the right thing. Not only did they have a much farther reaching view than any other being alive, but the power was theirs to bestow as they saw fit.

Yes, part of his belief was down to a desire for revenge on those who had wronged him so drastically. And was he a bad person for wanting that? After all, if no one checked them now, how far might they go one day? Would they eventually try and push their dominance onto muggles? They were in for a rude awakening if they did. He doubted the wards on the Ministry of Magic would stop an atomic bomb, and he had no doubts whatsoever that the United Nations would sanction one if their very freedom was at stake.

He also had to admit that, he felt content with leaving this decision and the execution of whatever decision was made, up to a higher power. His instincts told him that this was the way of things, and he was thankful that there was a higher power at all who could monitor these things and take action as needed.

"Are you alright, Elessar?" Asked Jareth softly, turning a little to pull him closer.

Elessar.

That was who he was now, and he embraced it, fully. For the first time since he had found out about his identity, his family and his betrothal. It was as he had said to the wizards in Ragnok's suite – Harry Potter had never existed.

He was Prince Elessar Devoryn, and at last, finally, he was where he belonged.

30th May, 2005 - The Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Dumbledore paused as he looked at the faces opposite him. Most of them were contorted with shock and rage, though a few were just blinking with disbelief. What annoyed him more than anything else, was his older brother. Aberforth was off to one side, his arms crossed and a smug smirk on his face.

"I wonder what it is you are referring to, Molly." Albus hedged. In his long career, he had many incidents and intrigues which could be discovered, and some of them relating to the people assembled in his office at the moment. He was hard pressed to know just what it was they were confronting him about.

"Don't play innocent with me! Aberforth has told us, about Harry! Or whatever his name was!" Minerva stalked closer and glared at him from across his desk.

Ah, so they knew. What could he possibly say to explain? The work to set the elf baby up as their saviour began hundreds of years ago, it was the toil of generations. How could any of these people understand the long view his family had had to take over the years?

He hadn't known, at first, that baby Harry was anything but human. But when the news of Harry's disappearance and the reports of the difficulty in locating him came in, he had gone back and re-read the journals and notes he had about his family's plans. It appeared they had removed an elf baby from another world, and it was highly likely that Harry had discovered his heritage in some way, and retreated to that world. Knowledge of his ancestry would also explain his accounts being sealed by Gringotts.

Unfortunately for Dumbledore, all records on how to make a journey to that world, or even the name of it had been lost.

"Ah, you see –"

Before he could even start his reply, he was interrupted by a voice which though not loud, grated on his ears in a way which nearly made them bleed.

"Yes Albie, do tell them how your ancestors stole one of our children from his crib. I would love to hear how you explain it away. The way you wizzies blunder about mucking things up makes me laugh! Go on wizzies, make me laugh!"

The voice cut off with a round of hysterical giggling. Startled from their daze at the sound of the penetrating voice, the people in the room looked around frantically for the source of the noise. When they found it, they stared at it, or her, amazed.

A little girl was sitting on top of one of the Headmaster's many bookcases. She had dark hair, and long pointed ears. Her skin was a strange, translucent colour which didn't look at all healthy, though the sheer force of her presence almost sent them to their knees.

The look on her face told them she definitely knew how much she was affecting them, and that she was enjoying it. Although she was laughing, there was also a steely rage and fury in her eyes. Several of them wrenched their eyes away from her and gazed longingly at the door.

Dumbledore stood up as if to confront this interloper in their midst, but again he was pre-empted.

"No good, you're boring me now. But don't worry, I'll be back. Bye, bye wizzies!" She squealed and then disappeared. There was no crack of apparation, or anything of that kind. She just suddenly wasn't there. Once released from the titanic force of her presence, some of the people in the room fell to their knees.

"Wha – What or who was that?!" Panted Sinistra from her position on the floor. She was a little out of breath thanks to storming her way up to the Headmaster's office and then their encounter with whoever that was.

There was silence as everyone looked at each other, clearly astounded and no one having any idea who the visitor was.

One being in the room was not confused, he knew very well who had just left and he could not prevent the sense of foreboding which swept over him. He decided it was high time he left the wizard he had bound himself to many years before, and began to pray fervently that he would be spared. He wasn't at all sure he would be.

"Albus, that was one of the Fates. I am not sure which one, however. Seeing her has made me realise that I should have departed from these shores a long time ago. I once thought that if I stayed with you, I could draw you back from the precipice you have been charging towards. I see now I was wrong. I can only hope for mercy."

And with that, Fawkes spread his wings, and in a flash of fire, he was gone, never to return.

