United States of America, California, Gardenia.
Bloom's mother and father, after having recognized the Trix, had understandably grown apprehensive. Their last and only encounter with them still vivid in their minds. Not a pleasant affair, to say the least. The only thing staying their hands was the fact that Bloom – while clearly not enthused – tolerated their presence to some degree. So they did not jump to conclusions during the BBQ. No such compulsion was on them now, however.
"I'm guessing you want an explanation?" Bloom said the obvious as she sat opposite of her parents. The group now occupying her family's living room after the festivities died down somewhat. With Bloom and Icy sitting opposite of her parents, leaving Darcy and Stormy on two chairs around the low table. All three sporting innocent smiles. The redhead wished Harry was here, but he was with Chimera, Diaspro and Hermione outside with the other remaining guests.
The Witches knew the Fairy couldn't openly complain without them revealing their complicated and frankly unusual relationship with Harry to people most likely not accepting of it. Normally the Witches wouldn't give two Knuts about embarrassing the redhead, but these were Bloom's adoptive parents. People whose opinions mattered quite a bit to the redhead, not wanting to shame or disappoint them. As such Harry had made it a condition to not do so in order for them to join him on his journey through the Magical Galaxy.
"Obviously," Mike replied, keeping a wary eye on the witches. His thick arms were crossed over his massive chest, his impressive physique befitting an active duty fireman. "but considering you're not attacking them either, I suppose there is a reason for it."
Bloom nodded with a sigh. "Yeah, as it turns out there were some unknown circumstances in play, I nor anyone else knew about." the half-truth felt like acid on her tongue.
"Those being?" Vanessa inquired, much like her husband keeping a wary and distrustful eye on the Trix.
"Before we go into the abridged version of events," Icy interrupted with a subtle grimace, driven onwards by a subtle nudge and expectant look from Bloom. "Let us offer our sincerest apologies to both of you for our harmful actions that fateful day." She bowed her head and motioned for her sisters to join in, which Darcy did without problem and Stormy only reluctantly.
Bloom continued the explanation then. She soldiered on bravely and stoically, weaving the tale they had agreed upon. Even if she didn't really look forward to explaining what basically amounted to her switching to a private tutorship under Harry.
"I see." Vanessa said with a creased brow after all was explained, a frown marring her fine features. "If anyone else said that to me I would've told them to stuff that shit back where the sun doesn't shine." a sharp but brief glare was sent to the Trix before Vanessa's eyes settled on Bloom's cyan ones. "However, I know you and your temper."
"That, and she likes to hold grudges." Mike supplied helpfully, a teasing grin directed at his daughter. "She never would've forgiven them if it weren't the truth."
Vanessa sighed fondly at her husband "True," she nodded reluctantly, then narrowing her eyes at an innocent-looking Bloom. "but that doesn't make me comfortable with them in our home."
"I'm sure its fine." her husband replied. "I trust Bloom and she's beaten them multiples times already!"
The redheads heart swelled at her father's trust in her and the approval in his eyes. "Thanks dad!"
More than a little bit peeved about the situation, not to mention slightly jealous of Bloom's supportive parents, Icy commented acidly. "We wouldn't violate the ancient Covenant of Hospitality!" there was more on her tongue, but she kept it in her mouth.
Seeing the confusion on the non-witch faces, Darcy elaborated languidly, knowing they had no idea about that topic. "It's a set of self-imposed rules amongst witches that govern the behaviour when invited under another's roof. Chief among them not trying to kill or actively harm ones host or other guests."
Not many knew this, but the rights and treatment of guests formed an indelible part of Witch culture. Mostly because witches were not known for being selfless, cooperative or humble. A witch's honour and reputation could be completely shattered by infringing upon these sets of rules, making them an hunted outcast even amongst their own kind. Given the warfare that had existed between some covens of witches in the past, exercising patience and honouring these laws was a way to ensure that there was always a sort of neutral ground where combative parties could meet and prevent any further outrages. The Laws of Hospitality were created in the ancient past when travel was arduous and only undertaken when necessary. Though, pride saw them seldom used.
As such there were many archaic rules concerning deportment, manners, greetings, goodbyes, allowances, and settlement of grievances, but there were a few obligations that were always honoured. A guest of a witch was entitled to several things: Shelter and nourishment for three days and three nights, not counting the night of arrival. The protection of the host against third-party aggressors. Suspension of personal grievances for the duration of the stay. And the best quarters in the home of the host, excluding the host's own.
Left unsaid by the Trix was the fact that one could refuse to offer such hospitality outright. Especially if the guest had not offered sufficient incentive in form of a gift – which they had not in this case. Not to mention the obligations a guest had to fulfil. Like respecting the host's boundaries and property, not needlessly angering a host or their family, as well as not staying longer than the requisite three days and nights. Though, those particular intricacies were not important here either way. Not with Bloom present and also being able to report them to the Council of Light if she so wished, making any aggression on their part foolish in the extreme.
"I'll hold you to that then." Vanessa replied with a resolute nod, turning to her husband. "Why don't you show our guests their room for the night then?"
"Of course." he said with an easy grin, giving his wife a kiss before doing so.
Once they were out of the room, Vanessa turned to her daughter. "So, care to tell me the real reason?" an expectant eyebrow raised in demand, arms crossed under her bosom as she leaned back into her seat. "I think I deserve that much after all that happened, don't you think?"
Bloom swallowed heavily, debating if she should try and lie before quickly discarding that idea. Her parents deserved the truth. Especially after accepting that she basically went to a school where danger and potential death was expected to be around many a corner. Even having fought in a war against an army of eldritch abominations summoned by the Trix followed by being controlled by the predecessor of Harry. "That was the truth, mostly."
"Oh, so it has nothing to do with that ruggedly handsome professor? The one Diaspro, Chimera, the Trix and you made cow eyes at." came the grinning reply with an impish and amused tinge to it. "Though, I notice a preference for older men in you, Bloom. Professor Avalon comes to mind, doesn't he?"
That in itself wasn't unusual, young women quite often went for older men with experience and well established careers, offering their beauty and fertility to them in return. The age gap was not so large between them as to be an issue. Potter didn't look over thirty, despite his scars.
Bloom blushed to the roots of her hair at the unexpected questioning. "No." she denied feebly, uncomfortable with how close or true the comparison rang. At the unimpressed and flat look of her mother, she conceded. "Okay, he was the catalyst for it."
