With set jaws they are fighting

Fighting, fighting – some we love whom we know,

some we love but know not – that

hearts may feel and not be numb.

It cures me; or am I what

I can't believe in?

~ "In a Distrust of Merits" by Marianne Moore

Draco wanted to see Dyre, but he couldn't stand to. He had so many thoughts running around his head that he could hardly think. He didn't know what to do or what to say. He was so confused and hurt and lost.

He hated this. Would it have been better for him to have not come at all if he was just going to die? Draco didn't think he was noble enough to say he wished Dyre had stayed safe in Iceland. But this pain… He didn't know what to think. That he only had so much time left… he didn't know what he wanted. To tie Dyre to a bed and lie beside him until the world ended or stay as far away as possible to avoid watching him die. None of this… it didn't matter, was what he wanted to say, to think. It was impossible to orient himself and that was almost as frightening as Dyre's damned prophecy.

Hogwarts had been built like a fort, so there were parts off limits to students, the cells in the dungeons and the north turret. Of the four, three were in use, astronomy, divination, and Gryffindor board, but the north was barred. Below rested the remains of the north wing. Draco did not know what caused the collapse or why it remained untouched, but the tower itself was deemed too precarious for employment, an empty sentinel over the forest and the groundskeeper's hut.

In their fifth year, the Marauders had discovered the password to lift the wards and after a bribe passed the knowledge to Draco. It was here where he came to be alone and think, up the narrow stone steps, walls close and incline high. The windows were broken and allowed quite a draft. He felt the wyvern around his neck, alternating against his skin in warm and cool patches. It was a small comfort.

He had to push all of his weight against the swollen oak door at the top, nudging it with his shoulder. It gave slowly, yielding to the much wider staircase that led straight out of the floor of the battlement. The stone was crumbling but held, bits of lichen and moss grown from the deposits of dust that the wind brought in, nurtured by the open elements.

The March weather was still nippy and tugged insistently at Draco's cloak. He held the cowl close, allowing the collar to flap. The wind hit him, and he crouched against it a moment before retrieving his bearings. With a mighty breath, he flung himself at the balustrade. He breathed in the air and it tasted of rain. The clouds in the west portended a storm, and he could see the shapes of Neville Longbottom and Professor Sprout working to move plants into the greenhouse. The forest spread out, broken by the lake. He could turn and see the road to Hogsmeade, the train station peeking from beneath the curl of trees and the tall hoops of the quidditch field. Behind him, the castle would be an open book.

He released his cloak, allowing the material to flop around him indecently. His hair whipped across his face, and he vaguely recalled the need to trim it. Thunder pounded in the distance, miles out, breeding darkness.

Tears gathered, and he wasn't sure why. They were simple, wetting his lashes but nothing else. He smiled slightly, shutting his eyes against the wind.

The feel of a body behind him, warm and male, startled him only a little. Arms followed his own, resting beside his on the stone. He laid his head back, feeling emotion clog his throat.

Dyre. His hands rested atop the boy's, threading their fingers. He wasn't even surprised that he had found him, atop a forgotten, forbidden tower at some random moment of the day when he hadn't approached him in the last four.

"It wasn't supposed to hurt, Dyre," he said, not understanding really what he was saying. "Why is it like this?"

Dyre moved closer, and he felt his chest through his back. He gasped, the muscles in his face twitched as he controlled the conception of more tears. He didn't understand, not at all, how that was supposed to feel painful and safe at once. He shut his eyes, trying to choke his chest.

"I love you."

Dyre rested their cheeks together, eyes closed. The wetness on Draco's face clung to his own. Dyre's nostrils flared as if he was holding in a terrible emotion, but he didn't respond.

"Do you love me?" Draco asked.

"Yes."

Draco sobbed. He forced Dyre's hands to his chest, wrapping their arms together.

"I don't want you to die."

"I won't," he said softly.

"Dyre…"

"Draco," he responded, the word low and heavy like a ball of lead. He moved his mouth in his blond hair. "Have I ever lied to you?"

"No," Draco admitted. "But…"

"But?" Dyre coaxed kindly when he didn't finish.