6th June, 2005 – Diagon Alley, Central London

It had been just over a week since his parents had returned from their meeting at Hogwarts, and Bill Weasley was finding himself at the very end of his tether.

When their parents had explained all that they had learned while at the school, the family seemed to split in two. On one side was him, his father, his brother Charlie and the twins, and on the other side, were Ron, his wife Hermione, Percy, Ginny and their mother.

He and his father and brothers believed that Dumbledore was wrong for what he had done to Harry. Not only was a child who should never have been part of their world set up to take out a Dark Lord no one else had been able to handle, but, the poor boy was then condemned by the rest of the world and had his magic taken away from him. Even worse than that, the child must have had a family out there somewhere who missed him terribly. They may have even given him up for dead and begun mourning for him. It just wasn't right.

Looking back on it now, he couldn't believe what they had done to Harry. And he was just as guilty as the rest of them. He had not stuck up for the boy, even though he knew it was wrong, but had been too scared that he would be sent down with him. At the time he had justified it by reasoning that he couldn't leave his wife, but now he could see the truth – he had been a coward and let mob mentality dictate his actions.

And where was Harry now? No one had seen hide nor hair of him since he had disappeared, nearly three weeks ago. From what he'd heard, the Aurors had nothing to go on. It was as if he had just vanished into thin air.

The other part of their family believed that though it was regrettable, what had happened to Harry, or whoever he was, was for the good of their world and had saved all their lives, therefore it was justified. They also seemed to believe that the removal of magic had been necessary to prevent him from becoming another Dark Lord.

The idea that Harry would turn dark was utterly ridiculous. When faced with the betrayal of everyone he had trusted, everyone he had held dear, what did he do? Not go running to every Dark Arts agent he could find and restore his magic that way, no. He had finished his degree and gone out to work healing sick animals.

Unfortunately, many of the others just didn't seem to appreciate what that meant and things between the two factions in the Weasley household had come to a standstill.

Bill stumbled as he was jostled by some hasty shopper. He didn't even know what he was doing here today. He had only really come so he could get away from the house and the arguments going on there.

After Fleur had died, a year ago now, he just lost focus with the world. His parents had persuaded him to sell their marital home and move back in with them for a time. It had seemed like a good idea then, because he really hadn't wanted to be alone, but now... Well, he wasn't so sure.

He wasn't sure about a lot of things actually, especially his wife's death. It had all been so mysterious, and to this day he had no idea what had really happened. The healers had put it down to a heart attack, and the Aurors he had called in had only made a cursory investigation.

He had been feeling very unwell since she had died, though he hid it masterfully. He really didn't want to invite his mother's fussing. He wasn't sure at first what was happening to him, he had just put it down to grief and told himself that, eventually, he would move on and the pain would dull, if never fade completely.

But it had been a year and he wasn't getting any better. Of course, he did not expect to stop missing Fleur after a year, but he'd expected the physical aspect of his grief to fade some, and it hadn't. If anything, the sick feeling and the weakness had gotten worse.

He stumbled again, and actually fell over this time. He felt a sharp pain in his face as he hit the ground, and after a few moments realised that he had fallen onto the marble steps of Gringotts.

After the war, his mother had nagged him until he got a 'proper job' at the Ministry. He really hadn't wanted to leave his work with the bank, but she had played on his guilt by telling him she wanted all her children nearby after nearly losing them all to Voldemort. How could she protect him, and know he was safe if he was gallivanting round the world and trying to break dark curses, she had argued. He had eventually given in and quit his job with the goblins.

Thinking about it now, he started to wonder when he had begun to view his mother's actions and motives in such a negative and cynical light. He couldn't really place his finger on the exact moment, but running through his memories he realised that it was the way she had treated Fleur which had started it all off.

Fleur, his beloved Fleur. She had grown up so much over the years and stopped expecting everyone to adore her for her looks, and really tried to make lasting friendships with people. She was caring, and kind and brought such a light into his life. He still missed her so much, his heart was practically aching.

Rising slowly from his prostrated position on the stone steps, Bill gingerly examined his face. He didn't think anything was broken, but he was going to have a spectacular bruise on his cheek from where he had hit the deck. He must have really been out of it, he mused, because he hadn't even thrown his hands out to protect himself.

It was then that he knew that whatever was wrong with him was not merely grief, and that it was not just going to go away on its own. He turned and looked up at the impressive façade of the bank. Despite him being human, the goblins had always treated him with respect and dignity. He was in crisis and he needed help, and he knew exactly where to go to get it.

