Chapter 7: Give me one more day, I'll be running all over town
Previously: Harry finally awakens from his deathly slumber with no idea where he is, what has happened or whether Ron has survived. Death shows him the outcome of the battle and all that he's missed out on, but it takes him further into his realm, which isn't the best thing that could have happened. His encounter with Destiny and Fate is something else entirely, and when Harry wakes up in an unstable panic mode: he knows what he has to do. He has a heart-to-heart with Ron, and is urged by his loved ones to start living - again. Maybe he should listen to them. Perhaps.
Notes: Well ... it took a while, but here's a big one to make it up to you! I hope you enjoy it! Lots of thanks to my beta as usual! This part is part two in the series and is a direct follow-up, so I advise reading the first part before starting this. Only the part with one-shots can be read without too much context (although it is better with them, they have been taken apart from the story for those who don't like the smutty things). Ps. You can now find me on Instagram as Eyeseemorewrites. I will give updates there, and drop some hints here and there or polls. Give me a follow if you're interested!
Harry was wandering through his own mansion, like he had never been there before. Dressed in more layers of clothing than even necessary for a wizard. It was aimless wandering without anything in mind really. There was no sense of direction, no direct destination. It was as if his senses didn't pick up on the fact that he truly lived there. Like his mind was somewhere else and although that was quite true for the moment, it didn't mean that he should feel like that.
Death was walking beside him, in the standard older Gentleman look. If people were able to see the entity, the only thing different from someone like Gerard would be its eyes. There was a black void instead. Harry often wondered if this form was more eerie than the other forms the entity preferred. He wasn't about to ask, to be honest.
'Is it clear to you, my Childe, that dying is part of this work?' It said in an imperious voice that made Harry shiver no matter how many times he'd heard it.
When we first met, you said it wasn't good for me to die too often," Harry reiterated without any emotion in his voice. He remembered those conversations best. Especially when he had tried to kill himself a few times in the very beginning.
'I did, didn't I? I didn't want you to try to kill yourself in every possible way like some of your predecessors. The whole process is very time-consuming for me, and if you were to abuse it, it would place an even greater burden on me. I wanted to make sure that you wouldn't do that. As I promised, if you were to die truly, it would be far worse than anything you could inflict on yourself. However, in your case, you will never have to wonder; I will always bring you back to my embrace.' Death always spoke with an eerie timber in his voice when this subject was broached again.
'When will it stop?' Harry didn't beg anymore.
'When you have reached your destiny.' A slow smile crept onto the entity's features.
Harry sighed softly, as he approached one of the large windows that overlooked almost all his lands. These weren't even enchanted, but just had the best view in the whole manor.
"I still don't understand why you chose me," Death's master whispered, as he brushed some lint off his sweater. "Me off all people." Nobody knew if he spoke to himself or Death at that point.
It was beautiful outside, with the snow covering the grounds, and the fairy lights still lit up from the wedding. All of the larger trees had red ribbons tied around them, and no one had bothered to take them down. Despite this, Harry felt colder than he had ever felt before, and not even all the warming spells in the world could help him at the moment. It did help to have Daryl around, but he couldn't ask that of the man, even if he was his official partner now, as Harry thought he was. Harry didn't know how to ask for more when the hunter was already taking care of everything he might need.
Harry knew the reason why he was so cold, for he was technically a walking corpse himself. He had died to become the Master of Death, so in reality he was living off Death's magic, which made him stronger. It really wasn't the best deal if you thought about it. To keep him younger and stronger than others., Every time he died, he had to do a bit of re-acclimatisation to being alive again because his body was then more in tune with Death's magic, than Harry's own. His family magicks rebelled in the beginning, but now they were acclimated to the whole process. There was truth in the saying that the dead were more at peace than the living. Harry knew this from experience firsthand himself. However, this wasn't true for the Walkers that roamed around the world right now. He liked the idea of calling them Walkers instead of Inferi.
Even so, he was still cold and resentful.
"I want revenge," said Harry out loud as he almost begged Death for permission. He wasn't allowed to just kill people; the death of humans and creatures had a purpose, and it was his job to make sure that everybody would reach that purpose. He wasn't to interfere with Fate's plans.
