Merle Dixon would never stop wondering over the strange creature that was Harry Potter-Black, or as Merle simply liked to call him "Pretty," though he was willing to concede that his brother's nickname of "Magic Man" was just as appropriate.

Never before in his life had Merle met someone so capable of cold-blooded killing – and yes, he and Daryl by now had both gotten the story of the prison to back up Pretty's execution of Randall – who went so far out of his way to save people.

Pretty actually gave a damn.

And not just about his own skin or his own people either.

No, Pretty thought about the world, about how it was going to survive this plague, not just his life or the lives belonging to his kin.

It was a trait both Dixon brothers had seen precious little of, even before the world went to hell.

And whether either of them were willing to admit it or not, let alone willing to talk about it either with each other or Harry, it made them love him just that little bit more.

Knowing that he cared and had a heart not just big enough for a pair of mangy backwoods rednecks, but for every last person who lived on the Black Lands, and every person outside of them that Harry found worthy of hauling back to his home and let into his world.

This and other thoughts were swirling around in Merle's mind as he watched Pretty greet someone called Oscar and his family with laughs and smiles, welcoming them into the fold like long-lost kin who'd finally come home to stay.

The group had been getting settled in when Harry and the brothers had returned from another run of Atlanta after Harry had finished laying out his plan to move the Vatos elders and whoever was willing to come with them onto his lands. He'd been busy – often with help from one or both of his dads – getting the bus ready for days, making sure everything was spelled and enchanted just right. From what Merle and Daryl could gather, the Martinez family had shown up at the gates – having been told how to find by none other than Harry after he'd freed and provisioned the one called Oscar after clearing the prison – not long after the trio had taken off on their run and to talk to Guillermo at the Vatos base.

It was a big group – and all family – nine in total by Merle's count.

At the head of the group and the one to slap backs with Harry after the three of them wandered into a repeat of the "welcome" meal the Dixon's group had enjoyed, was Oscar. He'd brought with him his mother, wife, brother, brother's wife, and four children between the two couples – three boys and a girl – ranging from twelve to seventeen. Which would probably go over well with the two teenagers from the Greene farm and some of the other kids, having more kids in ages to help fill out the gaps a little bit.

Not that Merle cared all that much.

Still.

It was certainly something to watch as Harry got that beaming look on his face that warred with the calculating tinge to his eyes.

Always running the numbers, that was Merle's Pretty.

Always thinking of not just what was needed that day like a lot of the people on the estate, especially the ones that had come along with the Dixons, or even that week or that month like the brothers and the foreman tended to do.

Long term.

Merle's Pretty was set on figuring a way for humanity to not only survive the walkers, but to be able to grow after they were gone – whether that took the shape of having massive stockpiles of supplies, or simply having the numbers to not breed themselves into a corner, Harry had considered it.

Honestly, it made him feel a little bit better about Harry running off sometimes to do god-knows-what without either him or Daryl tagging along, that streak of calculation.

Knowing that he had it – and more than that used it – made it so Pretty's well-hidden (outside the Black Lands anyway) soft-heart doesn't get him killed.

God knows…there were more than enough people in the world – before it was mostly destroyed – that would use and abuse it, if given half the change.

And it would be over ol' Merle's dead body that someone was given a chance to do that to his Pretty while there was still breath in his lungs.

So help him God – or what passed for one anyway now that the world has gone to hell...

Later the next day, after his Pretty had spent most of it closeted in the clinic lookin' after people, Merle and Daryl ushered their Magic Pretty Man along at a fast clip, Harry eyeing them in bemusement the whole time, right up until they cleared the threshold of the castle.

"Merle?"

The sniper said nothing and simply entwined their fingers, pulling Harry up the stairs with him, looking this way and that, as if searching for something specific as he pulled them through the castle in search of their – their – rooms. "Merle, are you angry?"

Finally, a grin lit Merle's face; it was wicked, holding a lot of delicious danger. "Course not, Harry. Nah, not angry. Tense. Very tense."

"Where are you going?"

"We're goin'," he corrected firmly. There was this look in his eyes that made Harry swallow thickly. Merle's eyes were darker now too. He looked sexy like this, though to Harry he almost always looked sexy. Sexy and determined, though Harry had no idea what he was determined about...though he was getting an inkling as the bigger man towed him unerringly towards their bedroom.

This only stopped when Merle opened a door down the wing they'd turned into. He pulled until Harry was in front of him. He then maneuvered them until Harry was pressed against the door. "What're you doin' with a mangy ol' coot like me anyhow, Pretty?"

"Well… I guess I saw something in you, right from the first. I'm not afraid of you, but you knew that. You're smarter than most give you credit for…and strong, so strong," he whispered, staring up at him. The wolfish grin Merle sent him in return set Harry's body on fire.

"There's more to it, ain't there, Magic Man?" Daryl asked as he pressed in on one side of the trapped – willingly, but trapped all the same – wizard.