Walking slowly, so as not to injure himself further, he made his way into the lobby. Spying a goblin he knew and trusted, he hailed him.

"Griphook, old friend. I was wondering if I could seek your assistance…"

That was as far as he got with his greeting, before he collapsed once again, this time falling into blissful oblivion on the mosaic tiles of the bank's hall.

Griphook looked down at his former colleague and sighed. Why were humans always getting themselves into these silly situations? Signalling two of the nearby guards to help him, he sent one off to fetch a healer and another to help him levitate the unconscious Weasley onto a stretcher.

Something told him it was going to be a long day.

6th June, 2005 – A Comfortable Guest Room, South Wing

"You know, if you keep bringing me injured wizards, I may have to invest in building an infirmary." Jareth said to Griphook as they both looked at the sleeping wizard in the bed in front of them.

"Forgive me, my liege, but he has become something more than a wizard, and we were loath to risk sending him to their healers, given the current climate Aboveground. Our own were unsure of what to do to assist him." The goblin explained and Jareth sighed.

Elessar straightened from where he had been examining the Weasley heir and ran a tired hand over his brow. "Griphook is right, his body and magic have been changing. I can only guess that it had something to do with Fleur." At the King's confused look, he clarified.

"He was married to a part veela, I believe her grandmother was a full blooded veela. Somehow they began to form a rudimentary bond, not unlike what would have developed had they both been veela. I understand from Griphook here that Fleur died a year ago. Since it wasn't a complete bond, they probably didn't even know about it. So, when it was severed, it began eating away at him. For my part, I'm surprised he's lasted as long as he has." Elessar straightened some of the blankets which were covering the redhead and sighed.

"Is there anything you can do, Your Highness?" One of the goblin healers asked, and Elessar shrugged.

"I've done as much as I can for now – stabilised his core, healed the bruises and the muscle degeneration, but if we don't find an answer soon, his half of the broken bond is going to kill him. His central nervous system has gone to hell. You all know as well as I do that when one half of a veela couple dies, the other half dies with them. I don't understand how they managed to create such a bond, but they did. Maybe they just loved each other that much, that… Well, I guess we'll never know for sure." He paused and looked to his lover. "Didn't you say that the Court veela representative had arrived to see Lucius and Sirius?" He asked and Jareth nodded.

"I believe she is currently in an interview with them. Perhaps when she has finished we can consult with her on this issue? She may be able to shed some light on young Mr Weasley's situation, and offer a possible solution?" He ventured and Elessar smiled.

"Very well. I'm sorry to leave like this, but I feel very drained. A'mael, I will be in our chambers, resting. Please send for me, or come and get me if you need anything." And with a kiss for his mate, the young Avariel left.

The goblins and their King watched him go, most with admiring or reverent smiles on their faces. One of the goblins looked on with pride and gratitude. When he noticed Jareth watching him, he bowed.

"Your Majesty, I cannot tell you how happy it makes me to see him so well, and settled. I am so pleased you have managed to guide him back from the doom which awaited him. And that in him you have found such a strong mate. Truly, I believe the two of you will bring about an era of great peace and prosperity for our peoples." Griphook said and Jareth bowed back to him.

"I thank you for your kind words, kinsman, and I happily join you in your rejoicing." He said, rather formally, but the people in the room recognised what was passing between the two friends. After a brief discussion, one of the goblin healers remained behind and the rest separated to take care of various tasks.

A goblin was dispatched back to Gringotts to keep Ragnok informed of what was occurring, and a messenger had been sent to where the veela was consulting with the newly bonded couple, to wait for her to finish.

Finding that he had nothing pressing to do just then, the Goblin King decided to join his mate for a nap.

6th June, 2005 – Somewhere in the Castle, And Draco Doesn't Know Where

Draco was lost, and cursing himself for it.

Earlier in the day, he had been minding his own business in the room provided for him by the King. He had been tossed out of his father and Black's sitting room when some veela or other had arrived and asked to speak with them. He had been a bit annoyed, but understood that their bond was new and they needed her assistance.

So, he had been reading one of the books which he had found in the bookcase in his room, not really paying attention to the words, when he had noticed an itch. He ignored it, believing it would undignified to just start scratching, but it hadn't gone away. After a few experimental rubs, and then later resigned scratching, it still hadn't gone away. Worse still, it had mysteriously, and definitely without his express permission, upgraded itself into an all over tingling.

With the tingling came a pull, and he found himself wanting to follow it. In the end, he had given up and followed the tugging which felt somewhat like a portkey.

