Bewildered

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/25588000.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: F/M, M/M, Other, Multi
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius
Black/Remus Lupin, Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley, Arthur
Weasley/Molly Weasley
Characters: Ron Weasley, Pansy Parkinson, Severus Snape, Original Characters,
Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Molly Weasley,
Gregory Goyle, Nymphadora Tonks, Narcissa Black Malfoy, Blaise
Zabini, Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass, Luna Lovegood, Lee Jordan,
Angelina Johnson, Regulus Black, Peter Pettigrew
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Dimension Travel, Alternate Universe - Canon
Divergence, Violence, Creature Fic, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics,
Alpha Draco Malfoy, Alpha/Omega, Omega Harry Potter, Mating
Cycles/In Heat, Implied Mpreg, Anxiety, Blood, Sex, First Time,
Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Emotional Manipulation, Fluff,
Hurt/Comfort, Bottom Harry, Top Draco Malfoy, Dom/sub Undertones,
Major Original Character(s), Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega
Dynamics, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Praise Kink, Parselmouths
& Parseltongue (Harry Potter), Implied/Referenced Character Death,
Possession, Ghosts, Minor Character Death, Blood and Violence,
Peverell original characters, Happy Ending, Falling In Love, Fluff and
Smut, Plot Twists, Master of Death (Harry Potter), The Deathly Hallows
Language: English
Collections: Interesting Books, Do not misplace (Harry Potter), Tempus et Spatium

🌹
books I enjoy/enjoyed, Drarry Fics For Later, THE
UNIQUE , Really good fics, R's Favourites
🎵 UBIQ 🦋
(Time and Space), Worldbuilding, dreams of another life (reincarnation),

🎭 ☠ THE

Stats: Published: 2020-07-29 Completed: 2023-07-25 Words: 147,505

Chapters: 39/39
 Bewildered
by SparrowGrim

Summary

"Harry. My name is Harry Potter."

James fell back against the floorboards, casting one last frantic glance at the boy who claimed
to be his son, before shaking his head.

"That isn't possible."

*Work is currently being translated into Spanish

by: Jennifersiza
Platform: Wattpad
 1

The moon was full.

Coating the trees around him in slivers of silken white and highlighting each stone it landed
on; beneath its light, Harry believed almost anything could become clean again.

Everything except for him, of course. His was a dirt that did not wash out easily, a blot on his
very soul that prevented him from sleeping and giving in to the happiness that wanted to exist
around him. He was surrounded by friends, by people who wanted nothing but the best for
him. Their smiles and laughter, their fought-for peace and well-earned relief often saw him
through each day; even though the thought of having to climb into bed every night sent a
chill through his blood.

The nightmares, he could do without.

They haunted whatever chance for a normal life he may have had, clawing at his mind even
while he was awake and making peace an impossibility. Though the war had ended, so too
had so many innocent lives; lives he himself had been responsible for. Lives of the ones he
had loved and lives of the ones he had hated, it didn't matter anymore. The only thing that
mattered now were the faces that peered at him still beneath the darkness of corrupted sleep,
their lifeless eyes demanding an answer of the saviour who had not saved them in time.

Cedric. Sirius. Dumbledore. Remus. Tonks. Fred. Lavender. Snape... So many others...

Their faces were never far from the ever-condemning criticism of his own mind. He should
have done better, he knew that now. He should have tried harder or moved faster, he should
have been stronger. In the months since the war had ended, Harry's own guilt had been a
constant despite the hands that clapped his back and named him a hero. Despite all the
celebrations that had taken place in the name of Voldemort's demise, Harry felt as though his
insides were hollow.

Green eyes seeming too big in a small face barely passed the age of eighteen, a body slender
from too many missed meals. His skin itself was a silvery pale beneath the cleansing
moonlight, hiding for a moment the scars that littered his arms, his neck, his forehead. Dark
hair seemed almost black beneath the bright light and hanging in freshly washed waves to an
upturned shirt collar. There seemed little point in cutting it, little point in doing anything that
would make him stand out even for the briefest moment. He tucked into his small frame with
a vengeance whenever he was with people, a vain attempt to hide away. It was hard to hide,
though, when he had two of the literal brightest people in the world on either side of him.

Harry's lips lifted in a gentle smile. How Hermione and Ron could stand his mood swings,
how they had been putting up with him this past while, he would never know. He could never
have wished for more loyal, more brilliant friends than the pair. That they were finally
together despite their years of bickering and self-imposed awkwardness only served to
brighten his usually dull and drifting mood; seeing their clasped hands and loving smiles
bringing a curl to his own lips despite the faint flicker of envy that was sometimes present.
Love was a thing he both craved and was incredibly afraid of. To depend on someone so
wholly as to give them your trust, your heart, your insecurities and your imperfections, was a
terrifying concept. The love that he felt for the Weasley family, for his parents memory, for
Sirius alone had been enough to almost tear him in two. To love someone like Ron loved
Hermione? To know that every time one walked away, they took a small piece of the other's
heart with them? To offer up all that Harry was, it just seemed a burden too big to place on
anyone's shoulders. How could he possibly marr another soul so heavily with all that he had
been through and expect them to still be capable of loving him? No. He could never do
something so selfish. Nobody deserved that.

So selfish.

Nobody...

Nobody deserved that.

A howl ripped through the night air; cold and feral and alarmingly close.

Harry snapped from his daze, his fingers working his wand from its sheath beneath the snow
white of his shirt, and legs bracing where he had been standing at the edge of the Forbidden
Forest. What had that been? And from where... Was it a wolf, or a werewolf? The distinction
was a vital one. A wolf he could stun, could easily avoid the beast and make his way back to
the castle unscathed. A werewolf was a far trickery creature. A werewolf meant possible
death and, despite the sadness that often crept against his mind, death was something Harry
intended to avoid his final year at Hogwarts. The boy moved, frantic steps sounding out
heavily against the dry packed floor of the forest. He hadn't wandered too far from the castle,
had he?

The howl sounded again, tapering into a ghoulish snarl that had his steps picking up in force.
That had not sounded like any ordinary wolf.

Harry's eyes stretched into the endless darkness of the Forbidden Forest, the shadows clear
and damning against his magically-corrected sight. A lot of good decent vision would be to
him if he was caught by whatever creature had silenced the nocturnal sounds of the forest.
His thighs protested the sudden movement, had grown tight and stiff in the year spent with no
more adventure or action than the nightly strolls he took. Harry grasped his wand harder,
breathing harsh as he almost stumbled over a series of rocks with a sharp turn to the right.

Had he come that way? Merlin, he had been sure he had only taken a ten minute stroll
through the dark trees... Hadn't he? Hermione would kill him when she found out.

If she found out.

The forest itself seemed to tilt with such a sudden shift that he stalled, moonlight spilling
over his panicked face as he stumbled through a sudden clearing. Definitely unfamiliar,
unknown to him. He shook the dizziness from his head with a groan, squinting up to stare at
branches stretching out as though to reach for him. He bared his teeth as the world seemed to
right itself with a snap, finding his feet beneath him again.
Get a grip, Harry, you've faced werewolves before.

The sharp memory of Remus Lupin flashing before his eyes had him crashing against a solid
Oak, hissing when the rough bark dragged the skin from his left arm like a ragged knife,
staining his once pristine school shirt with scarlet blood. One year, he pleaded, eyes staring
up to catch the snippets of moonlight still filtering through, could he not have one year where
he didn't get himself caught up in his own stupidity? Was there no force out there that would
prevent him from endangering himself?

"Please..." he gasped, the howl behind him becoming an all too hungry sound. So close...

Harry cast one last desperate look up at the moon, his head spinning. "Please."

###

The dark haired Order member groaned, stretching a kink from his back as he stood from the
tree stump he had been sitting on for the past half an hour.

"I dunno about you, Sirius, but I'm about ready to call it a night."

Sirius Black glanced up at his friend, dark eyes brooding before they switched back to the
pleasantly silent forest spread out before them. A sigh fell from his lips, one hand dragging
through his dark curls as he, himself, stood with a cracking yawn. His body was that of an
older man, though one in such pristine condition, one would be hard-pushed to find fault in it
due to age alone. He kicked the pile of broken debris scattered about his feet with a roll of his
eyes. "Someone sent us on a wild goose chase."

James Potter frowned, hazel eyes glinting behind the heavy frames he wore. "Not bloody
likely," he growled, fitting his wand back into the holder on his arm before turning his back
on the once aptly-named Forbidden Forest. It hadn't been known as such in nearly five years,
its once proud inhabitants and terrifying legends long since fled after the battle of Hogwarts
had wiped out half the ancient trees with fiend fire. That they had saved even half of the
forest was a miracle in itself and had cost Dumbledore his last stand. It was not likely that
they would find anything living in its dark depths, but still, it was their duty to be certain.

"You know well we were ear-marked for this journey." James' voice cut across the other
man's thoughts, the Auror straightening his robes as he cast one last sorrowful glance at the
rubble the ancient castle had been reduced to. It had seemed an unbearable sin to tear down
what remained of the magical walls to rebuild something afresh. James remembered the day
it was decided that the new school would be built elsewhere; Hogwarts remaining forever
more as nothing but a heartbreaking reminder of the lives lost. A devastating declaration of
war.

Sirius growled, sliding his own wand into his pocket as he shouldered the bag strewn across
the damp grass. "I know, routine check to make sure no ferals are trying to settle again. Spare
me the Minister's lecture on maintaining the battlefield and preserving the landscape, James,
the old fart has it damn well drilled into my skull."
James snorted a laugh despite his clouded memories, hazel eyes twinkling. "Maybe if you
didn't try and add your own flare to the Auror's after years of strict training, he'd go easier on
you, Padfoot. You bring it on yourself, like Lily says."

"Ah, Lily, flower of my heart," Sirius dodged the hex thrown in his direction, cackling, "You
know, I'll never understand how a woman like that settled for an ass like you, Prongs.
Twenty-six years bonded and she still hasn't left you. It's the Imperious, isn't it, go on you can
tell me!"

"Blast it, hold still you mongrel so that I can do some damage to your face," James snarled,
lips forming a feral smile as Sirius wrapped an arm around him in a gesture of brotherhood,
his white teeth flashing in a handsome smirk. Sirius was Sirius, regardless of whether that
lost him friendships or grated on people's nerves. It was one of the things James admired
about his old friend, to remain so stoically... Himself. James sighed.

"She's invited you and Remus for dinner during the week." James bent to grab the discarded
bag, shaking it free of dust, "it makes her happy to have a house filled with noise, she says
that's how it should have been if not for... Well," James cut off with a cough, slinging the bag
over Sirius' shoulder, "will you come?"

"Don't we always, my friend?" Sirius smiled warmly, only for a sudden blur of movement
against the darkened forest to have him spinning back, his dark eyes narrowed.

"Did you see that?"

James turned, a questioning hum on his lips, just in time to see a flicker of light before
something burst through the forest opening. His wand was raised in an instant, red light
flashing as he sent a stunning spell at whatever creature had come from within. There was a
cry of pain, distinctly human and non-threatening, before the body crumpled to the ground
and silence weighed heavy on the pair left standing.

"One of ours?" Sirius questioned, wand raised as the duo moved cautiously closer, his brow
drawing down in confusion when they were close enough to see that this was the body of a
boy, just a boy. James cursed beside him, hazel eyes frantic as he pocketed his wand and
pushed the youth onto his back, grimacing at the protruding bones beneath his fingers that let
him know how long it had been since the kid had had a decent meal.

"He looks... Familiar... Does he look familiar?"

James ignored his friend's comment, eyes searching the youth for signs of injury. A slender
face, delicate and pale and pinched still with worry, from what James could make out of it in
the fading light. The boy's lips were parted as he took in breath after frantic breath, as though,
even unconscious, he was not at peace. His midnight dark hair was long in an untidy way,
curling and soft. It was too dark, the youth's face half cast in shadows; and yet there was
something familiar there, without a doubt, in the boy's perked nose and gentle chin.

James shook his head.

"I don't know. We'd best take him back to the Safe House rather than the Ministry though.
Those fools would panic and throw him in an interrogation room before the boy's even seen a
decent meal and from the looks of him, he needs one." Sirius murmured his agreement. The
Order was a place anyone could feel at ease, even if the Black house itself was one in
desperate need of a coat of paint. Wherever the boy had come from and whatever he had been
doing wandering a forest alone at night, all of it could wait for now.

###

Harry woke with a snarl, flinging himself from a bed he was not familiar with even as the
scent of something that was not Hogwarts gathered in his senses. The sheets now strewn
along the floor were a midnight blue, not the stark white of the Infirmary. The room his eyes
flickered across a dull shade of pale brown, full of the scent of clean sheets and not medical
potions and healing salve. Unfamiliar. Where in Merlin's name...

A sudden movement had him pivoting, his hand leaping for his wand, only to grasp air. Harry
let loose a strangled sound, clutching at his forearm that held no wand holder but had instead
been bandaged. The white bindings had him momentarily frozen, his mouth twisting in a
grimace as he tried to calm his breathing.

"Hey, kid, you're alright. You're safe. Here, I'll give you your wand if you promise not to hex
me?"

Harry staggered to face that voice, green eyes blown wide in his head and his mouth popping
open as the image of Nymphadora Tonks sitting on a chair beside the wall filtered across his
brain. But, of course, that couldn't be right. Tonks could not be sitting in this unfamiliar room
with him with her vibrant pink hair and her soft, friendly, cheeky smile, Harry's wand
swinging in her hand like a toy. No, no, that wasn't right at all. Unless... Unless he had been...

"Did... Did I actually die?"

Tonks' smile melted, her brow drawing down in a line of worry as the kid suddenly swayed,
catching himself on the bedpost as he stared at her like he had seen a ghost. The kid wasn't
that sick, was he? Or missing some faculties? Merlin, she was getting too old for this. Tonks
rose slowly, frowning as the boy became a statue, his white skin flushing green as he watched
her get up and hold up her hands.

"Relax, kid. Why don't you get back into bed and I'll let Sirius know you're awake and then
we'll have someone take a look at you, okay?"

A whine left the boy's throat as she spoke, his hands reaching up to drag at his black curls as
though something pained him. Tonks watched him sob dryly, her mouth fixed in a grimace,
before she was stumbling from the bedroom with a gentle command to Stay Put.

Harry sank against the bedframe, back to the cold metal as he tugged on a fistful of hair,
trying to make sense of exactly what was happening. Had he not just been at Hogwarts?
Fleeing from a bloody werewolf? Was it a werewolf? Had he even heard right ... What had...
Where the hell had he ended up? And why the hell was this place taunting him with dead
people. This wasn't right... No... This wasn't right...
"Hey, Champ."

Harry's clenched fists rose to his mouth, pale hands hiding the grimace he could no longer
control as he turned to stare at the man now crouched beside him. Hazel eyes framed by dark
glasses stared back at him, the man's older face smiling softly as he brushed a wayward
strand of messy brown hair from his own forehead. Harry's heart stilled inside his chest, his
hands falling from his face to land in his lap as his chest heaved one loud, broken sob.

"Dad?"

James' smile had vanished, his face an emotionless mask as he stared down at the small boy
crouched behind his bed like he was hiding from invisible monsters. The Auror's heart bled
for him, it really did. No child should have to live life so frightened, so confused. When those
green eyes, glistening with unshed tears, had turned on him and that heartbroken voice called
out to him, though, James had felt his insides freeze.

"Not possible..." he whispered, hazel eyes suddenly wide behind his lenses as the small boy
stared up at him hopelessly.

Lily's eyes.

James felt his heart quicken in his chest. His mouth was set in a grim line. Not only Lily's
eyes, but Lily's chin. His Lily's features staring up at him and his Lily's distressed sobbing as
the boy drew away suddenly, his dark hair once again clutched in pale hands as he bit his lips
on a grimace. That was his own mess of dark hair on this stranger's head, James realised; his
own unruly curls and his own slender nose. The only physical things he had known his son
had inherited from him.

His son.

"What's your name?" James demanded suddenly, pulling the boy's hand from his hair with
more force than necessary. The boy glared at him, one moment furious and the next,
devastated. Every emotion was on show in those emerald eyes in a way they never were with
Lily. The boy grabbed his arm back, his breath leaving him in a sigh and his eyes sliding shut
almost as if he was preparing himself for something inevitable.

"Harry. My name is Harry Potter."

James fell back against the floorboards, casting one last frantic glance at the boy who claimed
to be his son, before shaking his head. "This isn't possible."

"Yeah, I've gathered that, thanks!" The boy spat suddenly, drawing his knees to his chest and
glaring at James over the top of them. "Unless you haven't noticed, you're supposed to be
dead!"

That threw James for a loop. He frowned, glancing around the room until his eyes landed on
Tonks' wide-eyed face. He cleared his throat, shaking his head to clear it as he rose to his feet.
Clearly, there was something both of them were missing here and he needed to be rational. So
his son... His son? He was... Alive...
Was his son alive?

He needed to breathe. He needed to... To let someone take over for a minute.

"Would you go find someone his own age, Tonks, and have them show him to the kitchen for
some food or something. I think a few of the young crowd are floating around in the attic
with the bat. Could you just... Take him... Just for a second. Please... I need... I need to find
Sirius. I need him and I need... Remus. And... I... Please? "

Tonks was already nodding, her brown eyes melting to green as she turned to face the boy
still hunched in on himself behind the bed. James cast him one last desperate look, terrified
by the grief of loss that was attacking his mind once more, the old pain like new; and yet, at
the same time, trying to deal with a baffling amount of vicious, confusing excitement. His
son.

That was his son.

###

They were in Grimmauld place. Harry almost rolled his eyes for not recognising the house
sooner. As soon as Tonks forced a calming draught down his throat and started leading him
towards the creaking set of stairs, he recognised it. Granted, he had never seen it so... bright
and airy, but it still held the abject misery that a few new windows and open curtains simply
weren't going to fix. Didn't it? Maybe he was just feeling too artificially detached to
appreciate it.

"Sooo... Harry... Wanna tell me where you came out of? I mean, I know they found you at the
forest but that place has been abandoned for years." Tonks eyed him warily, prodding him
with the end of his own wand before handing it back with a grin, "You're not some kind of
illusion, are you? Some strange new creature thing that takes on impossible forms?" She
leaned in to sniff at him. "You smell like a normal Beta, are you just a Beta? You really are
just a wizard?"

As surreal as the conversation was, Harry couldn't prevent the small smile across his lips as
he glanced up at Tonks. Happy and friendly, even to a kid she obviously had no way of
knowing. The same, old Tonks.

"I think so. I mean, I am a wizard, yes, not a, a creature or anything... I was just taking a
walk, I don't usually go so far from the school."

"The school?" Tonks stopped, her wand paused where she had begun to call down the stairs
leading to the attic.

Harry nodded, green eyes flitting about the shadowy corridor, alert despite the rigid calm the
potion was trying to enforce on him. "Yeah, you know, Hogwarts? McGonagal's gonna kill
me when she's realised I've gotten myself messed up in whatever the hell this all is. I mean...
I wasn't lying, my father really is dead..." Harry puffed out his cheeks with a sigh, his head
spinning as Tonks placed a steady hand on his shoulder.
"One step at a time, kid. Go on up and meet some of the others, let the adults have a chat and
then come find you. I gotta head home myself, I was only passing by to check in with
James." She cast him a curious glance, eyes soft. "They usually chat up there if one of 'em
needs to escape whatever they've got going on at home. Poor sods if they feel more
comfortable here." She shivered, exaggerated and with a smile full of bright teeth. "This
place still gives me the creeps."

Harry smiled again, though it felt more like a grimace.

One step at a time. Right.

He could do this.

He reached out to grab the banister, pulling himself up with ease and stepping through the
opening silently. They were kids... Right? They would be around his age, wouldn't they? That
could mean Hermione and Ron were here...

So this was a strange world he had dropped himself into, by the looks of things... An unreal
world.... But he could get on with those two in any universe, right?

Same old Ron and Hermione... That would be fine, he would be fine... What else could be
different?

Lots of things, he thought with a stutter to his breathing, if his walking and talking and
breathing father was anything to go by...

Harry stood in the darkly lit room, the open space cluttered with box upon box of dust-
covered junk, and abandoned furniture piled almost to the ceiling. He could safely admit that
he was far from home now. How had he even managed this? What had happened in that
forest?

"If you're trying to be sneaky, you aren't doing a good job. I can smell you."

The voice, dark and seductive with a roll of genuine humour sounded... almost familiar.
Harry darted forward around a stack of wooden crates, eyes wide. That voice, he knew that
voice...

The group seated around the corner drew him up short, his frowning face giving way to
confusion. The first face, was of a man he simply did not recognise. Male and blonde and
with such a curious glint to his dark eyes that Harry looked away first. The lumbering hulk
beside him could have been none other than Gregory Goyle, the boy's face as unfortunately
plain in this new world as it had been in the last, though his fat seemed to have been replaced
by a wall of muscle. Harry blinked at them, mind oddly blank, but his eyes automatically
roving to see more.

And there was Ron, his lanky form lounged against an old wicker chair and a female who
was not Hermione seated between his parted thighs. He quirked an eyebrow at Harry, his long
arms winding around the brunette in front of him.
"You look like you've been through hell, mate, you new to the Order?"

His voice was just the same, his tone concerned and mildly amused as Harry watched him
pull the scowling brunette in for a cuddle, her sudden laughter was piercing in the small
space, and all too familiar. Despite the sweet smile on her face and the gentle curl to her once
straight, dark hair; Pansy Parkinson's was a face Harry would never forget. She looked at him
now with a fraction of curiosity in her brown eyes, that was marred only by a strange look of
upset.