Draco turned around, his eyes wet and anguished. "But, they're the Norns, Dyre."

"They are," Dyre agreed, watching him.

"You've believed in them all this time. You think just because you don't like what they say you can stop? That it doesn't matter anymore?"

Dyre pressed their foreheads together to calm him since his hands were entangled. "I believed in them because they have never been wrong until now."

"You don't know that," Draco yelled. "You can't know that!"

"I can," he said calmly. "I am human, Draco. Maybe not the same way that you are, but I am. They don't know me. I am not just my Fate."

"You were Fated to come here and fight this monster, and it's going to kill you," he cried.

"No," he said firmly.

He took another step forward, pushing Draco against the battlement. He forced their eyes together without touch. Draco felt like he knew that face so well, but how could he when he hadn't kissed every part of it? How could he feel like it belonged to him, as much as it belonged to Dyre as well?

"I was Fated to meet you," he said softly, so solemnly that Draco could not scoff like he wanted to. "I died, Draco, and was sent to a place that taught me to hate men. Then, on an old wizard's whim, I was brought here. I could have remained on the ship. I could have been involved in this Tournament and still never met you. I could never have kissed your hand in that hall. Even now, I don't know why I did that." He looked down between them, at their hands. "That is Fate, Draco. That against all odds, I'm standing here wanting you to stop crying."

Draco shook his head. He wasn't even sure what he was denying, just that Dyre couldn't be serious. He couldn't be that important to him. That he couldn't be that severe about something so ridiculously silly. It wasn't possible.

Dyre nosed into his nape, nudging aside his flyaway hair. The wyvern moved its tail out of the way for Dyre to rest his face in the warm, sensitive area.

"May I kiss you?"

Draco made a choked sound, closing his eyes. "You idiot."

Dyre took that as permission and pressed his lips to his pulse. Draco moved his neck, allowing him everything. His lips stayed at no more than a pressure, moving like butterflies across his throat.

"You're going to die," he whispered, crying again.

"I'm not."

"You're not going to do this anymore."

"I will. If you allow it."

"You won't be here."

"I'll be here for as long as you'll have me."

Draco reveled in the touch of his lips, the way his thumbs rubbed against his fingers, his cheek beneath his jaw.

"Sleep with me," he said suddenly and Dyre paused. "Please. I – don't want this to be all I have."

Dyre drew away to look him in the eye.

"I would much rather marry you."

Draco gaped at him. "W-what?"

"I would rather marry you," he repeated. "With the permission of our parents."

Draco couldn't speak for a moment, his voice not working. "D-Dyre, I'm not… I mean I'm not…" he floundered.

Dyre waited patiently for him to finish, his eyes retaining the same soft warmth of a young bird.

"You don't have to marry me to have sex with me," he ended up saying.

"I would prefer to marry you," he said softly with an understanding smile. "But it matters not. Whatever you want is what we'll have."

Draco stared at him at a loss. That he would even… even think of marriage… Marriage was something for the future, something arranged, with commitments and contracts and ceremonies and, and heirs, and a great deal of things that someone of Draco and Dyre's age just doesn't think about. Marriage was something his parents did. It was forever.

He realized suddenly that he wanted to marry Dyre. This relationship had never been based on sex, but he hadn't realized that he really wanted to share his life with him. Share his life the way his parents did, like James and Lily, and Remus and Sirius. With all those little things that made it so much more than just… than just… attraction.

Something that was meant to last forever.

"You really believe you won't die," he said in awe.

Dyre regarded him without reply.

"And you want to marry me," he said in the same awestruck voice.

Dyre brought his hand to his face and kissed his knuckles like the first time they met.

"Ok," he said quietly.

Dyre smiled. He took his face in hand, his palm still folded beneath Draco's, and kissed him. It was languid, and when Draco opened his mouth, Dyre followed. He tried not to let the sadness still abloom in his chest distract him. Dyre was not cruel, he told himself. He would never allow him such joy only to snatch it away. He was going to trust him because really there was nothing else he could do, and the sound of their names intertwined was too alluring to forsake.

o.O.o

Dyre stood outside his parents' rooms, contemplating how he was going to approach this. Draco had thought it best to talk to his parents alone, and though Dyre wanted them to know that he wasn't scared to ask for the hand of their son, Draco had told him to leave it be.