'Fate said you should, but Destiny says you must be wise. Don't go in with just your emotions, she said. I'll be by your side on the way; you still owe me a couple of souls, and I haven't got all of them yet.'
'I know. I will make good on my debt.'
'You always do, my child, that's why you're in my favour more than others. Take your time. There is no time limit, per usual...' Death lifted his imaginary hat and faded into the shadows as they both heard the heavier footsteps that belonged to Merle.
Death's deadline had no real deadline because of the 'You will always be alive' business, but that didn't mean Harry didn't have to go. Even if it meant killing more walkers, he was going to help. He didn't say anything to anyone, but that was the reason why he liked going out with Daryl so much. His hunter didn't question. Or maybe he did, but he didn't say it. He just followed him and watched his back.
Harry missed Daryl, and realised that he hadn't seen the man for at least two days, and even though he was bad at relationships, he knew that it wasn't normal. He probably needed to find him soon.
"Hiya Sunshine, I'm coming to get you for dinner. You need to get some food into you, ya know." Harry hadn't heard the other Dixon behind him, since he was still in his thoughts, but the other man always made him laugh.
"That is usually the right option, yes," said Harry with a smile as he turned his body towards the older Dixon. "I tend to not make the best decisions after a period like this."
"I saw that, yeah!" Merle smirked as he swaggered towards the other side of Harry. Not really in a hurry, probably trying to look like he hadn't just looked for Harry. The wizard liked that about the older Dixon; he was pretty suave in his ways. "This is quite the view huh!"
"It is. It's what made me decide to stay here, when all others wanted me back in England back in the day," mused Harry softly, but he knew that Merle heard him.
"Why was that?" No judgement there.
This was why it was comforting to talk to Merle. As much as he had his opinions lined up, and ready to go; the man did listen before spouting them. Most of the time.
"No idea, I guess people felt more safe with me around, which sounds as ridiculous to you as it does to me." Harry scampered.
"Yeah, Sunshine, people are really dependent on you. I sometimes feel like we all shouldn't." Merle followed an eagle with his eyes that skimmed through the woods with ease.
"I don't mind making sure that everybody is alright, especially right now." Harry shrugged as he took out his wand, and balanced it on the palm of his hand. "I think that part was ingrained in me from a very young age."
"So what's eating your brain right now, then?"
"Life." Harry laughed a bitter one, as he looked up gravely towards Merle. "My choices."
"If yer talking about me brother, y'all ain' got nothing to be worried about, I promise. I'll smack anyone who's bothered b' it." Merle smiled. "That man is smitten with you in a way that even I have't seen him before." Merle laughed. "Guess that means that your my brother-in-law now."
Harry's eyes lit up softly, as he turned completely towards Merle.
"Guess you're right about that." He laid a cool, tentative hand on Merle's shoulder. "Thanks."
Merle nodded and then marched back towards the stairwell which prompted Harry to follow him. If Harry was a leader, then Merle was born one.
The current council members were a mishmash of members from before they had met the group in the grove, and new people who had chosen to take place. Theo Nott was one of them, just like Merle had been shoved - metaphorically speaking – into a chair by Ezra as a liaison between both lands.
It was a bigger group than before, but Harry had bowed out as fast and soon as he could. He had explicitly told them that he wanted to take care of his personal business for a while, but he would support them wherever they needed him. Permanently, the council had now been formed by the current witches, wizards, and squibs around the table.
Luna had been replaced by Vicky, and Merle sat next to the fierce witch while drawing some stick figures on the piece of paper he had been given. Ron, even though he was still recuperating, had been cleared by Draco to join as well who sat on the blonde's left side. George and Neville were positioned next to that, as Theo sat across from them with Elenoir on his left.
"This presents a problem, a very big one." Draco continued his story as if nothing had disturbed him while they all heard Merle scratching on the paper with a pencil, sketching Merlin-knows-what. They had stopped asking after Merle had asked for a new page after the third time.
"Blaise has contacted MACUSA again," Theo said, with a disdain in his voice that normally suited Draco more than him, "they will not be pressing any charges, luckily. What Head Auror Milligan did, he did without their permission as we guessed, although they can't give us a reason as to why he did it. They are putting it towards a personal vendetta, but we believe this to be false." With those last words he looked towards Ron, but shook his head and continued; "naturally they wish to keep it quiet. So do we." Theo gave his latest mission report, as he crossed eyes with Draco in the end, to give him confirmation that he was done.