Nodding in satisfaction, Vanessa leaned forward. "I don't know what kind of relationship you have or want with him, however I can make a good guess." she had been a young and foolish woman once too, after all. Her words were earnest and sincere, a raised hand forestalling any interruptions from her daughter. "I don't judge you for your desire or sexual urges. That would be more than slightly hypocritical of me, trusting you to protect yourself sufficiently against certain dangers, but not others."
Hazel eyes then grew soft, a hand clasped Bloom's own as her mother leaned forward. "I simply worry that he'll break your heart. Men with so many options rarely settle down early in life or restrict themselves to a single partner at a time."
"You don't have to worry about that, Mom." Bloom reassured earnestly. "I'm aware of these things."
"Good, that's... good." Vanessa sighed out in relief, not knowing about the hammer-blow to come.
The red-headed fairy was indecisive for a moment, aware that her next words would make or break her journey together with Harry. Sure, she was of age and could make her own decisions. She'd still like the approval and blessing of her parents regardless, adoptive or not. So, apprehensive and unsure, Bloom took the plunge. "That's why I'm sharing him with Chimera right now." she added "Probably also Diaspro and the Trix later on."
Bloom's mother blinked a few times in befuddlement, her face blank as the words penetrated her skull and bounced around inside. "Bloom, sweetie." she began, swallowing thickly with wide eyes and disbelief evident in her tone. "Are you part of a man's rooster of women?"
Vanessa was perfectly aware that it was very difficult for most parents to not keep seeing their children as innocent little things. To admit that they've grown in ways you didn't expect or even liked. Most prominent amongst those being developments sexual in nature. She had erroneously assumed Mike and her had weathered those with aplomb. How could she not? Which parent let their sixteen year old daughter attend a boarding school they never visited themselves without expecting some kind of shenanigans to occur? Sexual experimentation was practically a guarantee! All female school or not.
However, both of Bloom's parents had been safe in the knowledge that Bloom had a good head on her shoulders and was no fool. As such both had trusted their daughter to navigate that part of her life with the knowledge that she'd always have their support. No matter what. What Vanessa had not expected was for Bloom to share a man with others. While not unheard of, it was the vanishingly small minority of cases were the women knew of each other and accepted it as well. At least in the Western world Vanessa was familiar with, which globally speaking was the minority.
"Is this about you being barren?" Vanessa began, thinking Bloom's inability to conceive caused her to make that decision. "You shouldn't..."
"No, its not!" Bloom replied strongly. Still blushing a little, she elaborated. "As it turns out Fairies become fertile later in life, at about nineteen years of age." with a developing scowl and her arms crossed, Bloom said. "I'm also not just a part of a roster." she huffed, thinking about the Trix' words spurred her on. Before her mother could sigh in relief, Bloom added. "I'm the head bitch of it!" the words coming out more proudly than she had intended. Though, she was absolutely refusing to decry her relationship with Harry, not after he also refused to hide it in any way.
While Bloom explained things to her parents, Harry and Hermione caught up a little in a secluded part of the garden, while Chimera and Diaspro were mostly left to listen in on it from nearby.
"What were you up to while I was away?" Harry asked in their secluded corner of the quaint garden before he shook his head. "No, let me guess... you're Minister of Magic!" he exclaimed with a proud lop-sided grin. It'd explain why she looked so exhausted, the job surely being stressful when done correctly.
Hermione for her part grinned weakly, a wobbly and fragile thing. She was just about to deflect or playfully agree but she sighed instead. "No, I'm not." that was quite impossible for a Muggleborn to achieve in Britain's current political climate. Something he should know after his visit to Malfoy Manor, but he probably hadn't had time to think too much about it or internalize it.
"Oh, so an Unspeakable? Maybe a Professor at Hogwarts or even Headmistress by now?" Harry ventured instead, a sinking feeling made itself known in his stomach at what he saw. Hermione's usual confident demeanour about her academic career was nowhere to be seen. Well, outside of worrying about exams or the results thereof. Though, her next words were ones he'd never expected to hear out of her mouth outside of a poor joke.
"I'm..." she began, the words stuck in her throat. "I'm unemployed." she said nearly inaudibly, head hung down in shame at that.
"But... why?" came the frankly baffled and kind of lost reply. His emerald eyes were wide in disbelief. He always thought she'd go bonkers without something to occupy her mind with.
Hermione's hands nervously wrangled with each other as she took a deep breath to gather herself, looking at her lap. "When I started Hogwarts, when I learned about the wonders of magic... I read everything I could get my hands on." here she smiled at the memory. "As you well know." the chuckle that followed was weak and self-deprecating.
Harry took one of her hands in his own, nodding. "Yeah, Hogwarts: A History was always your favourite." he was impatient for answers but let her carry on with her story, knowing Hermione never told him unimportant information.
"Indeed," she softly replied, looking up from her hands, taking resolve from his presence and gripping one of his hands with a desperate strength. "Even then I had resolved to expand the knowledge of magic, to push our understanding of it to new heights. I'd frightened away anyone at that time anyway and had plenty of free time on my hands as a result." here a bright smile came back to her features, all but illuminating her surroundings. "Only to then be selflessly rescued by my very own hero. Followed by researching all manner of practical things to help you."
Harry smiled with her, glad for the change in subject. "Yeah, Ron was pretty great. Where is he by the way? I thought you were married with a couple of sprogs already."
The bookworm seemed pained at the mention of their friend. It was just so like Harry to diminish his own accomplishments and enhance those of others. Always thinking he'd done little of note. "You were and still are my hero and not Ron!" she confessed, startling him and gripping his hand tighter. "The relationship between Ron and me was bright and hot, but burned out quickly. Without you there to act as a mediator we had nothing in common and clashed more and more frequently. Until we finally broke up not a month after your... disappearance."
During that time she had felt as though, with each passing day, she peeled back new layers of grief. Right when she thought to have a handle on things Hermione had been reminded of a fleeting moment or subtle quality and had to suffer his loss all over again. It had been as if she had to get to know him in death as she once did in life. A invisible injury now soothed and partly washed away by his presence. It was a hurt so deep she took to the unhealthy habit of measuring time differently. Until today it was 10 HD for Hermione, meaning ten years after Harry's death.
"Oh, I'm sorry." he replied apologetically, not having wanted to reopen old wounds. "You don't have to tell me more if you're uncomfortable."