"What is it that's the matter with you then? Mummy and Daddy not care enough to dress you
properly?"

Harry snarled, drawing his wand out and pointing it at a suddenly wide-eyed Pansy. The
brunette straightened suddenly. "Stand down!" she shrieked, glaring at him, "Merlin, touchy
subject, alright. I apologise, I have had a bad day, put down your damned weapon, we do not
threaten others in this house."

Harry's arm dropped, his breath catching in his chest. Had Parkinson just apologised to him?
Had the girl who had once offered him up to Voldemort just preached peace? Was she a
member of the Order? Gods, did the Order even stand for the same thing here? He had no
idea what was going on... what to expect. Harry's scowl fell to nothing, his lips quivering
suddenly in a way that had Parkinson standing, her hands out and stalking towards him
slowly as though he were a deer about to bolt.

Harry felt his eyes cloud, his wounded arm lifting to scrub a hand across his face. It should be
Hermione offering him that look of guarded sympathy, that innate worry that came with a
maternal instinct. It should be her and Ron cuddled at Hogwarts glaring at him as he
described how he had just escaped a... a mauling from a feral werewolf. It should not be
this... strange and confusing reality that was enfolding before his eyes; that wiped away the
deaths of his loved ones as though they had never happened, as though the trauma and pain in
him now had no right to even exist. This wasn't right... Merlin, this wasn't right...

"Ah, Pans... You're scaring the poor boy half to death."

That voice spilled over Parkinson's gentle murmurings, a pale hand darting out to knock the
woman back a few feet. The body that followed was one that could have been a new
nightmare all in itself. Sleek and strong and decked in a silk shirt and stiff trousers of black
that only served to enhance his snowy white skin. The torso twisted forward, long legs braced
against the old floorboards as wings snapped free of their confinement against the man's
spine; jet-black and scaled like a dragon's.

That familiar voice hummed a soft sound, as Harry dragged what he was certain were huge
eyes up that tall body, taller even than the man had been back at Hogwarts. Harry felt his
stomach flip horrifically, what little contents it held threatening to rise. A pale, pointed face
edged ever closer, staring down at him from beneath a curtain of white-blonde hair that fell to
broad shoulders. Pale lips quirked in a familiar smirk that had Harry's blood boiling as he
locked gazes with, not the pale silver he had expected, but a deep blood red.
Draco Malfoy's lips split in a genuine smile, the barest point of sharp teeth scraping against
his bottom lip.

"You look like you've never seen a vampire before."

 2

In hindsight, pulling a wand on a fully matured Vampire probably wasn't the cleverest of
moves Harry had ever tried.

He groaned, back throbbing where he lay against the side of the attic floor stilted still with
rafters. His wand was grasped tightly in the pale fingers of Draco Malfoy, a man who wore
such a grimace of discomfort on his face that Harry almost felt bad for forcing his hand.

And that was just... Completely mad.

Draco Malfoy; his school rival and a man he had only begun to come to terms with in his
own reality, was now a creature of the night and had just disarmed him and sent him flying
across the room to collide with the uneven floor. Not only would such an... appearance by
disconcerting, but the fact that Draco Malfoy had just bested him in combat, in the blink of
an eye it had taken Harry to jab his wand into the man's neck, was nerve-wracking. Malfoy
had never beaten him at anything. Not only those small facts though; such an action as
defeating Harry Potter would have had the previous Draco Malfoy laughing aloud with glee
and that trademark smirk plastered across his smug face.

This Malfoy was frowning.

Not only frowning, but grimacing, such a human gesture that looked as unsettling on the
blonde's aristocratic face as it did on a vampire with scarlet eyes. He sighed, stowing Harry's
wand away in the band of his pants before the soft sound of boots approaching had the green
eyed wizard scrambling against the floor to stand and defend himself.

Harry struggled to his feet, hands raised before him as though he expected some vicious blow
and his green eyes narrowed on the blonde vampire.

"Don't touch me!"

Malfoy rolled his eyes, an almost comical gesture were it not for their blood-thirsty tint.
"Alright," his voice was the same smooth drawl it had always been, though with a degree of
emotion that set Harry on edge, "clearly, we have a child with some deep-rooted hate of dark
creatures and a tendency to attack before he speaks. Not very gracious traits, little one, and
most certainly not acceptable at the Order. Who was it that recruited you? If you can call it
that... I'd go so far as to call it kidnapping."

Harry bared his teeth at the round of laughter that comment called up from the rest of the
group. A hatred of dark creatures? Hell no, he had adored Remus. What he did have was a
well-deserved hate of snotty little rich boys who thought they owned the place and reveled in
the misery of others. "I'm not much younger than you! And for your information, I knew a
werewolf once and he was like family to me."

"A werewolf? Well then, there is hope for you yet." Draco smiled, the feature so shockingly
unexpected and pleasant on the blonde's sharp features that Harry dropped his fighting stance
and felt his head tilt in confusion. What the hell? Malfoy stalked from his front to his back, a
slow circle as his blood-red eyes trailed over Harry's form, "though I hardly think you're
more than fifteen. That's a big step down from twenty-four, little one."

"Twenty-four?" Harry felt his stomach roll with unease, his green eyes snapping up to glance
at Draco's face before he pulled away from the intensity there, focusing instead on the other
four occupants of the attic. Now that he really thought about it, they did seem in some strange
way, older than his own schoolmates had been. Ron had lost some of the lankiness to his
gangly frame, more toned and a degree broader. Even Pansy's curious face had lost a
roundness that Harry had not even realised was there on the old Pansy.

"Yes, twenty-four," the only female grinned up at him, tucking her feet beneath her where she
sat on the floor by Ron's stretched-out legs, "though if you were aiming for lower, I am
flattered, sweetheart." She watched him cast a nervous glance at Draco, obviously on edge;
though what the vampire had done beyond call him a kid, Pansy did not know. He was
young, there was no denying that, younger than they ever recruited Order members. His
bandaged arm and the ribs visible beneath that flimsy white shirt spoke of neglect and
damage even with his green eyes guarded. Pansy suspected one decent legilimens would have
spilled every one of the fragile creature's little secrets and by the way his body guarded each
step he took, it was obvious that he had secrets.

"I'm eighteen," he said suddenly, frowning at Draco's snort of disbelief before crossing his
arms before him like a small child about to be dealt a punishment. "Look, I'm a little out of
my depth here... I don't know what the hell is going on or if I'm dreaming or knocked my
head on a rock in that forest, but I'm starving."

"Clearly." Was Draco's dry roll, his red eyes slanting on the boy's slender form. The blonde
almost regretted pushing him so hard, though he would have reacted in such a way to anyone
who had threatened his friends or himself. Even as a human, he had never been one to deal
well with threats, magical or not. The blonde straightened, tucking his wings comfortably
against his back before nodding his head in the direction the boy had come from, one pale
hand rising to beckon the group forward.

"Come on, then, it wouldn't do to have you keel over under our watch."

###

"So, what's your name then? And why is it you reckon you're dreaming?"

Ron waited until the bowl of stew Pansy had heated and set before the younger boy was half
empty, his hands braced on his chin before asking the question. There was something oddly
familiar about the boy that had Ron frowning from his seat beside Greg, the larger man's head
bowed over a bowl of his own. He didn't recall the youth from Hogwarts, though there was a
six year age gap and the kid would have only been starting out by the time they left. Hell, he
would have still been attending at the time of the battle; maybe that's why the kid was so
twitchy whenever Draco stalked about the room or Tommy laughed too loud at something
Pansy had said. Sure, the students had been hidden by McGonagall at the time, but that didn't
mean to say that the kid might have seen something traumatic or gotten knocked about in the
run from the Great Hall to the Dungeons.
Green eyes focused on him, wary and watching even though his body seemed to have relaxed
in the wooden chair. He pushed his bowl away with a sigh, running one hand through his
wayward curls as he rolled his eyes to stare at the ceiling.

"My name's Harry."

"Harry." Pansy sighed from where she leaned against the counter, one jean-clad hip braced
against the edge. "I was expecting something exotic and you give me 'Harry'." She watched
the boy dis-colour, his pale cheeks flushing pink enough to warrant a leering stare from
Draco before the blonde picked up the discarded bowl and stood to dump it in the sink. Harry
followed his movements like it was second nature, his gaze not settling on Pansy again until
Draco had braced himself against the windowsill and was watching the world outside
illuminated only by the stars.

"Well, sorry, but it's just Harry." The dark haired youth brought his hand up to tug at his
unkempt hair, trying to still the migraine that was swiftly swimming behind his eyes. This
was surreal. Everything that was panning out was evidence of something not-right and yet
these people were carrying on as normal and the world was still spinning and the soup still
tasted like soup and Merlin, what was he going to do? How could he get himself out of a
mess he hadn't even consciously created? What the hell had happened in those stupid woods
that had led him running into an alternate world where nobody knew him but his dead father?

His father. Gods, he had a father. James Potter was alive and maybe that meant his mother...
Oh, and Sirius too if Tonks' word was anything to go by. Harry groaned, forcing his hands
against eyes that were rapidly filling with tears. What was he going to do? How could he just
pretend everything was alright? What was he going to do? What was he going to do...

Cool fingers suddenly and sharply gripping the back of his neck had Harry's panicked
breathing halting in its tracks, his mouth open as his nape was pinched gently, forcing his
hands to drop to his sides. Had that spot always been so sensitive?

"Panic gets us nowhere, little one."

The voice was intended for his ears alone, those fingers gripping his skin once more as a
shiver raced through him, before sliding away. Harry sat, agape, wide eyes pinned on Malfoy
as the blonde slinked from beside him and dropped his tall body into a chair tucked against a
wall. Repulsed, his mind supplied the sudden blank slate the sensation of those pale fingers
had left against his neck, he should feel repulsed. He should shout out and rebel such
treatment. He wasn't a child and he wasn't a pet to be trained into cooperating. How dare
Malfoy touch him?

He opened his mouth, brow furrowed, only for an almost imperceptible shake of the blonde
vampire's head to clamp his lips shut once more and have him turning his eyes down.
Repulsion was perhaps the furthest thing from his mind. Confusion, yes, without a doubt. He
was very confused, but repulsed by the action? Those fingers had taken with them some of
his headache... How...

Harry jumped as the door to the kitchen was flung open, Pansy shrieking where she had been
silently studying the exchange between her friend and the stranger. She blinked furious eyes
at the bang the sudden entrance had caused, snarling when the rumpled figure of Sirius Black
filled the doorway.

"Trust it to you, Black, to make such an unnecessary bloody entrance."

The Auror ignored her, his black eyes wide as the footsteps behind him sounded in time with
the voice of James Potter.

"Damn it all, Sirius, get back here! We don't even know if it's really him! It could be a trick!"

Sirius growled, propelling himself into the kitchen before James could swipe him backwards,
snapping out his wand in a playful manner when James skidded in behind him, his own wand
raised. "Well, I'll damn well see if it's a trick won't I? As if I wouldn't know my own
Godson!" The dark haired wizard huffed as he straightened his robes, face smiling as he
turned towards the table. His eyes landed on the boy at the end, small and eclipsed by the
taller forms of Ron and Tommy on either side of him. His eyes were huge in his head, all but
popping from his skull as he stared back and forth between the two new occupants of the
room. He was young, too young to be the Harry Potter of this world; but there was no
mistaking that face. By Merlin, he knew the boy had been familiar.

"Harry."

The sound of his name on the lips of a man long dead had Harry jerking back, his hands
braced against the table.

Sirius Black, a man Harry had blamed himself for the death of, stood before him in brilliant
scarlet robes, his face younger and healthier than Harry had ever known it to be and his black
hair pulled back in an elegant ponytail. His body moved before his mind could even
recognise what was happening, his legs striding forward until he had thrown his arms around
the frozen man before him and buried his face in the wizard's chest. "Sirius."

Stiff arms came around him, unsure and timid, until a hand was patting his back and a
soothing shush against the crown of his head had Harry sobbing against this stranger's chest.
This was Sirius... No matter that this world was not his own and the people in it were strange
and unnerving, this was his Sirius. This was the man who had offered him a home when he
hadn't even sorted a home for himself, the man who had begged for the right to raise him
when his parents had died and who had given his life to protect him. This was Sirius.

Sirius glanced at his friend helplessly, arms around the young boy that clung to him as though
he was a lifeline. Shouldn't this have been the lad's reaction to his father, not his Godfather?
James was watching them, his hands clutched in the material of his robes as if to stop himself
from reaching out. He shared a grim glance with Sirius' dark eyes, his head tilting in a nod.
They needed to understand just what it was that was happening. Dimension jumping was no
joking matter, nor was it something to take lightly. If this was Harry Potter from another
world, than they needed to understand just why he had been brought to their one, and if there
would ever be a possibility of returning him home. James frowned as he watched Sirius lead
the boy through to the living room, the younger members trailing behind them with curiosity
and intrigue in their eyes. Judging by the emotional and physically state of his... son, James
wasn't sure whether he even wanted to send the boy back home.
###

"So you were at Hogwarts? And it's still a school in your world?"

Harry turned to face the blonde boy he hadn't known from the group of younger Order
members, his stomach twisting as he finished his story of how he had been repeating his final
year in Hogwarts due to the war and had wandered off alone into the forest and gotten chased
by the wolf. He had no real answer as to why he had emerged into their Hogwarts and not his
own beyond cursing himself for getting into another stupid mess.

"Of course it's still a school. They rebuilt it a bit but it's still the same old Hogwarts.
McGonagall made an incredible job of it and because of so many of us fighting in the war
and on different sides, we had to return to retake our exams."

"You fought in the war?" Ron breathed, blue eyes huge and for a moment, Harry smiled,
reminded of his own Ron Weasley. He twisted his legs beneath him where he sat on the couch
beside Pansy, her presence almost comforting as she murmured reprimands at him for being
alone outside. Bizarre though it was to his senses, this Pansy was clearly a better person than
her counterpart.

"We all did." Harry's gaze narrowed, "I take it there was a war here too, then?"

Sirius sighed from the chair to Harry's right, his eyes flicking to James where the man
watched Harry with unblinking eyes. "Five years ago, yes," he grimaced, "and before that. I
don't suppose you know who I'm referring to when I say You-Know-Who?"

"Voldemort." Harry deadpanned, drawing a hiss form the dark form of Draco Malfoy where
the vampire stood frozen against the doorway, his arms crossed. Harry scowled at him, nose
wrinkling. "You can't still be afraid to say his name, can you? He's been dead for a year."

"Five years here," Sirius supplied with his own grimace, taking in Harry's bored expression
with a degree of trepidation. "When he first rose to power, it was with expectations to take
over the Wizarding World and make it more pure. He turned good men with threats, with
empty promises. He twisted them to little more than slaves for his doing and will. It wasn't
until he had expanded to the point of almost tearing down the ministry that he made one fatal
mistake. He discovered some of his own men had turned on him and were playing the part of
the spy and as revenge, he took his anger out on their families. But it backfired. He was the
one left destroyed and we were given the Boy Who Lived."

Harry was nodding slowly, face a mask. Though it was familiar, certain details and the extent
of Voldemort's reign had been different in this world. It seemed his own life had carried out
the same though. Destined in every reality to be nothing more or less than the Boy Who
Lived. He almost sighed, maybe that would explain why there seemed to be no Harry in this
world and why his father was staring at him as though he expected him to vanish away. Had
his counterpart been killed? Maybe his mother was still dead then... Old as the pain of his
mother's death was, the thought was one that created an ache in his chest.

"Yes, yes" Harry said, "I know all that. A mother's sacrifice, Voldemort's destruction and him
coming back to life. That was when we learned about the Horcruxes, when he began to grow
in strength. Dumbledore told me and we had to find them so that he could be killed for once
and for all. And he was."

James became animated in his seat, his face blinking into a scowl. "Your Dumbledore had
children retrieve the Horcruxes? You could have been killed! Even having a skilled team of
Aurors retrieve them lost us several of our men. Not to mention the fact that Neville gave up
his own life to finally put an end to it, that poor boy. What sort of world did you live in that
children were given tasks of war and ordered to fight?"

Harry stared at his father, something dropping in his stomach that sent cold throughout his
limbs. "Neville?"

"Yes, Neville Longbottom," James sighed, shaking his head sadly, "the kid was a bloody
hero. As soon as he realised the final Horcrux was living inside of him, he would not wait for
some other solution. He finished it so that we would have a chance to defeat You-Know-
Who. He took his own life so that that madman would be mortal. Hogwarts was destroyed
with the amount of magic created during the battle, the forest, Albus... It was never rebuilt.
That..." James frowned suddenly, his lips pursing in thought, "that didn't happen in your
world? Neville didn't take his own life?" The thought was one that sat uneasily with the
people in the room, the idea that a piece of Voldemort was still existing in someone, small as
that piece may be.

Harry was frozen, skin paling as he picked at the loose strands of his ripped shirt, stomach
rolling. "No," he whispered, shaking his head, "no, Neville didn't have to kill himself. The
Boy Who Lived found out that he was a Horcrux and went to meet Voldemort by himself. He
knew he was going to die, but it almost didn't matter. So many others had died around him
and for him and it just seemed... Fair, you know? That he would finally be going and he could
save them with one easy sacrifice. He was scared, though."

"Harry?"

Harry sniffed, coaxing a hand through his thick hair to tug at the strands gently. "And
Voldemort killed him, and in doing so destroyed the piece of his own soul that was living
inside the boy. And then, that boy had a choice to make. He could either go on the quiet path
to death with those who had given their lives to help him and protect him, or he could pick
the harder path and continue to live, and finish what Voldemort had started. Finish the war."
Harry sighed, glancing up to catch his father's eye.

"I'm the Boy Who Lived. I killed Voldemort."

###

"You..."

James' whispered word fell into the heavy silence, eyes pinned on the small boy in front of
him that looked so lost in his own skin. This was the Boy Who Lived. His son had been the
wizard to vanquish Voldemort, to kill another human being. His son had been the person with
Voldemort's soul living within him. Even now, James remembered the nightmares Neville
had suffered through, had almost been driven mad by. His son... His son...
James groaned, his mouth turning down. "Your parents were the ones who died while you
were a baby. Lily and myself... We were gone..." The thought was one that chilled him to the
core, not so much as knowing that his counterpart was dead, but realising that this boy had
never known his own mother and father.

Harry came to himself with a short shake of his head, his eyes softening. "Yeah, my parents
died when I was little. I lived with the Dursley's." A shudder wracked the boy's framed, nose
wrinkling in disgust. "It was not the prettiest of childhoods."

James' temper snapped, his body springing from the couch to pace the room and drawing a
growl from Draco at the sudden movement. "Petunia and Vernon!" he hissed, "you were sent
to Petunia and Vernon? Why the hell not Sirius? Or Remus? I would never have let any child
of mine be sent to those magic-hating muggles!"

"Well, Sirius was in Azkaban and Remus was nowhere to be found. I didn't meet them until I
was thirteen and werewolves weren't allowed adopt children and Sirius was still a wanted
man so I couldn't go stay with him." The aghast sound that fell from his Godfather's lips was
countered by James' gasp and Harry groaned, lifting his hands to rub at his face viciously.
"Look, clearly, whoever my counterpart is here has led a very different life to the one I've
had. Why don't I start from the beginning?"

James was watching him, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his robe as if he didn't
quite know what to do with them. Harry eyed him until he had sat back down, his hazel eyes
dark behind his frames. "Your... counterpart. My son is dead."

He had been afraid of that. Harry grimaced, his eyes flitting between the man he had dreamed
of speaking to and living with ever since he had seen his smiling face in the Mirror of Erised.
This was his father, for Merlin's sake. This was the man who possessed the same blood, the
same genes, the same dreadful hair as himself; even if he had had a Harry of his own, this
was his dad. How could the man feel like a stranger to him... How could he have been
happier to see his Godfather alive and well than he had been with his own family?

"How did he die?"

There was no tension, no abrupt silence like the kind that would follow a traumatic death;
merely a sigh from Sirius and a patient smile filled with a world of sorrow from James.
"Pneumonia." The hazel eyed man supplied, pulling off his glasses to wipe the lenses clear on
his robes, his legs stretching out to cross at the ankles. "He was very sickly as a boy, a Beta
born too early. Harry was prone to bouts of illness, never took to cold weather well and
always had to be inside when the snow was highest. One year, some time after his eight
birthday, he fell ill. Of course, it was almost a pattern at this point. He would take a turn for
the worse, need extra care, and then he'd be back on his feet come Spring ready to take on the
world. So we tucked him in, Lily and I, and we said goodnight and we kissed his forehead
and..."

The man's voice was a breath, heard only for the sombre silence the younger wizards and
witch gave out of respect. As he trailed into nothing, Sirius reached across the arm rest to
take a firm grip of the man's shoulder, baring a sad smile when his friend glanced up at him.
"And he never woke up." Sirius finished, turning dark eyes on where Harry sat curled into the
couch. "It was his time and he went peacefully, before anything bad in the world could touch
him or taint him. He was a good boy." There was an answering murmur from James as he
straightened with a sigh, turning to the stranger who bore his son's face and name with a
smile.

His Harry had been a good boy. He had been a sweet child with no world experience and
loving parents and an army of friends, including three of the boys sat around him now. His
son had died a child and would forever remain that way in James' memories, innocent. The
boy that sat across from him now was an altogether different person. This was his Harry,
undoubtedly. He could never deny the likeness in their features and the pale wizard's strong
resemblance to his Lily; this was the son of James Potter and Lily Evans. The life he had led,
though, had not been a happy one.

"Will you tell us your story, Harry?"