"That's acceptable," said Neville with a voice that tolerated no contradiction, as he went through the notes before him. He had been appointed their chairman, with Theo as the chosen vice-chairman.
"You guys find that acceptable?" Merle piqued up. It had been Vicky who noticed that the man always needed to be busy, and his attention was only more focused on the subject if he had something to do. She and Luna had muttered something about her husband, and she had been the one to give him the materials. "Don' want those bastards done and dusted?"
"Not the time nor place, Merle," answered Theo. Ron always respected how Theo never showed any disdain for the brothers no matter what. "They want to shove this somewhere where the sun doesn't shine, and we want to make sure that we don't get arrested as well. We weren't really keeping to the rules ourselves."
"All is fair in war," the redneck snarled, but he held his hands up in a form of retreat when Vicky nudged him. "Aight, aigh'. Ol' Merle will shut up." Draco smiled softly. He had a soft spot for "his brother-in-law" and his rusty ways of fixing things. Especially after the man had stood up for him towards Mack. Still a sore point, and somehow a decision in life that he hadn't thought through.
"John has informed me that Mack and him have enlightened the people that are currently living in Luna Park," Vicky added. "Gabriel was the hardest to convince, since he is very religious, but we were able to convince him that he barely will have anything to do with magic." The woman smiled softly. "Gabriel was more afraid that he needed to do Voodoo and Witchcraft now, than that he was afraid of us."
Marriet smiled and nodded along. "Poor man, I do believe that Juliana and Mila were the first ones to accept the situation. I believe that Luna at one point joined that explanation?"
"She did," Draco affirmed. "Myself as well. Mack had been hit by incoming spell fire during the battle, and he allowed them to watch me heal him. Apparently that made all the difference in life. Seeing that I wasn't doing any 'voodoo' as Merle or Gabriel call it."
"Can't convince me otherwise," the man piqued up, but his eyes stayed drawn to the paper before him, and grinned towards the drawing while no one really bothered to reply. It didn't seem to bother the man in any way.
"Mack apologised to Harry and Draco for his behaviour, to me and John as well. However, he has chosen to stay at Luna Park for the time being. He needs some space." Vicky added with a soft sigh. She knew her brother-in-law way too well.
"Heh," commented Merle with a ferocious smile as he let his eyes wander over towards Draco, but he decided not to comment on anything else. Draco smiled softly to himself, but maintained his chosen form of 'Slytherin King'-facial expression with ease.
"Next order of business now that the announcements are done?" Neville asked as if he'd been a politician for years, and off they went.
Present time Ron and Draco talk
Draco had taken the time to enjoy some me-time in his own rooms, although he felt a bit lonely. Yet, the urge to bask in his own magic had been more important with everything that happened, and he knew he was still recovering from healing Ron.
Between his 'shifts' at his new hospital where Ron had been situated before Draco had allowed him to be moved to his own quarters, and the almost military hospital they had made on Luna Park's side, he felt a bit stretched thin. As the only resident doctor/healer, he had seen everybody in his field hospital - as Merle had dubbed it - for monthly check-ups, he was brewing with Severus while Marriet was out of the running with her pregnancy, and helping the new settlers with any medical issue that he could help with. Then came the weekly to daily check-ups for the guys that went out daily like Merle, Ezra or Shane. Not to mention Harry, Luna or George right now. It was a lot.
Aside from having to take care of Ron around the clock, it was also hard to pretend to be a doctor without magic. There were so many things that had been solved by wizards while Muggles were still dying from the consequences of those diseases, and yet he couldn't treat most Muggles with wizarding medicine. It was time for Draco to brush up on what he had learnt about Muggle medicine during his training. Now he was glad that his training had included Muggle training, which was far better than anything he'd learned at Hogwarts.
