Chapter Thirty-five

Draco and Taryn had been chatting quietly on the journey, but their voices faded to a hushed silence when they finally caught a glimpse of the wonder that was Imperial City. From behind the safe bubble of tinted glass-like material – tinted to preserve privacy – Draco's eyes had swept over the numerous humble villages that ringed the more expensive stone homes of the wealthy families, which in turn surrounded the massive structure that was the palace.

Many of the richer homes were constructed from a jade colored stone – a mineral that magically cooled or heated the interiors of the homes as needed, Kieve explained – and set in triangular sectioned neighborhoods.

Kieve's house was made of the same material. It was built in way that reminded Draco of the homes of the ancients, a sprawling, yet imposing villa. They quietly landed, flying neatly through a tunnel just big enough for the zili, finally resting right in front of a large, ornately carved door. The front door opened into a corridor leading into courtyard that was alternately lushly landscaped and tiled with more of the jade colored stone. At the opposite side of the courtyard was a reception room with a brilliantly colored mosaic floor with a back room opening off it. To the south of the corridor was a dining room furnished with a highly polished low table and comfortable looking couches surrounding it. Black and Ca'faoar pebble mosaics decorate the smooth floor.

Draco took in all these features as the pretty, bronze skinned Caurarroao woman who greeted them showed them to their room on the upper floor.

0o0

Wizarding society, especially within the pureblood nobility, modernized at a glacial speed. When many of the people who had created the strict, and often contradictory, rules of etiquette and protocol were in fact still living and maintaining places within said society, well it became rather tedious to introduce change.

Draco was raised within a class where men – wealthy and titled men – determined the legal, social, and political order of things. He was expected to present a stoic, imperious face in public and to always be elegant in both dress and manner.

A titled wizard's first responsibility was to his family name, and the enhancement of the family's wealth, power and prestige. Upon his acceptance to Hogwarts, or whatever wizarding school to which he had been accepted, a young wizard was taken by his father to an all male affair where he – and other young wizards of a like age and position – would be presented to society after which he was allowed to publicly claim his title.

He was also expected to eventually marry a female copy of himself. It didn't matter if he loved her or not, only that she was suitable to his parents. As an eldest son and heir to an estate, and especially because he was an only child, it was a given that he should marry and produce and heir to carry on the family legacy.

Because of these expectations, Draco had been rather surprised when his mother had accepted Taryn so easily. He hadn't thought that she would fight his decision, not like his father would, but he also hadn't expected her to capitulate so quickly. He figured that it helped that Taryn was independently wealthy on her own, and despite Narcissa's many faults, he knew that his mother loved him and wanted his happiness more than anything.

Since Draco so understood the realities of social pressure and privilege, he hadn't thought that he would be able to just waltz his way into a presentation at the court of the Emperor. He also hadn't thought that he would still be waiting for over a fortnight after his arrival to appear before his "father".

Taryn, in typical Taryn fashion, had spent most of her time sequestered in Kieve's private library studying any and everything that she thought might help their cause. Because they hadn't been able to leave the home, a precaution that Kieve insisted upon, Draco had exhausted as much of his anxiety and frustration punishing the hell out of Kieve's heavy bag.

0o0

The sound of Draco's fists hitting against the firm bag echoed throughout the airy dojo, the thumps blending together until they made a strange sort of music. A breeze drifted through the high, open windows, lifting the white semi-opaque draperies that covered them and bringing with it the sweet smell of island flowers and the salty tang of the ocean beyond. It was early morning, and the essence of the island seemed pure, uncontaminated by the smells of the city, and still perfumed by scent of the morning dew that rested like jewels on the surface of the grass in the garden adjacent to the dojo.

Draco paused, wiping the sweat from his forehead with one of his wrapped hands. He headed toward the long bench running across the length of the room to take a drink from the bottle of cool water that rested there.

He grimaced a bit at the taste of the water, disliking the slightly sweet taste that flavored nearly all of the freshwater on Selsenle. Despite the taste of the water, Draco did have to admit that the beverage did do its job, easily quenching his thirst.

He was so in the calm zone that physical activity brought him, working on a series of one armed pull ups, that he didn't notice the creaking of the door when Taryn entered the room.

Taryn watched the play of muscles ripple under his skin as Draco worked against gravity, pulling his body up in a smooth rhythm.

She cleared her throat, capturing his attention and gaze. "Kieve's just returned from the palace. Our request for presentation has been accepted."

Draco felt several emotions try to burst free, anxiety at the forefront. He closed his eyes for a moment before speaking. "When are we going?"

