Seamus stopped breathing. He stared at his god, face going pale, and slowly shook his head.

"I don't…I don't know what that means…" Seamus pleaded quietly, wiping tears from his face, "What do you mean he asked for my life?"

Aed sat back on his throne, giving a long sigh, motioning the pair to sit. They did, silently, exchanging unsure looks. Seamus' heart was beating out of his chest, and he felt like he was one moment away from fainting.

"When your mother came to me, I reminded her that all magic has its price. Finding me grants her one request, and I am able to grant nearly anything, but nothing is free. She asked for children. And I have watched over the Finnegans for eons upon eons and intend to continue. And I saw, in that moment, a future greatness through her and her lineage, hailing from her progeny. So I was inclined to grant that, but I warned her of the terms. I offered two, but she wanted more. I acquiesced. I would grant her four children, each exceptional, each with my breath of life that would make them fantastic magic wielders, and the one who I saw in my vision would reveal to be my mirror. My magic flowed through her so brilliantly, guiding her to twins - as I was a twin by my parents - and then a sister for the two, named after my sister Fionnuala, honoring me. And finally, you, with my spark and fire. Forged after me. But-," Aed held up a finger, "I warned her that when your magic was drained away, I would take my son and bring him back here, to be my immortal successor."

"So you knew?" Seamus felt fear clutch him, and hot anger, fury, "You knew my magic would vanish? That I'd only get seventeen years?" He felt tears on his cheeks, fear. "That's barely anything! That's not fair!"

"You were born with great, untethered power that you have wasted away," Aed said with disgust, "Bottling it up, using those twigs to channel it, distort it…" He looked almost forlorn. "In the old days, magic was free-flowing. Great wizards hardly needed a wand to show their prowess. But that is neither here nor there. No, in my first vision, you lived until the age of one-hundred-and-eight, your magic unchecked and wild but dangerous, stealing away your life before you came to me. Certaintly a long life to most mortals, but not as long as a wizard could be."

"So what changed?" Hermione demanded.

Aed looked at her and smiled. His smile was alarming, like a shark leering in the darkness. "You."

"The bright light…" Seamus warbled, "When I saved Hermione…I called upon you, Aed, didn't I? And I didn't know where to put the magic. So it just went…out." Seamus whispered, "And I didn't know it. You're the God of Fire, so you and Beltane…" He pressed his lips together, holding back tears. "I was supposed to die that night, wasn't I?"

Hermione let out a shaky sob, "It's my fault, Seamus. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." She curled up, staring at him with such agony. Like he was already dead.

Maybe he was.

He wasn't ready to say goodbye - not to Hermione, Mam, Finn, his dad-

"Is my Da actually my Da?" Seamus asked, not sure he could bear the thought of this blow, too.

"All Finnegans are my children," Aed said slowly, "But I was not the one in your mother's bed with her."

Seamus winced and shuddered.

He waited for a moment. For Aed to pluck him up and take his soul. But then…

"Nathair asked for my life, you said? He asked for me to live, didn't he?" Seamus felt joy and despair and horror all at the same time, doubled when Aed nodded.

"He saw the path change, even before I did," Aed sounded proud, "And that I may release my original contract from existence. To leave you alone until you die and then let you go on."

"Did you grant that?"

"I did."

Hermione grasped Seamus, pulling him into her, sobbing. Seamus couldn't share in her joy, not right now, not until…

"You said all magic has a price."

"Yes."

"What was his price?"

Aed intertwined his fingers. "Nathair is a very clever boy. Someone I quite respect. While you are most preferable and have always been and will continue to be, Nathair is an...acceptable replacement. So I gave him a small price for changing the motion of history. Him for you."

Seamus already knew the answer, but he had to ask anyway. "And he took that deal, didn't he?"

Aed inclined his head.

Seamus collapsed, his whole body dissolving out from underneath him as he screamed, hitting the ground, furious and grateful and overtaken by such sadness it felt like the ground would swallow him up. Hermione took him in her arms, into her embrace, crying quietly against his shoulder too, inaudible apologies falling deaf on his ears.

They cried for a long time, and Aed allowed it. He seemed to understand their grief.

He was a sibling, too.

And some part of Seamus was sure that, despite being a god, he'd loved his siblings just as anyone else would.

Finally, Seamus had no more tears.

"What now?" He asked Hermione, exhausted. Did he just go home and live his life, knowing that there wasn't this…anvil hanging above his head, this debt to be collected from before he was even born?