Part of his job was to be able to explain magical things to Muggle-born children or their parents when they were in distress. Trying to explain it in words they could understand often helped with the fear. On the other hand, he kept up with the Muggle world and knew what procedures were used in case he ever had to operate on a Muggle. Some magic could undo Muggle practices, and the medical field couldn't ignore that - and fortunately didn't. Although most of it had been theoretical, Draco had decided to do some practical work as well. It was all part of his plan to show the world that the Malfoys were indeed different than they had been during or before the war.
Heir Malfoy, known to most as the guy who wouldn't lift a finger unless he had to, had taken up an apprenticeship with a Muggle family doctor. It gave him a good sense of direction and he was glad to have that knowledge now. His current practice still needed a nurse or another doctor, preferably a general healer if they could find one for the magical side, and a general surgeon would be best for anything involving the Muggle side.
Draco shouldn't be called for the small stuff if it wasn't necessary. A medi-witch or wizard wouldn't be a luxury either. Draco was a specialist in the Dark curses, and he operated on those extreme cases before the world went into a handbasket. A medi-witch to help out with the small stuff, who could do the daily work, would make sure that his magic wouldn't go haywire as it did every now and then because of the strain on him, that would be lovely.
Especially after he had taken care of Ron. His magic still twitched uncomfortably if he came in contact with certain magicks, and let Harry be one of those. The traces of that nasty piece of a spell would be perceptible in both his and Ron's magic for quite some time. Draco would never have gone through this ritualistic procedure for someone else, someone he didn't consider to be part of his family. Even though he made a vow once, this one had bordered on dangerous even for him with all his experience.
A knock on his door came just as he was getting up to change the classical record he had been listening to. As it was a Muggle one, it was better to do it by hand. A soft, melodious piano piece had been his choice for the evening. Draco looked at himself in the mirror as he passed it on his way to the door of his room that was connected to his chambers.
Draco mused that he still looked good, but life had taken its toll lately. He looked just as gaunt as he had in his sixth and seventh years, and his heavy choice of colours didn't do him any favours. The doctor was spreading himself too thin, as he knew, and as things stood he still had to visit Astoria and Scorpius tomorrow. He hadn't seen his son in two days, and that was a long time unless there were special occasions. He had promised his mother they would attend the Malfoy Ball as a family, pretending they were still the perfect couple. Worrying about Astoria's health was actually all Draco could do, and he wasn't interested in going to the Ball at all. He hated pretending that they were well, because they weren't. Not their relationship, naturally, but their health.
Though Astoria barely spoke of her condition, Draco could read her like it was nothing: she would not see Scorpius age. None whatsoever. Draco grieved for her already as he could see her magic deteriorate. She was a good friend, a good wife, a beautiful woman with a compassion he hadn't seen often. She was a wonderful woman to be married to and he was lucky to have her as a companion in his life. Scorpius wasn't the only one who was going to miss her when she was gone. Draco had refrained from asking Harry, who would have the exact time, but sometimes he had the thought that he would like to know. Make the most of the time she has left. When he had asked Harry if he would want to know such information, the man he considered closest to him had just shook his head. They hadn't elaborated.
The young doctor had tried everything in his might, yet nothing worked. No book in the libraries of the Houses of Peverell, Black, Potter, Malfoy, Nott or Zabini had an answer. Out of morbid curiosity Neville had allowed Draco access to the Longbottom library, and Severus had looked through some obscure rolls of parchment with Bill. They had searched; all of them. For a whole year, until they had depleted every angle. It was either too old or never written down. The curse was too heavy on Astoria's life energy, and it didn't help that she had gotten some of the Malfoy curses as well, probably, by marrying him. He did feel some guilt over that, but it had been a wedding contract many years ago that had to be fulfilled. There had been no other option.
When the pale doctor opened the door, he hadn't expected Ron to be standing there. The man had been in his infirmary for days, and after the initial curse had been remedied, Ron had been allowed to rest in his own bed. A week ago he'd been allowed to get out of bed, and now only two days before Christmas, he was starting to pick up his duties again. Draco knew from experience that he wouldn't be able to stop him if he could. If Ron set his sights on something; it had to happen.
"Am I disturbing you?" Asked the broad redhead. He wasn't the longest by chance in his family, but he was the broadest, even winning from the dragon handler brother after he grew up. Ron smiled a soft smile, and shrugged as if he didn't know what had prompted him to visit his brother-in-arms. This wasn't the first time Ron had popped by without a reason.