The stranger grinned at him and James saw a flicker of the sweet faced child that had been
his own son. "It's kinda a long story, kind of really long and I got myself into enough trouble
to warrant an eternity of groundings." He chuckled suddenly, the sound breaking the fragile
atmosphere and drawing a grin from Sirius.

"A rule breaker, eh? Following proudly in his father's footsteps! Out with it, lad. Right now
we've got nothing but time."
 3

Harry stretched his legs out in front of him, his two hands settling on his stomach as he cast
dark green eyes up towards the ceiling. Where to start...? The beginning would have been an
obvious answer, if Harry could find it within himself to talk about his parent's deaths with his
very living father sitting not three feet across from him. He blinked as he allowed his eyes to
follow the intricate moulding of the front room ceiling. Had that been there in the old
Grimmauld place? Harry wasn't so sure... He puffed out a breath in a loud sigh.

"So, I grew up with muggles. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were... adverse to magic to say
the least. The day I found out I was a wizard and began to understand why they hated me so
much was on my eleventh birthday when Hagrid came to give me my Hogwarts letter." He
held up one hand at the sound of his father's outraged exclamation, his lips quirking in the
corners. If that offended him, James Potter was in for a roller-coaster of emotions. "No
interruptions, or I'll never get to finish the story." Harry chuckled, his eyes darting back down
to see the elder Potter lean back against the couch he now shared with Ron and the unknown
blonde; Gregory Goyle was a mountain of a man on the stool beside them. The sight was
enough to have Harry shaking his head at the strangeness of it all.

"Hagrid came to give me my letter because my aunt and uncle were hiding me from the
Wizarding World. They wanted nothing to do with it. Needless to say, they did not get their
way and I went to Hogwarts where I met my first friend. Ronald Weasley." The redhead
perked, his lips splitting into a smile not unlike the ones Ron had so often cast Harry in the
past. Harry grinned back at him.

"We became friends with ... With a witch in our year, a brilliant witch. Without the two of
them, I would never have made it through my first year. At Halloween, she was cornered by a
troll in the bathroom and Ron and I helped knock it unconscious, not only that but it was the
first year that I came face to face with Voldemort. He was... possessing one of the school
professors, a man named Quirrel. Because of the sacrifice my mother had given me by dying
for me, the man couldn't touch me without crumbling to nothing. Maybe it was just dumb
luck that I survived, really...

"Anyway, in second year the three of us were confronted with the Heir of Slytherin. In the
end, that too turned out to be Voldemort possessing one of the younger girls through the use
of a diary Lucius Malfoy had slipped into her cauldron. He very nearly killed her too. I
destroyed the first Horcrux without even knowing it, with a fang that had come from the
basilisk living in the chamber beneath the school. Come to think of it, I would have died then
too if Fawkes hadn't rescued me. I'm not sure whether to count myself lucky or unlucky."
Harry chuckled, the sound dying down when he met James' horrified gaze and averted his
eyes with a sigh. Malfoy was watching him with a slant to his blood red eyes, his mouth a
grim line and his face blank as he lounged against the wall closest the door. Merlin, Harry
had almost forgotten he was in the room, he was so bloody still. He coughed, dragging his
eyes away to land on Sirius.
"Third year was when I met you. I thought you were going to kill me," Harry grinned at the
scowl on his Godfather's face, "I only found out through sheer stubbornness that you were
my Godfather and a friend of my father's. You had escaped from Azkaban, after being locked
up for twelve years for the murder of Peter Pettigrew." There was a choked sound from
across the room but Harry ignored it. "The Dementors were everywhere... You were to be
given the Kiss on sight. I didn't know until myself, Ron and Hermione were in the Shrieking
Shack that Pettigrew was the one that had given away my parent's hideaway, betrayed them
as their secret keeper, as their friend. He had been hiding as a rat for twelve years, if you can
believe it. No one suspected a thing. But Remus came to defend you and then Snape turned
up and with the full moon... In all the chaos, he got away and with him gone so was your
chance of clearing your name. You had to go into hiding."

Sirius was staring, his brow marred with a frown as though he wanted to say something, but
refrained. There was no small amount of confusion on James Potter's face. Harry rolled his
shoulders slowly, sighing at the tension there. "In fourth year my name got dropped into the
Goblet for the Triwizard Tournament by a death eater we later learned was in disguise as one
of the professors the whole time. Not only that, but that was the year Voldemort was
resurrected. The cup had been transformed into a portkey and it dragged me and... and Cedric
to a cemetery. My blood was taken and they... they killed Cedric. They..." Harry struggled
with the old pain, his fingers clutching in the fabric of his shirt before he shook his head with
a grimace. "He came back and nobody believed me and I was branded a liar by the minister
and the next year I lost the only thing I had ever had close to a father. Sirius was taken from
me 'cause I was too stupid to tell a fake vision apart from a real one and... Merlin, they had to
believe me then, they saw him with their own eyes! He was everywhere... in the school, the
muggle world, the ministry. His death eaters were all over the place and it had to be stopped.
We had to stop him. No one else was going to stop him. It had to be me. I had to stop him. I
had to kill him. I..."

Fingers were digging into his shoulders so abruptly Harry jerked at the contact, his eyes
blinking back the all too real nightmares that were playing across his vision to find himself
breathing like a man deprived of oxygen, his father's worried face just inches from his own.

"I had to do it." He gasped, the sound of his own voice desperate and raw. "He had to be
stopped and no one else could... I was the chosen one, it was me. It was always meant to be
me."

"Oh Harry..." James pulled with gentle but persistent hands, gripping the youth until his thin
form had collapsed from the cushions and crumpled into his father's lap, his chest heaving
with sobs that held no tears but all the panic of a young child pushed too far. This was how
the other world had won? By sending a child to war as a captain? The hazel-eyed man felt his
heart stutter in his chest, his arms coming around to wrap Harry in an embrace he doubted the
boy had ever gotten in his life. His Harry had been so pure, so sweet and innocent that the
thought of knowing he would never face battle was one that had James almost relieved. This
Harry was broken... Lost and uncertain and it tortured something inside of him to see any
form of his son in such a way.

"Sirius, could you firecall Sev, please? A good calming draught is needed. You might... You
might want to call the other two, as well."
The dark haired man had risen from his seat to crouch beside his friend and the boy still
mumbling incoherently into James' chest, his small body wracked with the force of his own
breathing. Sirius paused, his brow furrowing. "Are you sure?"

"Now is as good a time as any." James replied with a sigh, taking the blanket Pansy had
suddenly materialised with, with a thankful smile and wrapping it around the youth's scrawny
shoulders. "Besides, it wouldn't do to keep something like this hidden for long unless it was
something that was just going to go away. He won't be going back there if I have anything to
say on the matter."

The raven haired man nodded once before taking off. Severus had already seen the state of
the boy and could quickly be filled in on who exactly he was. Lily and Remus would be an
altogether different problem to tackle. He would need to sit them down before they even laid
eyes on the Harry Potter that looked as though the world had taken all it could from him.

###

"I know you, you know. Or, at least, I knew who you were in my world."

Harry had calmed somewhat, his cheeks now bright with the memories of his display only
moments before and a mug of tea clutched in his hands as Pansy combed her fingers through
his hair where she stood behind his seat. Much to his dismay, scowling did little to deter the
woman and whining only made her tug more harshly in an attempt to style his wayward
curls. Where Sirius and his father had gone, he wasn't sure, but Harry was now left alone in
the living room with the woman, an intense Draco Malfoy and the three other men lounging
in various chairs about the room.

Ron was seated the closest, his hands tucked between his thighs and his mouth opening every
so often as though he wished to speak, only to snap it shut when Harry looked his way. Much
to the green-eyed man's amusement, this Ron's ears blushed the same ferocious red as his
own friend's. Gregory Goyle had offered him one strange look of speculation before dragging
down a book from the many that decorated the shelves and lapsing into a silence. It was a
strange sight, indeed, the one of Gregory Goyle enjoying a bit of light reading. The third
member, the blonde with dark eyes, cupped his chin in his hands, his mouth twisted in
thought and his eyes locked somewhere beyond Harry; another soul who longed to question
him, no doubt, but was either too embarrassed or too shy to.

A creature who shared none of this apparent shyness was the vampire Draco Malfoy. The
blonde was sat before him on the carpet, an action Harry couldn't help but raise his eyebrows
at as it was an act Harry was certain the old Malfoy would have turned his nose up at. This
Malfoy sat cross-legged on the floor quite happily, his hands draped across his lap and his
spine straight as he studied Harry through those unnerving scarlet eyes without blinking. The
dark haired youth had supplied the information purely in the hopes the blonde might stop his
creepy interrogation.

Malfoy blinked slowly, his head tilting to one side to drop a heavy amount of silken hair
against his front. "You knew me in your world. Was I as fortunate to be your friend?"
The easy-going tone was one that Harry's befuddled brain could not decide what to make of;
somehow sounding comforting in this Malfoy's voice, even though it held the memories of a
voice far more snide and with a lot more bitterness. This vampire was clearly an altogether
different beast to the tormenting presence that had been Harry's old rival and he wasn't quite
sure what to do with that knowledge.

"Not exactly..." Harry's lips twitched in a smile, "You're a prat."

The response granted him a raised blonde eyebrow and an unexpected giggle of amusement
from the woman still toying with his hair.

"He's a prat here, too." Pansy supplied helpfully, uncaring of the hiss Malfoy aimed in her
direction, his lips pulling back over snow white teeth to bare his fangs. Harry found himself
entranced, his own lips parting.

"How did you become a vampire?"

That seemed to startle Draco, his lips settling into a small 'o' of surprise and his eyes darting
back to stare at Harry. "I am not a vampire where you come from?"

Harry shook his head. "Nope," he sighed, "you're a bully and you like pushing people about
and you insulted my friends so we were kind of enemies from the start. We were... I wouldn't
call it getting along but, putting up with one another the last time I saw you. You came back
to finish your studies in Hogwarts with a few other Slytherins and you thanked me for
speaking up for you and your mother so she wasn't put in Azkaban for helping Voldemort."

"My mother and I helped Voldemort?" Draco's voice had become a violent drawl, cold and
stilling the fingers in Harry's hair. He shifted, feeling almost as if he had said something he
should not have.

"No, not exactly. Your father helped and supported Voldemort, your mother and you just
kinda were forced into it. She saved me... When Voldemort tried to kill me in the forest.
Without her help, I'd be dead and the whole Wizarding world could have been under his
reign." Harry watched the blonde's features relax, his scowling mouth settling into something
of a curious pout before he reached a hand forward to toy with the edge of the blanket Harry
was still wrapped in, drawing a furious blush from the smaller boy. Had the old Draco
Malfoy been just as tactile?

"My father was one of the men placed under a mind spell with Voldemort's first rise to power,
when I was still a babe. Like a fraction of the other men, his mind broke beneath the strain
when Voldemort's soul was shattered by Neville. Though my mother tried to care for him and
raise me at the same time, it became too much for her and she agreed to sign him into the care
of St. Mungo's psychiatric ward. It is, perhaps, a better faith for him than the one that has
been dealt him in your world. At least where he is now he is at peace, even if he does not
understand it." Draco glanced upwards, his nose perking with the scent of blind fascination
that came from the younger boy. It was as unrestrained as the happiness of a child, or the
giddiness of a pup and Draco found it almost bizarre coming from such a fragile war hero.
Draco had never known a Beta's scent to be so... strong...
He continued with a gentle tilt to his lips, his fingers working slowly against the soft cotton
edge of the blanket.

"When I was nine, mother brought into my life a man who would teach me to be a Wizard in
place of my father. It is the right of all pureblood's to learn the very basics of magic before
their entry into Hogwarts, as she said. Her attempt to nurture me was, perhaps, misguided as
she sought out a man renowned for his talent and name. Had she believed that he would see
in me his prodigy and a means of continuing his line, it is doubtful she would have ever
brought him into my life. Regardless, the man was a born vampire, birthed as so few true
vampires are. He at once decided upon me as an heir, much to my mother's dismay."

Draco stilled as he caught sight of Harry's grimace, the boy's green eyes wide with distress.
He frowned. "I am unsure how it works in your world, little one, but I assure you what I am
is of no misfortune. It is an honour to be seen as an heir for a true vampire, to become one
myself. I carry not only my father's name but also the name of my mentor and Sire. Though
mother was against it, believing the man would steal away her only child, even she has come
to appreciate it."

Draco's fingers trailed to their destination, tugging the cup from Harry's frozen hands and
clasping one within his own with a bright grin. "My counterpart is a fool for throwing away
friendship with someone as fascinating as you, and I would be honoured to introduce you to a
side of me that you clearly have never seen."

Harry stared at the pale hand nestled with his own, Malfoy's perfectly manicured nails and
soft skin so odd against his own blunt fingernails and the calluses he bore from training and
riding his broom. He blinked at the man sat before him, his lips tugging upwards of their own
accord.

"Nice to meet you, then, I'm Harry James Potter." He supplied with a chuckle.

Sharp teeth flashed brightly, blood red eyes locking with his own. "A pleasure, Mr. Potter.
My name is Draco Malfoy-Snape."

Harry's smile froze, another name from his past that should have no reason to be cropping up
in the present. Snape was as dead as his father and Godfather, a man Harry could now forgive
and acknowledge as brave; if not somewhat misguided. Was this version of Malfoy trying to
tell him that Snape was not only still alive but a vampire? A born vampire? How the hell did
that work? His Snape had never been a Vampire...

"Severus Snape?"

Malfoy was toying with his hand absently, his eyes locked on the pale skin as he turned
Harry's limb over in his fingers, cataloguing each scar with a slant to his gaze. He glanced up
at Harry briefly, before switching his attention to the other hand. "Yes, you mentioned him in
your story, I had assumed you knew him. Though, why he would be at Hogwarts and find
himself battling Sirius, or Remus, I have no idea."

"He was my potion's professor, he went to school with my dad, to Hogwarts." Harry tried to
pull his fingers back, only for a sudden tightening of the vampire's grip and a flash of red to
let him know that he was probably safest leaving it where it was, much as it embarrassed
him. Pansy's fingers had long since left his hair, her curious face now watching him from
where she sat lounged on the armrest of Ron's chair.

"Truly?" Malfoy hummed in thought, sliding one soft thumb against Harry's wrist.

"Yeah," Harry frowned, "he wasn't a vampire though. Born or made, he was just Snape. He
hated me, 'cause he hated my dad who bullied him and because he loved my mother, who
chose my dad over him. He never loved anyone after her... I saw his memories, you know?
Of the day he found her dead... So much pain... In the end, he tried to protect me from it all.
He wanted to save what was left of my mother and it hurt him all over again when
Dumbledore told him that I would have to die so Voldemort could be killed." Harry felt
Draco's hands withdraw, the blonde frowning up at him with an expression Harry could not
determine as either good or bad. "He was a good man."

"Was?" Draco sounded almost pained, his eyes bleeding to a darker crimson.

Harry nodded slowly, grasping his hands to himself once more. "He gave me his memories so
his death wouldn't be for nothing. So I would know. Ever since, he's been one of the people I
regret losing in the war, because I never really knew him beyond the hate he had for my
father and I never got to thank him."

"Thank who? Draco, do refrain from weeping all over our bond, if you would? It is most
unbecoming."

Harry all but leapt out of his skin, his head snapping up to stare at the man that had just come
through the double doors, his voice as strange to Harry's senses as Sirius' had been even if it
held an accent it had never held before.

Severus Snape, only it almost wasn't.

The man stood before him now was taller, held upright with a confidence his old Professor
simply had not possessed. His thin frame looked elegant beneath the black pants and equally
black shirt he wore, the only part of his snow white skin on display the pale hands braced on
his hips and a face that had haunted Harry's nightmares for weeks. Narrow, sharp and with a
regal nose that had most definitely not belonged on the face of the old potions master, it was
blank as it surveyed the room before landing firstly on Harry and then on the blonde sat on
the floor. Snape's blood-red eyes rolled heaven-ward, a strand of soot-black hair falling from
the clasp holding it all at the nape of his neck. "'Ow many times must I tell you not to sit on
ze floor like a commoner, Draco?"

The French accent was one Harry had definitely not been expecting. He stared up at Snape,
well aware that his mouth was agape and his eyes were no doubt as wide as saucers. He was
frozen as he watched the man pull the blonde from his seat with one pale hand around his
arm before pushing him instead into the side of the couch that Harry was not currently
occupying. With a flick of curiosity in his direction, the tall vampire crouched before the
younger man, red eyes locked with red.
"What 'as you so upset, mon étoile?" The man's dark voice had softened, his pale fingers
tipping Draco's chin until the boy's crimson eyes had faded to a dull ruby. Draco sighed,
casting a glance towards Harry before opening his mouth to spill fluid French.

Harry watched them speak, catching nothing in the rapid, foreign language despite Fleur's
best efforts to teach him a handful of French words. It was bizarre. Stranger, perhaps, than
even seeing his father alive was witnessing such a strong family bond between Draco Malfoy
and Severus Snape. The blonde's voice was lilting with his emotions and Snape's lips
softened in a smile of comfort that Harry knew for certain had not graced his Snape's lips in
many, many years.

"Why are you French?" Harry leaped on a sudden lull in the conversation, his curiosity
dragging holes in his common sense even as Snape's red eyes focused on him, one dark
eyebrow quirked in what could only be amusement.

"You are so very little to be creating such a big fuss, young one." The teasing of Snape's tone
went over Harry's head and he flushed, one hand lifting to tug a fistful of dark hair only for
the action to be halted with a sharp slap to his wrist that had him yelping and pulling away
from the blonde now sat beside him.

"You'll go bald, stop pulling your hair." Draco's voice was a growl, the blonde crossing his
arms stiffly as he watched his mentor pull a stool before the younger boy.

"I am French," Severus spoke with an indulgent smile as he sat, "because zat is where I was
raised, little one. Zough I was born to my mother here in England, ze Council believed I
would benefit ze most beneath zeir watchful eyes. Now, be still a moment."

Draco ignored the glare the youth aimed in his direction when he struck his fingers from his
hair once more, a tick twitching the corner of his mouth with the amount of venom forced
into that one stare. Yes, that was definitely a glare brought on from years of practice. His eyes
followed Severus' hands as his Sire pulled a tiny vial filled with the tranquil blue of a calming
draught from his pocket and handed it to Harry, shaking his head when the boy clutched his
hands to himself and looked at the potion warily.

To think, there existed a world in which Severus had been nothing more to him than a
Professor and had died while Draco himself was still in school. To think there could exist a
world where Severus had not been more than a father to him, his life ended in one blow. It
was inconceivable. Were Draco to imagine a life where Severus had not guided him, had not
mentored him and helped him and held him when he cried... well, with such a life as that then
Draco could fully understand why his counterpart had become nothing more than a bully
guided by anger and hate. The overbearing world of a Pureblood had been a world spared
from him by only Severus' presence and his mother's loving nature. He knew that Tommy and
Pansy and Gregory were not so lucky, proven by their increasing presence in the house they
had been staying in.

"Do not think so much, Draco. You will 'urt yourself."

The blonde sneered at the remark, his mind calming as he noticed it for what it was. Severus
was alive and well, a born Omegan vampire with great pull in the Council and an award
winning potions master to boot. He was not going anywhere, anytime soon. Draco's eyes
trailed over the fragile figure now resting beneath the pull of a forceful calming draught, his
green eyes lidded and becoming heavier by the moment. The boy's full lips were parted in a
sigh, his pale cheeks flushed in a pink hue that had Draco captivated.

Pretty little thing...

Red eyes snapped to Severus when the man stood, chuckling. "James will not be so accepting
of your thoughts, mon étoile." His amusement rang clearly through the blood bond that
connected them, mixing with the vague feelings of interest that centred solely around the
mysterious Harry Potter as Draco watched him. He spared his Sire only a quirked eyebrow
before returning his sights to the boy curled in on himself. James held no claim over this
one... As much as he may view Harry as his own son, this was a young man who had grown
without a father's stern rule and Draco couldn't imagine he would be susceptible to it if James
attempted to order him around. Not that the gentle man would even attempt such a thing.

There was a muffled thump, as though someone had fallen hands first through the floo
connection above their heads, before the sound of harried steps on old stairs filled the house
and James' voice cursed expletives as he came through the floo soon after. Panicked breaths
registered to Draco's ears, his head tilting as he listened to the sound of running footsteps
seconds before the wide-eyed, gasping figure of none other than Lily Potter stood in the
doorway.

The redhead wore her sleepwear still, a robe thrown about her shoulders haphazardly and her
auburn waves ruffled with sleep. Her green eyes, however, held little in the way of self-
consciousness and focused solely on the one thing that would cause her to react in such an
undignified, chaotic manner.

It had to be a joke, her mind insisted, a brutal prank that would rip away whatever progress
she had made in the sixteen years since her baby boy had left her. There was no way... No
way her son could return to her in any shape or form, in this world or any other. Her
husband's story had been the work of nightmares, fabricated from a depraved mind as surely
as Sirius assurances had been. She needed to see for sure. She needed to know they were
lying to her and she had run from their outstretched arms and Remus' tear-stained face.

It had to be a joke... It had to be... Her little boy was gone. He was long gone, why would she
do this to herself? Why did her heart flutter with the weakest imitation of hope when she
skidded to a halt in the living room of Grimmauld Place and her eyes immediately found the
tiny figure wrapped in a blanket with a shock of jet-black hair that almost sent her to her
knees with the memories.

She moved forward step by shaking step, her hands fisted beside her and her eyes pinned on
the young boy who looked a great deal short of eighteen as he shifted in his magic-induced
sleep, his pale face turning towards her and his lips parted on a little sigh, in the way they did
every night when she had put him to bed.