Chimera chose that moment to sit squeeze between the two, reminding him of her presence. "That must've been hard, to lose a relationship like that." she said to Hermione with an air of not quite real sympathy, with her blue eyes screaming unvoiced suspicions aloud at the witch.
Diaspro, now sitting on Harry's other side chimed in. "Indeed, heartbreak isn't an easy thing to deal with."
Hermione shook her head, making the lazy curls move about before her bloodshot chocolate-brown eyes shooting their own suspicious and wary looks at the two. "No, the break-up was more of a relief, to be honest. Incomparable to the pain of your death." which was also a contributing factor in their break-up for a multitude of reasons she was unwilling to give voice to. "Besides, he's married to Lavender now and quite happy with her. As well as living his dream of leading the Chudley Cannons to victory, with…. moderate success."
Giving both the fairies a warning look Harry instead picked a squeaking Chimera up by the waist and put her between Diaspro and him. Growing uncomfortable with the direction, Harry decided to get back to the topic at hand. "What has that to do with your lack of employment status?"
"After that I didn't know what to do with myself. So I did what I always do when I'm unmoored..." she grew hesitant to reveal more, but upon feeling his hand take hers again and being given a gentle squeeze she looked at his face. She leaned into his shoulder and instantly relaxed. She trusted him more than any other. "I threw myself into my studies and became obsessed with various projects. I thought it would make me feel – I don't know – like I'd accomplished something important."
"It didn't?" Harry ventured knowingly.
"No, it didn't." she mumbled in confirmation in a small voice against his shoulder. With a reluctant sigh she removed herself from his warmth and continued. "After Hogwarts I caught up on my mundane studies and even went to University, due to where the wind was blowing in Magical Britain. I gave countless presentations, was published in many scientific journals... and I felt nothing each and every time." she revealed shamefully. "Nothing like what I felt when I helped you. I had wasted years on things that meant nothing. The further I travelled along that road, the more I found myself looking back. There had been a comfort and simplicity to who I once was. Every now and then I caught a flicker of my home, like a warm breeze on a summer's day, which brought back a wholeness I once took for granted. By the time I realized what it was and that I didn't want to do that anymore – to waste time on things that didn't matter – I was already severely burnt out."
She looked directly into his eyes, pouring every emotion she had into the next words. A part of her terrified of rejection or worse, but everything was better than life without him. "I've missed you entirely too much." didn't mean it was easy to admit to it.
With his emerald eyes wide Harry blushed but gave her a soft smile nonetheless. "I missed you too, but what about your parents?" he asked, hoping to get some positive outcome. "I know you and Ron went to Australia to retrieve them."
She actually wilted saying the next words, making Harry regret asking. "There wasn't any good left in the end. What fondness hadn't faded by disappointment or distance I destroyed by removing their memories of me, before restoring them later on." she still remembered the hurtful but nonetheless true words thrown that day. They simply couldn't trust her anymore, never truly knowing if their lives and memories were real or not. So she acquiesced to their request to let them remain as Monica and Wendell Wilkins, blocked memories and all. The action she had taken to not lose her parents in the end ensured just that. The karmic irony was not lost on Hermione.
Harry winced at that, feeling guilty for being unable to prevent such a thing, blaming himself for her doing it. Before the words could leave his mouth Hermione interrupted him.
"Don't say you're sorry! It was my own choice to do that. As stupid as it was." she looked at his befuddled expression, a feeling of fleeting happiness bubbling to the surface as she smiled at him weakly. "You've not changed much in that regard, always taking on responsibility when it's not yours to take. In that way you're still an open book to me Harry." her gaze then fell to the two young women at his side. "Though, some things have obviously changed. What is your connection to them and how is it different from the other three you came with?"
Left unsaid was that their magic felt subtly different as well. Brighter, for a lack of a better word. The sheer magnificence of his own went without saying.
Chimera, as was her wont, said it without any tact or shame. "I'm his personal cumdump!" she proclaimed proudly and with the intent to make her status clear. Fortunately not so loudly as to pierce the hedge or the din of the surrounding conversations. She shared it openly, followed by telling of their first meeting like a treasured memory. "When we first met I thought: Damn, I really hope he fucks my brains out!" one hoped she'd stop, but that wasn't the case, showing just how successful Harry had been at what Chimera wanted. "I'm talking full on, shaky legs, wet thighs, drooling pussy, stuffed womb and curled toes levels of pleasure. I was scared and exhilarated in equal measure, so much so I even lost control completely and pissed myself." she sighed longingly, an act that threatened to turn into a truly erotic moan as she was batting her eyelashes at an exasperated Harry. "He made me his bitch, his little pee-pee-piss myself bitch. I was an entirely different woman after the first six hours."
"Wha... first six hours?" A intensely blushing Hermione brought out in a stupor, thinking it a poor and tasteless joke. Though, the young woman was clearly serious, not an ounce of jesting in any of her words. Not to mention the glassy blue eyes telling of her recollecting the treasured events described. Hermione shivered a little as the implications hit her.
Before Hermione could recover from the whiplash, Diaspro followed. "At least you're honest, you freak." she told a non-listening Chimera with a frown. "Well, he raped me and now has to take responsibility for the deed!"
Harry just groaned, facepalming in despair. He knew why Diaspro said that, the fairy having explained the issue to him in detail. In the original context rape meant stealing something, be it valuables or other tangible things. Only later on it slowly transitioned to mean the stealing of innocence and today it was exclusively used for describing the sexual crime itself. As a noblewoman her virginity wasn't hers to give away, but her family's and as a result of her actions Harry had stolen it and massively reduced her value as a prospective wife for another. Normally noble parents would either try and sweep it under the rug – as was the norm – or force a marriage to preserve her and their honour should the man be acceptable enough. Both an impossibility in this case. Especially after he publicly confirmed to have had relations with her, dooming her socially and with it any prospects of a good marriage offer.
Diaspro also mentioned that same set of values was also the reason why Prince Sky hadn't initiated more intimacy with Bloom, having hoped to take a kind of pleasure at Bloom's realisation of why things developed the way they had. Though, she had been disappointed by Bloom's lack of reaction, unaware of the other issues contributing to the break up. Diaspro and the blonde prince simply worked on a different set of expectations and rules than Bloom and Harry did. Both figuratively and literally coming from different worlds.
