Hello dear readers,

I am sorry I haven't kept this up, and I would like to say a big thank you to the people who have left comments and messages, and I promise I'll try a bit harder. I'm also aware that long gaps cause a few issues, but from here on out stick with me, and you'll never go hungry again! The best is yet to come!

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Quick disclaimer, I don't own any of these characters, but the story and what we see unfold is mine, inspired by the characters I have loved for a long time. Thank you Charlaine Harris and JK Rowling for giving the fanfiction community such a rich palette to paint with!

TTFN x

Chapter 9 - Go With The Flow

It's so safe to play along

Little soldiers in a row

Falling in and out of love

With something sweet to throw away.

But I want something good to die for

To make it beautiful to live.

Queens of the Stone Age - Go With The Flow

That evening, Minerva gathered all of her returning chicks for a private drink in the Headmistress' office, smiling broadly at them as the troop glided through the entrance. Draco and Ron entered, hands tightly clasped together, eyes brimming with admiration and love for one another. The sight made Minerva chuckle, when remembering the bitter childhood rivalry between not only the children but their families, the prejudice and hate that had melted away. Draco appeared to be carrying a sadness, an anxiety, that was playing with his magical aura, and the castle was feeding this message to Minerva in it's own special way. Following the couple came a grinning Sirius and scowling Severus, and once again Minerva could not keep from marvelling at the miraculous return. When she had discovered the true extent of the abuse Severus had suffered at the hand of her cubs, she was mortified that she had never been more proactive, and had ensured that Sirius was truly repentant of his own malicious treatment, her abatement still ringing in his ears at the three and a half hour ear bashing she had administered, speaking of heroism in the face of abject terror, or honour, pride and above all Severus's unwavering loyalty that had kept Sirius's own godson alive in ways he could never have accomplished. This new outlook on Severus's character had left in its wake a clearer path for Sirius to follow, one of redemption and repentance, but Severus had never been one to easily and quickly forgive. Minerva hoped he would warm eventually, but understood the importance of time in this matter.

Minerva awaited the smoky Patronus of the Minister of Magic, whom had also been invited to her wee gathering, and when it arrived with a small otter and large stag in toe, she was delighted that her ex-students would also be coming along for a quick beverage and chat. Hermione seemed to have never aged, her skin looked radiant against the candle light and the flickering embers of the green fire, and Harry had grown too much, in Minerva's opinion. He looked battle-scarred and war worn, but still seemed to exude a peaceful and calm aura, his decision to enter the Aurory appeared to fit him perfectly, as he had pinned to his chest the official crest of Head Auror. Minerva began to suspect ulterior motives when she witnessed the dark circles around the eyes of all three, stepping politely through the floo and dusting themselves off before offering hugs and kisses to those gathered. Minerva and the castle knew that more was to come, and had a feeling it had something to do with the mystical happenings yet to be explained at the Order of Merlin ceremony only a month beforehand. Something was amiss, and Minerva was fully intent of discovering what it meant. She waited patiently in her chair, leaving the large, ostentatious chair of the Headmistress deliberately empty. When all were seated, with only said chair and a floating Severus remaining, she pointed a steely glance to him, signalling to the chair and urging him to take the proffered seat. Gingerly, he slowly sat in his old chair, and instantly felt the surge of pleasure from the castle. Scowling even deeper, he adjusted himself, shaking off the feeling blooming in his chest of belonging, and even threw a filthy look at a smug looking Minerva, who had observed the scene was definitely had the 'cat that got the cream' smirk he detested. The woman had always been able to convey, in the subtlest of ways, that she 'told you so'.

"Well, now we are all gathered, I must ask what has caused you all to look so on edge? I hope it isn't your presence at the castle?" Minerva scanned the party, and the castle held its breath. There had been so much work done since the war, so many changes, that there was clearly the hope that the old scars of the past would heal. As Kingsley stood, preparing himself for the speech he had prepared in advance of this gathering, all eyes fell to him and he braced himself.