And though her mind was suddenly frozen with the facts that this could not be her son and
was not her son and had never been her son; Lily saw only the boy's sweet face and snub
nose and wayward curls that she leaned forward to brush from his forehead with a quaking
hand. She saw only the violent scar that marred his pale skin and the hands that clutched at
the blanket, as though her touch had frightened him and something had struck him in his
young life that she could no longer protect him from.

Her son... Lily felt her knees give in, would have connected with the hard floor if Severus
had not gripped her waist and tugged her backwards onto a stool. Her son, Lily let her face
drop into her hands, her sobs not waking the young boy but drawing a supporting grip from
Pansy and a wince from the others.

Her son.
 4

"Personally, I see nothing but bad coming from him staying here."

"You absolute beast, Gregory," Pansy growled, slapping her wand down on the counter-top so
that the spoon stirring the pot of soup fell to one side. She glared at the man stood beside her
chopping vegetables, his hulking form one of the least intimidating things to someone who
understood the calm, peace keeping brain at work behind the muscle. "How can you say that?
You, of all people!"

The man tensed, his brown eyes slanting in a glare at the shorter girl before he rolled his eyes
and continued on with his task. "It's not as though I'm saying it to be cruel. Truly, I like the
kid, I think he's someone who could be a good friend to us all; at the same time you really
have to consider just how much of a danger magnet he must be. I mean, we went to school
with Neville and despite his title he was no different from the rest of us, protected from the
war, never told what was going on. As far as we were concerned, nothing could harm us.
Until Neville took his own life, the war seemed like something that would never touch us.
You know how treasured children are."

"Your point being?" Pansy replied snidely, flicking the stove off with a turn of her fingers and
gathering her hair in one hand to throw into some semblance of a bun.

"Well," Greg put down his knife, glancing up to watch Ron and Tommy set the table, an
unhelpful Draco lounging in the window seat to one side and shouting directions when his
eyes were not trailing over the sunlit garden outside. "Think about it. Obviously, where he's
from the war involved children. It made them fight, made them terrified; their teachers could
not even protect them. Setting aside how insane that is on its own, what kind of damage
would that do to a kid his age? I know there are children in this world who are mentally
abused from a young age, I being one of them, but we are few and far between and I have
always had Professor Dumbledore and Slughorn to fall back on, and others when we became
a part of the Order at nineteen. I never had to deal with it alone and I have a home to turn to
when my parents attempt to interfere now."

He turned to look at the girl squinting up at him, her mouth pulled in a tight scowl. "This boy
has had no such backing. Even you, when your parents attempted to force you apart from
Ron, could counter with leaving home and staying here unless they changed their minds.
What second home did he have to run to? All I am saying is that his mentality is unstable at
best from what I can gather of his background and home life. I'm not saying to cast him out
on the streets, just that reservations must be held with regards to trusting him entirely."

Pansy sighed, her shoulders slumping beneath the heavy material of her pullover. "It's hard
not to feel sorry for the boy... Neville may have had a normal school life and every adult
fighting for him, but I still remember the nightmares he had near the end. They came on so
suddenly, and he said it was as like you-know-who himself was in his mind, whispering to
him, showing him horrible things. Harry suffered more even than that when he was just a
little boy."
"He's stronger than you're giving him credit for. The both of you."

Draco watched them turn towards him, their faces a mask of both pity and wariness. One too
willing to trust and the other not willing at all, it was an opposition of opinions that could, if
treated badly, grow into something far nastier. He stood from his perch by the sill, stretching
his arms before his body and watching the play of sunlight against his pale skin; the perks of
being heir to a true vampire. The blonde crossed his limbs swiftly. "He is strong. He desires
above all else to live and that desire has lent him a strength beyond his years. Do not attempt
to coax a reaction from him Greg, if the power I can smell on him when he is distressed is a
fraction of what he possesses; even as an Alpha, you would end up the worst off from the
confrontation. And Pansy, you know better than to coddle people. In my opinion, he does not
need your sympathy or your observations on how damaged he may be, he needs only a
friendly hand."

"And this has nothing got to do with the way you were staring at him while he was asleep on
the couch?" Ron was grinning, his freckled nose wrinkled in mirth as he put down the last
plate. Tommy snorted beside him, his golden blonde hair tousled with the many times he ran
his hands through it.

"Yeah, Draco," the shorter blonde smiled up at him, "the googly eyes you were making 'till
Severus took him upstairs weren't exactly 'only friendly'."

"Desist, you nuisance," Draco hissed, swatting the small yellow-haired man with a good-
natured backhand to the head. "I'll admit it, he intrigues me."

"Is that what you're calling it now, is it?"

The Beta squealed as he was grabbed in a headlock, his hair mussed further by a pale, slender
hand before a thickly accented bark from the other room had Draco releasing him and
backing up like a wounded puppy. There were both perks and downfalls to being mentally
attached to a man of Severus' eloquence. Reckless and childish though Draco tended to be,
the older vampire would never be far enough away to allow the man to get himself into
danger or show himself up in the eyes of the media. It was a fraction of a curse when that
strive for perfection bled into other aspects of Draco's life, such as when he was with his
friends.

Tommy coughed awkwardly, black eyes darting towards the window when Severus' scowling
face appeared around the door and glared in their direction. "And just what do you zink you
are doing, behaving like a wild dog who 'as been unleashed from 'is lead? Desist your play
acting, Draco, or I will 'ave no option but to return you to our 'ome. And you, Mr. Pettigrew,
your father may be a curr, but you are not. Behave yourselves!"

Tommy shrunk back, his blonde waves dropping over one dark eye as he tipped his head.
Family was a sore subject with him at the best of times. Though he adored his mother and
prayed she was happy living with her sister in America, the neglect he had suffered from her
subservient ways and inability to be responsible had often left him in the care of others his
whole life. When his father had been imprisoned for following He-Who-Must-Not-Be-
Named, the woman had become a wreck, certain that no husband of hers could ever deceive
her in such a monumental way. For years, his father had sought to help a madman who
wanted to eradicate all that was different from the purity of Wizarding society and neither of
them had known. Just as he had obviously done something wrong in the world this new boy
had come from, so had Peter Pettigrew been a bad man in the reality that had been Tommy's
life. Sour and distant as he had been to his son, that had not stopped him from bringing
danger and suspect down upon his family and then leaving them for Azkaban. Had he not
begged his mother to leave him with the Order, with the men who had raised him, Tommy
believed he would have succumbed to her unending cycle of love and hate for a man she had
given everything to and gotten nothing but heartache in return. At least, with the Order,
Tommy had a purpose and the logic of knowing that his father was not an extension of
himself.

Cold hands gripped his face, fingers tipping his chin upwards as a gentle voice tsked above
him. Watery black eyes found a set of similarly dark orbs surrounded by flawless pale skin.
Severus shook his head, his thumb stroking against the soft skin of Tommy's jaw. "I mean not
to upset you, sweet one. I mean only to remind you of ze 'onour you so rightly deserve to
carry. Hold your 'ead 'igh, Thomas.

"You, 'owever!" The older man whirled, gripping Draco by the ear in one fluid motion and
dragging the lanky blonde closer, "You, I expect to 'ang your 'ead in shame! What 'ave I said
about physical displays of violence, serious or not? You set a bad example for the children
you may one day 'ave running around your feet when you resort to man-'andling another
person, with or without zeir consent."

"I doubt he'd mind man-handling Harry."

"Ronald Weasley, must I remind you zat lowering your voice to a quiet murmur is pointless
with a vampire in ze room?" The statement was spoken with a weary sigh, Severus' fingers
leaving Draco to pinch the bridge of his nose as the redhead leaning against the counter
beside Pansy turned a shade of puce. "It would be wise of you to take Ms. Parkinson and let
Molly know what 'as transpired. Is your sister not trained as a Mediwitch? I do not doubt zat
Ginevra will offer the boy a far better treatment than any 'e may receive from simply taking
my nutrient potions."

Ron's ears were still a vibrant scarlet as he dragged Pansy from the room to make use of the
floo. Draco watched them go with a glare. "You're surrounding him with too many people, it
is unkind to force him into these situations. Despite everything he has gone through, he's only
a kid."

Though he understood completely the need to let as many trusted people as they could know
what had transpired last night, it did not sit well with him that the fragile little thing that was
sleeping soundly upstairs would soon be mobbed by familiar strangers, or outright strangers
if the paths of his reality had gone a separate way. James, Sirius and Tonks had already left
that morning to discuss the occurrence with the Minister and would no doubt return come
evening with a wagon-load of Officials and even a few Unspeakables. Those people put his
very teeth on edge. What right would they have to poke and prod at the little one who so
obviously needed just a simple chance to breathe. Draco's only easing thought was that, in the
eyes of all who would look at him, Harry was barely matured, almost a child despite his years
and war scarring. It was evident in his scent, the barely-there aroma of the Beta's pale skin,
when he was not upset. If there was one thing that existed in this world that had not in the
boy's own, it was that children were revered with the upmost importance, a crucial group to
protect and shelter. The birth rate was so low compared to what it had been when Omegas
were in abundance, and so many more grew up sickly and fell to illness; to even consider
harming a child... Those who did were often punished, and so few in numbers that a vast
majority of their children already belonged to the Order.

"'E is not a child though, you understand zat, do you not?"

Draco blinked, red eyes taking in the suddenly empty dining room. How long had he been
lost in his own internal rant? He turned to take in the sight of his mentor leaning against the
open window, face upturned against the weak, September sun.

"By Wizarding law, he's an adult. He's reached the age of majority. By those who will judge
him by outward appearance, he is a kid. He's barely matured into his own body, his scent isn't
even his own yet. Years of neglect have damaged and weakened him. He is small, he's young
in everything but a wariness for what he doesn't know. How can you look at him and not
think he is something to be protected?"

"I never said zat." Severus smirked, ruby eyes glancing at Draco through dark lashes. "'E is
most certainly in need of strong guidance and a firm hand to show 'im not everyone wishes to
lead 'im wrongly. Zat being said," Severus' gaze slanted, "I still do not view 'im as a child. 'Is
eyes are too keen, too tired to be ze eyes of a child."

Draco's own eyes narrowed, his head tilting to one side as he listened to the sound of Gregory
and Tommy moving about the house, Remus and Lily safely tucked out of earshot in the
rooms upstairs as they waited for Harry to wake. "I am enamoured by him," the blonde
admitted, voice soft and mouth drawn down in a grimace, "But your line will perish with him
if I were to pursue him... He's a Beta, a strong one, but one nonetheless."

Severus shrugged, his lips tugging in a smile as he moved to walk from the room. "Your
childhood bond was weakened to me ze moment you laid eyes on zat boy, I felt it. My only
'ope now is that you do not ruin a potential bond wiz the mate you are pining for. The choice
'as always been yours, Draco. I seek only your 'appiness." The older vampire paused as he
passed the blonde, his eyes soft and his hands lifting to cup the tall boy's face gently.

"You deserve a little 'appiness. If a line ends, a line ends. So be it. "

###

Harry's eyes were open before sound had begun to sink into his conscious mind, scanning the
small room. His hands moved to push his body from the plush bed until legs unstable with
sleep made him crumple to the floor and drag his quilts with him. The sudden snap from
dreamless sleep to awake was done with barely a noise to notice it by, his body kneeling
against the carpeted floor as cautious eyes stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling,
uncomprehending and blurred still with the remnants of sleep.

It wasn't until his almost soundless escape from the sheets that entangled him brought a ghost
to his bedroom door that Harry's new reality came down on him like a bucket of ice cold
water.

"Remus."

The man that could have been no other than Remus Lupin also couldn't possibly be the
professor Harry had loved and respected. This man looked younger by several years, at least
half a decade below the age he believed the new Sirius to be and with skin that positively
glowed with good health. His cheeks were rounded with a lifetime of healthy eating, his body
slender and swift, devoid of the weariness the old Remus had carried so heavily upon his
shoulders. Had his bright eyes not been the vibrant gold of his wolf, Harry would have
mistaken the man for human, so... natural did he appear with his soft brown hair cut in a neat
bob around his fresh face.

Harry watched him shut the door with a gentle click, his lips spread in a blinding smile over
his perfect teeth as he all but scampered across the room and flung himself quietly and
soundly down on the floor beside the younger man. Before the reality of the man's sudden
jump in status from dead to living could even sink in, Harry was being embraced by his old
mentor, arms seeming just as familiar now as they had done all those times he had comforted
Harry in the past.

When Remus drew back, it was with eyes almost blinded by tears, his hands coming up to
wipe the stains from his cheeks as a self-deprecating chuckle fell softly from his lips. "Sorry,"
he laughed, "Merlin, you don't even know me and here I am. Oh, Harry... You've no idea
what seeing you means to me, to us. Alive and well."

"Seeing me?" Harry's own voice had broken, his lips clamping shut to avoid the tremble. He
hiccuped, diving forward to wrap his arms around the man's neck. Stranger or no, this would
always be the man who had raised his hopes after Sirius had passed, who had gone into battle
with him as a friend. "Remus, you're dead," Harry sobbed, "where I come from, you're dead.
You and Tonks and you left him behind just like I was left behind when my parents died. I
can't believe..."

"Shh, Harry, shh, dearest," Remus stroked a hand against the boy's knotted hair, combing
through the mess with long fingers, "it'll all be alright now, my strong, little godson." His
Harry was as beautiful as he had been as a baby, as a child; those round eyes still a brilliant
green and his scent just as comforting. That he had come from an alternate world made little
difference to the beast inside Remus, this was the cub that had been entrusted to them should
anything happen to James or Lily. Though he smelled different and fragile and older than the
memory of the child's scent in his mind; this was his cub as surely as his own son was.

"Godchild?" Harry drew back, a frown embedded in his pale skin, "I thought Sirius was my
Godfather?"

"Yes, Sirius and I both, just like James promised. I... I wasn't where you came from?" The
thought was one that didn't sit well with Remus, his inner beast protesting the notion that
James could have left him out in any world. Where there was Sirius, there was also Remus,
James knew that. The pair were soul-mates, romantic, lovesick fools bonded since before
their graduation from Hogwarts. Why christen one Godfather and exclude the other? It was...
worse than cruelty.
"Well, no," Harry was shaking his head, "I don't think I ever had a Godmother but Sirius was
my only Godfather. I think I was meant to go to you if anything happened to him but it didn't
work out that way... Dumbledore needed me with Aunt Petunia."

Remus drew up short, eyes wide and confused before his lip pulled back in a snarl. "That's
ridiculous. Why would you go to me if something happened to Sirius? We live together,
we've been together most of our lives, why would going to one be different from going to the
other... Oh." Gold eyes flared wide as the scent of Harry's shock filtered to him.

"That's why." The werewolf breathed, his mouth falling open in a pained sigh. "Sirius and I
were never bond-mates in your world, were we?"

Harry watched the youthful man press a shaking hand to his lips, his eyes brimming once
more with fresh tears as he choked down a sob. His Godfather and Remus were living
together? Not only living together, but practically married? How in Merlin's name had that
happened?

"No," Harry scooted closer to Remus, taking one of the man's clenching fists, "No, I don't
think ye were ever together like that. Sirius was never with anyone permanently, he spent a
great deal of his life in Azkaban and died a few years after he escaped. And you, you didn't
marry Tonks 'till a couple of years ago and Teddy was only a baby when ye both passed in the
war."

"Tonks?" Remus' laughter was disbelieving, his golden eyes bright with tears. The man shook
his head, his smile bemused if a little strained. "God forbid. Tonks is a lovely girl, but
heavens, no. I would be half the man I am without Sirius." Harry couldn't help but agree with
him there. Especially if this Remus was the same age as Sirius, life with the dark haired
prankster had clearly done wonders for him.

"And Teddy? Who's Teddy?"

"Your son," Harry smiled, thinking fondly of the little baby with the shock of lightning blue
hair and vivid pink eyes. He had barely caught a glimpse the last time he had seen his little
godson before Andromeda had had to leave. "He's the cutest little kid, was barely a few
months old when you passed. You made me Godfather, you know, but we decided it would be
best if his grandmother raised him, considering I was so young. I'd never have taken him
away from her."

Remus snorted, shaking his head. His life had clearly been a roller coaster of a ride in this
strange alternate world. "Young or not, anyone as kind as you would be able to take care of a
child." A hand lifted to ruffle Harry's curls and the small boy offered back a small smile.
Remus grinned back. "I had my Philip when I was only sixteen and he's turned out positively
incredible. A published scholar already and travelling the world to discover new creatures
and he's only twenty-eight. My youth did him no harm and nor did it take away from my life.
I do wish I could have had more though..."

Harry's brow furrowed, tilting his head back to take in the man before him. "You mean you
adopted? With Sirius?"
Remus hummed, smiling as he scooted closer on the floor rug to lean his abck against the bed
frame. "No, no. I gave birth to Philip, I know my scent isn't much to go on nowadays, with
the new wolfsbane potion being so strong, but I'm still an Omega."

The word was a foreign one, Harry's eyes squinting in the dim room lit only by the weak light
filtering through a half-drawn curtain. "Men can't give birth... What's an Omega? Is that
something to do with the Werewolf?"

Remus huffed a laugh, mouth twisting before he seemed to realise that Harry was being
sincere, his gold eyes growing big. "Omegas." He straightened, peering down at the young
boy who looked up at him cluelessly. "Alphas, Betas, Omegas... None of those words make
sense to you?"

Harry shook his head, one shoulder lifting in a shrug. "No, sorry," The young Beta glanced
up at him, "Is it a werewolf thing? I didn't know male werewolves could give birth. That's
kind of incredible."

Remus almost smiled, his eyes baffled. Did the dynamics not exist in the world Harry had
come from? Could that be why the Beta's scent was so weak, so easily missed despite them
being side by side? If so, that would mean the boy would need a biology lesson down the
road, and an explanation if they were to take him out in public. An offended Alpha was not
something the boy would want to draw on himself, being the size of Beta he was. Though
they didn't go through heats and ruts as the two opposing genders did, Harry was still going
to have to come to terms with a whole new aspect of life. Could he even scent?

"Maybe this is a conversation we can have later? I'm sure we can ask your father if he can sit
in on that particular talk... But, yes, I did have a son. Granted I had him a little young, but
once I realised Sirius felt for me what I felt for him, we bonded almost instantly. I have an old
picture of Philip that I always keep on me, look."

Harry watched the brunette dig through his very muggle-looking denim jeans, pulling a faded
wallet from one and digging through until his fingers closed around a square bit of card worn
with age. He took it with wary hands when Remus thrust it in front of him and stared down at
the giggling scene of a five year old boy that flickered up at him. On a background of grass,
the young child was coloured a healthy bronze from the sun, his bare arms slathered in snow-
white sun lotion and his rosy cheeks flushed with the force of his chuckles. The child bore
some resemblance to Teddy, without a doubt that was Remus' round chin and wide eyes.
However this child's eyes were a static bronze that blinked happily up at the camera and his
nose was a degree sharper, his jet black curls framing his pretty face in a way that bared a
striking resemblance to one Sirius Black.

Remus had a different son that he had given birth to himself.

Remus was bonded to Sirius. They were both alive and together and happy.

Harry's breath caught in his throat, his eyes misting. "He's beautiful, Remmy."

Remus clapped a hand across his lips, his own breath breaking in an almost-sob. "Oh," the
brown haired man chuckled, pulling Harry close, "the other Harry used to call me that," he
chuckled, "as a toddler, Merlin, I thought I'd never hear it again, cub."

Harry rubbed his nose as he moved back, reality sinking in around him like the most
comfortable of blankets. Everything seemed... perfectly alright here. "I thought I'd never hear
you call me cub again." Harry shook his head at the surrealness of it all. He had met a father
he had known he would never meet or know in his own time. He had been reunited with a
father-figure he had watched die and never come back. Now, Remus was before him showing
proof of the wonderful, happy life he had had simply with one little photo and the health in
his features. For a fleeting moment, the thought that he would never again go home, didn't
seem like a bad one.

"Remus, did I hear you talking to someone?"

Green eyes pulled away from Remus' smiling face, his own lips tugging upwards as he turned
to see who had spoken and for a lifetime, his world froze.

The figure in the door had his heart exploding in his chest. The logic of his mind
understanding that he should have expected this, was nothing compared to the earth-
shattering realisation that the matured, pretty-faced woman now stood hesitantly in the
doorway was none other than Lily Potter; his mother.

There was no time to consider that this woman may not want to see the sight of him lest it
remind her of a son long since dead. There was no logic left in him to play this out in a
manner she might prefer, his body had moved with a speed he hadn't known he was capable
of. His mind, hardened from years of war tactics and abuse, had recessed to little more than
the mind of a child losing their mother for the first time. Every nerve in Harry's body was
alight with the fact that she was alive, she was real. His mother was there in front of him and
he could hold her for the first time in his life.

He crumpled at her feet, his arms a bruising force around her legs and his sobs destroying
whatever voice he tried in vain to use to sound out every thought he needed her to hear. This
was his mother. It didn't matter that this was a different woman, it didn't matter that she had
raised and put to rest a different son and might not even want him, the only reasoning that
kept Harry's magic from sparking a fire against his skin was that this was Lily Potter and Lily
Potter was his.

"Mum... Mum,mum,mum,mum..."

Remus stood with a tortured stare, his cub's pitiful whining as he wrapped himself around his
mother's legs like a terrified child striking at the very core of his heart. No boy should have to
cling to a parent's legs as though they would vanish if they loosened their grip. No boy's
painstaking wails should sound like a tortured infants about to be ripped from his mum's
arms. The crying brought nearly every member of the household to the landing to discover
the source of the sound, and the heartbreaking sight of a Harry Potter lost to his own
destructive thoughts and terrified tears.