Either way Diaspro viewed herself as his responsibility now, in more ways than one. She saw herself as his concubine on most days and as his wife on others, the latter increasing in frequency the more the love potion was reduced in strength. Evidently having rather conservative views on marriage and sex. Harry did not look forward to it vanishing completely now.
"Explain, please!" Hermione implored with an edge of desperation, command and plea rolled into one. Still, she knew there always was more to things than what could be seen on the surface where Harry Potter was concerned.
United States of America, California, Gardenia.
Waves rolled gently up the beach, their melodic song matching the serene view. The sun beat down from a cobalt sky devoid of clouds. A cool breeze whisked over the calm waters as waves gently crested and broke over the shoreline before receding once more into the sea. From the pure white beach half-naked swimmers plied their passion: hunting waves or diving down into the turquoise depths. The water glistened and glimmered as seagulls glided on a warm, briny breeze while the golden sand felt almost silken.
Gray-brown trunks shot out of the ground from a single point, five trunks spreading like the long fingers of an earthen entity. Their heads sprouted the fanning, green leaves that came together in an herbaceous cloud to shade the trunks and those under it. One could hear the twittering and rustling of birds as they bounced within the dense abode above.
Under and around it lay a group of eight people with towels, beach chairs, whicker basket and cool box arranged neatly.
The days following the barbecue were mostly spent relaxing at the local beach, waiting for the week to be up so Harry could finish humiliating Malfoy. All while sometimes visiting the magical side of things for some supplies for their upcoming journey. Or even just to show Earth's magical community to Bloom and the others.
"I could already check your work... or research other avenues!" Hermione protested feebly with a gasp, trying to gather as much as possible of a bite into her words. It was useless in the face of his skilled hands expertly applying sunscreen to her naked back, giving her an impromptu massage she never wanted to miss.
Putting on the finishing touches Harry replied. "No!" the word was said in a voice that brooked no argument. "You're my best friend, Hermione. While I want a solution more than anybody, I'm not about to push you into your usual habits. You've done nothing but that for most of the last decade. So, sit back and relax. Okay?"
She could practically hear the resolution and the undertone of worry in his voice, Harry evidently expecting nothing but to be obeyed. "Alright." she replied meekly, pressing her flaming face into her crossed arms and the towel she lied on. In the past that assertive side of his had only come out rarely, mostly in combat or life and death situations. Hermione embarrassingly found out that she liked it directed at herself, a lot.
Once she retied the knot of her bikini top Hermione peeked through the safety of her arms, observing the byplay of how Harry treated the six young women around him. The care he put into them, despite the barely hidden fight for his attention between the six. Though, the so called Trix seemed to work together more often than not. While Bloom, Diaspro and Chimera were much looser in their alliance. Not that it stopped them from forming unusual but nonetheless fitting pairings. One of which she now observed.
Chimera and Stormy both wore micro-bikinis, which amounted to a few strings and miniature triangles protecting their non-existent modesty. Proudly showcasing their enticing and toned bodies, scars, identical womb tattoos and more to the world around them – shockingly Hermione recognized the tattoo as the Symbol of the Deathly Hallows and similar in nature to the Dark Mark of Voldemort. She also noted the different and beautiful chokers each of them wore, now also including Diaspro. Harry had evidently claimed the two – and the others – as his very thoroughly. The only difference between the two was the colour of their swimwear, one being midnight-blue and the other magenta, while sometimes the ring of an anal plug could be seen when Chimera was bending over.
"What did you say then?" Stormy asked lying on her stomach, tanning her toned muscular body. Unusually invested in a conversation with a fairy.
"I told the fool the truth," the scarred fairy replied honestly. "Namely that I would vote for a female leader if she'd be the best option. However, if the country had fallen so low as to make that possible then there were much bigger issued to be concerned about."
Stormy gave a mocking laugh. "A fool indeed."
"I know, right?!" Chimera giggled spitefully, enjoying the mocking comment from Stormy. "It's like they never experienced the sheer relief and ecstasy of submitting to and embracing a powerful man." she sighed dreamily, stroking the symbol sitting on her crotch sensually as she bathed in the sun. Clearly in her element as she basked in the radiance, but protected by a good amount of magical sunscreen that prevented tanning. No reason to look like a peasant, after all.
Stormy nodded in agreement beside her, making for an odd and unexpected pair. "Yeah, it must've been pretty pathetic. I don't know what's so controversial about being used and enjoyed by your man however and whenever he wishes?" an unconcerned shrug later, she added. "After all, it's a compliment and only right for him to do so if you belong to him!" left unsaid was that she simply saw it as the strong taking what was owed to them by the weak. As Witches the Trix would never submit to a weak man, and as such they were his to enjoy as he saw fit. Obviously barring abuse and misuse of said power. There was a reason why they fought against Darkar in the end. Loyalty went both ways, as she had reluctantly learned recently. Even if she obviously didn't particularly like the implications for her own behaviour.
Hermione could guess who they were talking about. Also having had the displeasure of meeting the person and her entourage in question at the barbecue. In the past few days she had got to know the young women better and learned that those two in particular clicked with each other. Both had a simple and straightforward view of how the world worked, hedonistic dreams and desires as well as the will to make it happen in their own way. She then swept her gaze to another pair. That being Darcy and Diaspro, them lying completely in the shade behind her.
The two wore much more concealing but no less sensual one-piece bathing suits, black and white respectively, as well as a pair of sunglasses. With Diaspro also wearing finely crafted golden bracelets that were connected by a fluttering cloth that trailed behind her, tastefully accompanying her now permanent iridescent Charmix. Courtesy of her having convinced Harry of also claiming her with his mark. The blonde, as was her wont, was looking more fit for a runaway than the beach. Neither of the two seemed too enthused about being in the sun for too long.
"She really said that?" Darcy gaped in shock at the blonde, an expression of shock on her face, golden eyes wide in disbelief.
"Yes, and meant it too!" Diaspro replied gravely, lying on a comfortable beach chair with a now forgotten book beside her. A severe frown of anger marring the fairy's fine features. "That disgusting kinslayer even had the audacity to be proud of her foul deeds! By now she surely doesn't have a womb anymore but a haunted tomb!"
This time Darcy gasped audibly, showing the usually controlled and reserved woman's honesty about the situation. "That... that's utterly barbaric!" she exclaimed, shock giving way to fury. "It's like they hate their own gender! Don't they know what lies at the end of that road? It's how you end up like Zenith!" She hadn't visited that wretched world herself, but history and the tales she heard from the place were clear enough. While she didn't like what happened there or the outcome, Darcy logically understood why it occurred the way it did.