"Today...in less than an hour actually," Taryn bit her lip, running a hand through her braided hair, and causing the shells and beads there to jingle. "I'm nervous too...what if..." She stopped. She didn't want to think about what would happen if they weren't successful. She barely thought about the risk to herself. Draco would die...The torques could only do so much. The magical jewelry wasn't meant to last forever. She touched the warm metal at her neck, her eyes smarting with the threat of tears.

"Don't," Draco said. She hadn't noticed his approach, so wrapped in her thoughts. "You can't think like that. You have to believe in me...I need you to believe in me."

Taryn's hand wiped her eyes. "I do. Of course I believe in you. It's just...this place. These people. And Kokobiel...the Emperor. I can't use logic. I can't even try to put myself in his frame of mind. He isn't human. He's never been human. I just hate not having a plan. Everything is hinging on his decision and we can only move forward if he wants it to happen." She stopped. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to just...let all of this out on you. You already have so much to think about."

"That's bullshit Taryn."

His brusque tone and statement made her eyes widen. A bit of anger stiffened her spine, and her eyes narrowed. "What part?"

Draco chuckled a bit, he was relieved to see a bit of spunk return to his girl. He sobered when her eyes narrowed further. "You can let me know when shit is bothering you. Wasn't it you chastising me about honesty not too long ago? It runs both ways baby. You and I are going to be partners forever...quite literally forever."

Taryn had to smile at this. "I guess I should practice what I preach huh?"

Draco's hand snaked around her waist, pulling her to him. His mouth slanted across hers, kissing her softly, before breaking away. "Lets go get ready for this. I think we're as prepared as we can be."

0o0

The palace was built on a hill, separated from the rest of the town by the Trelu River, which wound around the structure in a horseshoe shape. The design provided both defense and isolation if it was wanted. There were only two ways to access the palace, by flight or by crossing the river and then entering though a huge monumental vestibule built of more of the jade green stone. The south part of the palace overlooked the city. This was where the servant quarters were located. The official wing of the palace was built facing the tranquility of the sea. The various rooms were placed around a large courtyard that was dominated by a large fountain.

On the west side of the palace was the throne room. Draco was uncomfortably reminded of Voldemort's subterranean throne room as they entered the large vaulted space. He took in the crowds of people moving throughout the large room, many standing against the walls of colored and patterned marble. Silver dominated the color scheme of the room, and there were many, many heads of silver streaked hair.

Whispers began to russle through the room as the crowd took in the tell tale streaks of color in Draco's hair, and the blue colored robe and accessories he wore. The clothes, hair, and the company with which he had arrived definitely had gotten the tongues to wagging.

Draco ignored all of this, his eyes zeroing in on the large, empty throne that rested on a raised platform across the room. He frowned.

"Father never arrives first," Kieve said, "He should be here shortly."

Draco and Taryn spent the next ten minutes trying not to be bothered by the blatant staring that was directed their way. They did quite a bit of watching themselves, while at the same time trying to look unaffected.

Taryn noticed that the largest group of people were wearing clothing and accessories in a deep mustard yellow shade, called Yorra'll if memory served correctly. "Who are the people in yellow?" She turned to Shui, whispering her question quietly and in English, which she hoped that those close to her wouldn't understand.

"That would be Ro'alulain clan, so named after Ritualus Ro'alulain," Shui whispered back.

"Ah," Taryn said. She'd spent much of her time reading in Kieve's library, a task that wasn't particularly easy since her translation spells weren't perfect, and she'd come across Ritualus' name several times.

She easily picked out the man, both by the brightness of the streaks in his hair, and the expression of smug entitlement painted across his handsome his face. Ritualus was the eldest of child of Kokobiel and one of his many mistresses, an Oceanid named Salacia.

Salacia, as the story goes, was once the wife of the ocean god Neptune. She had been seduced by Kokobiel, and after conceiving the fallen angel's child, she'd been thrown aside by her godly husband. Being one of the daughters of the titans Oceanus and Tethys, she had not been without her own power. She had eventually followed her lover back to his own realm to live there. She was given the surname Ro'alulain, which means favored in Ta'ghauos.

The Ro'alulain family, other than the family of the Imperial prince, was the most favored and powerful family in the realm. Ritualus' direct offspring all important jobs within the hierarchy of the city, and many of his grandchildren and great grandchildren had secured their own places of importance.

"Ritualus wishes that he was the Imperial prince. In fact, he'd probably sacrifice his childeren if he thought that it would help his cause," Shui said from behind her hand.

"Why isn't he?" Taryn asked.

Shui scoffed. "He isn't a Sa'rcaom and he's never been able to manifest a flaming sword."

The rapping of a staff against the stone floors brought everyone's attention to the front of the room. The man holding the staff wore the color of the Ro'alulain
family.