Lily stood frozen, her green eyes blown wide and leaking tears that fell, unnoticed, down her
cheeks. She bore the heart-wrenching cries for the barest minute before she was dragging the
skinny youth to his feet, his short stance half a foot below her average height. She clutched
him like she had clutched her own son to her chest all those years ago when they had found
his blue-tinged body tucked into his bedsheets.

Her Harry. Her son. Hers.

"Oh my poor boy, my beautiful son, what did they do to you?"

She sobbed the words, refusing to release her hold on the sobbing boy until Severus and
Draco had no choice but to lift the both of them and force them onto the bed instead of the
cold, open doorway. Remus felt Sirius' questioning thrum once more through their bond with
this new wave of pain, his thoughts steadying to allow his bondmate some sort of peace of
mind. He turned to find a distraught, wide-eyed Molly Weasley clasping her hands in the
doorway. With a weary sigh, Remus tilted his head to indicate the redhead be with her friend
and son before beckoning Severus out to help him get the rest of the Weasley hoard in some
semblance of order.
 5

Her hands worked their way through hair that was as thick as it was soft, curling in soft
waves that fell about his face in disarray and disorder. She combed through it, relishing in the
simple act so long denied her with the loss of her baby boy.

Lily watched the eighteen-year-old tucked between her thighs, she watched his spindly arms
unwind from her waist with painful slowness as, minute by minute, he relaxed. His pale face
had taken on a greying tinge, unhealthy and unnatural on a youth that should look the part of
a man; instead he looked more a lost child to her than her little son had ever been with his
cheeky grin. Oh, what comfort could be garnered from the simple fact of knowing you were
cared for and loved.

This youth was sickly, branded in a way only years of ill nutrition and neglect could do. Her
Harry had already been surpassing her hip by the age of seven and, despite his bouts of
illness, was strong and filled out with good food. To see any version of her son with wrists
that seemed brittle enough to snap and clothes that clung from a petite frame and cheekbones
a degree too sharp to be healthy was devastating. She would never forgive her sister and
Vernon Dursley, not in this boy's reality nor her own. To know that any form of Petunia could
destroy a child so thoroughly as to have him weep for a mother was sickening. Her son
should have wanted for nothing.

"Stand up, pet, let me have a look at you."

Lily blinked, green eyes focusing in the brightened room as Molly stood suddenly, her smile
cheery as she drew back the curtains. Harry stood as though it was a request he was well used
to, his own smile a degree less dreary as he turned his haunting green eyes from Lily to the
shorter redhead. Molly hummed as she watched him, tugging at his loose shirt and wrapping
her arms around his thin waist to test his body-weight. She smiled softly, patting his cheek as
she withdrew.

"My, aren't you handsome? I'd say you looked just like your father if it weren't for that pretty
smile and those big green eyes. Most definitely better looking than James, Lily, pet, wouldn't
you agree?"

Lily chuckled at Harry's bright flush, his fingers plucking at the sleeve of his shirt until Lily's
voice made him jump like a startled fawn. "Much more handsome, as I always knew he
would be," she smiled warmly up at her son, before sighing, "but these clothes just won't do,
Molly. He'll need a whole new set, enough jumpers to ward away the coming cold. I think a
good stew is in order too, I'll have to see what Pansy had in mind for dinner. It wouldn't do
for him to get sick."

"I never get sick," Harry grinned, his spine straightening with subtle pride before he gave a
shaky laugh. "I mean, I've broken a few bones and been knocked unconscious a time or two,
but I've never gotten so much as a cough. Madam Pomfrey always said I had the immune
system of an ox."
It was a silly, little thing; a flyaway comment that meant little barr a sense of small
accomplishment to the boy and yet something within Lily heaved a sigh of relief at the
words. To think her Harry had been so strong and loved and had still succumbed to illness
and passed; having to watch this fragile, delicate thing go the same way would have been
more than her heart could have handled. Although...

"Unconscious!" Molly shrieked, tutting and pushing the boy towards the door before taking a
hold of Lily's hand and all but dragging her friend from the bed. "That simply won't do! You
need your strength, dear boy, you're far too skinny. Heavens, I'll feed you your weight in
pastries if I have to get you to a decent size. Come on, we'll go help Pansy with the stew and I
can get to work on a new jumper for you. And I know the perfect colour, too!" Molly cast a
wink at Lily as the pair followed the smaller youth from the bedroom, Lily smiling back at
her so wide she thought her jaws might split.

"Green." Harry said suddenly, drawing both women's attention as he turned on the staircase
to offer the sweetest smile at Molly and his mother. "You always knit me something in green,
Mrs. Weasley."

###

Harry watched Ron with something of a perplexed grin, smiling fondly at the gangly redhead
that moved about Molly and Pansy in the large kitchenette as the two woman debated over
the best ingredients to boost the healing properties of a homemade stew. It was a comfort to
watch this Ron behave as any Ron would in any reality, with a healthy obsession for a home-
cooked meal and a decent amount of fear instilled in him each time Molly turned the wooden
spoon on him for sticking his finger in the bubbling soup. It would have been a completed
picture, had it not been for the absence of one bushy-haired bookworm and the very surreal
addition of the Slytherin beauty that was Pansy Parkinson.

As cold and self-centred as the woman had been in Harry's reality with her midnight black
hair and suspicious scowl, she was as warm and welcoming in this one. Her lighter hair
seemed to soften her sharp, aristocratic features and the smile that readily broke across her
lips as Ron tried to edge past her to steal a spoonful sent an ache of strange familiarity
through Harry.

She was no Hermione; that was for certain and Harry doubted whether she would ever
replace the witch that had captured his heart and loyalty as a sister and a friend, but she was
something new and something undeniably warm and witty with the words she flung so
readily at the ever sarcastic Draco and the fool-hardy youth Harry had come to know was
called Tommy.

Tommy was another newness. His black eyes were both familiar and a thousand miles from
any aspect within his memory that Harry could pinpoint. They all but glittered with humour
each time he let loose a snort of laughter from his position wedged between both Fred and
George Weasley; a pair of men that Harry still found himself staring at despite his best
attempts not to gawk. As perfectly in sync and wickedly filled with humour as they had been
in his own world, the only fascinating difference was that it was now George rather than his
older brother Bill who bore the eye-catching scarring from a werewolves claws. Light and
fragile in the bright sunlight of the room, they crossed his forehead and left cheek in a
mismatch of jagged lines, more perfectly healed than Bill's own had been. The sight was one
both baffling and depressing enough to leave Harry unable to voice the question of how it
had happened.

There was no Bill, no Charlie or Percy, though Harry was sure the men were old enough to
have their own lives and his arrival, strange and as unprecedented as it had been, was not
enough to warrant all lives to cease and focus on him. On the contrary, the attention was
something he was least excited about, because he knew the limelight would fall upon him
eventually, it always did.

"I don't suppose you were listening to a word I said, were you, mister?"

Ginny.

Harry turned to face the woman sat in front of him where he sat in an armchair with a grin,
taking in the high ponytail and freckled nose and laughing eyes with no small amount of
happiness. He loved her as sweetly as another person could love a friend and an ally they had
gone to war with and fought beside. She had been a woman capable of piecing him back
together, all the while knowing he would never return the love she had grown to feel for him.
Ginny Weasley, no matter what form she took, would always be his friend.

"I'm sorry, Ginny, I was daydreaming."

"Of course you were," Ginny raised one eyebrow, the wedding band on her finger glinting
and stretching Harry's smile as she tucked away a lock of stray hair and rifled through the bag
plonked on the floor before her. "Aha!" she chuckled, sitting back with a handful of slender
vials coloured a vile yellow. "Don't make that face at me, mister, you are underweight to a
painful degree and the only thing that is gonna strengthen your stomach enough for you to eat
enough to gain fat quickly is this delightful little concoction. If I'm not mistaken, it's one of
your inventions, Severus, is it not?"

The regal vampire stood by Harry's side like a shadow of a sentry, forgotten except for the
moments of miniscule movement that reminded Harry of the bodyguard he seemed to have
acquired in the strange new version of his potions professor. A pale hand shot out, black-clad
legs bending until he had seated himself on the arm of Harry's chair, the yellow vial held
before his face with a twist to his lips.

"Indeed, a new product. I was not aware zat the initial testing centres 'ad been successful. My
gratitude, Mrs. Thomas, for informing me, I 'ad completely forgotten to enquire, I was so
certain zat it would be a success."

"Thomas!" Harry snorted, his hands clapping before him in something akin to delight at the
thought of his old dorm mate and Quidditch game speaker. "Oh, you married Dean! How is
he? Is he as disgustingly charming in this world as he was in mine? Please tell me he's doing
something amazing."

Ginny blinked, slowly as she handed the vials to Severus, her lips quirking in a smile as she
shook her head. "I keep forgetting where it is you come from. It's like you're this whole new
person we get to learn more about and meet and not someone who's lived a life with most of
us for the past eighteen years. That's going to take some getting used to." The redhead
reached out to ruffle Harry's hair, an act that would have left him horrified had it been his
own Ginny, yet seemed almost motherly coming from the twenty-three year old woman who
surpassed him by a scant inch and sat as professionally as her medicare background
suggested.

"Dean works the second shop we opened up in Hogsmeade, with Seamus Finnegan." Fred's
voice had Harry's attention snapping to him, the bright-eyed redhead sharing a look with his
twin as the pair edged closer, pulling their chairs until they sat before the boy hardly anybody
knew anything about. "It only opened a few months back but business was so good with
Zonko's closing that we handed management over to our dear brother-in-law and he hired
Seamus as deputy. Suited us fine, of course-"

"What with the shop in Diagon, we've enough on our plates. We split the profit and Dean's
happier working for us than he ever was stuffed in that office at the ministry." George was
grinning at him, his silvery scars something both fantastic and sad as he looked over Harry
with calculating eyes. "But then, you seem to know so much about us, you'd know he'd be
happier with us, wouldn't you? Did we have our shop in your world? Was dear old Pans
generous enough to give us the loan we needed?" Pansy stuck her tongue out fondly, her
wand held aloft as she measured food into separate bowls. Harry could do little to prevent the
ache that had begun in his cheeks with the length of his smiling.

"You had a shop in Diagon, I gave you my winnings from the Triwizard Tournament to start
it up. We needed a bit of humour in our lives and your shop did so much good for everyone.
George back home was still going strong with it last I had seen him. Angelina takes care of
most of the customer stuff, though, he prefers to work in back."

George frowned, his lips tugging down in a playful scowl. "What's the fun of working in
back?" He shrugged in time with Fred, matching blue eyes turning on Harry and alight with
curiosity that made them seem so much younger. Scarred though this George may have been,
it was nothing compared to the half-man his counterpart had become back home without his
twin by his side.

"Angelina?" Fred pursed his lips, "Do we know an Angelina, George? What about me then,
Harry? Am I the face of our shop if this boring sod prefers to stay in the shadows?"

Before the thought could even register, Harry's hand had shot out, his fingers inches from the
bright red shirt that the minutely smaller twin was clad in. In the sudden silence, Harry didn't
hear his mother and Molly start to gather the other occupants of the room towards the dining
table, he was blind beyond the smiling, if wary, face of Fred Weasley and the suddenly still
form of George Weasley, rigid and upright where he sat by his brother's side.

"I missed you." Harry said instead of an answer that was sure to be more morbid than it was
fascinating. This Fred was a very living thing, just like all the people before him in this world
that Harry had come to write off as long gone. His blue eyes were bright in a way Harry had
not seen before and George was healthy and vibrant in a way Harry believed he would never
see again in the George back in his reality. The twins had been his brothers, his guides in all
things mischievous and ultimately his friends. The smile Harry offered them both when Fred
lifted a hand to clasp Harry's own was brilliant, wide enough to warrant a funny upward curl
from the corner of George's mouth.

That was, until Harry found himself suddenly upright, a strong arm around his middle
keeping him from toppling with the sudden movement as blonde hair tickled his cheek.
Scowling, the youth peered upwards, only to find that Malfoy's gaze was not focused on him
but on the two redheads seated side by side and smiling up at the vampire with all the
innocence of a red-handed thief. There was a glint of something in those blue eyes for the
barest moment before Remus' voice caught Harry's attention.

"And just what have I told you two about antagonising Draco? And everyone else for that
matter? Get over here and leave that poor boy alone for a bit!"

George offered a sleek smile, ignoring Fred's huff of indignation, and reached out to ruffle a
pale hand through Harry's hair. "See you around, pet."

Fred followed his brother, sending a fleeting wink in Harry's direction that both amused and
baffled him. What in Merlin's name was that about?

Before Harry could work the strange behaviour out for himself, he was all but carried to an
empty seat beside Pansy and plonked softly on the hard wood, Draco's tall frame folding
gracefully into the seat on his other side and smiling his thanks as a bowl was offered to him.
Harry watched the blonde speak happily to Severus in French as the pair ate their meal,
ignoring the bowl his mother was trying to push in front of him. He turned his eyes on the
twins, watching their subtle hand gestures and grinning faces as the pair spoke to one another.
Was there an ongoing feud between the trio that Harry was unaware of? Had he hurt Draco's
feelings in some way by reaching out to the twins? Why was it bothering him that he might
have hurt this Malfoy's feelings?

He opened his mouth to voice what might be an inappropriate question, though he cared very
little so long as he got his answer; only for the image of Fred Weasley rolling up his sleeves
with a scowl after spilling sauce on the cuff to force his mouth to snap shut. There, almost
blended with the pale skin of the man's arm was a perfect crescent-shaped bite, large enough
to have come only from the mouth of a very large dog. Or a wolf.

George's pale scarring caught his eye, Harry's mind blanking as the man turned to answer
something Remus had said, the gold in the older man's eyes something familiar and glinting
in the sunlit room. Green eyes locked with blue as disbelief painted Harry's features, George's
smile quirking in that strange, unfamiliar way as his bright blue eyes flashed pale silver.

The twins were werewolves.

 6

The Weasley family settled in to this Grimmauld place with as much familiarity as they had
settled in to the one back home.

Harry watched them follow through a routine as dinner came towards an end, Ron throwing
the lounge room door open wide and nodding at Harry when he saw the younger boy's stare
on him.

He was following without a second thought, passing by his mother, Ginny and Mrs. Weasley
where the women sat on stools by a counter, his mother's hand reaching out to rub his arm
unwittingly. Harry froze for the briefest moment, eyes soft as he caught her fingertips in his
hand and smiled up at her.

The lounge room was as big as it had been in his own world, but far more comfortable. It was
filled with soft-looking couches and chairs decked in cushions and brightly coloured
blankets. The fresh walls were warm beneath the light of the fire Ron started in the grate with
a flick of his wand, the redhead pulling the curtains closed on the darkening sky.

"Did we meet in Hogwarts, then?" Ron was half-turned to him, grinning as he stretched
before flopping into one of the armchairs with a groan. Harry smiled back, tugging at a
footstool until his back was to the fire, warm and taking away the edge of nerves that danced
about him still.

Surreal.

Everything was beyond surreal.

"Yeah," Harry's eyes flicked over to watch others make their way inside as though this was an
everyday occurrence. Parkinson sidled in beside Ron with a sigh, her smile soft and sincere.
"We met on the Hogwarts express, actually. Mrs. Weasley showed me how to get onto the
platform and then we ended up in the same compartment."

Ron grunted as he made room for the woman poking him in the side, his smile fond as he
wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Harry shook his head with a smile. Despite the fact
that Harry thought it should be another in his embrace, the man looked just as besotted with
the dark haired girl, and Harry could not find it in him to bode her any ill will.

"So," Harry glanced over as Draco made his way into the room behind the twins, his hands in
the pockets of his trousers as he cast one raised eyebrow down at something Fred was saying
to him. Not unfriendly then... "Is the Order still a thing with Voldemort being gone?"

The twins shot him sharp looks, George's eyes flashing silver as he pulled his brother in close
and tipped the two of them back to settle on the main couch. "I don't think I've ever heard
anyone but Dumbledore say that name." Fred was shaking his head, leaning forward in his
seat to stare at Harry.
"Fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself." Harry quoted one of his best friends
with a shrug, eyes trained on Draco as the vampire stretched the massive wings on his back
with a sudden shake.

Merlin.

Now that was surreal.

The blonde tucked the wings in back along his spine, the scaled things all but disappearing in
the shadows. How did he manage that, Harry wondered... It was as though when they were
tucked away, Draco almost seemed human. Red eyes caught his and a familiar smirk lit the
man's features. Harry felt himself look away sharply. Almost human.

"I mean, when you fight a guy so many times, saying his name means... nothing? It was a
title Tom Riddle gave himself, it doesn't mean anything."

"Bloody hell," Ron breathed, eyes wide in a way Harry had last seen nearly a year ago. "Only
Dumbledore ever called You-Know-Who by his actual name."

Harry felt a distant pang, his smile sad. "Albus Dumbledore was an incredible wizard. The
man was gifted. He set up the Order of the Pheonix to form an army against Voldemort.
When the war ended, the Order kind of... disbanded? Well, I guess... Most of us were dead
so."

The self-depracating little laugh was met by stony silence, Draco making a noise akin to a
growl where the man leaned against the mantle piece. "You speak about it so calmly," The
blonde shook his head, "It is unnerving. The Order of the Pheonix here was set up as a home
for children in need of protection." The blonde was watching the flames, eyes bright as blood.
"Some families were warped in mindset. Grimmauld place offered a sanctuary, open and
visible to any magical child that ran from home or needed time away from overbearing
parents. Each room on all four storeys was occupied during the war, when tensions were high
and tempers were higher."

He glanced down at Harry and smiled. "Most families have calmed with the times, but Sirius
keeps the house open; has always encouraged others to treat it as a second home, or a haven
for those in need. When we are not occupying it," he gestured to himself and the people
around him, to Ron and Pansy, to Gregory and Tommy; a pair seated in the corner that Harry
had not even realised had come in, "They rotate watch. Remus, Sirius, James, Lily,
Nymphadora, Aunt Andromada, mother, the Weasleys, Severus... and others... They take
turns coming by here, whenever the wards alert them to the presence of a child in need."

Harry felt his throat grow tight, his fingers clenching down on the soft fabric of his trousers.
Grimmauld place was a safe home for children. Sirius had made it a safe home for all the
kids, like Harry himself, who felt as though they could not go back to their own homes. It
seemed... Almost too perfect, really. He flinched when a presence kneeled in front of him,
glancing up at Draco.

"I did not mean to upset you... Or bring back painful memories."
Harry snorted, shaking his head and lifting a hand to scratch the back of his neck. "There's a
fair share of those, but that doesn't mean some of them aren't bittersweet. This house in my
world is in some desperate need of repairs... and a bit lonely to live in..." he chuckled, "it's
just nice to see it so... Warm."

Draco hummed, tilting his head and standing again. "Severus took me here quite often while
he helped to set up the Order. From what I know, Sirius and Remus live here most days, even
when it's not occupied, so I believe you can credit its warmth to plain, old natural Omega
instincts."

Parkinson gave a snort, grin sharp. "It's called nesting, Draco. Omegas don't just do it during
a heat, they like their homes to be a certain way. This is where Remus raised his kid, of
course he's going to keep it cosy."

Fred was nodding, "I heard that. I mean, I've never seen him do it, but Dad says that Remus
can throw one hell of a strop when Sirius tries to muck up a room on purpose when they're
bickering. I'd never do such a thing" the redhead chuckled. George pushed his twin back into
the cushions with a snicker.

"Oh, as if you would ever even get the chance, Beta-Brains." The indignant shout Fred let out
was met with a sharp bark of laughter from Ron, that quickly turned to a shriek when Pansy
stuck her two fingers into the man's rib-cage.

"What're you laughing at, Ronald?" she hissed playfully, "You think you'd ever even get the
chance to look at one? You're mine, Knothead!"

Harry watched the scuffle with no small amount of amusement, but the words made little to
no sense to him. Remus had used the same ones earlier to describe... Pregnancies? Were they
talking about werewolf pregnancies? Was Ron a...

Harry frowned at the redhead, talking in the boy's rapidly reddening face as he tried to push
Pansy form the chair, his breath wheezing. No... Ron was human... So what were the words
they were using? What did they mean?

"You look confused."

Harry jumped, glancing up at Draco with a twist to his lips. He had moved closer. This
Malfoy was a great deal stealthier than the old one.

"Ah," Harry grimaced, shrugging one shoulder up. "Remus said he'd explain all that Alpha,
Beta, Omega stuff to me; but I've no idea what it means, if I'm being completely honest."

Draco's red eyes widened marginally, the room going suddenly silent. Harry felt all eyes train
on him and coughed awkwardly, tapping his hands against his knees. "Sorry... Did I say
something wrong?"

"Woah," Fred struggled to sit up out of the soft couch, eyes wide. "No way, are you trying to
tell me you don't know about dynamics?" Blue eyes flashed silver for a second, the redhead
glancing back at George who shrugged at him. "What eighteen year old doesn't know about
dynamics? I mean, you would have gone through your own Beta presentation back in your...
world, right?"

Harry frowned, shaking his head slowly. "What are dynamics? Is it like a creature thing?"

"Ohhhh," Pansy was pushing Ron aside, scooting forward on the seat beside Harry to stare at
him, "Precious baby, nooo... No, dynamics are not a creature thing..." She grimaced and
pushed Harry to one side of the large footstool, plonking herself down beside him with a huff.
"Alright, so dynamics refers to biologically standards in every single Witch or Wizard alive.
There are three altogether; Alpha, Beta and Omega. When a witch or wizard reaches the age
of magical majority, sometimes seventeen, sometimes earlier; they go through a biological
presentation. This didn't happen back in your world?"