The blonde fairy nodded in agreement and scoffed. "Yes, thinking that mothers don't have the most power to mould the future is plain ridiculous! You're literally doing so by raising the next generation and shaping their views. It's one of the biggest responsibilities one can have."
It also revealed just how full of shit their ideology was. Either they admitted to perpetuate their own oppression by raising the next generation of their oppressors without teaching them better – which incidentally also reduced women as a whole to simple victims incapable of change – or arguing that all men were simply evil. She had been to many worlds and places in her short life and as such saw a few where large-scale female oppression was present. The signs of which were all pretty much absent here, but the seeds of which were being planted by those same fools proclaiming to be fighting for an equality already present.
Diaspro was certain that those women simply hated femininity in all its forms, decrying it as weakness and ironically valuing masculine traits more highly. Just because that kind of feminine power wasn't as in your face as the masculine one didn't make it any weaker. Not to mention that women could bend men to their will and access their power by proxy. Well, the competent ones anyway. Those that were smart enough to grasp that men didn't lend their strength and expertise to those that hated them. The same way the majority of men raised in a culture such as the one she was in now knew routinely beating one's wife wasn't a way to a happy marriage.
Hermione knew the two were talking about the same people as the pair before, and their attempts to sell them abortions as a good thing. Only to harshly learn that neither the witches or fairies were fans of such a thing. Both groups cherishing children highly for different reasons. One due to their low fertility and the other due to the rarity of finding a willing partner. Diaspro and Chimera viewed it even worse due to being raised as noblewomen and as such having been expected to extend their bloodline by giving birth. Apparently there was even a good amount of prestige linked to a successful pregnancy and subsequent birth, caused by their low fertility. Though, Hermione knew a similar view was mirrored by all magical societies on Earth, stemming from a low birthrate in nearly all of them.
'Then again, for a feminist to just assume that every woman had to agree with her views just because of a shared gender was a pretty sexist position to take. Not to mention that horseshit about oppression when they don't have any idea what that looks like. All while having access to everything men have.' Hermione reflected, quite incensed herself at that lunacy after having experienced true discrimination and persecution based on her lack of supposed blood purity.
Banishing those thoughts and memories she shook her head and observed the last pair of young women.
Bloom and Icy simply wore normal bikinis that allowed both of their crotch tattoos to still be seen completely. Their swimwear was identical in everything down to colour, making them evidently hating the other for wearing the same thing. The only difference being that Icy's long hair was braided tightly in a French braid. They were currently kneeling on either side of Harry and putting lotion on his body, having insisted to do so. All while subtly glaring at each other when a hand wandered too close to the other.
A powerful wave of envy surged up from the older witch's very core, but she expertly crushed it immediately. Like she had done so many times in the past. Her chance with him had passed long ago, before he had been thrown through the Veil even. Cowardice and insecurity had made sure of that much. She had known about his past and difficulty in opening up before all the disasters, so why didn't she initiate things? Bloody hell, he even left a date with his long-time crush Cho Chang – as disastrous as that was – to come to her. Not to mention what could've happened and flourished on the Horcrux Hunt.
No, while a part of her would always love Harry, she wasn't such a bitch as to deny him happiness just because he found it with someone else. Or in this case multiple people. Multiple people who were gorgeous women much younger and sexier than her.
Still, it galled her to see him look at someone with such care that wasn't her. Not helped by the pitiful state her own love life was in, which was to say there was none at all. Due to a multitude of reasons.
In the Magical World she was either sidelined by the Purebloods or her accomplishments and abilities made wizards unwilling to date her. While a Muggle would have more in common with her on the surface, the same wasn't true for the important things. A Muggle would never be able to understand what she went through, the frequent nightmares she still suffered under from time to time were testament to that. Heck, most magical people also couldn't truly relate.
Not to mention that Harry's, Snape's and even Voldemort's history were also potent reminders of what could go wrong in such a relationship. What if one child had magic and another did not? Worst of all was the fact that she didn't trust herself to be in a relationship with a Muggle, not after what she had done to her parents. Taking their choice from them for their own good was an atrocious decision no matter how well intentioned. Would she be as flippant and liberal with bending that potential Muggle partner's mind to her will? Did she really become as bigoted as some Purebloods were?
She was too scared of the answer to even contemplate engaging in a romantic relationship with a Muggle.
'Maybe I'll have more luck in the place Harry came back from?' she wondered, but those thoughts took a backseat for the moment. Other more important plans were already forming in her mind that would also solve the issue Muggleborn faced in Britain and many other countries today. After all, why stay where you were hated? She squashed those thoughts that assumed his consent was a foregone conclusion by proxy of being her friend. Painfully aware of how her plans that relied on such presumptions as to know what's best always ended.
Instead she enjoyed the time with him to the best of her abilities.
All but Darcy, Hermione and Diaspro had decided to take a swim before going to the bar further down at the beach. Fully intent to use the opportunity to swim before it was no longer advisable. After nearly an hour of enjoying the water it was slowly time to leave as twilight and the tide approached. It was not long before the water came in then, lashing out at the beach and blasting white plumes of spray onto it. Its intent to submerge the majority of the beach.
The group of three women watched as the others got out of the water, but especially Harry. His nice and enticing silhouette framed by the slowly setting sun. Even if Bloom and Icy clung to him as they left the sea, obscuring some of the show.
His wet hair was somehow even messier than usual and his body was still glistening from the swim he had just taken, making small rivulets of water flow through the enticing valleys of muscles and scars. Beginning at his shoulders to his pecks through his abs and further down. They couldn't help but blush at that exquisite view. Especially because of his swimwear just being a tight speedo that showcased a quite prominent and distracting bulge.
"Come on, guys. Let's get some refreshments." Harry invited them with a smile, hand outstretched to pull Hermione up.
She couldn't help but imagine how he'd have reacted to such a situation in the past. Hermione pictured teenage Harry clearly in her mind, a task she had a decade of practise in. In her imagination he was full of shyness and embarrassment, trying to brave on while having a face as red as a tomato. Things had changed quite a bit, it seemed.
'You're not making this easy for me, Harry.' the older witch thought weakly, but accepted the offered help anyway.
United States of America, California, Gardenia, Frutti Music Bar.