Hermione traced her fingers down his face and then turned to Aed. "He just saved his life, didn't he? Not his magic." Her voice cracked.

"Asking for his life was already a large request," Aed said, and that answered it.

No magic, but Seamus was alive, and his life would forever be his own. And one day, he'd meet his family on the Otherworld here and move on, instead of being tethered to eternity, this in-between.

They were coming back without his magic…and without Nathair.

They'd failed their task.

"I don't care about children," Hermione said, but her voice broke a bit as she spoke, "But we found you too." She argued.

Aed stood. "Be that as it may be," He said evenly, and Seamus could almost taste that something was wrong, "My gifts are for the witches and wizards of the Finnegan family. And it would seem that without magic, you are not a wizard," He pointed at Seamus, "And you are not part of my magical lineage." He pointed at Hermione, "So I have no gifts to grant you."

"So we came all this way…" Seamus choked out, drowning in despair, "For nothing?"

"You got answers," Aed reminded him. "Few get such closure with death." He gave a wry smile. "I would surely know."

"Thank you for your knowledge," Hermione said, but her voice was thin and frayed. Still, Seamus watched her bow, and she nudged him.

Though the last thing Seamus wanted to do was thank the god who had taken his brother and put an expiration date on his life, he forced himself into a stiff salute.

"We should get going," Hermione whispered, as though just realizing the danger they'd put themselves in. Seamus nodded once, tearing his gaze away and turning back from the path they came.

"So we just…go home?" He asked, his throat dry, his voice like crinkled paper.

Hermione shrugged, rubbing her arms, "I don't know. I think so. I guess."

They reached the space where the forest had spat them out, but there was no entrance there. They skirted all along the edge of the forest, being careful not to go near Aed again, but there was no exit.

"Perhaps we need to wait until tomorrow," Hermione said glumly. Seamus wasn't sure if he was eager to be home in bed or dreading it.

At least you can tell your family what happened to Nathair.

As he thought of his family, he was struck by a realization. His mother knew that Seamus' magic would run its course, and she'd agreed to have kids anyway. She always knew. And, from his earliest memory of setting something on fire, she must have realized this was the child Aed would come to collect.

And she never told you.

No, Seamus wasn't eager to go home because he didn't know how he could ever look at his Mam the same way again. He felt betrayed, lied to.

But she thought you'd have over a century of life.

Playing devil's advocate didn't soothe the way his stomach churned at the idea of his Mam agreeing to such promises.

They set up came and ate dinner in silence. Then, because neither was in a mood to play any lighthearted games, they retired early, exhausted by the excitement of the day.

Seamus grasped Hermione's waist, pulling her against him. He pressed a kiss against the corner of his mouth. He felt like he was going to explode; all these emotions were battling inside of him, and each was just as displeasing to be feeling as the other.

He wanted to just cease to exist, just for a bit.

"Please," He whispered, unable to articulate his needs much more, "I don't…I cannae…" He trailed off, swallowing. "I just need to focus on something else."

Hermione turned toward him, nodding, her eyes large and tender. Wordlessly, she stripped off her top, grasping Seamus' palms and placing it over her breast, nodding. Seamus dove in for a kiss, putting all that itchiness in his brain into this , into her . Into the girl that - because of his brother - he got more time with, years, if he so chose. And he would choose it, every time, again and again. She'd walked through hell - literally - and never wavered.

In all the disappointments of the day, Hermione could never be one of them.

"It wasn't your fault," Seamus nipped her bottom lip, as though reading her mind.

"But-,"

"I knew the chances of walking into the Ministry," Seamus argued, "And I'd do it again, even knowing the outcome. Because you may have been dead otherwise." The thought anguished him, worse than Nathair's death.

"Seamus…" Hermione blinked up at him, her expression soft. She placed her palm on his cheek, and Seamus turned, kissing her palm.

"I just wish Nathair had told me."

Hermione kissed his cheek. "In his own way, he was telling you. He did."

"I never really got to say goodbye…" Seamus whispered, "I don't know what I'd…what I'd say to him, but I wish I could have."

"He knows you love him. And you know he loves you." Hermione put her hand underneath his shirt, over his heart. "It was a selfless act of sacrifice. The strongest magic in the world. Pure, unblemished love."

Seamus, sure he was about to start crying, opted to kiss her hard, rocking into her split legs.

"I need this, I need you," Seamus mumbled encouragingly.

"You have me," Hermione assured, snaking one of her hands down to kick off her knickers and pants.