Harry was at a loss, sure there were times when he had never paid attention in class and he
was missing a whole year of schooling to boot, but he was fairly confident that this would not
have been something he would have glazed over. At the very least, it would have been
something Hermione would have forewarned him about. Dynamics? Presentations? The
words did not ring so much as a tinkle of recognition.

"Ah... No?"

"Merlin." Draco whispered the word beside him, the man's pale face falling into his long
fingers as he frowned down at Harry. "That is a rather distinct difference between worlds.
The dynamics have existed between magical people since before the time of the Hogwarts
founders. There is no point in our history when they were not spoken of or written about."

The vampire sighed, taking a seat beside Ron on the arm of his chair. "Alpha, Beta, Omega
are three sides that make up the balance of wizard-kind. The Alpha is the Sire, the provider;
the one who makes up a near majority of the population. Their presentation is long, fierce,
drawn-out. The Beta is the Protector, level-headed and second only to the Alpha. Their
presentation lasts only a handful of days, painful, but bearable."

The man paused, pale cheeks suddenly flushing. "The Omega is, as archaic as it sounds,
sacred. So few are born nowadays, and even fewer are born... Fertile. They have the quickest,
most painful presentation. Though it lasts only a night or two, Severus has told me that it is a
pain he will never forget for as long as he survives."

Severus... Harry's brow was furrowed. Severus was an Omega? So, not a werewolf thing
then. The green eyed boy shook his head, more in disbelief that such a vast difference could
even exist between this world and his own.

"I don't understand, so is it like a power thing? Are Alphas like the most powerful?"

Fred snorted, pushing at George's shoulder with a grin. "They only wish they were."

Pansy smiled at him, patting his thigh. "Alpha's are the strongest physically, sure, but it
typically falls to the Omega to make all the life changing decisions. If you have an Omega in
your family, you listen to them, they're kind of like the Head Matriarch, I guess."
He was getting confused. Harry squinted, "So, they're women? But, Remus..."

"They can be women," Ron supplied, face screwing up in thought, "Or they can be men.
Usually female omegas have a higher ah... fertility rate, I think? That's what Mum taught us,
at least. Males can sometimes be sterile, or run into fertility issues down the line."

Harry paused on his next question, mind flickering back to the image Remus had shown
him... Of a smiling child that he had... Birthed...

"Omegas are the ones that... give birth?" he asked softly, eyes widening. "Omegas are
wizards that can have babies?"

Draco chuckled, drawing an open-mouthed glance from Harry. "Precisely."

Well...

Hell.

Harry felt his eyebrows lift into his hairline, barely registering the laughter that filled the
room at his expression.

"Aw bless, he's in shock."

"I think he's going to keel over, actually..."

"It's alright mate, no idea what's goin' through your head right now, but it's easy learn all this
stuff!"

"Could you imagine never having to go through a presentation?"

"Could you imagine not being any dynamic? Bloody hell, how would that even feel?"

The words filtered through his pacing mind with him paying them little regard, his lips
twisting as he tried to sort the information he had been given.

With a start, he realised that Draco was in front of him, the blonde's red gaze filled with a
strange sort of curiosity. "Harry..."

"Yeah?" Harry jumped when a wrist was put in front of his face suddenly, so pale he could
see the blue veins beneath it. "Eh..."

"Humour me," Draco grinned at him from where the blonde was crouched. "Scent is
incredibly important here. Scenting is an everyday thing. I have a theory regarding yours. Tell
me... What do you smell?"

The younger boy cast a wary glance at Pansy to his side, only for the woman to coax him on
with a smile. He had a scent?

With a sigh, he leaned forward, almost but not quite pressing his nose to Draco's skin. Unless
the man was wearing some fancy cologne, Harry doubted whether his boring, 'dynamic'-less
nose would be able to pick up anything at all... The younger boy paused, inhaling more when
the faintest trace of something came to him. Something dark and almost copper-like wafted
from the man's skin like a perfume, mild and... Really nice. The scent was comforting...
Powerful...

"Smells nice," Harry almost did not want to pull back to murmur, "Like... you're... Safe?"

He frowned at the word. Apt as it may have been, it was not one that Harry would have ever
thought he would use for any Draco Malfoy.

Pansy breathed a sound of sudden realisation beside him, her hands clutching tight on his
arm. "You don't think...!"

Harry would have glanced at her, and at the sudden murmurs around him that sounded closer
than before, excited and curious. He, however, seemed to have gotten stuck a certain distant
from Draco's raised wrist, inhaling that strange, warm scent that loosened the anxious knot
that had, unknowingly, lodged in his chest.

The blonde watched him with wide eyes, mouth lifting in a smile.

"I am assuming that someone with no dynamic would have smelled absolutely nothing." The
man's voice was quiet despite the flurry of sound behind him, leaning forward slightly. "A
Beta, as we have all been presuming you are, would have smelled potential; for kinship, for a
challenge..." He edged closer to the boy that looked almost hypnotised by the scent, lidded
green eyes lifting to stare back at Draco.

"You..." Draco spoke the word with something soft, his hands lifting to cup the boy's cheeks,
"You, Harry, smell safety in me because I am an Alpha that you know; and you have not yet
presented."
 7

"Will you tell me about him?"

The Weasley's had gone back to their home. After a promise from Lily to bring Harry back to
theirs the following evening for dinner, Molly had thrown her arms around the young boy.
The woman's face had been imperceptible, fond and gentle and filled with a thousand
questions.

The were the same questions that Harry was sure were on his own mother's face as she
studied him from where the both of them were still lounged against the couch the twins had
previously been in. The fire was still bright, casting a warm glow on the rest of the people in
the room.

Gregory Goyle and the man Harry knew only as Tommy had taken their leave upstairs, the
formidable shape of Greg casting a curious look in Harry's direction before offering him a
short wave in goodbye. Odd in itself as that had been, it was nothing compared to the quick
kiss to his cheek Draco Malfoy had given him before going off to find Snape.

Harry had been momentarily too stunned to react beyond the blush that he was sure lit his
face aflame. Malfoy had always been something of an obsession of his for all the wrong
reasons; a lack of trust, an unbridled dislike of one another, a childish stubbornness that
refused either the chance to let the other get the upper hand. To have that sudden obsession
turned so rapidly on its head with the realisation that this Draco was... Kind, and charming,
and older, and patient, and quite... Handsome...

Well... That was something that he could happily push to one side until his frazzled mind
could figure out just what the hell was going on.

His father was sat beside Lily, legs stretched out in front of him and Auror robes thrown over
the back of the couch. He glanced at Harry with a small smile. "Tell you about our Harry, you
mean?"

Harry nodded, watching as Remus came back into the room floating a tray behind him. He
placed it down on the coffee table pushed to one side, sending a mug towards Lily, James and
Sirius with a flick of his wand. Harry's tea, he handed to him with a smile, leaning in to cup
the boy's chin briefly. "Sure," Harry smiled at Remus as he held the warm mug close,
wrapping both his hands around it. "I know he was young, but you must have so many
stories. What was he like?"

"He was kind." Lily took a sip of her tea, her eyes locked on the fire as Sirius scooted over on
the loveseat across from them to make room for Remus, lifting an arm to pull the smaller
man in to his side. Harry hid his smile behind his cup of tea.

"He was very sweet, always tried to do odd jobs to help out, even when he ended up making
more of a mess than was... helpful." She grimaced with a small laugh, glancing over at Harry.
Her eyes were sad. Whether they had always been so in the years she had been without her
son, or just now with the memories, Harry could not tell. "He was forever trying to help me
make breakfast and, more often than not, I ended up the one covered in egg and flour."

Remus chuckled, his eyes flashing gold in the subtle light. "He was an absolute disaster when
it came to chores, as much as he tried. Merlin, he spotted me de-weeding the garden one
morning and when I turned around he had every one of my tulips beheaded."

Harry laughed with the rest of them, memories of de-weeding Petunia's garden beneath the
blistering summer sun while his lips grew cracked and his hands burned were quick to flit
across his mind. "I'm not too fond of gardening myself, but I was quite good at Herbology all
the same. I was absolute pants at Potions."

Sirius groaned, sinking lower in his seat. "Don't even remind me of the nightmare that was
Potions... Double classes every day with the better-than-everyone Ravenclaws! Now, that was
a form of torture."

James snorted, "Only 'cause you went and tried to make your own damn concoctions! Nearly
exploded every bloody cauldron you bought and the blasted classroom. I'm still a firm
believer that old Benningsworth only gave you an Acceptable so he wouldn't have to deal
with you trying to repeat his class for the Auror's programme!"

Sirius leapt forward to send a stinging hex in James' direction, only for the other man to
deflect it with a flick of his wand and a bark of laughter. Lily yelped as it struck her arm
instead, scowling at Sirius and sending a hex of her own bolting towards the man with a
wand she pulled from her belt loop. Harry watched them yelp and dive about on the cushions,
his lips stretched wide in a smile that slowly became a laugh. They were like children,
laughing and cursing one another as stinging jinx after stinging jinx landed. Remus scowled
at the three of them, cupping his mug to one side and sighing like a weary parent. Harry
watched it all as he snorted into his own cup. He squeaked suddenly as his eyes snapped to a
snap of magic heading his way, his hand lifting easily to cast a silent Protego. The simple
shield absorbed the mild hex with barely a waver before Harry let it fall as he dropped his
hand down, shaking his head with a smile. It was like being stuck in the common room with
Ron, Seamus and Dean all over again.

"Merlin..."

Harry glanced up, stiffening when he realised he had the attention of all four adults on him;
their mouths open and their eyes wide. Harry frowned, "Sorry, did I miss something?"

James was the first to move, leaning around Lily to look Harry up and down, taking in the
wand still holstered to the boy's arm, unused. "Harry," he breathed, "Did you just use
wandless... And wordless magic?"

"Er... Yeah?" Harry frowned, glancing towards where Remus was looking at him in awe. Was
that not something he was supposed to be doing? Was it wrong for him to be doing magic
outside of a school? "I mean, sorry if I wasn't supposed to, but the simple spells just kind of
happen? I haven't had to consciously use my wand for a Protego in years."
"Bloody hell," Sirius whipped towards James. "That's incredible! Isn't that incredible? Harry,
what other spells can you use like that?"

"Ah..." Harry cast a simple Lumos with a wave of one hand, flicking on the overhead lamp
before waving his hand back in a Nox and turning it off again. "The simple stuff, I guess? I
can unlock doors, use shields... Some of the more complex spells that the rest of my year
haven't managed yet like Levioso and Silencio... There were times when I was left without a
wand during the war so I pushed myself to learn more than what came naturally."

Lily had a hand pressed against her lips, her eyes closing slowly before she shook her head
and looked back at him with a smile. "Harry, do you have any idea how amazing that is?" She
leaned over to grasp his arm, her eyes bright. "Even in your universe I'm sure wandless magic
is something not very many wizards can do at all. That you've learned to do those kinds of
spells not only wandless, but wordless, that is remarkably impressive, sweetheart."

Harry felt himself smiling once more, something soft and warm bursting in his chest like
pride. "Really?"

Lily nodded at him, and Sirius grinned. "It's a level of magic not many would associate with a
fully matured Alpha, let alone a Beta barely on the cusp of manhood!"

"About that."

Harry turned as Remus cleared his throat, the man setting his empty cup aside. "I was
speaking with Draco before he left, and I know the group have given you a fair chunk of
information, Harry; but there may be others things we should discuss."

He turned towards the other three adults, lips pressed in a line. "Harry isn't a Beta. He's
Unpresented."

James nearly choked on his sip of tea, the man lurching forward to cough the liquid from his
throat as Lily rolled her eyes and thumped him on the back. "Come again?"

Remus smiled at Harry as the boy leaned forward to check on his father, his brow furrowed.
"In Harry's universe, there are no dynamics. There are no secondary genders, no need for
presentations. The kids figured this out when they were speaking earlier; and Draco came to a
rather interesting theory."

Harry took in the slightly taken aback expressions. His father was casting him glances, the
man's eyebrows furrowed as if he was trying to figure something out, while his mother kept
her eyes on Remus. The woman's hand reached out in an almost subconscious gesture to pat
at Harry's knee. Sirius was leaning back against the loveseat, eyes narrowed in thought. Was
it really so strange a thing to come from a place without dynamics? He was beginning to
think these 'secondary genders' played a far bigger part in this society than he had first
thought.

"Lily," Remus said into the sudden silence, his smile wide, "What does Harry smell like to
you?"
The woman opened her mouth, then paused, before casting a brief look over at the boy. "He
doesn't seem unpresented... But his scent is off as Beta too." She shook her head, siddling
closer on the seat to put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I just put it down to the anxiety he must
have been feeling being in a strange place, with new faces. It must have all been so strange
for you, love."

"Exactly!" Remus grinned. "We've all been adjusting to Harry's scent as anxious. We've been
subconsciously registering the upheavel we all felt at his sudden appearance as his scent."

"Harry," The man turned towards him, taking in the confused tilt of his head with a laugh,
"Anxiety, stress, panic, these sudden, sharp, off-balance emotions produce a scent that is akin
to electricity. It charges the room and everyone in it. With each flare of panic, the scent
registers as strong and we associate that scent with the person who is felling those emotions
in an effort to come to a solution. The Unpresented and a Beta give off a near identical scent
for anxiety and that is the primary scent you have been giving off since landing here. With
your age, we unintentionally boxed you into the latter column.

"Draco, however, realised that when you had calmed somewhat, your scent was too subtle to
grab a conscious hold of. He believes you have been giving off the scent of your emotions,
and the emotions of those around you, rather than an actual scent."

"Ah!" James said suddenly, his eyes wide. "His magic is mimicking!"

"My magic is what?" Harry was trying to follow the conversation, it seemed like a fairly
important one. But some of these words he had never heard of in relation to magic and scents
and dynamics and... Had Draco Malfoy been bloody well sniffing him the entire time he had
been here? Was that not just a little bit creepy?

"Mimicking." Sirius answered, nodding his head. "It's when an unpresented kid on the cusp
of presenting loses all trace of their own, child-like scent and their magic mimicks the scent
of everyone around them. If you were panicking, so too were the people around you and your
magic picked up on their new scents and mimicked it like a mirror. Any calm scent anyone
tried to send towards you, would have hit this 'mirror' and been reflected back. It happens
rarely, very rarely; in cases where a kid has no solid home and their magic is trying to find a
safe space to present."

"I do have a home, though," Harry said, grimacing as he remembered the dire state of
Grimmauld back in his own universe... He sort of had a home...

Lily shook her head. "Not just a house, Harry," she said softly, "An actual home. A space
where you feel safe and protected and welcome and loved. Something brought you into this
universe and that upheaval tore you from everything your magic recognised... Familiar as we
all may be to you, your magic is different to ours. Your body is trying to settle itself into a
new normal."

She sighed, glancing up at Remus. "How could we not have realised?"

Remus' lips twisted, his eyes taking in Harry slowly. "It had never even occurred to me to
consider. Until Draco mentioned it to me, I believed Harry was a Beta coming from a
universe where the dynamics were so weak, they were negligible. Forgotten. Your son, before
his passing, had every indication that he would present as Beta and so I naturally placed this
Harry in that space. Forgive me, Cub."

Harry startled, reaching up to scratch at his neck with a rueful smile. "Don't apologise,
Remmy, you've done nothing wrong," he gave an embarrassed chuckle. There was so much
information to take in, some of it flitting over the top of his head that he knew he was going
to have to ask someone to repeat at some point. He was... presenting? From what he had
gathered... Though what, exactly, he would be presenting into he had absolutely no idea. Not
a creature... And the wizards and witch in front of him were fairly normal looking, and
acting. What was the big deal?

"Besides," Harry announced, grin bright, "If I'm 'unpresented' as ye all seem to think, I might
still be a Beta, right?"

James hummed a noise, Sirius making a gesture with his hand beside him. "Possibly, Harry,"
The man spoke, lips twisting in a small smile. "You might possibly be a Beta, nothing can be
ruled out at the moment with how different this situation is. Even going through the records
in the Department, only one instance of inter-universal travel has ever been documented and
that was due to an unfortunate incident with a temper-mental Time Turner. This is... an
unusual circumstance. The best thing we can do at the moment is give you a safe space to call
home and wait it out. Alright?"

Harry stared back at the man that had once been the closest thing he ever had to a father,
taking in the tense set of his shoulders and the gentle look in his eyes. Sirius looked unsure,
but the apprehension and caution that Harry knew the man was capable of when things were
going wrong was absent. For as long as the people around him could smile at him calmly and
tell him not to worry; for the first time in his life Harry felt as though he could believe them
all.

He nodded, smiling back.

"Alright."
 8

It was possibly the most surreal experience of his life.

He had faced three-headed dogs, possessed diaries, mermaids, dragons intent on burning him
alive, the cold, unforgiving reality of the death of a loved one... And still, Harry could
definitely say that sitting at the kitchen table in Grimmauld place while his mother cooked
breakfast and his father skirted around her getting ready for work was the most surreal thing
he had ever seen.

Remus was sat beside him, the man humming under his breath as he flicked through the
Daily Prophet, one side of his hair rumpled still from sleep and his robes half-untied where
he had just thrown them on. The man sipped his tea as though it were any casual Friday,
shoulders relaxed and throwing Harry a smile whenever he caught the boy glancing at him.
Sirius was growling up a storm as he prowled from room to room, searching for some
'goddamn, blasted paperwork' that he knew he had 'left right there on the table, for Merlin's
sake!'

He emerged from behind the pantry door with a sound of triumph, clutching the parchment in
his hand and slapping James over the forehead with it when the other man passed him to
return a jar of honey to the shelves.

"I told you I left it on a shelf!"

"You said you left it on the table."

"Merlin, James, do you listen to me at all? Didn't I bloody well mean shelf?"

Lily moved from behind the counter that divided the kitchen from the larger dining section,
pushing the two men out of her way as she placed a plate filled with pancakes drizzled in
honey in front of Harry and floated the other four to land gracefully on the dining table. She
waited until he looked up at her before smiling down and placing a hand on his head, ruffling
the hair there as if she wanted nothing more than to clutch it and pull him in for a hug. "Sorry
there were no blueberries, love. Maybe we can pick some up in Diagon today when we go to
get you some new clothes?"

She settled herself in beside him, lifting her wand to wave over the teapot that had just begun
to whistle on the stove. James plonked himself in beside her with a grin, leaning over his own
plate to drop a kiss to the side of her mouth and trailing his tie in a pool of honey as he did.
Harry watched Lily sigh dramatically as she spelled it clean, Remus' gaze still on his morning
paper as he made a cup of tea one handed and dumped in three sugar cubes before sliding it
towards a scowling Sirius. Harry glanced down at the pancakes in front of him, perfectly
round and fluffy, and felt his heart clench in his chest.

This.

This should have been his life all along.

His fingers clenched on the material of his trousers, eyes wide to stop the sudden swell of
tears he felt threatening there. In all his years at Hogwarts, at Mrs. Weasleys, distantly
comparing home-cooked meals to the ones he may have had with his own family, if given the
chance. Compared to all the warmth and love he had felt and had known in his own world...
This was incredibly... More. The emotion clutched invisible fingers against his arms, holding
them frozen. He felt a tremble against his spine, his magic hot and snappish as he tried to take
in a breath, only for the air to leave his lungs in a pathetic, little whimper.

Why had he not been allowed to have this?

"Oh, pet,"

Harry blinked wetly as he felt arms around him suddenly, his Mother pulling him into a one-
sided hug that had his lips clamping shut on another embarrassing sound. He felt as though
he had cried enough for a lifetime in the short amount of time he had spent here. The
emotions he felt were a thousand times stronger, pulling at his senses in ways he wasn't sure
he had ever felt back home. Everything was just so... Settling, to him here.

Nerves he had not even realised he had been dealing with were calming and the anxious pit
that coiled in his stomach these past few months was slowly unraveling. His own magic was
a thing he could feel, more alive and vibrant beneath his skin than he had felt in so long. It
was as though he had cocooned himself away from everything that could potentially hurt
him. In the months leading up to his strange appearance in another world, Harry had pulled
away from the two people who loved him most; to give them space, yes, and to shield
himself from the pain of knowing he would be left on the outskirts...

He had pulled from the Weasley's, from Ginny and Molly and George, to give them time to
grieve, he had thought; but now the realisation of their pain, their mourning struck something
within him that was strung tight with panic.

Pain.

He had felt so much of it... Known it in so many different ways; emotional and physical and
manipulative and self-sacrificing, bereaved and jealous and embarrassed and tortured and lost
and...

He had not wanted to feel any more.

Harry took a breath, wiping the tears from his cheeks as he looked up to meet the faces of the
people who haunted his nightmares. Lily was rubbing his arm with one hand, face taut as she
held him close and glanced over at Remus. The werewolf's eyes were a solid gold, pinned to
Harry and his lips twisted in a soft grimace. Sirius and James were watching him too, forks
and knives left discarded on the table.

"Harry..?"

"I don't want you to send me back."

He spoke the words before he had ever really thought them true, and was nearly taken aback
by the relief he felt at just voicing them. He didn't want to go back. As much as he loved,
adored, would do anything for his friends, his family. The cold, harsh truth of it all was that...
They were moving on without him.

They were grieving but living, laughing and loving, moving forward in a world free of
Voldemort while he cried into his pillow at night reliving the war over and over and over and
over.