Draco didn't mind at all.
"No, do you want to come in?" offered the blonde with a flourish.
"Yes, please!" The smile on Ron's face grew, and Draco opened the door completely.
When they settled in with a tea tray with some evening snacks that were brought by one of the elves that had been assigned to them by Kreacher, Ron sighed softly, and waved towards a candle that stood on the table.
"I never knew not having your magic at your disposal was to be feared as much as it frightened me."
"You were really close to the brink of death, Ron," said Draco softly. "In my whole career, I don't think it cost me this much magic to get you back with us again."
"Death spoke to me, you know." Ron broached every subject as he always did, without any poise; blazing like the Gryffindor he had been. None of the subtlety even Harry had learned.
"Yep, he visited us all it seemed. Although, I guess that Luna is probably the only one who enjoys conversing with him." Draco shook his head.
"Harry must be used to it, I guess," Ron laughed a bit wry, "Since I wasn't. Scared the living bloody hell out of me." The former Auror shrugged, "I've seen some shit, but this! How does that man do it on a daily basis?"
"What did he say?" Draco wondered aloud, hoping he was not losing his other brother. To live with Harry was to live with beings like Death all around them, and so the promise of Death was much closer to them, he felt.
"It's not a 'he', according to Harry." Ron explained, and Draco nodded that he understood as Ron carried on, "It calls itself a Being of Time, whatever that might be," Ron grinned now, "but yeah, it had some messages for me. A lot of it was the usual stuff that Luna would tell me too, but some other things were a little bit harsh."
"Harry once told me, 'To rule over Death, you have to accept life and the harsh reality of losing people.'" Ron said. "But then I wondered, is it necessary for him to send messages directly to me?"
"You were practically in its realm with one foot," Draco mused with a sombre timbre in his usual proud voice, "there were times that I had difficulties reaching out to your core, and practically could only feel your essence being held on this realm by Harry's magic. Touching that magic is not something I like to do often because it's either tempting for wizards with a darker core or just bloody madness, and upright just dangerous."
Draco sighed, but Ron stayed silent as he often did when Draco started ranting. "My father, Severus, and George were the ones who were tasked with grounding me. Without them, I wouldn't have been able to do it." Ron nodded, and Draco guessed that George must have shared some with his brother.
"George is one of the only ones who understands that in your family. The twins were very grey, and George became slightly darker over time. Theo for example is as dark as myself, my mother or Severus. My father is rather light grey, and Harry used to be grey itself, but Death has mingled with him. It's absurd how much magic can tell you about a person."
"Blaise?" Ron mused.
"More grey than dark, very grey. It's a highly sought after trait in the Zabini's. Their magic is so neutral, it's ridiculous." Draco said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
"Why bring that up now?" Ron cocked his head to the side, and stood up to change the music that Draco had forgotten. Ron chose a wizarding recording of an opera, with a choir that Draco couldn't remember the name of, a weird choice for Ron but one of Draco's youth favourites. He hadn't listened to this version in years. Typical of Ronald to know that.
"Magic wants what it wants." He explained, as Ron fiddled with the record player.
"Mother magic guides us, and healers are led by her hand personally. It doesn't matter if you're light or dark, hell even the 'Dark side' has enough light witches and wizards, just like it's on the opposite side. One of the first lessons my father ever taught me was that there is no such thing as a dark wizard. There is only magic, and what you do with that magic defines if you are 'good' or 'evil'. Your magic just helps you along the way."
Ron nodded. "Yeah, we got those theories at Auror training as well. I'm somewhat familiar with them."
"So, touching Death's magic isn't something I do willingly, even if my magic says that it needs it. Being around Harry shrouds us more in the dark than we would expect. Some can handle that, some can't." Draco was in lecture mode, but Ron just nodded.
"It's very visible to the people that stay here in the Manor or over at the castle. It's also the reason that some people can't stay here in the Manor, and need to move over to the Castle. Harry's magic forces people to make a stand or give the truth. It's one of the reasons why you either hate or love him. Your own connection with Death and your magic are interlinked there."