"All bow for Kokobiel, Emperor of Selsenle, Lord of Planets, and Prince of Stars!" The man's voice boomed through the cavernous throne room.

0o0

"Those robes look fabulous on you," the mirror said cheerily, "the chocolate color really compliments the golden highlights in your hair."

Chase straightened the collar of his robes, then ran a hand down his chest to make sure the material settled properly against his frame.

"This is a bad idea," Ollie said from his spot on the couch, "y'know, it won't bother me if we don't go to this."

Chase stopped fiddling with his curls, and turned around to look his boyfriend in the eye. "This is your friend's wedding. You and your date were invited to attend. You weren't going to invite anyone else to go with you were you?"

"Of course not," Ollie sighed. "You know that you'd be the only one I'd take with me. I'm just not sure if we should go. What with what happened to Dumbledore..."

"Look, I didn't kill Dumbledore and neither did Taryn or Draco, despite what everyone is saying. I'm not going to hide away. What would be the point? Term starts again soon and I'm sure not going to be able to hide then. I might as well get whatever is going to happen out of the way."

"Well...let the record show that I still think that this is–" Ollie began.

"Yes, yes, I know. A bad idea," Chase interrupted.

...

Chase and Ollie arrived to the wedding shortly after three o'clock. Butterflies and bees were hovering lazily over the grass and hedgerows, and the glare of the sun was warm, but not uncomfortable since Chase had made sure to apply a mild cooling charm to his robes.

As they waited to be seated, Chase stood proudly beside his boyfriend in a procession line that was filled with brightly colored bodies festooned in formal robes. Exotic flowers and bewitched birds fluttered on the witches' hats, while precious gems glittered from many of the wizards' cravats; a hum of excited chatter grew louder and louder, drowning the sound of the bees as the crowd approached the tent. He hid his nerves, and the urge to squirm under the gazes of the other guests and a red-headed boy who watched him with a particularly intense stare.

Under the huge white wedding tent were rows and rows of fragile golden chairs set on either side of a long purple carpet. The supporting poles were entwined with white and gold flowers. From his seat Chase noticed an enormous bunch of golden balloons over where the bride and groom would stand to be joined in marriage.

A sense of jittery anticipation filled the warm tent as everyone waited for the ceremony to begin, the general murmuring broken by occasional spurts of excited laughter. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley strolled up the aisle, smiling and waving at relatives; Mrs. Weasley was wearing a rather nice looking set of amethyst-colored robes with a matching hat.

A moment later Bill and Charlie stood up at the front of the marquee, both wearing dress robes, with large white roses in their buttonholes; Fred wolf-whistled and there was an outbreak of giggling from the veela cousins. Then the crowd fell silent as music swelled from what seemed to be the golden balloons.

A great collective sigh issued from the assembled witches and wizards as Fleur and her father came walking up the aisle, Fleur gliding, Monsieur Delacour bouncing and beaming. Fleur was wearing a very simple white dress and seemed to be emitting a strong, silvery glow. While her radiance usually dimmed everyone else by comparison, today it beautified everybody it fell upon. Ginny Weasley and who Chase could only assume was Fleur's sister judging my the resemblance, were both wearing golden dresses.

Bill's face, which had looked like he'd swallowed a hippogriff in his nervousness, smoothed into a calm happiness as soon as his eyes fell upon his beautiful bride. It almost looked as if he'd never been attacked by Fenrir Greyback.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said a slightly singsong voice, and with a slight shock, Chase recognized the same small, tufty-haired wizard who had presided at Dumbledore's funeral, now standing in front of Bill and Fleur. "We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two faithful souls …"

The wedding seemed to fly by quickly ending when the tufty-haired wizard waved his wand high over the heads of Bill and Fleur, sending a shower of silver stars to fall over them, spiraling around their entwined figures. A round of applause rippled through the tent, and the golden balloons over the newly married couple burst: Birds of paradise and tiny golden bells flew and floated out of them, adding their songs and chimes to the din.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" called the tufty-haired wizard. "If you would please stand up!"

The seats on which they had been sitting rose gracefully into the air as the canvas walls of the marquee vanished, so that they stood beneath a canopy supported by golden poles, with a glorious view of the sunlit orchard and surrounding countryside. Next, a pool of molten gold spread from the center of the tent to form a gleaming dance floor; the hovering chairs grouped themselves around small, white-clothed tables, which all floated gracefully back to earth around it, and the golden-jacketed band trooped toward a podium. Waiters popped up on all sides, some bearing silver trays of pumpkin juice, butterbeer, and firewhisky, others tottering piles of tarts and sandwiches.

The band began to play, and Fleur and Bill made their way to the dance floor where they waltzed for the first time as man and wife.