Seamus pushed in slowly, languidly, kissing Hermione like it was his last time. At some point, he tasted salty tears, but he wasn't sure if it was his or Hermione's or both mixed together. Quietly, reverently, they moved in unison, less for pleasure and more for a need of human connection.

When they finished, they wrapped each other in their arms and fell asleep in a knot, silent and contemplative.

In the morning, there still was no path.

They sat out drinking tea, staring at the impassable forest.

With a night's sleep underneath his belt, he was a bit more level-headed. Hermione, it seemed, had taken the other path and was spiraling into worst-case scenarios.

"Maybe we're stuck here forever?" She asked, shaking her head, "Maybe that was a trick all along. Maybe we only are granted entry if he gives us a gift, and we're in purgatory, unable to leave."

"Maybe…" Sesamus hummed, but he wasn't convinced of that entirely.

"If we could just get to the other side, the eternal daylight…" Hermione flexed her fingers around the handle of her mug, sipping it, "I think I could…" But she trailed off. If she was about to say she could figure out a way home from there or that she could make peace with living just beyond death, Seamus wasn't sure.

He had another take.

"Maybe we're not meant to leave yet. Maybe there's still more to do here," He said, his eyebrows knitting. Something had been picking at the back of his mind all day, something Aed had said, but at the time, he'd been so overwhelmed that he hadn't thought about it.

Now, he was running back through the conversation. He thought of all the others in his family who, unbeknownst to him, had made the Quest successfully and-

"That's it!" Seamus jumped out of his chair. "That's it!"

"That's what, Sea?"

"Raymond Finnegan," Seamus snapped his fingers in triumph. "That's my Aunt Keavy's husband."

"So?" Hermione blinked, confused.

"He wasn't born a Finnegan, he married my aunt. And he was granted a boon for Fergus. I think Aed would have said it was Keavy who asked if it was so. I don't think he misspoke. And that means that-," Seamus felt his face flush, and he swallowed thickly, "Never mind." He muttered, sitting back down and staring at his feet. He couldn't say it.

"Means what, Seamus?" Hermione frowned.

"Ah, drop it, I was wrong…" He groaned into his hands, wishing he'd never opened his dumb mouth.

"Wait, wait." Hermione set down her mug, "You're…implying that someone can get a boon if they're either born a Finnegan or-," Her eyes widened as she stared at Seamus, "Married to one…"

"Hermione, please, forget it," Seamus wheezed, wishing the ground would swallow him up.

"You weren't about to suggest that we…" Hermione blinked at Seamus, her face unreadable, "Get married, were you?"

"No, because that's crazy!" Seamus shook his head. "I said I was wrong. It's not a choice."

Hermione leaned back, thinking, " I have magic. If I marry you, I get a boon because I'd be a Finnegan witch."

"No," Seamus shook his head, "Don't go there."

"You asked me to marry you not that long ago. Getting cold feet?" Hermione asked, not nearly as horrified at the idea as she ought to be.

"When we're both eighteen, out of school, and I was referring to a modern marriage," Seamus corrected, "If we did this, I have a bad feeling that Aed would only accept a wizarding union. A sharing of magic. The traditional Irish magical marriage."

"And that is…"

"Forever. I remember Mam talking about Keavy and Raymond doing it on one of their anniversaries. It was a big deal then, as adults, making an adult choice. No divorces. No cheating. Bound, inseparable, to each other's souls." Seamus said quietly, "So that's why I said forget it."

"Well, could we try a traditional marriage?" Hermione said, "Theoretically. Hypothetically."

"Who would officiate?" Seamus asked, "And I just…I just feel like I know it. Asking something of a god is a big deal, so big gestures are required. We're talking about the bleedin' start of magic and history."

"No, no, you are probably right," Hermione said, still not freaking out, "But we could do it - hypothetically - just the two of us."

Seamus went pale. "I'm not going to answer that," He mumbled.

Hermione looked hurt, "Do you not want forever with me?"

"How could you even ask that? Of course I feckin' do!" Seamus stood, angry, "I just don't want to trap you in that! For me! I'll survive without my magic, I will."

"But we can get it back!" Hermione said, incensed, "And I would feel guilty the rest of my life."

"Marryin' me out of guilt?" He gave a dry snort.

"No! You! Urg!" Hermione stomped, "I love you, Seamus, and I want to marry you. Now, three years, ten years, I will still feel the same. You say 'trap'. It wouldn't be. It couldn't."