"Huh," Ron commented, "Sounds logical, but I would believe everything that you explain to me." The redhead winked, but settled back into his chair with a steaming mug of tea in his hands.
"What shook me at first was that in any other case, your magic should have been 'corrupted' by Harry's, as you are his vassal. You should have more traits of his, and his reign should be more visible. It isn't. That on its own isn't weird; I've seen that happening in more cases. Yet, I can't classify your magic as light or dark anymore. During our years at Hogwarts, it was quite light, but it shifted during the years. It's more light blue than anything else. It's weird. I can't… I don't know how to explain it."
A broad arm pulled Draco close towards a shoulder that he had cried on more than once at Hogwarts, and later on in his life whenever he was tired, or just had a bad day at Healer training when they lived together at Grimmauld's place. It was a place of comfort, a friendly face that would always defend him. Someone who listened even if he didn't understand, or whenever Ron was tired himself from training. It wasn't an unusual situation for the both of them, but it also only happened when they were together alone.
"Do you think that something went wrong during the ritual?"
"No, actually quite the opposite." Draco shrugged elegantly and took a large sip of his tea. "I tried to ask for help, but as you know, I'm one of the few with my gift. Father tried to teach me, and I should have been taught by another Black, since that is the most common in this family. Mother stopped that. During the reign of the Dark Lords, she didn't want anyone to know that I had the gift, and so I never got to nurture it under a Master. The only healers who know, aren't around anymore."
"Mage sight is very rare, indeed. Yet, we always knew you had it."
Naturally, Ron would know of all people, Draco mused as he kept way too still to make sure that Ron wouldn't take that arm away. A bit selfish, but who wouldn't?
"I still have no explanation for it. I wished I had, but you seem to be doing fine, so I'll take every win I can get."
There was silence for a while; "you don't have to have all the answers, I trust you no matter what," Ron said quietly as he planted a gentle kiss on Draco's crown. It wasn't a strange gesture, but only Ron did that for him. Draco couldn't rationalise, even in his mid-thirties, that this feeling was exactly what he wanted in a relationship and the only person who ever gave it to him was Ron. A man he considered a brother in all but blood. A man who would never look at him the same way. A man who was straight as an arrow.
Harry knew he had been running around his premises for a few days, and he might be looking like an idiot. He hadn't slept in days - he didn't need to – but he also had forgone his need to eat, and that was something that he eventually did need. His human body needed sustenance.
He hadn't spoken to anyone but the Deities and Merle, and his voice was rough when he petted a Thestral, and stroked its wings while Harry muttered some nonsense, and sweet nothings towards the animal that Death favoured. He had never understood the animals more than in moments like these.
Harry looked towards the starlit sky which was even more visible because there were no bleeding effects anymore. Luna Park was situated in a rural area, where there were mostly farms, and the closest neighbour would live at least two kilometres from the other. Merle had tried explaining miles to him, but Harry had lost him there.
His new missions weren't set in stone, he knew that, but they were too specific to ignore them. He understood why some things were asked of him, but on the other hand, he didn't know how he would combine these things with his current life. He would need at least three wizarding lifetimes to get that to work.
He sighed, and went on to brush a small foal that had been born only a month ago. She was precious, and her mother was still recovering from giving birth. Luna had been present for it, but she didn't deny Harry any access to her precious daughter.
"'llo there buddy," Harry heard the known lilt behind him, that belonged to Daryl, as another young Thestral made its way over to the hunter. Harry wasn't sure if Daryl saw them, or just knew where the animals were but he navigated fairly easy through the herd. "Ho've y'all been, 'eh?" Daryl hadn't seen Harry just yet, perhaps because Harry had been shrouding himself in his magic that was just as good as wearing his cloak. He felt a little bit guilty about that, but he needed it.
"'T seems like y'all are being taken care of good," said his hunter with a soft smile on his face. His eyes seemed relaxed, but he was obviously tracking something – or someone. "So, that makes me think that yer boss has been by, huh!"
Harry would never admit it to Daryl's face, but the thicker Daryl's accent got, the more attracted he was to the man. The less people around the hunter, the heavier the accent, and Harry had a secret pleasure in listening to it.
