There's Nothing Sweeter

Disclaimer: I own neither 'Harry Potter' or 'Percy Jackson'. All recognisable characters, content or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Chapter Eight:

"Your father initially wanted you present on Percy's quest," Chiron said simply, "But he's changed his mind. He'd prefer that you remain in the safety of Camp Halfblood's borders, for now."

Gwen pursed her lips, resisting the urge to childishly insist that James Potter was all the father she'd ever need. After all, what had Zeus ever done for her? He'd certainly not jumped in front of a cruciatus curse meant for Gwen as James had, even as the man had known somewhere in his already ravaged mind that it meant suffering more torture at the hands of Voldemort's deadliest lieutenants.

"Of course he did," Gwen scoffed sardonically, "There'd be no other reason for me to be claimed, after all. "We can't have his progeny upstaged by Poseidon's, God help us all."

Chiron frowned, though whether it was out of concern, or worry, or disapproval, Gwen couldn't know. As Percy returned from his visit with the oracle, she wouldn't find out either, but the witch didn't have much of a problem with that. She had no interest in hearing the old trainer's preachings because as far as Gwen was concerned, the Olympians had done nothing for her, and in return, they expected her to bend over backwards to accommodate their own desires.

Of course, Gwen would do it because she had no desire of being struck down where she sat, but she wasn't happy about it and the witch had no qualms about admitting it. Loudly, if and whenever necessary.

Voice of truth, thy name was Gwen.

Percy flopped gracelessly back into his chair, gave a frustrated sigh and glared at the table top, where Gwen had begun a game of solitaire with her borrowed cards.

"Well?" Chiron probed, expectant expression on his ageless face. Grover slowly chewed an aluminium can, and Gwen overturned one of her cards.

"She said I would retrieve what was stolen," percy answered, tone monotonous.

Grover picked up speed on the aluminium crunching. "That's great."

Gwen scoffed in derision - there was nothing great about it - but she didn't say a word. The runt didn't need her cynicism when he was about to go on a quest that he might never return from. Instead, she waited for whatever Chiron had to say.

"What did the Oracle say exactly?" Chiron persisted, "This is important."

Gwen listened to the following discussion about the prophecy with half an ear, not really interested in what the prophet had to say. She'd learned during her time at Hogwarts that prophecies, and Divination as a whole, were finicky things, and she'd rather not think about it until after it had been fulfilled, once percy was safely back at camp - if that ever happened.

"That's about it."

Chiron scrutinised Percy's face and didn't believe what the son of Poseidon had just said, but didn't push the issue. "Very well, Percy. The Oracle's words often have double meanings. Don't dwell on them too much; the truth is often unclear until events have come to pass."

The discussion continued, Gwen rolled her eyes and once again, began to shuffle the cards. It appeared the blame was immediately put on Hades, which was stupid, but who was she to protest? He'd killed her sister, after all, just because he couldn't hurt his brother. Blaming the blameless, as it were. NO doubt, she'd eventually get her fair share of something similar, if Hades had his way.

As Gwen watched Grover, and then Annabeth, recruited into the questing party, she got to her feet, not particularly interested in watching all of the heartwarming shit sure to follow. She still wasn't even sure why she was there to begin with, seeing that it was clear she was no longer expected in the company.

"Is that all?" She queried, "Because I actually still have a lot to learn, and two months isn't a lot of time to learn it in."

"You're not coming?" Percy asked, and he looked suddenly downtrodden. Gwen felt momentarily guilty, but this wasn't her quest and she really had no right to barge in on it. She didn't even want to.

"No, Percy, you're the hero this time. Like Heracles, or whatever." She gave him an encouraging grin that she didn't quite feel. "You won't need me. I'm sure of it."

"That is all," Chiron confirmed, "I had simply wished to keep you informed of the current affairs. After all, it concerns you as well, more or less."

Gwen nodded her understanding, promised to see the trio off on their quest and made her way to the archery field, where she found Lee methodically shooting arrows with an enviable precision, heedless of the rain, thunder and occasional arc of lightning. She watched the flex of his back muscles through his sodden shirt, and admired the steadiness of his hands, but waited until he didn't have an arrow between those dexterous fingers to announce her presence.

"Sorry I'm late," she began, "I didn't realise Chiron would keep me so long. I'd have let you know, otherwise."

Lee looked at Gwen, a smile on his handsome face. If not for his colouring, blonde hair, and sun kissed complexion, she might have said that he looked stereotypically like a hero of old, with his high cheekbones, and square jaw, and the shape of his nose. His shoulders were broad, his waist narrow, his muscles precisely proportional to his body structure. He wasn't a body builder by any stretch of the imagination, but he was streamlined and lean, like a swimmer, or perhaps a runner, and Gwen perhaps liked it more than she should have.

"Its no problem, Shorty. Clarisse let me know you might be late. Is everything alright?"

"It was mostly about Percy, but yes, everything's fine, more or less." She opted to keep her mouth shut about the quest, unsure of the protocol concerning such matters. "Percy and I aren't to be executed, at any rate."

"Always a plus," Lee acknowledged, ironic sort of quirk to his lips that wasn't really a smile. "You think you can shoot in this weather?"