"I'm not having this argument, Luv," Seamus stormed away.

"This is crazy, Seamus," Hermione said, and she began to laugh, dissolving entirely, "We're basically arguing about how much we love each other."

Seamus turned halfway across the field, "That's not what this is, and you know it!"

"But isn't it?" Hermione bounced on her feet before following him, "I know what I want. I want you, and I want your magic back. I want it all. We can have it all. "

"For someone so logical, you're being bloody dumb right now!" Seamus said, and immediately regretted it. Hermione's face shuttered.

"You know, I have such an issue sometimes with my emotions. Showing them." She said quietly, and it was obvious he had taken it a smidge too far.

"Just…Merlin. Your parents would murder you. They'd murder me."

"Who has to know?" Hermione asked quietly, "Why couldn't we just do it and then keep it a secret? And then in a few years have a regular ceremony?"

"What if we decide we don't actually like each other all that much?" Seamus asked, "What if I grow bored of you. What if you find someone more impressive- yes, you say that'll never happen, but what if?" Seamus pressed, "And besides, Mam would know. She'd feel it. I'm not bein' glib. You'd be a Finnegan witch. Tell me a scenario where she is somehow unaware or doesn't tell your parents."

Hermione quieted. She still was looking at him, hurt.

"See what this is doin'?" Seamus shook his head, "It's tearin' us apart. I wish I could go back to five minutes ago and never say it at all."

Seamus went to hug her. She stood stiffly, unyielding. He tried to console her. "We'll figure it out. Or we won't. But this isn't it."

Hermione bit back tears. He could see them gathering in her eyes.

Somewhere, Seamus worried this was the end.

With this elephant in the room, how could they overcome it? The knowledge of what Seamus had denied her, despite her insistence. Would it not matter one way or another?

No, it had to.

If Nathair foresaw them breaking up over this, he would have driven a wedge between them sooner. The reason he had to have let Seamus lose his magic was because he saw him happy with Hermione.

It would be pointless otherwise.

But maybe he didn't see this .

But Seamus didn't believe that. All the way he riddled it out came to the same conclusion; Nathair had seen a life in which it was worth it for Seamus to lose his magic but keep Hermione.

"Of course I want to marry yeh," Seamus swayed with her, "But not right now. Not under duress. On our own schedule."

Hermione blinked up at him, wiping her eyes. She sniffled.

"I just hate that we're coming back with nothing."

"That's not a good enough reason."

"What would be?" She asked quietly, "Not to pressure you, but just…what would be?"

Seamus blinked. "What would be a good enough reason to get married as a teenager? Godric, you hear yourself?"

Hermione laughed a bit. Maybe she was for the first time.

"Short from Aed himself commanding it…" Seamus trailed off, "I just would hate to be the reason to fuck up whatever future you have because you did it. And I want to decide when to marry yeh, only because I love you."

Hermione hugged him back, "Okay. Okay." She sounded a bit defeated, but finally came to acceptance, "When the door opens tomorrow, we'll leave it," She agreed.

Seamus kissed her.

He started to steel himself to what he was returning to.

Magic was brilliant but fleeting. He was lucky to have gotten sixteen years with it.

This was how it was always meant to go.

XXX

When Hermione woke up, Seamus was not next to her. She thought that perhaps he was out packing up, but he was not directly in their camp, nor was the entry opened to them.

Hermione bit back a scream.

What if you're stuck here…forever…

There were more arguments against this than for it. She knew at least four people who had made it back safely and only one who hadn't. And the circumstances of Nathair's disappearance were entirely different.

Still, the worry clutched her.

She threw on a jumper and went to find Seamus.

He was sitting in front of the line of fog, head tilted, eyes narrowed.

"Good morning."

Seamus jumped around when she approached.

"Couldn't sleep. I've been here," He said, motioning forward.

"Here?"

Seamus turned around, and Hermione helped him stand. He looked exhausted. She had a feeling she looked the same way. It had been weeks away from their homes, and things were starting to feel not so fun anymore.

Her panic started to rise as she imagined they'd be ghosts soon, just whispers of a memory back at Hogwarts. And they'd be stuck here, eternally, in between life and death.

"I have a theory about this fog. Somethin' my grandma used to talk about," Seamus whispered, "And I realized…she would know. Her stories may not have been just fanciful exaggeration, ya ken?"

"I suppose…yes…" Hermione blinked.