'You've not been back for three days, my young Master, even after you had dinner with the brother,' Death reminded him, and Harry sighed. This wasn't fair to the rest at all, let alone Daryl. 'Christmas is around the corner.' The entity teased him, and then left without so much as a warning.
"Sorry," said Harry hoarsely as a way of greeting Daryl, who only looked up towards the area where the sound had come from. Harry cleared his throat again and realised that he would have to drop his cloak before Daryl would be able to actually see him. "Sorry, Daryl."
"Hello my darling, ho've ya been?" These were the moments that made him glad to have a partner like Daryl. The man didn't ask unnecessary questions, he didn't spend hours asking how, who, what and why; he just accepted what was going on. Whether he got an answer was always a question, but sometimes the hunter seemed not to care.
Harry had fallen madly in love with the way Daryl always called him 'sweetheart' or 'darling'. Oh, he wasn't fooling anyone; he had fallen deeply in love with the man. Madly.
"You've missed some decent food lately. Merle brought in som' deer!" Daryl's voice was close now, and although he was on high alert, his hunter had the ability to sneak up on him, and those arms clad in only a leather jacket even while it was snowing outside, engulfed him. "Comin' in for the night? That littl' creature-thingy is bothering me about it."
Harry didn't even have to wonder if Kreacher was actually annoying Daryl. He knew the Elf must be.
"Yeah, Merle pulled me in for dinner a few days back, but that was late at night," Harry took another deep breath. Smoked meat, forest, moss, and that odd smell that Thestrals had all mixed in with each other, and he felt his shoulders fall for the first time in a few weeks. "I'd like to taste some of that stew then."
"Thought so, Kraecher.."
"Kreacher, yes."
"Yeah, little fellow has some stored away for ya. Wanna come warm up by the fire? Y're even colder than normal."
Another thing; Daryl was aware of everything around Harry. Nothing escaped him. He was even worse than Merle when it came to that and yet he said those things as if nothing was out of the ordinary.
"I would love to cuddle by the fire, yes."
"Hmm, good. Beam us there?" Daryl had come to calling apparating "beaming up" after some Muggle show that Harry vaguely recognized from his time at the Dursley's. Dudley had been a fan in secret, and Harry had followed some of it from the kitchen while he cooked their evening meals.
"Yes." If there ever came a day that he would say 'no' to Daryl, Death could off him in that awful way the Entity promised him, himself.
Christmas came sooner than everybody had expected, since they had been more than busy with the whole aftermath of the fiasco that the night of Severus' and Marriet's wedding had brought them. Not that Marriet complained, since she had been safe and sound and her guests had been away when it happened. People assumed that Severus took it as if it was his black morning coffee like he had done all those years spying. Maybe with a pinch of salt – at least that had been the rumours at Hogwarts – which still amused the man to no end.
In reality he drank a strong English breakfast with a dash of sugar just to get him started for the day. Coffee was a beverage he only drank after eleven, or with his lunch to get him through the day.
So when Teddy bounced through the Floo at twelve o'clock in the afternoon on the day of Christmas Eve, Harry was there to catch his godson and he'd been thrown into a cuddle puddle as Ron dubbed it. The boy's hair flickered between his regular turquoise – he'd always loved the idea that his mother had chosen pink as her daily colouring, so he'd gone with the turquoise which was a good way to train his Metamorph powers – and Harry's pitch black, and then a Weasley red before he suddenly settled on the Malfoy blonde.
This earned him a guffaw from Draco, and a hearty laugh from the present Weasleys while Harry just ruffled his hair as Sirius had always done to him. He'd missed his godson, but he also knew that he needed to fill the boy in on the latest goings. It had caused an irate Harry in his youth. Since nobody ever told him anything when he was younger; he had vowed to himself to never let Teddy be in a situation like that. Harry wouldn't sugarcoat things, nor tell him the whole truth, but he did promise and delivered on that that he would explain things to him.
If that was good enough for Teddy, it was good enough for Harry.
The young boy was babbling on at the table, while trying to entertain Sophia with all his stories about Hogwarts, all the while informing his guardians and closest family of his school year so far. Most of the people present were so enamoured with the boy, that they all listened to his stories with soft smiles on their faces.