The area occupied by the establishment called the "Frutti Music Bar" was large and the bar boasted a tropical theme, as was fitting for its location. Seamlessly incorporating the beach and palm trees. There were even two old wooden ships used as additions to the building, one on the left and one on the right side of the bar. The later one also served as an outdoor patio complete with tables. While the smaller ship that was behind the outdoor stage was serving as a warehouse and preparation stage for the entertainers. In some places the bar's faded paint hung in peeling tatters, flayed from the structure by the salt-laced wind. The place was almost an entirely open area, complete with a stage for various local bands to play. Many lanterns hung all over, illuminating the place as the last vestiges of twilight lost to the darkness of night.
It had just opened this year, led by a man named Klaus Doyle. He had short dirty blonde hair, gray-blue eyes and a tanned complexion. His facial features were sharp and intense with well-defined cheek bones and jawline. He was solidly built, showcasing strong arms and legs along with a very muscular torso. From the man himself people heard that he had a recent change in career, leaving the Police Force behind him for reason unstated. Though, his eyes grew regretful when they fell upon his daughter – who helped out as one of many waitresses – as he told the story.
Said daughter was a young woman named Roxanne, or Roxy as she preferred. She possessed flawless pale skin, waist-length hair that was pinkish-purple in colour with blonde tips, as well as striking purple eyes. Due to hating uniforms, and having the privilege of being the owner's daughter, she forwent wearing it. Instead she wore a sea green, long-sleeved cropped shirt that clung to her skin. A small and hot pink shirt was worn over it which was again shorter and with a hole on each shoulder, and had a lavender paw print in front. Her pants consisted of denim capris with a metal chain hanging off at her waist and hot pink boots with light purple laces and soles.
"What can I get you?!" the words were bubbly and cheerful, but for the experienced observer just so on the edge of sincerity. Her smile not quite reaching her purple eyes. While she normally was a sincerely upbeat and cheery young woman, this hadn't been the case for the majority of two years now.
The group of preening teenage boys, two of them clearly sucking in their stomach and puffing up their chests, gave her what they thought were charming smiles. "How about your number?" one blurted out, blushing a bit cutely in embarrassment shortly after.
Seeing the amused look on her face – as a waitress she had really heard it all by now, from funny and charming to awkwardly innocent and idiotic rudeness – one of them tried to salvage it. "What he means to say is we heard you like animals and wanted to keep in touch with a fellow. I share that sentiment, especially so due to us human's being just animals as well."
Her slightly good mood from the clumsy but endearing try from the first was now ruined.
Roxy could've taken it as a compliment, barely. Though his smarmy eyes roaming over her body as he said it made his intent clear enough. She knew the type, those who thought that because she liked animals that she was humanizing them and would fall for the argument that just because animals did it so too should humans. Born out of the misconception that nature was some benevolent entity and civilization oppressive. Roxy knew that was a big fucking lie and not something these people thought much about. Or they'd realize the implications such claims carried. Namely that cannibalism, rape, murder and more would have to be no longer counted as crimes.
In the end she said. "I do love animals, but not in such a way that I'm into bestiality. So, no thanks!" Seeing that her father was about ready to intervene, she gave him a glare. Not at all in the mood for his protectiveness right now and more than a little pissed off at him still anyhow. With a dismissive shrug she asked flatly once more. "Your order?"
Once she got it and left the humiliated group in her wake she went to the bar, ignoring her father as she place the slips of paper with orders on the counter. Followed by continuing her job while trying to break her foul mood.
The reason for her discontent was that ever since her sixteenth birthday they had been on the move. Her life was from then on completely uprooted with barely the explanation of some vague danger, crossing all of northern America with her father from the eastern coast to the western one in a bizarre zigzag pattern. An endeavour that took two years, with them only staying in one place for months and sometimes only weeks at a time. She couldn't even volunteer at any animal shelters due to it during those years. At least until they had arrived here in Gardenia.
Out of the corner of her eye she spied the unusual group that had come in the first time a few days ago. It consisted of six beautiful young women with a single older one that seemed out of place, if it weren't for the single man in their midst she and the rest were solely focussed upon.
Normally Roxy would think him to be some rich playboy surrounded by vapid bimbos he used as convenient cock sleeves to dump his cum into – there was no shortage of the former and an overabundance of the latter around this area – and which seemed a fair enough assessment. What with the identical womb tattoos and the expensive-looking chokers. 'Those are beautiful, though.' Roxy thought, looking at the gorgeous and distinctive jewellery each wore, presumably having been gifted to them by them by their sugar daddy.
However that image distorted the longer she observed the group. Especially with how obviously smitten most of them were, as well as the thinly veiled looks of loathing between some of them. Not to mention the confidence and noble or dangerous bearing they carried themselves with.
What gave Roxy the most pause was the weird feeling she got when going near, the hairs on her neck and arms raised every time. Roxy also noticed her father keeping a wary eye on them, much more than usual. While she was peeved with him, she trusted his instincts honed by decades of police work.
Luckily nothing happened in the remaining hours they were open or once it was time to close down. Aside from a few queer looks given to her by the raven-haired playboy with striking emerald eyes. They were not ones of desire or lust, but looks that were trying to decipher a mystery. A fact she didn't know what to make of. Now her shift was over and the bar closed down. Her father just had to finish locking the doors and prime the burglar alarm before they walked home.
The air was silent and unusually chill, its frigid fingers gripping exposed skin, while mist concealed and swallowed the illumination of the street lights. Tracts of clouds wafted and folded over the moon's face like ghostly curtains, muting the great nightly lantern along with its retinue of twinkling stars. The moon above, obscured as it was, lent everything a dim, silvery glow. A spectacle that mesmerized the young women. Letting the road that extended far beyond her sight fall away, disappearing into the darkness of the night.
"Roxy... " the voice of her father began, bringing Roxy out of her empty thoughts.
"Save it, dad!" she replied harshly, glaring at him from the corner of her purple eyes. Already knowing what he wanted to say. "As long as it isn't a real explanation as to why we're here, I don't want to hear it! You can claim this time is different, but I believe it when I see it." a part of her had been wondering why he made such a huge investment as to buy a bar, it being counter to a life on the move.
The former policeman grimaced, knowing his daughter's anger sadly wasn't misplaced. The only solace being that she once more called him dad. A thing she hadn't done for nearly two years, showing that she couldn't hold onto her anger forever. Nor did she want to, he knew. "I just want to protect you."