Harry pulled in a breath. It was no longer fear and anxiety that filled him. It was excitement. "You really need me to tell you what you already know?" He asked, grinning to cover the nerves the subject brought up. He didn't think either of them would take well to hearing about how his magic had…reached out to them for lack of a better term. "There's really no need for that, is there?"

Merle laughed and nodded before dipping his head to capture Harry in a heated kiss. It lasted long minutes before they finally separated, Daryl swooping in to take his place as Merle steered the three of them fully into their suite and down the hall.

Afterwards, Daryl managed to turn his face and press bitten lips against Harry's kiss swollen lips. "You were great, Magic Man. Have ta do it again sometime."

Harry's response was a garbled pant.

"We'll take tha' as a compliment," Merle murmured beside them, smiling as Harry snuggled down between them, Daryl reaching out and covering their naked bodies after a nearly-unconscious Magic-Man remembered to hit them all with a cleaning spell and a flick of his almost-limp fingers had the lights out.

Moving the Vatos was a massive undertaking, much as Harry had expected.

Three vehicles including the bus, more than a dozen bedridden or near-bedridden elderly, along with whatever younger members of the Vatos decided to come along – which ended up being more than Harry had expected, making the Vatos the single biggest micro-grouping among the Black Lands population.

Daryl rode point in one Humvee, which Oscar drove, the former inmate signing up immediately when the plan was hashed out over Sunday dinner, the backseat taken up with a trio of Vatos all packing heat. His brother Juan drove the flanking truck, a big four-by-four with a Gatling gun mounted on the back that Harry had sourced from the CDC that Glenn manned, Guillermo riding shotgun while Merle drove the bus with Harry, Remus, and the remained of the Vatos who were all charged with helping take care of the elderly.

It took them two days, with half the first taken up with just clearing out of Atlanta on the car-jammed roads.

Working in their favor was the Harry had recently cleared – with help from the Dixons and their group – a big section of highway leading to the estate.

Working against them was the sheer infirmity of the elders and having to manage several groups of people who weren't quite sure of each other, even as they were certain of Harry.

Still…

They made it, though they lost the weakest of the elders along the way, the excitement of it too much for the man's ailing heart. A brief ceremony and prayer was said over the ninety-one-year-old veteran of WWII, then Harry cremated him. One spell from Remus gathered the ashes, whilst one from Harry conjured an urn, the man's remains handed over to his newly made widow, who managed to rise above her grief to thank them for treating "Her Artie" with respect and saving him from turning into "one of those things."

Honestly, the biggest hiccup they had was in the preemptive Blood-Quill and contract signing so that Harry and Remus could use magic freely on the trip, otherwise there would've been no way to explain bedpans that magically vanished waste or cots that were so comfortable that even the most bedsore/pressure-ulcer prone lady didn't have to change positions.

Sirius had helped a great deal with the enchantments, but in the end, it was decided of the two of them Remus's calm demeanor was likely to go over better with the Vatos and elders than Siri's roguish charm and joker personality.

The second stumbling block came when they reached the main gate of the Black Lands – and the very-tight fencing system that would prevent a bus from navigating into the compound.

"What's the plan, cub?" Remus asked as they all piled out to stretch their legs – including those of the elders that could still ambulate safely. More than one was goggling up at the massive gate. It was a stop they could well afford, given that they were inside the outermost ring of wards, which they'd been steadily expanding, increasing their territory even if they didn't advertise it with an additional fenceline. Anymore, the shell of the prison complex was theirs, as well as the turn-off from the main road leading to it, and it didn't even do to think on just how much – former – national and state lands they'd encompassed inside their wards.

A few anchor stones sunk into the ground here or there, and bam! Instant territory increase.

It wasn't legal, but then, what the hell was when the world ended and governments did more damage to the populace than the virus they were trying to destroy?

"Well." Harry smirked as Sirius came bounding out of the gate, alerted by the wards once they'd crossed the "boundary" of the ward-line. "We have two options: either we float it or…we float it."

Remus groaned at the bad joke while Padfoot barked in sympathy with his mate before shifting back into the tall, handsome form of his human self.

"Papa," Harry tilted his head towards the werewolf as his lovers sauntered over, having finished their inspection of the immediate area…because paranoia they name is Dixon.

Which was an excellent personality trait to have when you were smack in the middle of the apocalypse Harry supposed.

"I'll want you on the bus to soothe the elders while Siri and I float it over the fences from the back of the truck." He decided, knowing that they didn't have to worry about spooking any livestock since Sirius would have had them brought in once the wards alerted that they were back. "You should be able to help stabilize the thing if it wobbles or hits an air current. So, Dad." Harry grinned brightly at the Animagus as his Dixons slung their arms around his shoulders. "How's your Leviosa work feeling today?"

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All Credits Due to: Sifsshadowheart--AO3