"She was here, young. Long ago. And sometimes, she'd talk about this fog in the underworld. How it would hide things. But it was dangerous for mortals, near treatcherous, because it would quickly become a maze, untraversable." Seamus had a pensive look on his face. "I cannot explain it, but some part of me knows . Nathair is in there."

"And you want to save him?" Hermione asked. Perhaps they were meant to complete part of their journey. Getting him out under Aed's eye, breaking his deal, would be more than just a bit difficult. Near impossible.

But it was for Nathair-

"No," Seamus shook his head, "I would never disobey Aed like that. It's not right. But I could see him again…" His throat caught, "And he might know how to leave."

Seamus took a step forward, and all at once, Hermione was struck with such a sense of despair and horror that she nearly flung herself on top of Seamus to stop him.

"You can't!" She gasped out, "You'll never come back."

"Take a shine to Divination now, have yeh?" Seamus asked sarcastically, brushing himself off. She knew how she must sound. But…

"I trust my gut," She said, "And I'll lose you. Aed wants you, we know this. If you go in, he'd have no reason not to take you too."

Seamus seemed ready to tease more until he looked into her eyes.

"Fuck."

Something about her gaze told him that she wasn't lying.

They sat staring at the rolling fog for a long, long time.

Hermione…Herrrrmioooneee….

"Do you hear that?" Hermione whispered.

"No, what?" Seamus lifted his head, squinting.

Hermione…

"It's my name. It's whispering to me. It sounds like Nathair." Hermione stood quickly, rapidly.

"Are you sure, or do you just want to hear it?"

"It's in my head," She tapped her temple, "And it's faint, but I think…I think…" She reached for the fog but at the last second, snatched her fingers back. She spun on her heels, jogging back to the tent. Seamus followed, but she didn't hear him. Frantically, she upended her purse, digging through a sea of items that crashed like a wave to the ground.

Vials rolled on the wood of the tent floor, miscellaneous items bounced away from her grasp, pillows exploded into their full size and-

"Aha!" She grasped her hands around Harry's Invisibilty Cloak.

Seamus' eyes bugged, "You sure as hell didn't mention that!"

"Harry insisted." Hermione pressed it to her cheeks. It still smelled like Harry. "And I rather forgot about it until…" She ran her fingers over the velveteen finish. "You know, Dumbledore took this from James. He was sure there was something of note about it. And I've read up on Invisibilty Cloaks. They never last this long, fading after a few years. The mist appears as a maze to trap foolish mortals, but what if the mist didn't know I was there?" She asked, staring at the cloak.

"You think it's that powerful?"

"Yes." Hermione said immediately, "Harry wouldn't think anything of it, but I've always thought that this was far more than just a random and cheap family heirloom."

"Well, shouldn't I be able to wear it? To avoid detection, too?" Seamus argued.

"I think I may have a better chance with magic."

Seamus pouted.

"I hate that I know you're right, but I'm still upset about it."

Hermione balled it up, "You have the right. I'm gutted you may not get to see Nathair if he's there."

"That's it, then?" Seamus sighed.

"Well, we have to try something." Hermione looked back to the forest. "We can't stay forever."

"Alright, okay, yes," Seamus pulled her into a long hug, "By the gods, be feckin' safe, Luv."

"I will be on my very best Gryffindor behavior," She promised. Seamus snorted.

"As a former Gryffindor, that isn't the resounding reassurance you think it is. But if anyone can do it, it's surely you."

They walked, hand in hand, up to the fog. Hermione kissed Seamus, unsure of everything but him. It lingered, neither wanting to let go. It had been a long time since they'd been separated. She'd grown used to his presence.

"Tell Nathair I hate his guts when you see him," Seamus inhaled, holding back tears, "And he's a right git and the worst brother in the world and…" He crumbled, pressing his palm over his lips to keep from crying, "And I have so loved bein' his baby brother."

Hermione wound her arms around him, hugging him tightly, "Of course I will."

Then, she covered herself with the cloak and took one hesitant step into the fog.

Immediately, the fog pressed around her, fogging the path behind her. Seamus' figure stood, solitary.

There was no maze in front of her.

Perhaps…perhaps she'd done it?

It looked like a normal fog. It still made visibility a few feet ahead of her difficult, but it was traversable. It seemed to stretch far and long.

There were people in the fog.

Not thousands, just a handful. She would come across them every so often, wearing all eras of clothing, all manners of person. Some were walking in the same sad circles, looking defeated. Some tundered through the space, almost bowling her over, still searching .