"Harry," Sirius shook his head with a small smile, "We don't even know what it was that
brought you here. Me and James are trying to figure it out, of course, Minister's orders and all
that malarkey; but there's absolutely no guarantee that we'll find it. The old Hogwarts wards
fluctuate on an indescribable level, it's magic we can't and won't tamper with. There's no way
to say for sure that there is even a possibility of one day sending you back."

The man lifted a fork to take a bite out of his breakfast, mouth half-full when he pointed the
handle at Harry, his eyes sharp. "And even if we could; we wouldn't."

Harry felt his lip tremble, his head nodding slowly. "'Cause you miss your Harry..."

"No, cub," Remus growled, golden eyes simmering down to their usual colour as the man
folded the newspaper half-crumpled in his grasp. "While it's true we miss our Harry, and the
similarities between you both are somewhat there. You and him are two completely different
people and that is only becoming more and more apparent."

"He's right, Harry," Lily ran a hand through his hair softly and Harry risked a glanced up at
the woman. She was smiling, eyes bright. "I loved my son, I raised him well and I grieved
when I had to put him to rest. But he was a boy with his own life, his own dreams, his own
personality. You are a wonderful, incredible young man and you are not him."

She lifted his arm suddenly, pulling back the sleeve of his shirt to hold the pale skin up to the
morning light. As pale as he was, the glistening, pink skin of past scars littered his forearms.
A slash from a curse here, a rough landing there. Scars had never been a thing Harry had
been conscious of, he had always had a few. What was one more added? As long as his skin
was on fire with some sort of pain, then he was alive and being alive meant being able to
fight. Lily looked over the collection now with something sharp and sad in her eyes.

"I don't see you as him, Harry, but I do see you as my son. In the same way as any version of
me could look at you and feel protective. Even if they could send you back..." The woman's
eyes suddenly blazed, her mouth twisting into a fierce line as she whispered the last words
darkly. "I would never let them."

Harry probably should have felt something more than sad for the life left behind him with the
sudden declaration; and he did, as he laughed wetly and his pancakes were pushed in front of
him by a stern James with an order to 'eat up!' He felt the creeping edge of sadness dwindle, a
solid presence for the family he knew would worry for him.

Mostly though... Beneath the lingering sadness and the residual panic... Mostly, he felt relief.
###

Diagon Alley was as bright and busy as Harry had ever seen it. The shops were full of people
milling around, though the majority of anyone his own age was in school at the moment.
Remus had explained to him as he walked side by side with the man and Lily, that the new
magical school had been set up closer towards the border of England and Scotland and had
been built in something of a replica of the old Hogwarts. It had been named Dumbledore's
Academy in honour of the late Headmaster, though most simply called it D.A.

Harry could do little to help the girn that caught the corner of his mouth at that.
Dumbloedore's Army would have been proud.

They had already been to three different clothing stores, Remus and Lily carrying a bag each
filled with shrunken packages of clothes that Harry had insisted he really did not need. He
had lived his life predominantly in his uniform, and would have been grateful enough for two
sets of trousers and shirts to call his own. Lily had simply thrown him a jaded look, assured
him that if they didn't spend the Potter fortune, then James most definitely would 'on random
crap'.

He had left Madam Malkin's in a set of dark green Wizarding robes that Harry doubted were
as casual as Remus insisted they were. He wore black trousers beneath that were tighter than
he had ever been comfortable with, but the seamstress had insisted he be given the correct
sizing. The robes hid them well enough though, tight as they were across his torso and down
the length of his arms. The cuffs flared marginally across his wrists, leaving his fingers free,
though Harry was sure before the day was out that he would have them rolled up to his
elbows. He was toying with it even as they walked now, rolling the cuff between his fingers
as they passed by Magical Menagerie and Harry lifted his eyes to glance at the cages
displayed in the windows.

He stilled, eyes lingering on a cage in the bottom right, where a lonely looking lump was
half-hidden beneath the sand tossed across the base of the enclosure. "Do you mind if we...?"

Harry glanced up at Lily and Remus, the pair pulling to a stop as he spoke and pointed a
finger towards the shop window. His mother made a sound not unlike a coo, sliding up to the
window to tap at the glass and wave at the Krups all yipping for attention. "Of course, I love
looking in on these little guys!" Remus grinned, snapping his teeth playfully when one of the
crups caught his eye and started growling, it's fluffed out tail wagging erratically behind it.

The shop was bright with artificial light, cages and glass enclosures stacked high, some filled
with assortments of crups and pgymy puff's, kneazles, cats and toads and more. There were
several people already milling about, young children shrieking and animals yapping or
squeaking in response. It was an influx of noise that had Harry skirting closer towards the
window, his eyes narrowed as he crouched down to look at the miserable little creature
peering out at him from one of the bottom cages.

The snake was small, no more than a common garden variety with dull green scales and a
yellow stripe down its spine. It huddled close to the back corner, dark eyes curious and its
body looped and coiled around itself. Harry grinned.
"Hi there."

The snake perked up immediately, lifting its small head and blinking once, twice, before it
was sliding towards the glass panel with a spark of something like excitement in its eye.

"Speaker?"

"Of a sort," Harry nodded, leaning his elbows on his braced knees and putting his chin in one
hand. "You don't see many snakes in a pet shop."

The snake rippled, darting its tongue out to scent and winding closer to the panel, closer to
Harry. "Lost... Taken... Lonely..."

Harry hummed, tapping a finger against the glass and watching the little head butt against it,
like a kitten seeking affection. "I can understand lonely. Maybe I can take you home with
me?" The snake perked, sounding its approval in a happy, little hiss that had Harry chuckling.

"You're a Parselmouth."

The voice was breathed close to him and Harry yelped as he flew back on his backside with
the sudden surprise. He groaned, cracking an eye to glare at the tall, imposing form of Draco
Malfoy.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people!"

Draco peered down at him, red eyes alight, before leaning down to grasp the smaller boy's
wrist and pull him to a stand as though Harry weighed next to nothing. "True," the blonde
hummed, his eyes never leaving Harry's own as he pulled him in closer to whisper, "But you
shouldn't be able to speak Parseltongue... From what I know of the Potter heritage, it was not
a bloodline known for any... Slytherin qualities."

Harry pulled back to dust off his backside, casting a raised brow at the little snake that was
hissing something akin to a laugh in his cage. "No, it wouldn't be, would it? Seeing as the lot
of them were Gryffindors. I was hard pushed enough convincing the sorting hat that I bloody
well belonged there too." Green eyes were sly when they looked up to meet red, Harry
smiling slowly. "But seeing as I was a Voldemort's Horcrux for the majority of my life, I
guess a few Slytherin qualities are harder to squash down than others."

Harry could feel the blonde's eyes on him as he crouched back down, the vampire rigid as
Harry spoke to the little snake. While he had little idea as to what he sounded like to an
outside perspective, Hermione had once described the Serpent language as being
simultaneously incredibly beautiful and startlingly dark. She had said it was a lilting, slow
drawl of a speech that curled against a person's magic to illicit an almost instinctual reaction.
He had had no idea what she meant at the time, sure she had been fluffing it out for the sake
of letting him know why the language rubbed her up the wrong way. But as he spoke quietly,
Harry was almost hyper-aware of the vampire standing beside him and the safe, copper-
tinged, warm scent that Harry knew, inexplicably now, was Draco. He had a feeling instinct
was something he was going to become far more familiar with.
"Alright then, fetch a store attendant," Draco was growling suddenly, lifting the boy again
with one firm grasp around his elbow. He pointed Harry towards the staff at the top near the
counter when Harry glanced at him in confusion.

"Go on," Draco gave him a push, "Tell them you want the little snake and whatever supplies
they can fetch for it." The vampire looked down at him, lips spreading in a grin that was all
teeth. "My treat."
 9

"I can't believe he bought you a snake."

"To be fair... He is a Slytherin..."

Harry held the little cage that housed his small friend in front of his face, his smile wide as
Lily peered into the glass and passed a clearly disturbed look onto Remus. The other man
shrugged, "At least it's a small snake, Lily. We can keep it in the cage so it doesn't eat the
owls."

"He won't eat the owls," Harry unlatched the cage with a grin and held out a palm to allow
the little creature to slither out and twine around his wrist. "He won't destroy anything, and he
can't possibly harm anyone. What he will do is make sure we have no rats."

Green eyes darkened, "I hate rats."

The trio were back in Grimmauld place, Draco a new addition beside them as he watched
Harry smile down at the snake. The boy's fingers were slow and soft as he reached out two to
pat the small, scaled head.

Lily sighed, throwing her arms up in defeat. "Alright then, but you've got to keep an eye on
him, Harry. And for Merlin's sake, let James and Sirius know so they don't accidentally get
rid of the thing."

Harry nodded, as he moved to bring the snake up to his room. The little creature whispered in
his ear as they walked, its dark eyes glinting about the place and its body quick to move from
Harry's wrist to his neck, flicking its tongue out to scent his new home.

"You will have to be careful, you know, not to upset them. They're not snake people. What do I
call you, then?"

The snake wrapped its length around his upper arm to peer up at him. "No name given."

Harry hummed, sliding his fingers against the fresh walls of the hallway as he climbed the
stairs; it was still baffling to him to think that Grimmauld place could ever look so
comforting. "Well, I'll have to call you something. What about Tom, that's a bit of sound irony
right there, isn't it?"

"What is it that has you both so deep in conversation?"

Harry jolted, turning a scowl on the man that had startled him as his fingers itched to grab his
wand from its holster. He steadied his hand with a gasp. "You could have bloody well
announced your presence."

"I just did." Draco grinned down at him, flashing an alarming amount of fang that Harry
found, in equal parts, fascinating and disturbing.
The dark haired boy sighed. "I was trying to figure out a name for him, if you must know."
Draco hummed, following Harry into the guestroom that he supposed was slowly becoming
his own. It was sparse, filled only with a double bed with cream sheets rumpled from a night
of tossing and turning. The curtains were pulled back to let in the setting sunlight, the pale
wooden furniture and floor soft with the gentle glow.

"Warm."

Harry heard Tom hiss as he lifted his arm to let the snake sidle down to the top of his dresser.
He tucked himself in a loop around a towel Harry had left there that morning, nuzzling into
the material that had sat for long enough beneath the window to be warm to the touch. Harry
smiled.

"You're incredibly beautiful, do you know that?"

Green eyes widened, Harry turning to look at Draco with a sharp laugh. "I've never been
called that in my life," The boy chuckled, shaking his head. "And I've been called a fair
amount."

Draco was peering down at him, the Vampire's eyes shimmering even as they closed softly
with a sigh. "It is a tragedy and nothing less that you are not aware of how incredible you are,
Harry Potter."

Harry felt a flush light his cheeks, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck and pull at
the curls there. A nervous habit, and one hard to break. Draco strode forward with a growl,
taking Harry's hand in his own and grasping it. The man's fingers were long, slender and
elegant and tipped with perfectly round nails. Harry blinked up at him, taking in the copper-
scented smell that surrounded him now with open-mouthed breaths.

He was so close...

Draco made a sound, deep within his chest like an imperceptible purr; and Harry felt
something thrum inside himself as though it wanted to respond. "You are beautiful, incredibly
so. I have never seen eyes that shine like yours... But more so than that, your strength is...
Intoxicating."

It took a moment for Harry to realise that Draco was pushing up the sleeve of his robes,
glancing across the scars there as he turned the limb slowly. His fingernails skimmed the
boy's throat, catching on a rigged scar that was short but raised against the base of his
collarbone. "You have been through so much... Taken on pain as though you deserved it all."

Those fingertips danced against his cheek, drawing a short, sharp intake of breath from the
smaller boy. Draco pressed closer, tracing those fingers up again to push back the boy's dark
fringe and rub his thumb against the scar etched across his forehead. "Your life should have
hardened you into something tortured, something that casts away the world around it..."

Draco smiled, soft and sincere and so very handsome, Harry nearly forgot to breathe.
"And yet, you save snakes from noisy pet stores and give them names... You smile at
everyone who looks your way so they do not worry... You hold friends and family close
despite the hurt they might cause you... You laugh at darker thoughts and push through each
day with such a pureness to you..." Harry froze as Draco's fingers carded through his hair, the
man tilting his head to peer into blood red eyes that were so startling in their familiarity.

"You are... So... Bloody... Tempting..."

The words were whispered, but no less a growl as Draco's breath fanned across his face and
Harry smelled peppermint and tea, his heart thrumming a frantic rhythm in his chest that he
was absolutely sure that Draco could hear. The boy darted his tongue out to wet his bottom
lip, eyes wide as that red stare followed the movement, another growl spilling from the
Vampire's pink lips.

"I don't... I've never... I mean... With a..."

Words, Harry, use your words. His hand shook where it hung by his side, the other still
grasped in Draco's long fingers, his pulse a racing thing beneath the pale skin. He swallowed,
thoughts of his past kisses, with Cho and with Ginny, fleeting and incomparable to the molten
heat that erupted across his throat at the Vampire's touch. He had never felt anything like this,
never known anything as heated as the rush of his blood beneath the tips of those elegant
hands.

Merlin but this was obsession... All his years of staring Malfoy down and goading him into
fights, of snapping back in anger and baring their teeth at one another. Those memories held
more heat, more emotion, than any of his past 'love encounters' and Harry felt himself lean
into such a feeling, eyes fluttering closed. The sound that left his throat was one unbidden, a
soft, whimpered mewl that rolled from somewhere deep inside his chest and passed his lips.

Draco growled a sound in response, low and impossibly dark. It set Harry's skin alight as the
sunlight faded slowly from the window and the room grew dark with long shadows. "I will
only take from you what you are willing to give me, Harry... Nothing more."

The words broke something in Harry, his body shuddering as he leaned his weight more
solidly against the man. Draco was slender, but there was a strength to him that was bracing.
He wrapped his free arm around Harry's waist, his lips parting to show the barest glint of
fang.

Harry whimpered, low and long. "Please..."

It was the only answer the Vampire needed to drag the small green-eyed beauty impossibly
close and slant his mouth against Harry's own.

Harry panted into the kiss, chaste as it was, as Draco's lips slid softly against his. The man
allowed him only a moment, soft and sweet against his panting mouth, before sliding his
tongue against Harry's in a manner that thrilled the smaller boy to his core. He made a
pathetic sound, a broken whimper of a moan that Draco responded to with something of a
purr.
He had never been kissed like this... Never kissed a man, full stop. Harry's thoughts were
frantic, skittering across his mind as though trying to make sense of it all. As Draco's hand
slipped against his waist and tightened there, the man's tongue dipping slowly to lick a path
between his lips; his thoughts stilled to nothing.

Heat. Incomprehensible, delicious heat was flicking against his spine, his breath coming fast
and frantic. There was a touch of something primal against his mind, a brush of something
within himself that was writhing, twisting, moaning... Something...

Draco snarled, pulling back suddenly and tightening his fingers against a slim waist when
Harry tried to follow him. Red eyes peered down at him, wide and bright and filled with the
same heat that was slowly receding from Harry's mind.

The smaller boy took in a ragged breath, his own mouth open and panting still as he tried to
calm the flames licking their way into his stomach. He pushed the wanton thoughts down
within his own mind with a shudder, his fingers slowly releasing their clasp on Draco's arms.
He blinked, slow and soft, as he looked at the crescent-shaped, blood-filled indents he had
made in Draco's skin with his nails.

Another shudder tore through him and he stilled it with a whimper, his head tilting forward to
bow. "Sorry, Draco..."

The Vampire growled again, low and thrumming and stilling whatever panic was trying to
claw its way into Harry's throat. "My own fault," Harry glanced up at Draco to find red eyes
pinned to him, the blonde's hair a sleek mess where it spilled across his chest. "I had not
realised you were so close to... Presenting... You..."

Draco took a breath, stepping back and lifting his hands from Harry in a move that left the
smaller boy feeling almost bereft.

"Your control is... Something else, Harry."

Harry glanced at the marks he had left in Draco's skin, though they were slowly healing
before his eyes. "What control? I don't know what the hell that was, but I think I nearly
bloody assaulted you."

The blonde tipped his head back in a laugh, his smile bright and lifting one from Harry's own
sulking features.

"Harry," Draco purred, smile stretched over fangs that seemed longer now, sharp and white.
"I can assure you, little Gryffindor, that there would have been no assault. As strong as you
are..." He growled, snapping his teeth at Harry with a chuckle as the boy's green eyes lidded
and his breath hitched. "I am stronger."

The blonde nodded towards the door, casting a swift look at the snake that seemed to be
sleeping soundly on the dresser. "Come on, if we stay up here any longer, Remus will
definitely come snooping. We don't want to be late for dinner at Molly's, do we?"
Harry watched him walk towards the door, his heart still beating a rushed rhythm against his
chest. The scent of Draco surrounded him still, and he was not subtle as he breathed in
deeply. Safe, his body seemed to respond to the scent and he turned to follow the Vampire.

Draco was safe.

###

Harry groaned, scowling when Ginny barked a laugh at him.

"That's what you get for eating three slices of treacle tart."

The boy was lounged in a deck chair outside the back garden of the Burrow. The house had
been an exact replica of the one he had known, perfectly warm and cosy and filled with
bustling life. Ginny and Molly had taken command of the kitchen, Lily and Pansy of the
dining arrangements as the pair floated the dining table outside and enlarged it to fit them all.

The night air was warm and Pansy had lit lanterns that floated in the space above them to
light the area bright enough to see everything and everyone.

It was almost like a party, Harry had been amused to see. Arthur had darted in to shake his
hand fondly, and Fred and George had each wrapped him in a hug. The amount of food had
been immense and Harry was now paying for his gluttony as he watched George bully Ron
into helping clean up; the redhead snapping a stinging hex at the taller man's backside that
drew a shriek from him.

Harry was laughing, his legs tucked beneath him as he waved a silent hand to brighten the
lanterns when they began to flicker. The field stretched out before him, Draco's wings spread
out wide to catch the gentle breeze as the blonde tipped his face back to the sky.

If Harry was beautiful, as Draco so stated, then the Vampire was a work of art.

His long limbs and lean muscle were elegant and confident beneath the black trousers and
pale, silver shirt. The collar remained unbuttoned, showing a sliver of the man's chest and his
forearms were bare; Draco having rolled up his sleeves to help clear the table only moments
ago. His pale hair was loose about his shoulders, ethereal and incredibly suiting in its length.
With delicate features that were classically handsome, the man could have been a sculpture
for some avenging angel. His wingspan was massive stretched as it was in the open field, the
appendages scaled and midnight black as they swept forward once against the breeze. Could
he fly with them?

"Do you fly?"

Harry turned to find Ginny grinning down at him, her robes discarded for a pair of trousers
and a long sleeved shirt. She held two brooms, one a Cleansweep; old but well taken care of
if the polished handle was anything to go by and the other, a Comet, which she held out to
him.
Harry felt his eyes light up as he grasped the offered handle, taking in the dark stained wood
with a grin. It wouldn't be as fast as his Firebolt by any means, but it was a newer model.

"I haven't flown in months..." He whispered the words, glancing up once at Ginny before
darting to his feet and struggling out of the green robes that Madam Malkin had all but
pinned him into. The redhead laughed at him, waving her wand to summon over a small chest
that Harry recognised immediately as being the one the Weasley's used to house their old
Quidditch balls.

He flung his robes on the back of his chair and rolled up the sleeves of the tight fitting black
shirt he wore with his trousers. The clothes were tight enough to mimic his old quidditch
gear, stretchy enough around his hips and midriff to allow him movement.

Ginny riffled through the box with a hum, avoiding the bludgers that wobbled against their
metal restraints. "So we'll need a quaffle, but if the rest are joining in then I'll need the...
Aha!" She tossed something to Harry and he caught it on reflex, the tiny golden ball so
familiar between his fingers.

Ginny grinned, wide and feral. "Thought you had the build of a Seeker, alright. Brilliant,
you're with me so, Potter. Oi!"

The redhead let loose a holler that made him jump, lifting her broom high when all eyes
turned to her. "Who's for some Quidditch?"

###

Harry did indeed end up on Ginny's team, the girl nabbing both him and George before the
others could even get a look in. Ron named himself the other Captain, picking Fred and
Draco and Tommy. Gregory settled into a chair to watch, throwing an inane look in Draco's
direction when the blonde asked him to play with a grin.

James had all but bounded from the kitchen to join Ron's team when called, Harry was
delighted to see and Lily stood in beside Harry with a wink down at the boy when he looked
up at her with a raised brow. His mother had played Quidditch?

"Alright, Sirius that leaves you with me," Ginny dragged the Auror from the chair he was
about to sit down in, earning a bark of laughter from Remus as the werewolf settled between
Molly and Arthur. Pansy strolled from the kitchen doorway with a roll of her eyes, but settled
into a seat nonetheless, beside Gregory.

"So, we have Harry and Tommy as Seekers, game rules apply. No bludgers, we don't need
anymore trips to St. Mungos... Fred." The redhead scowled as George grinned at him, "And
no cheating and using your bloody wings, Draco!" Ron stuck his tongue out at Draco as
James laughed, earning a lopsided grin from the blonde that had Harry glancing down to hide
his blush.

"Right, go!"
Harry took to the air before she had even finished the word, soaring upwards to where Pansy
had moved the lanterns to light up the field. The snitch darted passed him, the low sound of
its thrumming wings flittering once in his ears before it was off and darting towards the main
field. He watched it go with his teeth bared in a smile, his fingers clutching tight to the broom
beneath him. The wind was cool against his face, his heart soaring as he tipped the Comet
backwards and fell into a short, sharp loop that drove a laugh form his chest. Merlin, he
missed flying.