"This isn't the Middle Ages," he had said with one of those delicate sniffs that he was fairly sure wasn't inherited from Lucius.

He had never thought he was going to get married, so he had never been overly worried by his lack of guardians in this regard. He was fully aware that he was marrying into a house rather than bringing someone in. Dyre Harald Malfoy was… a bit of a stretch though.

He stepped back from the door, raising a hand over his face. He rested against the far wall, bracing himself on the stone. Odin, that he would ever think of such a thing.

He had changed so much this year. He had refused Karkaroff's summons. He had revealed the secret of his animagus. He had taken a young lord as his lover. And now he was standing before his parents' door, trying to find a way to word a marriage proposal.

He was out of his depth. Rationally, he knew that the cruelty he was so used to was beyond James and Lily. They wouldn't reject him. But the idea of the power they wielded over him made his knees weak. He wanted their permission. He wasn't sure if he could marry Draco without it. To be part of a home was all he had ever dreamed of, to rest beneath his father's hand, in his mother's lap, and feel the security and comfort of hard work. To labor for them just for the glory of standing by his father's side.

He was getting ahead of himself. He wasn't joining their house. He was joining the Malfoys, and though that idea was indeed daunting, it did not fill him with the nervous euphoria that imagining being with the Potters did.

"Dyre?" he heard softly.

He looked up. Lily Potter was standing at the door, his father and Remus and Sirius behind her a ways, all looking at him in blatant concern.

"Are you ok?" his mother asked in that same soft voice reserved only for women with children.

It grudged up a small smile that almost met his eye. He opened his mouth to answer and realized that the word on the tip of his tongue was not "my lady" but "mother" and had to shut it again. Irritated with himself, he gave a small grunt, trying to keep his emotions under control.

"Yes," he said simply without honorific.

He started to ask if he could come in and changed his mind. He would feel trapped in a room, and he did not want to appear uncertain or weakened.

"Might I borrow you a minute?" he asked a tad too quickly, hardly even planning his words.

"Of course," she said, stepping out of the room.

Dyre looked up. "All of you?"

The Marauders shared a startled, worried look and got up off the couches. Dyre realized quickly that having all five of them in the hall would be too much, not to mention it was rude and improper to discuss this in the middle of a hall. He ran a hand through his hair, rubbing the cusp of the scar that escaped the patch on his forehead.

"I apologize. May we walk as well?"

He got some confused and wary nods. He had no idea where he was going as he led them around the castle. He was making a terrible job of this, not to mention having them at his back was making him even more riled.

It was silent, no one knowing what to say. Dyre knew he was being uncharacteristic but quite frankly didn't know any way of easing the situation. He was much too nervous to start idle chatter, even if that was a habit of his to begin with, which it wasn't.

He needed to go outside. But short of taking them to a clearing in the Forbidden Forest, he really didn't see the purpose in dragging them all outside the castle.

Damn it all, he decided. He made a turn down the corridor, his pace a tad brisk. He felt the others following him and thanked the gods that they were patient enough to allow his odd behavior.

"Uh, where are we going, Dyre?" Sirius asked nervously.

"I am more comfortable in the forest," he answered honestly. "If it is not a bother to you, I am taking us there."

He was worrying them and cursed himself anew, but he knew no words to relieve them. Or himself. However, when they reached the edge of the forest beside the gamekeeper's hut, he could already feel the tension in his back loosen. Loki and Levi, sensing his approach, darted through the trees to meet him, but he warned them off with a firm command. Though their presence might be a comfort to him, he did not need to make his family feel anymore uncomfortable than they already were.

Loki's ears drooped comically at the edge of the forest, but it followed its sibling back into the woods, disappearing in a shadow.

"Those were your…" Sirius trailed off. "Dogs?" he offered hesitantly.

He nodded, pleased to fill the silence between the crack of twigs and dead leaves. "Hellhounds."

"Oh. Cool."

Dyre spared him an odd glance then turned away. The man was married to a werewolf. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised in his tastes. He approached the clearing he wanted. Bone-bare poplars stretching tall to all sides of them in shades of grey and white, leaves thick.