Chase followed Ollie as he made his way through the milling crowd to stand next to Viktor Krum.

"I think that Fitchburg Fitches vill do better this season now that they've added Trent Boysenberry to their team. He's a decent seeker, I–" Viktor's sentence broke off as his face creased in a deep scowl. "Who is that man in the yellow?"

"That's Xenophilius Lovegood," said Chase said.

"You know this man Lovegood vell?"

"Not really," Chase said, "I just know that he's Luna Lovegood's father and the editor of The Quibbler."

"Why are you so interested?" Ollie asked.

Krum glowered over the top of his drink, watching Xenophilius, who was chatting to several warlocks on the other side of the dance floor. "Because if he vos not a guest of Fleur's, I vould duel him, here and now, for vearing that filthy sign upon his chest."

Chase and Ollie looked at each other in bewilderment. "Sign?" Chase looked closer, finally noticing the triangular eye gleaming in the center of the other man's chest.

"What does it mean?" Chase asked.

Krum stared at him in astonished annoyance. "Really? You don't know? Grindelvald. That is Grindelvald's sign."

"Grindelwald … the Dark wizard Dumbledore defeated?"

"Exactly."

Krum's jaw muscles worked as if he were chewing, then he said, "Grindelvald killed many people, my grandfather, for instance. Of course, he vos never poverful in this country, they said he feared Dumbledore — and rightly, seeing how he vos finished. But this" — he pointed a finger at Xenophilius — "this is his symbol, I recognized it at vunce: Grindelvald carved it into a vall at Durmstrang ven he vos a pupil there. Some idiots copied it onto their books and clothes, thinking to shock, make themselves impressive — until those of us who had lost family members to Grindelvald taught them better." Krum cracked his knuckles menacingly and glowered at Xenophilius. He drew his wand from inside his robes and tapped it menacingly on his thigh; sparks flew out of the end.

"Maybe Xenophilius doesn't actually know what the symbol means. The Lovegoods are quite…unusual. I doubt that he follows the dark arts," Ollie said, trying to placate his colleague.

Krum scowled once more, before striding away and over to the refreshment table downing two glasses of punch in quick succession.

"I don't think that I'm going to be the cause of drama around here," Chase said quietly. He sighed, "I'm going to hit the loo okay?"

"I'll be waiting right here," Ollie said, "when you get back we'll give our congratulations to the couple and get out of here."

"Sounds good," Chase said.

He was on his way back from the loo when a strong hand grasped his arm, pulling him behind a large bush. Chase's wand was immediately whipped from his robes and placed under the chin of the unfamiliar wizard who held him. It took a moment before he recognized the red-headed wizard. It was the usher who'd gazed at him so intently before. "Do I know you?"

"It's me," the wizard said, "Harry."

"How do I know..."

"Taryn Davis is actually Hermione Granger," the other wizard – Harry – said quietly.

"Shhhh," Chase said, glancing around before casting a quick Muffilato, "anyone could hear you!"

"I won't keep you long," Harry said, "I just need to know if you've heard from her."

"No. I haven't heard anything," Chase said. "You haven't told anyone what you know have you?"

"No, but Ron and Ginny are starting to become suspicious that I'm holding something back from them," Harry said. "It didn't help that Dumbledore left something for Hermione –Taryn – in his will."

"What did he leave her?"

"A copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. They're these children–"

"I know what they are. I might be a half-blood but my mum is a witch. I've heard the stories many times. Why would he leave that to Taryn though?"

"I have no idea," Harry said, "I was hoping that you might have some insight."

"No, not any more than you have," Chase said.

"Shit. Well, I'll send the book to you. I'm sure that she'll come and see you before she comes to see me," Harry said bitterly. "She obviously trusts you more."

"Look, I'm sure that Taryn had her reasons," Chase began, "Wait...How did you get the book anyway? I'm pretty sure that you can't receive something from a wizard's will unless you are the beneficiary."

"Stole it of course," Harry said, "I haven't been around Fred and George for years without absorbing a few tricks. It doesn't really matter how I got it though. What matters is that Taryn gets it. I have way too few clues to go off of as it is, and now that I won't be going back to Hogwarts..."

"You aren't?" Chase asked.

"No. Ron and I, we have to take care of a few things."

"You mean the horcruxes?" Chase said, pushing back a completely inappropriate giggle at Harry's look of shock.

"You know about the horcruxes?" Harry asked, his face intent.

"Not much. At the time the Taryn told me about them, she didn't know much either," Chase said.

Harry proceeded to explain just exactly what a horcrux was, watching Chase's face turn green at the explanation.

Chase's mouth opened to question Harry further when screams of absolute terror reached his ears, turning his blood to ice in his veins.