"Minerva, as you may have already heard, there had been a disturbing turn of events, and we are currently working day and night to ensure we can get to the bottom of what is happening. So far, we have one key witness, who isn't saying a word, but we hope with more...persuading...she may divulge further the plans that are being put into motion as we speak. We don't know the motivation or whom is behind this, but we discovered at the Order of Merlin ceremony that the Fae are involved in some form of coup…"

Minerva gasped at this, and the castle hummed in concern. The Fae folk had been the tales of her youth, long fallen into the annals of history and the stuff of legends and myths. Minerva's old soul felt the pull from her childhood, the memories of her first discovering her magic, her first love, and she shuddered. Perhaps she had a story to tell of her own on this night.

"Hermione has been researching the Fae, and has discovered that, during the course of the Second Wizarding War, many Fae in America were also at war amongst themselves. The source seems to be a breach in ancient Fae law, and revolves around a particular individual, believed to be part Fae, who caused quite a stir, to say the least. I leave Hermione to discuss her findings in more depth at another time, however tonight I agreed to attend this party, as I feel it will affect all magical creatures should the war in the Americas spread to Europe which, at least I believe from the work myself and Harry have been privy to, is imminent."

Kingsley reseated himself and let out a breath he did not know he had been holding. A Fae War would be devastating, he knew this, and would ravage an already recovering country, let alone the rest of the continent still repairing itself after the pandemic that was Lord Voldemort and his followers. Many had now been caught, or had fled to the continent and been caught there when trying to rally once again together, so that threat, at least, appeared to have died away. Some members of the Pureblood society that remained were pledged loyalty, or at least fealty, to the Ministry, and he in particular was, before any interruptions, enjoying a peaceful and exciting relationship with Narcissa Malfoy, now being recognised as Narcissa Black. His thoughts of his paramore soured as his anxiety of her whereabouts crept into his conscious, and he was thankful then that Draco, sensing something strange in the change of the Minister, shot him a sympathetic look filled with camaraderie, determination and, in the depths of his silver eyes, revenge.

It was during this pause Draco spoke, recounting the happenings at the Ministry and his mother's not being able to be found once the young Fae had been apprehended and sent to the Ministry cells for 'intense interrogations'...a lot of which, Draco added, hopefully involved iron. Minerva looked at Draco then for the first time and saw the man he had become, and felt a sense of pride that, although he was still very much Lucius's son and had the spite and malice synonymous with a Malfoy, he had adopted a lot of Weasley's ability to be diplomatic and a tactician. He recounted his own search for his mother, the hours of contacting Europe, America, and the remaining estates in England, to no avail. Molly was constantly on look out for any correspondence from her dear friend, and had worried herself into a frenzy.

Hermione, who had been sat by the roaring fire, poised and unmoving as a statue, seemed to absorb the warmth and be completely oblivious to the storytelling taking place. As she watched the large flames dance and engulf the smaller crackles. She allowed her mind to glide slowly back in her history, and became entranced as the memories of carnal trysts before a roaring flame such as this had been all she had craved, now all she longed for. She felt the cool breeze against her skin and closed her eyes, as the interplay of fire and ice washed over her, reminding her of strong arms and long, flowing golden hair. She sighed inaudibly, and turned as if on queue to enter the conversation once Draco had shared the information he had. With a glance to Harry for fraternal support, she began to discuss her own research. She described the Fae War, the return of many to the land of the Fae, the person of interest with whom she had sent a missive requesting her express assistance in the growing Fae tension in Europe, and the correspondence she had received updating her on when she would finally get to meet the woman who had been the centrefold of her research. Hermione left out conveniently where she had received a bulk of her information, how she had attained this from 'a reliable source' was all she was willing to divulge, and also she decided to remove the information regarding who she had come to trust as 'reliable'. That would be too much information for a night already heavily swamped in new drama. She couldn't deal with additionally supplying the room at large with the knowledge of her being imprinted upon by a vampire. And she most certainly was not going to admit to the audience that were gathered that she had accepted this imprinting. No. She would leave that for another day...perhaps never. She was no longer the trusting young girl she had once been within these walls, and her perception on privacy had become sacred to her once she had been dubbed a 'celebrity'. She would tell Minerva in her own time. For now, her goal was to prepare those present for the arrival of Sookie Stackhouse, and hopefully come up with a solid plan, for a war was coming, and the horizon was looking bleak if this Sookie could not assist them, as everyone was growing to secretly hope for.