"… so McGonagall said that she's not really mad, but she wasn't happy either!" Teddy finished his story, and Harry snickered softly from his place at the head of the table. Daryl was still situated completely across from the table, being the only one facing him directly.
"Poor Minerva," Severus almost smiled, as he patted his mouth with a napkin with a grace Harry still didn't have, "I am so glad that I have left those offices, you wouldn't know it. I think Theodore might have been my death." Marriet smiled softly to herself, and Draco rolled his eyes as he sat on Harry's left side.
"We would not be here without you, Severus," Ron grinned, and Teddy had gone into the next story.
"Slick," the blonde whispered as Blaise giggled at something Teddy said, who had turned himself into a variant of a younger Zabini that had George laughing out loud.
"Blaise," Theo tried to stop his almost-husband, "don't put any more crazy ideas into his head!"
"As an honorary uncle, it's my duty to do so!" His dark chocolate eyes shone with mirth, and he accepted the wordless stinging hex that – probably – Draco threw his way gracefully.
During the tumultuous commotion at the table, Harry looked towards Daryl, who was watching Harry, and looked at him as if he was the best thing in the whole world. The silent, cold storm that was still raging within Harry seemed to calm down just enough for Harry to look Daryl in the eyes, and the silent warmth that greeted him there was enough to warm his heart.
The feeling of wanting to be here grew stronger with the minute, and Harry realised that he'd let some people down. People who believed in him, trusted him, loved him, cared for him, and looked at him to keep him safe. The wizard took a deep breath, and did the one thing he hated the most; he let go.
He let his magic wash over the participants at the table, having the difficult Black magic battle with the Peverell magic for dominance, to show the people he loved the most that they were safe. The Potter magic curled around those who were lighter in nature like Sophia, Marriet, Neville, and Ron as his vassal, while the Peverell magic ran along those who were more grey. Acceptance is what that conveyed. The Black magic coursed through him, and as always it shot towards Draco and then Ron, while he felt the connection to Kreacher, and then Teddy.
Harry knew what his magic could do, and he felt it already happened within some people or couples, but the smothered look that Daryl gave him was enough for him to give a small cocky smile. He absolutely knew what it did to his partner, and secretly he enjoyed that. Just a smidge more than he was allowed, probably.
Daryl winked at him with a small smirk, while Sophia looked around in wonder, and George grinned as he felt that piece of Death's magic attach to him. Fred's essence. Always together – happy to have that back since the wedding.
They all felt a bit lighter, a little bit more like they belonged at that table at that moment in time. Like the world was alright, and not broken.
Somewhere out there
Their road to freedom had ended in a prison. It wasn't even funny when she thought about it, and while most people still looked up to Rick, Maggie could only watch in horror as Rick amputated her father's leg after he'd been bitten in that stupid way. She blamed him for it. It was Rick's fault; he had promised to protect her, but she guessed it wasn't that simple. She would have to make her own plans when push came to shove.
She felt remorse for the fact that she hadn't chosen to go with Hadrian and the Dixons, since they had offered them a roof over their head in exchange for using their hands to work on the land. Something she and her father had done for years, and something she would not have minded at all. They would have made themselves valuable, and the last months of heavy days would have been a whole lot cosier with a fire before a tent or in a small cottage. Her father might not know it, but she had listened in on some of the private conversations Hadrian had with her stubborn father.
Her father didn't deserve this faith just because Rick's nagging wife needed a doctor. His bleeding heart would get them all killed one day. Especially Glenn. She did admit to liking him. The blonde guy that had been with Hadrian, had said himself that he was a doctor. She didn't understand her father's reasons to trust Rick over Hadrian, but she'd do anything for her sister and father, and would follow the latter anywhere. She hadn't had the guts to cut loose from them, but maybe it was time to convince them again. They would have to do a whole lot better than this.
The prison itself wasn't bad, but it wasn't the nice place Rick had promised to find for the group. They barely had any food, and they were now sleeping in a bunker full of walkers, which wasn't the brightest of ideas.
Maggie stood guard on one of the watchtowers and watched the sun sink over the horizon. Not knowing if Hershel's choice would have been hers, but there was nothing she could do about it at the moment. She could only wait and suffer the consequences of her choices. Foolish ones, at that.