"Please," she scoffed, accepting the bow and arrow the son of Apollo offered her, "Storms are my schtick. I'll probably do better with the storm."

"By all means," Lee acknowledged, "No wind manipulation either, Shorty."

"If I've told you once, Leighton Fletcher, than I've told you a thousand goddamn times, that shit is not intentional."

In every one of her archery lessons thus far, Gwen had a tendency to manipulate the wind speed and direction with every shot she made. It was entirely uncontrolled on her part, and she couldn't get a handle on the ability for the life of her, but Lee found it inordinately entertaining to rile her up about it every single session.

"Whatever, Shorty, start firing. Those arrows aren't going to shoot themselves, and your arms still need to get used to the motions."

"Keep your knickers on, Sunshine," she grumbled, raised her bow, notched the arrow and lined it up with the target. She breathed in, and felt the water and wind and electricity all around her, corrected her aim accordingly, and she fired, genuinely astounded when she actually hit the bullseye.

"Awesome," Lee grinned, "Do it again."

And so she did, again and again and again, until her quiver was empty, her arrows were in distinct need of a mass reparation spell and Gwen was ecstatic with the thrill of her accomplishment.

"That was honestly extraordinary, Gwen," Lee commended, "I thought you were kidding about the storm thing, but wow. If you can harness that in clear weather, you'll be on par with - well - me."

"Are you being pretentious?"

"Yeah, no," he answered, sheepish smile on his face, "That sounded better in my head. But honestly, you're an awesome archer - today showed that - you just need practise."

"In other fields as well," she acknowledged, "I have another weapons session with the Hermes campers. I'll catch you later, Lee."

She gave him a flirty wink, spun on her heel and sloshed off towards the training arena, heedless of her sodden hair and the clothes that clung to her modest curves. She was pretty, undeniably so, but Gwen was only fourteen, nearly fifteen, and though she acted far older than her years, her body wasn't so mature as to have a figure that turned heads. One day, certainly, but that day was not now, and it wouldn't be for at least another year. That said, the witch felt that she didn't have much to hide and therefore, she didn't bother trying to.

Instead, she grit her way through her arms training with Luke, who relentlessly pushed the Gryffindor beyond her limits by way of sword training, and again with a daughter of Hermes named Tracey, who was similarly merciless with the twin dagger combo that Gwen preferred. She was apparently improving slowly but surely, but as the lunch horn sounded, Gwen admitted to Connor and Travis that she couldn't see it.

"Oh, it's there," Connor assured, "Before, you couldn't last ten seconds against Luke. You manage a minute now."

"When you learn more manoeuvres, and your arms get used to the strain of your weapons, it will be even more obvious," Travis added. "You're good, Shorty. DOn't doubt that."

"I don't think Luke likes me much," Gwen admitted, for lack of anything else to talk about. It wasn't as though she particularly cared, because she had no fondness for the Hermes cabin counsellor, but it was noted that Luke was much kinder to Percy, and anyone, really, who wasn't Gwen. "I think he wishes I was Thalia, or that I had died in her place. Or become treeified, or whatever."

"Luke wasn't the same after his quest," Connor said simply, "Word is he saw something there, something he can't ever unsee."

Gwen remembered her encounter in the Forbidden Forest, that dead unicorn and the leech surviving off of it's spilled blood. Draco Malfoy had run back to the castle like the pussy he was, and Neville had been screaming in undiluted agony, and Gwen had only been able to watch, unable to look away. It had been horrifying, and unholy, and something she'd wished she'd been able to forget, but had known in her heart of hearts that she would never be able to. It had changed her, perhaps more than she'd realised, disillusioned her to people and the lengths they'd go, to magic, to the misperception that purity still existed in the world.

"It changed him," Travis added, "He's a bit of a dick now, spends all his time training. He seems to only like Percy these days."

They reached the pavilion and separated to their respective tables. Next to Gwen's, Percy was seated at his own, halfheartedly picking at his souvlaki and salad, expression thoughtful. Gwen settled behind him at her own table, made her offerings and dug into her meal with enthusiasm.

"We're leaving after lunch," Percy informed Gwen.

"I'll be there to see you guys off," Gwen assured, "I promise."

And so she was, stood at Thalia's tree when Percy, Annabeth and Grover approached, Chiron alongside them. She scrutinised their expressions, open and bright, and so very unlike those she'd come to know on Neville's, and her own, features. She wished she could keep them like this, young, naive, impressionable, but everyone was scheduled to grow up sometime, and it was just unfortunate that for this particular trio, that time was now.

For a few moments, she watched the exchange between Percy and Chiron, and then the one between Percy and Luke, but then the Hermes cabin counsellor was returning to the camp, and the three questers were looking at Gwen, curious.

"Are you ready?" She asked them. They nodded, and she turned her head to look down the hill, to the Camp Halfblood van, and Argus, waiting for them there. "Than its time for you to go. Good luck."

As they descended down the hill, and Gwen watched them disappear out of sight, Chiron by her side, she continued to herself, "Something tells me you'll need all the luck you can get."

Author's Note: Reviews are love, -t.