_oOo_

Lafayette heard a loud banging coming from the direction of the trailer door and cussed loudly and unashamedly. Whatever asshole was disturbing him when he was trying to cope with whatever fresh hell was taking place in his life, as well as work out what clothes he needed to take on this new mission, was going to receive more than just the sharp edge of his tongue. He picked up his shotgun and held it loosely as he opened the door to his visitor, instantly rolling his eyes and putting the gun back down upon seeing the large, imposing figure gracing his doorstep.

"You better come in before someone sees you, don't want to be starting tales round these parts of how you's coming to visit little old me, do we?"

He moved aside to allow the man in his doorway entrance, and made sure no one was around to be making up new gossip before closing and bolting his trailer door. Maybe his day was going to brighten up, if only for an hour or two, and he could forget all the hassle he was currently working on. He silently nodded towards the kettle, received a firm head shake, and then motioned to the bottle of vodka from last night still on the kitchen table. The man nodded, but didn't say a word until Lafayette had poured two large shots and placed one in front of him, which disappeared and was refilled in an instant.

"I heard through the grapevine you were goin' on a trip, and you weren't even gonna say goodbye?" The man's deep rumbling voice seemed to ricochet around the trailer, and the hint of sadness beneath the jovial facade was certainly not lost on Lafayette. He didn't want to hurt this guy, in fact he didn't even know the guy would care if he came or went. He offered the man a warm smile and put his hand on the rippling muscular arm, noting how much hotter it was compared to the usual warmth that tended to emanate from him. He felt the hairs on the arm stand to his touch, something that had become a recent development in their...meetings...that Lafayette preferred to ignore. He knew how hard this man's life was, even though to some it sounded idyllic. He was master of his own fate and had a beautiful partner, but he was not a happy man. He didn't want to have the power, and Lafayette understood completely. Doing something he felt would be a massive mistake, Lafayette deliberately took Alcide by the hand and led him over to the more secluded area reserved for Lafayette's bed, pulling him in for a heated kiss as he allowed Alcide to take control of him, like he knew he liked it best. In truth, Lafayette loved the feeling of being lost, and a part of something else other than his own life.

Being with Alcide in this way had been a revelation to Lafayette. One night and one or two...or twenty...drinks later and they had tumbled into bed. The wolf had ensnared his prey and Lafayette was loathe to deny he wasn't hotter than a July day, and like hell was Lafayette going to be so cruel as to turn someone away who was struggling, just like he was, to move forward and start anew. Too much had happened. Too many lives changed, or lost, and too much had fallen among everyone who had lived in or worked in Bon Temps. They felt the connection, the wounds they both held deep within themselves were being licked clean, and neither wanted to truly acknowledge the connection. Lafayette knew from the way Alcide was breathing, his possessive strength pining him squarely to the mattress as his wicked tongue and teeth made busy work of the exposed skin of his neck, nipping with sharpened teeth. Lafayette moaned deep in his throat as he felt the cold trickle of blood run from the new bite, and he tilted his hips to evidence his growing appreciation of Alcide's dominant ministrations. Lafayette dug his nails sharply into Alcide's back, ripping at the shirt that hung between them and throwing the ravaged material into the ether, his head already swimming with the sensations. He forgot himself, he forgot where he was, he forgot all that had been. Lost in the sensation, he closed his eyes and moaned harder as Alcide slowly descended, ripping Lafayette's vest and reaching the belt buckle with a wolfish grin.