He spent some time wandering around the vast halls of Jareth's castle, trying to locate the source of what was calling to him. He wasn't having much luck. Every time he tried to follow its exact direction he ended up walking into walls. Most uncivilised.

So, he had stopped and sat on one of the wide, stone window ledges and let vent to his frustration. Verbally, of course, because sadly there was no one nearby to hex and he really didn't want to risk the Goblin King's ire by destroying any of his vases.

He was just about to scream out for someone to come and help him, when the pull magnified infinitesimally, and he lurched to his feet. He let his body lead him where it wanted to go and didn't argue. This had now become something so urgent that he wanted to cry with longing, and need.

He stumbled to a stop before a door, and, leaning against it, panted for breath. He knocked weakly, not trusting his voice, and waited for an answer. It felt like hours before anyone came to the door, but as soon as it opened, he pushed past whoever it was and ran into the room.

He almost skidded as he came to a stop before a large bed, and gazed at the figure tucked up in it.

Only one word made its way past his lips before he threw himself at the figure: "Mine!"

Bill Weasley awoke to the feeling of lips on his, and he responded in the only way he knew how, by kissing them back insistently. When a warm tongue entered his mouth and massaged his own, he felt joy rush through him, like he'd never experienced before.

His mind felt like it was still asleep, and he was acting on pure instinct. In the back of his mind, he heard people scuttling away and the door open and close, but he was too far gone to really register it.

Hands were on him, removing what little clothing he was wearing, and he didn't protest. Instead he reached out to the person who was lying on him and worked desperately to remove the flimsy barriers which denied him the touch of their skin. Once that was done, and he felt naked skin pressed against his own, he groaned with lust.

He really had no idea what he was doing, his brain was suffused with pleasure, and all he could think about was getting more. Even so, he had a deep feeling within himself that this was right. What he was doing with this person was something he needed, and more than that, it was something wonderful.

Their bodies moved together, in a dance of love and desire. Their mating was intense, but not rushed. Both of them marvelled at the feeling of every touch, every caress as they joined and loved each other in a way which left both of them inflamed and yearning for more.

Afterwards, as the two of them held each other in the dim evening light, their mating frenzy finally calmed enough for them to recognise each other.

"Weasley?"

"Malfoy?"

They stared at one another with shock and disbelief. Bill was at once both entranced and appalled at the man who shared his bed. If he wanted to he knew he could kick up a huge fuss about what had gone on between them, as some might view his consent as somewhat dubious, but he examined his feelings and found he didn't want to.

As much as he might want to deny it, the hole left in his heart since Fleur died, had somehow become filled. And he had no doubt as to who had mended his wounded heart, and how. Clearly, he'd gone and got himself mixed up with another veela. Oh joy.

Looking back at the Malfoy in his bed, he realised it must be Draco Malfoy, and he couldn't help laughing at the trademark sneer etched in his features. The young man was such a picture of horror and disgust, that Bill couldn't help himself – he burst into hysterics.

"M'sorry… you just look so horrified! It's so funny, because you were the one that ran in here and leapt on me like some lust crazed lunatic!" His laughter died done until it was a soft chuckle. "Do you regret it?" He asked quietly, reaching out to smooth some of the hair away from Draco's forehead.

"I – no. I would be lying if I said I did. I guess this makes you my mate. I'm sorry for completing the bond without giving you the choice. Well, you still have a choice I suppose, you can send me away." He bit his lip and looked at the eldest Weasley child with sincere worry and doubt in his eyes.

"I'm not rejecting you, Draco. I don't think I could, even if I wanted to. And I don't want to. I find I rather like you. But I would like to spend some time getting to know you. I barely saw you during the war, and I heard you were holed up in Malfoy Manor for the last few years."

Draco smiled brilliantly and basked in the feeling that his mate was accepting him. He didn't care that Bill was a Weasley, he rather liked him too, and had admired him from afar for a long time. Ever since he had seen him at Hogwarts during the Tri-wizard Tournament in his fourth year, in fact. As well as that, he had no desire to begin wasting away like his father had.

No, he had found his mate, fortunately, and he was going to make sure the two of them led happy and fulfilled lives together.

A voice intruded on their privacy.

"Well, I guess this means we won't be needing the assistance of the Court veela representative after all. Congratulations on your bonding, gentlemen."

Before either of them could say anything, or protest at the intrusion, another voice broke in.

"All the pieces are in place, time to being the end-game. Wouldn't want to be a wizzie!"

Translations:

A'mael - Beloved

Corm corm'amin - Heart of my heart