Hermione's first thought was that this was the underworld, but she quickly logiced through that. First, there were not nearly enough people here to fill up an afterlife, even just an Irish or Celtic one. Second, if this was what everyone had to look forward to in death, this was insanely depressing.

No, Hermione reckoned they were others. She couldn't descerin if all were magical. Some did have wands.

Was this a punishment space, like the nine circles of hell? Truly heinous people dropped here, unable to escape, searching for a door for all of eternity?

Or were they unlucky muggles, too? Were these those in folklore, people who wandered away to never be seen again? Were they tricked by fae? Pulled and drowned by kelpies?

Either way, Hermione steered clear of them. She had her wand pulled out, ready to cast, her fist tight on the cloak in front of her.

She had no sense of direction, but her feet kept moving, as though pulled by the rolling grass beneath her feet.

Her sense of adventure had fizzled.

Hermione was wise enough to know a truly dangerous situation when it was upon her.

Some part of her was terrified she'd been duped and was going to end up like these souls, always searching. That she wasn't feeling the passage of time, and those who were running and frantic only imagined a few seconds to have passed them and would be horrified to learn how long they'd actually been here.

Someone nearly knocked her over. She jumped out of the way at the last second as a girl, hardly older than Hermione, came sobbing, yelling for help.

Hermione watched her run the way Hermione had come from. She turned, but the girl seemed to dissolve into the mist, unbound to a human form.

The fog did not hold people; it held souls.

If you had stepped foot without this cloak, would that have become you?

An eerie sense rose the hair along her nape.

"This is foolish," Hermioen whispered to herself, but somewhere, she knew it would have been worse to allow Seamus in here.

She imagined it…that she'd wait in front of the fog forever, and Seamus would just cease to exist.

Who's to say that hasn't happened to you?

The voices that had whispered to her were silent. Strangely so, like someone had just closed a door sharply, instead of the alternative of the voices dying to a thin whisper.

Hermione heard something crunch under her foot.

Fearing the worst, like a bone, she summoned all her courage to peer down.

Not bone, thankfully.

Stone…gravel.

In her restless thoughts, Hermione had stumbled upon what looked like a path. She couldn't see before or ahead. Each step placed her more solidly upon it, and as she went farther, the empty space on either side of her bloomed with life.

And it was familiar, but she couldn't place it.

Green, lush foliage began to wrap the path, urging her forward.

Hermione picked up her pace.

All at once, it's like she burst through a barrier. She was still certainly within the fog. When she looked up, it rolled above her like a coming storm.

But when she looked ahead, she could see something in the distance.

A house tucked in rolling hills. Flower beds winding up the driveway. The feeling of the sun against her arms, the first time she'd felt the familiar sensation since arriving here.

For a moment, Hermione just breathed, letting it wash over her. She could hear birds chirping to each other. Until now, she hadn't realized how quiet the otherworld was. This felt more alive.

As she came closer, she was struck by realization.

She was at the Finnegan Farm.

The front door was unlocked.

Hermione pressed inside cautiously, her fingers tightly gripped around her wand. She was aware this could all be a trap.

It was tidy, not in the way she thought it would be. Some part of her expected it to be empty, almost sterile feeling. Like a soundstage made for a T.V. show, but not real. It seemed lived in but empty. Not abandoned for more than a day, just like Seamus' entire family had suddenly remembered something vital and had dropped everything at once, but not in a panic.

Dishes in the sink, being washed autonomously…a window cracked open and a book dog-eared, left by the sun…some school books flipped halfway and a messy scrawl on an essay parchment rolling onto the floor…Roisin's shawl thrown across the couch like she'd taken it off at the door…

It felt like home.

Seamus' room was empty, as was all the siblings. For a moment, Hermione sat on Seamus' bed. She wasn't well acquainted enough with his room to know when in time this was, but it seemed mostly familiar to her.

It felt wrong to look around Seamus' room like this, as though it was a memorial of sorts. Hermione left it quickly.

The rest of the house was abandoned, too. In fact, Hermione was almost sure that it was a trap and no one was there, until she turned to see Darraugh's workbarn.

The door was ajar.

Hermione hastened across the space, pressing into it. It wasn't a woodshop. Well, it was, but it had been cleared away. Instead, the room was filled with papers and notes and scrawlings and photos, plastered and hanging from the rafters.

There was someone with their back turned.

He turned, and a wide grin split across Nathair's face.

"Merlin, Hermione, I've been waiting for you!"