It felt like an eternity passed in a few seconds when Lafayette felt himself finally exposed to the elements. He was leaking profusely, with Alcide's eager mouth ready to lap up every glistening drop. Without caring who was in control anymore, just acting upon the overwhelming urge for skin on skin, Lafayette moved with the speed of a cat and flipped Alcide so he was sitting on his chest, his cock mere inches from that hot and hungry mouth. Lafayette moved down in one fluid movement, and spread Alcide's legs wider once he had removed the offending articles of clothing impeding his favourite plaything. It was his turn to smile wolfishly up at the sighing, sweating and stunning Alcide, lowering his mouth to slowly take the large, hard and glorious member deep into his throat, flexing to allow for maximum loved the feel of Alcide's cock, for some reason it released the feral nature in Lafayette and he felt, for however brief their time together would be, the closest to alive as he had in a very long time. Lafayette was shocked as he realised he would miss this. He would always have a longing to return to was in his moment of faltering that Alcide pulled slightly back to give him some space, thank god he hadn't noticed anything. Lafayette returned to his monumental task with gusto, twirling his tongue and flexing his cheeks until Alcide's panting increased, deep growls bursting from his lips as he threw his head back in heated ecstasy. Lafayette took his cue and increased his speed as Alcide began to pound the back of his throat with need. As he came, Alcide looked straight into Lafayette's eyes and growled, his eyes flashing a strong and vibrant golden.

Through his panting, Lafayette heard the direct words leave Alcide with an air of no argument, the Alpha was speaking.

"I'm coming with you."

The words were final and Lafayette's heart swelled in his chest, but quickly he shook his head and pushed the feelings aside. He could not drag Alcide into his drama, and he refused to let Alcide muscle his way into them either.

"Baby you got a life to lead here, a pack to run, you can't and I won't let you come with."

Alcide sat up and looked over Lafayette, was looking away from him, and had slid to the edge of the mattress so he could put his face in his hands. Alcide moved to sit beside him, rubbing his shoulder.

"I'm not letting you go through all this alone, none of us deserve to be alone anymore. Look at me!"

Lafayette's eyes snapped to Alcide's face and he saw the despair, the loss, and even the fear mirrored in every inch of his face. Lafayette wanted to concede and let Alcide take the reins, but he knew in his heart he just couldn't deal with all this with the added complication of this relationship. It broke him to admit it, but he needed to do this alone. He jerked away from Alcide's touch as if it burned his skin, and hardened his shoulders. Standing and pulling a sarong around his waist, he did the hardest thing he had ever had to do since losing Jesus to the afterlife.

"Alcide. I said no. Don't be coming up in my house thinking you can just Alpha your way round my life. Not today. Now I'm gonna give you 5 minutes to pick up your shit and leave. After that I'm gonna get the shotgun and throw yo'ass out. Now GET!"

Alcide made no move to go, however he too was bristling with anger. He grabbed his effects and stalked, still nude, towards the door of the trailer, dragging Lafayette's blazing gaze follow him. He turned to him then, and snarled,

"You've always been a heartless bitch, you know that?"

"And yet here yo' dumb ass is, and still in my muthafucking trailer!"

Lafayette sprang to his feet and crossed to the door quickly, grabbing the idle gun and pointing it.

"I said GET OUT MY DAMN YARD!"

For a moment their eyes locked once again, and both saw each other's pain, but it was not enough. Alcide opened the door and slammed it in his wake, the shriek of his tyres signalling his retreat.

It was later that night, when the sounds of the wild howled and clicked outside, and Lafayette had rolled a joint, that he let himself open up to the feelings. There, in that moment, Lafayette allowed himself to shed a few angry, silent, and relieved tears.