"From what exactly?!" she yelled, glad for the eerily empty streets right now. "In that entire time I haven't seen evidence of any danger!" she swept her arms wide, spinning in a circle. "Look around. Does it look like we're surrounded by enemies?" she asked rhetorically, a sardonic smile playing on her lips that died soon after. For her father was no longer there.
"Dad?" she called out into the darkness, confusion lacing her tone. She looked around, seeing only the empty pavement and street shrouded by fog. No dark alleyway nearby he could've slipped into. "Dad!" she called out once more, louder this time. With an increasing mix of anger and embarrassment she finally shouted. "If this is your way of trying to prove a point, then fuck you!" Thickening mist veiled the moonless night, choking words with foreboding and making her sound rather pathetic in the moment. After a roll of her purple eyes she went off in a defensive huff.
Her straight posture went slacker with each minute she wandered through the silence of night. Until she crossed her arms tightly, trying to futilely warm herself up a bit. The resolution born out of weak rage faltered quickly and fear slowly crept into her being, clawing and squeezing at her heart.
Soon the street lights barely illuminated her surroundings in a dusky haze. Until suddenly, amid the swirling cloudscape, a flickering light drew Roxy's gaze. Under it was a dark figure drawing closer as a thunder rolled over the fog, heralding a storm. "Dad?!" she called out tentatively, hoping it was him with an electric torch he forgot at the bar. Only for the figure to point straight at her, and light-killing shadow spread from that point like impenetrable smoke. One street light after the other went out, simply winking out of existence without resistance. As a result a wall of darkness approached and finally swallowed her whole. Even the stars and moon above were gone, choked out by that dense fog that now seemed unnatural.
"Dad!? This isn't funny!" she screamed out into the dark, that unforgiving inky gloom, growing hysterical as fear overcame resolve. Unreasonably assuming him to be responsible for what was happening, or at least desperately hoping it to be so.
The silence she called into was broken as sudden as it had appeared. "Should've listened to your father, girl." a deep voice purred from behind her, a cruel chuckle dancing in his throat. It called to the primal desire for survival deep within her through the looming threat of imminent death. A seed of terror took root within Roxy, growing an blooming in the span of a single heartbeat. With eyes growing wide in fear she ran with a shrill scream of fright, followed by sardonic laughter.
Roxy's own footfalls rang in her ears and soon laboured breaths were the only sounds accompanying her escape – until she heard something to her right. Or was it her left? She pressed on, shaking her head and ignoring everything but her flight. After just a minute Roxy's breath was ragged and short as the young woman sprinted through the grasping trash, almost tripping on the garbage reaching for her legs in the gloom.
In her panic and sheer need to get away she decided to take a shortcut through a nearby alleyway. Only to have her path blocked by a brick wall that had not been there yesterday. Refusing to look back and with her own heartbeat in her ears, Roxy flung herself behind a trash container, using smaller trash cans as cover.
Roxy desperately tried to control her own breathing, hoping she did not make too much noise and cursing herself for forgetting her pepper-spray today of all days.
Nearby she heard some movement, metal and wood making harsh contact with concrete. It got nearer and nearer until she perceived the unmistakable thudding sound of paws, the scratches of claws on the ground and the rapid sniffing of a canine nose. Shortly after a familiar sight was before her.
"Artu!" she hissed, a mixture of relief and worry fermenting in her gut. "What're you doing here?"
She wanted to scold him for running from his dog-sitter, but something stopped Roxy. While the dog in question looked exactly like her own, she immediately noticed things wrong with the situation. His tail didn't wag in excitement at seeing her, his posture was aggressive and low to the ground, his ears lay flat against his head instead of swirling around for threats and she was pretty sure his eyes lacked their usual spark.
"You're imagining things, Roxy." the young woman admonished herself, trying to convince herself more than anyone else. "It's just Artu." she forced out, making to pat his head and yet unable to shake the feeling of wrongness coming from the dog. Its too intelligent eyes mocking her seemingly, a strangely human grin now distorting its features.
Mocking claps could be heard from the entrance of the alleyway then, stopping Roxy in her tracks. She spotted three dark silhouettes framed by the hazy light coming from the street. It were three men of imposing stature that set her teeth on edge in a similar fashion to the emerald-eyed man from the bar, but so much worse.
"I see you found her, mutt." one of them said. He was tall, as were all of them, and possessed severed aristocratic features with fine hair. He could've been called handsome, if not for his constant sneer of superiority distorting his face. "Now step aside."
Just a Roxy wanted to fire back that Artu wasn't a mutt, thinking Artu may be acting strange because of them, – things grew weirder still. A second later her gut proved true as the Artu lookalike pounced on her. Or tried to at least, Roxy just so managing to roll out of the way courtesy of her father's rudimentary lessons in self-defence.
Only for her shock to be transformed into incredulity as Artu changed and twisted, something different taking his place. Dread pooled in Roxy's stomach and she was struck mute as she beheld the impossible spectacle before her. That of a man shedding his disguise of a dog as one might discard a cloak. He laughed mockingly, the sound reminiscent of a bark, as if he hadn't tried to kill her just now.
"You're not Artu!" she proclaimed from where she knelt, purple eyes. Now beholding a fourth man where before was a canine, a punk of all things.
He looked down at her, literally and figuratively. "What gave it away?" he drawled sarcastically.
A blink later and there were only two approaching from the street. "We should probably act more swiftly." a gentle baritone voice she remembered from before spoke up to her right, clearly not addressing her but causing Roxy's head to frantically whirl around to locate the source. It was the one who had vanished from her sight, this one of clear African origin. His reappearance not even heralded by a rush of displaced air. "You've felt it as much as I. Our wards can delay that monster only for so long."
Without preamble, and before she could even react, the man had twisted her arms behind her back. "Who are you? What're you doing?! I don't have much money, but I give you what I have!" she promised, hoping for this nightmare to end as she struggle futilely to escape his hold.
The cruel smile on the redhead's face was disconcerting. "We don't want your worthless Muggle money." he said, now standing before her, the blond and the punk at his sides. "It is incomparable to our oath being finally fulfilled, after centuries of struggle and sacrifice!" he patted her head condescendingly. "As for our names, well, they're of no importance to you." the smile he gave her sent shivers down her spine. "Just know that we're your doom."