He contemplated the trees before asking, "Would you like to meet them?"

He studied them for signs of fear, and though Lily shared a look with James and Remus, it was not hostile or scared.

"Sure," Sirius answered.

There were no thick shadows in the forest, almost everything a uniform shade of between-light made from the thick canopy, so he had to call them the human way. He pressed his fingers between his teeth and with a bit of magic, raised the octave of his whistle past human range. The two were waiting, barely out of sight. Loki leapt into the clearing enthusiastically, darting to Dyre like an over-eager pup. It knew enough not to jump on him though, circling him with its nose and one triangular tongue lolling over sharp teeth. Dyre allowed its muzzle to butt his hand, its tail swishing madly like a serpent.

Levi walked in, its shoulder blades pronounced in its gait. It sat a farther distance away, statuesque, watching Dyre solemnly. Much more regal than its young sibling.

"This is Loki," he said.

Loki's tongue touched its eye, cleaning the orb like a lizard.

"He's friendly for a demon," Remus remarked.

Dyre nodded. "It was summoned too young so it picked up the mannerisms of a common hound. Levi is older," he said gesturing to the creature that remained at the edge of the clearing, watching them.

Its eyes flicked to Remus then back to Dyre. Dyre shook his head.

"You can understand them," James said in awe.

"When they choose to communicate."

"And they do what you say?" Remus asked more apprehensively.

Dyre did not mesh words. "When they choose to. They obey certain edicts, and in return, I treat them with respect and allow them to exist on this plane. They have more intelligence than the common imp, but they remain creature and have the mentality of beasts. They will honor a pact."

"And you don't fear that they will turn on you?" he said incredulously.

Dyre gave him a hard stare. He knelt beside Levi and asked him to open his mouth. He placed his hand between the sharp incisors and the tough, cat-like tongues. The teeth pricked him rather deeply, and he allowed the tongues to lap at the wounds. He patted its side.

"Betrayal is not in their nature. More, they do not even understand the concept of it."

"You give them blood to make them obey?" Lily said.

Dyre shook his head and sighed. Creatures were so much easier to deal with than humans.

"It is hungry, and I have asked them not to feed off the centaurs. I give it blood because I am responsible for them. They are not bound to me in this regard. I am bound to them."

He removed his hand from its mouth and waited for it to finish licking the excess blood.

"Can I try?"

Dyre startled at Lily's offer. Only Yrsa had ever offered to feed them. He was finding himself caring more and more fond this woman's strange compassion and smiled at her.

"If you want. Levi," he called.

The beast sauntered over. He gestured Lily to kneel beside him, and she did so looking nervous and excited. He took her hand, rubbing his fingers over the pale skin of her palm. Levi sat again before them, its tail curling to the front like a cat.

"Would you mind taking from Mrs. Potter?" he asked the hound.

The beast's goat eyes contracted, and the tail flicked.

Dyre turned to Lily. "It wants to know what you wish in return."

She blinked. "Oh, um, can you just tell him, it, I just want to?"

Dyre's eye sparkled in hidden mirth. "You can speak to it. It understands the tongue of man."

"Oh," she floundered.

Dyre gave a small chuckle. "Just say it is in payment for allowing it to reside in the forest."

Levi dipped its head to their level, the neck extending obscurely, and opened its mouth. Lily suddenly looked hesitant, not that Dyre could really blame her.

"It is no different than an ordinary pinprick. It will take only a little. Beware that the tongues are rough and may skin you if you squirm."

Lily nodded resolutely and gingerly rested her hand in Levi's mouth. Under Dyre's instruction, it kept its jaw open, allowing them to watch the way its tongues padded gently over the slight abrasions. Lily winced for a second, but it was no worse than a scrape. She watched fascinated.

Eventually, Levi stood and stepped back, keeping his mouth loose and in contact so that it could slip away without injuring her.

"Thanks," she said, noticing the consideration, then blushed when she realized she had just thanked a daemon.

Dyre took her hand and patted the now clotted entryways with a handkerchief.

"That was very well done," he praised, and Lily smiled.