'Great, they're mad.' she thought in sarcastic despair. Not that she could claim to be sane after what she saw, Roxy considered in the back of her mind. "Please let me go! I won't tell anyone, I promise." she tried again, as vain as the hope was it would work. By now tears were beginning to pool in her eyes, their origin a mix of rage, frustration and fear.
The blonde aristocrat scoffed. "You won't do such either way. Dead men tell no tales."
"My father will look for me, he's a police officer!" Roxy switched to desperate threats now, hoping for anything to work as she struggled to break free. Feeling like a trapped coyote just about to bite its own leg off to facilitate an escape. The sinking sensation in her gut telling her was running out of time fast. "He'll hunt you down, if you harm a hair on my head!"
The redhead waved his hand, causing the others to not voice what they were about to. "He will do no such thing. He doesn't even remember who you are." he said with a drawl, utter certainty in his cold tone. Next he roughly took her chin in his hand, forcing Roxy to look at him. "A mercy you should be glad for. Though, we only finished what your mother started."
"My mother?" Roxy asked confused, having never met the woman. Her father had never talked much about her, and why would he? That despicable woman had ditched them both at the earliest opportunity.
She was ignored, for it seemed the time to talk was over. "Enough chatter, time to die." He proclaimed and a noticeable shift in the air was felt.
In Ogron's hand appeared a mote of darkness, hissing and popping. When the spot manifested, the world groaned and twisted – a perverse image in a malformed mirror. The mind of Roxy reeled. Her senses recoiled from this absence in space, this growing void. Objects moved slowly toward the inky gloom. That some malign awareness existed within the nothingness became more apparent as it spiralled and grew.
She redoubled her efforts, but all she got for it was a blow to the back of her head, making her slump over and start sobbing, wailing and pleading. "Please, please!" she repeated what felt like an eternity. All of it falling on deaf ears.
They may not have heard her prayers, but something else did. Suddenly a guttural roar of thunder shook the earth the same time a lance of thunder impacted before Roxy, forcing the three wizards to back off and the one holding her captive to evade. As such she was still unable to move in her captor's grip, but Roxy clearly saw what stood now before her.
It was one of the women Roxy had seen just an hour before, recognizing her by the distinct choker around her throat.
She now wore a miniskirt made up entirely of teal-coloured feathers and a copper girdle studded with Tourmalines. As well as a copper-coloured tube top and a small open jacket made of black leather decorated with the same feathers her skirt was made out of. All of the fluffy feathers shimmered with a sheen of bluish iridescence. The accessories she decorated her muscled body with consisted of copper rings around her ankles, wrists, left thigh and both biceps. The shimmering copper added a mysterious contrast to the teal. Her hair was held high in a ponytail secured with a tube-like piece made of copper while her light purple bangs framed her face. A dark foggy storm cloud with lightning surging in it was wrapped around both her arms in an imitation of a feather boa.
As arcane syllables tumbled from the newcomers mouth, jolts of electricity crackled about her, warping her into an actinic new form. The air itself seemed to spark with anticipation, charged with the raw energy of a storm. It was no mundane woman before them, instead a manifestation of the tempest. She was chained destruction, boiling, vindictive spite made flesh and ready to be let loose. Her weapon was a bolt of anger-tinged lightning lancing toward her foes. Without preamble, gloating or warning the young woman flung it at Roxy's captor, once more generating a boom of thunder in her wake.
As a result she was free, blasting the man off her and into his contemporaries before they could react, dazing all of them momentarily.
Before Roxy could blink she no longer was restrained, her hair billowing from the drastic change in air pressure and growing static. Though, before she could order her reeling mind to something resembling order, more people arrived floating in from above. All of them she recognized from having visited the Frutti Music Bar just today.
The fiery redhead now possessed beautiful and glittering butterfly wings. She fell out of the sky like an angry dragon, cupping her hands as if delving into a sack of grain whereupon fiery particles began to light her palm. With a sudden flourish, she hurled the blazing motes at her targets, their size and intensity growing as they speed toward their foes with unearthly accuracy.
As the flame bolts came roaring toward them with incredible speed, the male redhead on the ground raised his hand in a smooth, practised motion. The punishing heat did not even crisps their hair nor briefly scalded their skin. Roxy could see the brunt of the fire channel through his outstretched hand and into his body. With a forceful command, the burning flames he had pulled into his body were pushed out, now possessing a dark purplish tinge.
Not having expected that Bloom – Roxy meant to have overheard that name – was surprised and vulnerable. It hit her square in the torso, harshly blasting her backwards. Only to be caught tenderly by the emerald-eyed man from before.
"Are you alright?" he asked softly to Bloom, who now was shaking her head to get back on track.
She nodded, getting onto her own two feet. "Yeah, just caught off guard, is all."
Another voice laughed mockingly at these words. "Let me show you how a Witch does it!"
This one wore a blue fur-lined halter dress with long sleeves that went to her upper thighs with white snowflakes embroidered onto it. A corset made of crystal-clear ice with sapphires embedded into it served to push her modest bust up enticingly. She seemingly wore shoes made out of ice, icicles serving as heels. Most striking was the Aurora Borealis that shone off of her in random degrees of intensity and intervals. Her hair of white silver she wore in the same long French braid as before.
"Ice Prison!" Icy intoned, twirling her hand as the final gesture and causing a whirlwind to erupt from it to roar outward. Flakes of snow and shards of ice materialized in the freezing air, whipping in ever-widening circles as the blast fanned out from her fingertips. The spell was accompanied by a chill that crystallized all it touched. Roxy's bones rattled just by proximity alone, and her breath felt like a dagger in her throat. The freezing torrent of magic rushed toward their enemies, enveloping them in a tomb of arcane ice. The creation was a deep glacial blue and solid as mountain stone, managing to trap three of them.
"Hermione, get their target out of here." he spoke, commanding the woman with lazy brown curls for hair to see to the task at hand. A worried countenance developing on his features as he kept a wary eye on the frozen wizards. Without a word of protest she made her way to Roxy, laying a hand on her shoulder.
"Why? I've taken care..." she began to gloat, trailing off as cracks began to form in the ice before it shattered, flinging shards of sharp ice towards them. Only to be melted by a shield of flames from Bloom.
Unbridled fury lined each of the dark wizards features, a vicious reprisal ready to be unleashed. "Stop her!"
Confused and entirely out of it, Roxy did not resist as she was squeezed through a rubber tube and darkness claimed her.
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