The gentle expression remained on his face after he had attended her hand and helped her up. Loki butted her side. Lily hesitantly rested her bandaged hand on its head, fingers sifting through the fine fur.

"No, she's my mother," Dyre said abruptly. "I came from her." He shook his head. "Humans come from two humans, a male and a female." He paused, a lost expression coming over his face. "Can't you smell it?"

Levi pushed his nose into Lily's navel.

"I am sorry," he said to Lily, who looked affably startled. "They are curious creatures, and it does not understand."

"It's not problem," she said. "He's actually rather cute. You know, once you get over the hell part of it."

Dyre struggled with a smirk. "I am pleased that you like them."

He sent them off, watching as Loki tried to snap at Levi's tail when they left.

"Did you bring us here to meet them?" James asked, watching them as well.

Dyre shuffled his feet. "No."

"It's ok," Lily said kindly. "What did you want to talk about?"

Dyre hesitated, but he knew he would never be more relaxed than this, and he cared too much for the situation to brush it off any longer.

"I would like your permission to marry Draco."

o.O.o

Silence serenaded the announcement, and the only reason Dyre was able to weather it was because it was expected. It was difficult, but he waited, just as he had waited for Draco. The first question they asked was not the one he was expected.

"Draco asked you to marry him?" Sirius said in a slow, confused voice.

Dyre cocked his head, wondering why that would be important, but he supposed they never would have assumed that he would ask first.

"No, I asked him."

They looked lost and worried. It was silly that the fear of rejection was slowly leaking from him, though he knew the discussion was only just beginning and he had convinced them of nothing. While they thought, he slipped the dirk from its leather sheath, noting how the material didn't even sigh.

He stared at the handle, the inlay simplistic and strong. The blade pointed down the length of his arm, reaching only halfway to his elbow. He thought about giving it to his father for safekeeping until the tournament was over, but that would raise questions that he couldn't answer.

"Dyre," his mother said in a strained, confused tone. "I… I don't understand. How could… Why did you ask him that?"

Dyre took time phrasing his answer. "Because I want to be with no other."

"But, Dyre, you're…"

He sighed and sheathed the dagger, feeling like he was walking on eggshells. "The Norns speak in riddles. Do not take what they say to heart."

Lily gave him a watery look that said she didn't believe him. The men wouldn't look at him at all though.

"They said, they said you were going to, going to die."

"Do not take it to heart," he said again, more firmly. He grew frustrated when she couldn't look at him and ran a hand through his hair. "Why do I speak if no one will listen?" He shut his eyes, his body making a dismissive motion. "If you have mastered any faith in me in these past months, if I have not betrayed your confidence in some form, believe in me. I will not die."

"It's not a matter of belief," James said, tears running past his glasses.

"Would I lie?" Dyre interrupted. "Have I ever lied? Did I not tell you I would survive?"

"The Norns were protecting you-" Sirius started.

"The Norns can neither give nor take life. They can only read the weave. Believe in me," he said again. "That's all you have to do. Believe in me and I'll live."

"It's not that simple, Dyre," Remus said sadly, shaking his shaggy head.

"Look at me!"

The shout brought up all their heads. His glare was furious and desperate.

"Do you honestly think me no more than a curse?"

James started. "People can't-"

"I can," the boy said sternly. He stared at them a moment longer before finally turning away. "I did not come here for this. I came because of Draco. If you think I'm dying, I will respect your wishes."

He started to walk away before Lily shouted at his back.

"What does that mean?"

He turned around. "I will tell him that we cannot wed."

Lily drew away. "No. No! We don't want you not to marry him! It's just…"

"You believe I'm dying," he finished solemnly.

His face mellowed somewhat at the broken-hearted look on Lily's face. He took a step forward and surprised them all by embracing her.

"I will not blame you," he said gently while she remained frozen. "I will not lay blame for something that is in your nature."

"Dyre," she breathed, voice swollen.

He drew away but kept her at arm's reach. "If you cannot believe in me, I will prove myself. One day, I will be your son."

"You already are my son."

He shook his head. "Not now. Maybe some day in the future. I believe in you, and that is all that matters."