His eyes snapped open wide, taking in the players to his right as they battled between
themselves. Tommy, the other Seeker, was darting his dark gaze about, his face pulled into a
stern frown as he looked for the snitch. Harry howled a laugh as James was thrown the
quaffle, the man catching it with barely a thought, before Lily snuck in and whipped it from
beneath his arm, hurtling it towards Ginny with a speed that rivaled Oliver Wood in his
prime.

The game was fast, the players used to one another, laughing and growling and snapping
teeth in a grimace when their plays didn't land a hit each time. Ginny was as ferocious as
ever, her red hair a wild cloud behind her as she darted forward with the quaffle beneath her
arms once more, only to snarl when Ron dove in front of her and pulled her up short, his long
arms darting out to snatch the ball. He sped it towards Draco with a throw Harry almost
missed it was so quick and the blonde caught it in one, long-fingered hand.

As brilliant a player Malfoy had been in Harry's reality, he could say with complete certainty
that this Draco was a thousand time better. The man was unburdened by petty, schoolyard
rivalry, his movements thought out and perfectly timed as he weaved between Lily and
George both, and swerved over the top of Sirius' growling head with a sudden roll that had
Harry raising his brow in surprise. He made the shot with a smile that bordered indecent, his
red eyes alight as he caught Harry's and winked.

The green eyed boy would have rolled his eyes, had they not darted towards a flicker of gold
that had his blood pumping.

There!

He dove towards it, leaning forward to urge his broom upwards with the barest tilt of one
hand. The snitch dropped and Harry rounded a confused Tommy at an alarming speed to
follow it. He tipped the broom down, leaning back to slide into a feint as he felt Tommy
follow his tail with a startled yelp. His lips slid into a smile, driving down faster and harder as
his eyes kept sight of the snitch. With a deft flick of his wrist, he pulled out, snapping the
broom upwards so suddenly, he was left almost breathless.

He leaned forward again as his eyes never left the golden thing that flittered steadily just
inches from the tip of the handle. With a growl, he edged the broom closer, swooping now
around the players that shouted and dived to avoid him, his body horizontal with the broom
and his mouth stretching in a smile. With one, lazy reach of his arm, the snitch was in his
grasp and Harry pulled the broom to a stop with a sudden, sharp pivot to the right.

Hie looked at the man he had come to a stop in front of, lips stretching wide in a smile as he
held the ball aloft between two fingers. With deliberate slowness, Harry leaned across the
space between them until those red eyes moved from his broom, from his body to lock with
green.

Harry grinned. "I win."

 10

"That's a load of bollocks, that is!"

"Ronald!"

"You're just fumin' you didn't think to pull him onto your team!"

Ginny was howling with laughter as she landed, half-falling from the broom, but holding it
high above her head as she turned. "I am the superior Alpha!"

Harry was laughing, his feet touching down to land as he swiped the broomstick from
beneath himself. He tossed the snitch up with one hand as the redheaded man swung to look
at him, his own dismount awkward in his rage.

"Like hell!" He snarled at Ginny, pointing the end of his broom at her as though it were his
wand. "How the bloody hell did you know he could play quidditch like that?"

"Really, Ronald, the language." Molly was swiping at her face tiredly, one of the woman's
hands clasped to her chest. Arthur was beaming by her side, his laugh deep and hearty as he
clapped the arms of his seat.

"I didn't actually," Ginny grinned, standing back as the rest of the players swept onto the
field, their voices loud and melding into one. "I assumed he'd be decent, James and Lily both
are so the lad had to have it in his blood, right? Merlin, though, he has you two beat hands
down."

She cackled as she turned to look at James, himself and Lily staring at Harry with mouths
agape. He grinned back at them. "Youngest Hogwarts Seeker in a century."

"Hogwarts? Pants to Hogwarts!" Sirius was barreling towards him and Harry squawked as he
was grabbed around the middle and suddenly lifted into the air. "Hogwarts ain't got nothin' on
you, Champ! Did you see him fly, Lily! And that feint, Merlin, I haven't seen a stunt like that
since Viktor Krum during the World Cup, remember Prongs?"

Harry was held aloft by the man, as if he weighed nothing. He was swung about with a
familiarity that spoke of years of habit. The sound that came out of him was a half-sob, half-
laugh and Harry struggled in the man's grasp to wind his arms around his neck. He snuffled
his cold nose into the scent of wool and some expensive conditioner and, beneath all that,
home. "I missed you so much, Padfoot"

Sirius stilled, a soft, sad, little 'Ahh' leaving him as he brought his big hands up to wrap Harry
in a fierce hug. His voice was gruff when he spoke, "You're home now, Prongslet."

"Quick hoggin' him, Mutt."

Harry was whipped form Sirius' arms with little struggle, and wrapped in an unfamiliar pair
that were no less fierce. His father's scent was stronger, warm and safe; and his mother's
when she cooed and wrapped her arms around the pair of them with a breathy laugh, was just
as intense. The couple together smelled of comfort, thick and inviting and he clutched at
them as he laughed, peeking over Lily's shoulder to find red eyes regarding him with no
small amount of amusement.

Draco watched them with a small shake of his head, crossing his arms. He grinned suddenly,
turning on Ginny with a smile that was all fang.

"I get Potter next game."

"Like fuck you do!"

"Ronald!"

###

Harry woke the next day... Warm.

He was wrapped in blankets his mother had brought back from their own home, both her and
James happy to stay with Harry in Grimmauld Place for the time being. The house was
familiar, was cosier than it had ever been and Harry found that he was enamored by its
charm.

Remus and Sirius had commandeered a room somewhere on the third floor, more than likely
one that they had used in the past. From what Harry had learned, the pair spent a fair amount
of time in the old house nowadays anyway, and were beyond delighted to be sharing it with
Lily, James and Harry.

Gregory and Tommy had gone back 'home' for the time being, though Harry was unsure
where exactly that was, and had been too awkward in his lack of knowledge of the pair to
ask. They seemed like a couple, though Harry didn't exactly have the greatest track record in
observing who exactly fancied who. Hell, he was only now figuring out that he, himself, had
been attracted to Draco bloody Malfoy for far longer than he was comfortable admitting.

The green eyed boy dragged a hand through his dark curls, his fingers reaching to clasp at his
heated cheeks with a shake to try and clear his foggy head. Maybe less blankets the following
night... He groaned as he dug himself out of the mound-like nest he had made. He had always
had a bit of an obsession with blankets, or staying warm in general given the measly amount
of bedding he had been allowed in the Dursley's.

Harry made a face, reaching out to grab his wand and holster with his eyes half-closed and
strapping it to his arm one handed. The holster had been a gift from Hermione, and Harry let
his fingers linger on the leather for a brief moment, his smile soft. He really hoped that she
could tell that he was okay... That they all could.

"Harry! Breakfast!"
Harry grinned, struggling out of the blankets anew. He was more than okay.

###

"Why is it, the second those two idiots get a day off together, we end up here. You're meant to
be setting your son up a Gringott's account, you great, giant infant of a man!"

Harry stood in the front door of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, biting his lip on a smile as he
watched Lily tear passed him. She had her flashing, green eyes set on James and Sirius as she
strode across the floor, only for the pair to catch sight of her and go running through the
section of Skiving Snack Boxes and Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. Remus sighed beside
him, the werewolf shaking his head seconds before there was an almighty crack and the
corridor the men had sprinted down was suddenly doused in impenetrable darkness.

"To be fair," Harry said as he heard his mother let loose a holler, Sirius snickering floating
through the darkness that seemed confined to that one section, "She should have known
better."

"Yes, well," Remus glanced down at him, the man's short height bringing him just inches
above Harry's own, "You go and tell Lily Potter that and see exactly where it lands you."

Harry snorted, burying his nose in the pale yellow fleece he had thrown on despite the mild
weather. "And be on their side?" There was a manly shriek as a stunner lit the darkness
briefly and his father's voice came through in a round of curse words. "No thanks."

Remus chuckled, glancing around at the people that were milling about, mostly trying to
watch the debacle unfold through the darkness and the poor sales girl who was waving her
wand and dancing about the outskirts of where the powder seemed to be spreading. "Oh,
dear, I better go and help Sally."

He took off at speed, Harry watching him go with a chuckle. There was a sudden bang and he
yelped as the darkness swooped towards him. Before he could take off running, there was an
arm around his waist and he was being hoisted back out the door.

"Do you think he attracts bad luck like a sticking spell, Gred, or just happens to be in the
wrong place?"

"Hard to tell, Forge, I would say sticking spell. How often can one small boy be in the wrong
place at the wrong time? It's a skill, for sure."

"I am right here, you know." Harry was over one of George Weasley's shoulders. Broad as the
man was, there was still an impressive amount of strength as he hoisted the younger boy like
a sack of coal when Harry tried to wriggle his way free.

Bloody werewolves.

It was not a position he thought he would ever be in in his life, that was for sure; and Harry
felt his cheeks turn scarlet as Fred caught his eye and grinned, his hands tucked into his
pockets. "What about your shop?" Harry glanced up to see shadows begin to leak out of the
bottom tier windows, the customers racing from the front door with equal amounts thrill and
terror on their faces.

"I'd say Remus and Sally have it in hand, she's a fine witch is Sally."

Harry blinked, watching as 'Sally' came bounding from the shop, her face a scowl and her
wand lifting to form a simple bubble shield over the building. She grit her teeth as she
stomped back through her own shield, rolling up the sleeves of her maroon robe. Sally did,
indeed, appear to be a fine witch.

Harry yelped as his world spun suddenly, and he found himself on his own two feet with two
sets of smiles grinning down at him. He could do little but grin back. "Sorry they wrecked
your shop."

George flapped a hand in the air, Fred snorting as they continued walking. "They've done
worse than that at busier times. Uncultivated, that's what Potter and Black are. My heart
bleeds for Lily and Remus."

George nodded. "Saints," he murmured, "Absolute Saints."

They rounded the main square with Harry chuckling between them, his smile fond as he
glanced around and nearly did a double take when he found a familiar head of white hair
half-hidden in an alcove. His grin widened.

"Draco!"

The blonde's back stiffened, his wings lifting once, as though to spread, before they settled
back down and Draco was turning towards him. The Vampire's red eyes were wary, his
mouth set in an almost resigned line that lifted to smile, all the same, when he laid eyes on
Harry. There were others with him, Harry realised; grimacing at having interrupted
something of the blonde's. He sidled up slowly, Fred and George staying close to his side as
he took in the strangers.

Except, they weren't.

Harry knew the beautiful face of Daphne Greengrass even at a distance, her mouth spread
wide in a smile that was filled with perfect, white teeth. Her blonde hair was perfectly coiled
around her shoulders and her pastel blue robes screamed 'expensive'. By her side, half-
lounged against her shoulder stood the tall, slender form of Blaise Zabini. The dark skinned
man was as, if not more, pretty in face than the blonde woman. His features were perfect,
black hair styled back and his eyes dark and curious as they glanced across the three new
faces.

The final face was less familiar, purely because Harry had only ever known him to slink into
the background. He had been smaller back in his own reality, Harry was sure. Now, he was
tall; on parr with Draco and his lean arms were enclosed in a dark, green shirt as he crossed
them across his front. His brown hair was curled, soft against his pale face and his eyes were
an incredible gold that locked onto Harry's own.
The noirette frowned, turning towards Draco and smiling up at him.

"Harry," The blonde's voice was a low thrum, his red eyes skirting to George and Fred. The
redhead's were stiff beside him, Fred leaning close to Harry as though to keep him hidden.
What the hell?

"Eh..." Harry threw Fred a confused smile, "Hi, Draco."

"I had not thought that you would settle for a Beta... How dreadful for the Snape bloodline."

The voice that spoke was elegant but stiff, odd in its lack of emotion and Harry turned to
frown at Theodore. "I beg your pardon?"

Blaise hummed, his lips stretching in a wicked smile as he looked Harry up and down. "I
dunno... If the little Beta's willing to get on his knees and beg... I can see the appeal."

Harry felt himself flush, his mouth agape as Daphne let out a peal of laughter, her blonde
curls bouncing about her shoulders. "Oh, Blaise!" She sighed, "You're so bold! Poor, pretty,
confused baby..." she simpered the words down at Harry and he felt anger flash like a well-
known friend in his blood.

"At least I don't need to buy my prettiness."

Daphne snarled, her face contorting as Blaise let out a bark of laughter. The tall man leaned
into Harry's space suddenly, his dark eyes flashing. "Does the kitten have claws? Think you
can chew off a piece before you get stood on, little cat?"

"Zabini."

Draco pulled Harry back with a growl, his lip pulling back over his fangs in a move that had
Blaise snarling in response. "Let him be, he is of no concern of yours. "

"He insulted me!"

Harry's gaze flickered down in time to catch Daphne grab her wand and aim it at him; and he
lifted his hand before he could even think it through, his eyes wide. The blonde's attack
crackled like static across his sudden shield, dark and dangerous, as he brought his arm back
down and watched the black, spiderweb cracks of a curse flutter out of existence.

There was a beat, silent and still; before Harry suddenly found himself pulled from beside
Draco. The hand on his arm was gentle, but firm all the same and Harry glared up at its
owner.

Theo tilted his head to one side, observing, curiosity bright in those intense golden eyes. He
leaned slowly into Harry's space, a low thrum of a noise crawling from the man's throat that
had something in Harry almost frozen. With a sigh, Theo drew in his scent; a smile flashing
across his lips that showed a hint of fang.

Vampire.
Harry fell back against Draco, the blonde bringing a hand down on his shoulder in a grip that
would have hurt had he any mind to care. How the hell was Theodore Nott a Vampire? Why
the hell was Theodore Nott a Vampire?

Theo hummed, his strange eyes darting to meet Draco's. "Not a Beta... Un-presented..."
Golden eyes trailed down to meet Harry's and the man's head tilted curiously, "But close..."

Close?

Draco's grip tightened, his fangs flashing in a sudden sneer. "I met with you, I heard your
demands of the Snape family. Severus has already declined your Master's offer, there is
nothing more to talk about."

Theo tensed, golden eyes wide, before melting back against Blaise with an easy, soft smile. "I
will relay this response, though I promise nothing of whether he will stop."

Gold eyes locked with green once more and Harry felt almost small beneath that gaze, his
heart in his throat and fear skittering along his spine in a way it had not for a long, long
while. Theo purred, smiling that soft smile once again.

"We will speak again, Draco. Do take care of that little one, won't you? It would be dreadful
if he was stolen away."
 11

Harry watched the strange trio walk away, something faint and twitching at the back of his
mind plucking against nerves suddenly frazzled. What the hell had all that been about? He
pursed his lips, lifting a hand to scratch at his neck absently, only to have a hand grip his
shoulder. He squeaked as he was whirled around to face a stony-faced blonde.

"Harry, what the hell?"

What?

Draco scowled down at him, his red eyes flashing and his teeth barely concealed beneath the
grimace of his mouth. Was Draco... mad at him? Harry frowned up at the blonde, watching as
Fred and George sidled closer, their faces identical in their matching frowns and silver
flashing eyes. Harry dropped his arm down, perplexed.

"Why are you mad?"

Draco growled, the tone surprised and sparking something against the already frayed nerves
that pricked beneath the underside of Harry's skin like some uncomfortable swath of clothing.
"Why in Merlin's name would you use such a display of magic in front of them? What the
hell was going through your head?"

Harry scowled, snatching back his shoulder from Draco's grip and glaring up at the three men
frowning down at him. He felt small in a way he had never done before in his life. Though
something soft and fragile was telling him to bear the rebuke with a grimace and apologise,
anger was hot and heady in its wake. It was an emotion that was familiar, that was easy. He
clenched his jaw.

"Are you kidding me?" he snapped, a raw sense of delight in his stomach when the twins
lifted their eyebrows to one another and Draco reared back. "Are you giving out to me... For
defending myself?"

Draco's eyes narrowed, the vampire sighing as he shook his head. "Never, Harry," his tone
was raw, "I would never ask that of you, nor expect it. You were with friends, with family, we
would have never allowed that spell to even glance off you."

Harry felt his anger fizzle out, his brow furrowing. Draco frowned down at him. "Fred had
his wand free, any spell of Greengrass' he was ready to counter. A Beta will always counter a
Beta in opposing social groups. Your wandless magic..." The blonde shook his head,
something bright in his eyes, "As incredible as it was, Harry, as incredible as it is... Nott is
not a creature you would ever want to draw the attention of."

The Vampire's voice sank to a growl, George reaching out to grasp the blonde's forearm
where it jerked suddenly by his side. Draco tsked, shoulders straightening. Harry watched it
all unfold, his thoughts oddly tense, confused, tangled.
"Alright..." He spoke slowly, a frown still marring his brow as he took a step back. "I took
everyone by surprise, fair enough. Can you blame me, though? How was I supposed to know
the guy was a Vampire? That ye weren't on friendly terms? Why the hell are so many of you
creatures, anyway? Is it a Dynamics thing?"

At Harry's rant, Fred and George were beginning to look on edge, the pair glancing between
one another before looking back at Draco. Was there some sort of social etiquette he wasn't
getting here? Harry felt his confusion on his own face, knew he must look lost and
bewildered. Was there more to this world than magic and scents and dynamics and social
status?

Draco merely watched him, his red eyes stern. With a grimace, the blonde reached for his
wand, his voice steady and clear as he flicked his wrist and cast a Patronus, with the ease of
having done so a thousand times before. The sudden flare of light had Harry jumping, his
mouth agape as a massive, coiling serpent wrapped to life in streaks of white and silver. The
beast rose on its body, slim and agile as its silver gaze settled steadily on Draco.

"Tell them that we've gone back home. All is well, but Harry is in need of a history lesson."

The dark haired boy did not even have it in him to be annoyed by the phrasing used, his eyes
wide as he watched the massive reptile bow its head once, before sinking low to the ground
and vanishing swiftly amid the silvery cloud of Patronus smoke.

"Come on then," Draco was grinning down at him when Harry glanced back up, holding out
a hand and Fred and George vanished with matching smiles and a 'crack' of sudden
apparition. Harry lifted a brow at Draco, and the blonde's grin spread wider, his fingers
beckoning. "I won't bite..."

Harry felt his lips tug into a grin, clasping Draco's hand in his own and closing his eyes as the
blonde's magic squeezed around him.

###

Harry groaned, pushing Draco aside and almost barreling into one of the twins before they
caught him with a laugh.

"Not a fan of apparition?"

Harry straightened slowly, his stomach clenching and his head spinning as he blinked the
sudden haze from his eyes. He bloody well hated apparating. The dark haired boy grimaced,
blinking about the room.

He blinked again.

Harry felt something strange and painful twist in his stomach, his frayed nerves alive once
more as he took in the sleek, well polished floors and walls of the Malfoy Manor foyer.

The staircase opened up to one side, large and sprawling and familiar, and chasing a hunted
feeling down Harry's spine as he watched the portraits that lined one wall stare down at him
curiously, their aristocratic features beautiful and... cold.

He turned slowly, staring at a white hearth, carved from marble; too big and too clean, unused
and pristine as it had been in his memory. The floors were as dark and sleek and he
remembered, sparkling beneath the sunlight that streamed in from open windows. Once
closed, velvet curtains that looked as though they might be heavy enough to weigh him down
if he fell beneath them were now cast wide open. Unnatural. Surreal. His fingers twitched by
his side, his lips parting on a near silent gasp as fragments of memories splayed across his
mind.

Shouting voices, snarled and hissed in human tones, loud and shrieking and full of fear and
vicious delight. Malfoy's eyes, staring into his own, the spark of familiarity there pooling
dread in Harry's gut as quickly as confusion, frowning as the blonde shook his head, his eyes
wide with fear.

'I... I can't be sure...'

His voice distant in Harry's ears now, green eyes flitting to take in the span of brilliant, white
marble columns that adorned the hallway... Had they always been that... Big?

'What's wrong with his face?'

Anger... The blonde's own features suddenly taut, suddenly... Angry...

Why had he been angry?

"...Harry?"

Hermione's scream was loud and shrill, the sound drawing from him a sharp, panicked hiss
that he sucked in just as quickly. He lifted trembling hands to clap them over his ears as the
sound seemed to echo on, his eyes squeezing shut and his breath coming in short, frantic little
huffs.

'Let her go.'

Ron's vicious snarl, just as loud and dark in his ears had Harry pushing harder with his hands,
his steps weak, faltering as he tried to walk back, away from the room splayed out before
him, away from the memories nipping sharp and cruel against his mind. Ron still woke from
those nightmares... Still woke screaming Hermione's name and reaching out...

Harry saw blood pool against the woman's arm, the horrid, cruel word forever etched into her
skin like a brand. It had never healed. She wore long sleeves on warm days because of that
mark.

"Harry!"

Harry whimpered, the noise shrill and sharp, his lips parting on the breaths he tried
desperately to drag into his lungs. They were full of useless air, fit to bursting and still
starved of oxygen... Empty... How could he feel so full of everything and so very, very...
Empty.
As suddenly as the memories threatened to overload him, to drag him into some twisted,
tormenting spiral... They stopped.

Harry's breath hitched in his throat, blinking lashes wet with tears he had not even felt fall.
His hands were by his sides, trapped beneath another set of arms that were strong but slender,
wrapped in black. The space around him was dark, a warm, solid darkness that stilled
whatever thoughts were flittering rampantly still on the edges of his mind.

He breathed, a lone strangled gasp that all but choked out of him.

Memories.

Memories and nightmares... That was all that they were.

The arms around him stayed tight, but the chest he realised he was pushed up against drew
back slowly, a low thrumming sound echoing deep within it that had him gripping the front of
the shirt with one, shivering hand. A voice hushed him, crooning softly, and Harry tried to
blink past the tears.

"Take your time, 'Arry... Breathe, mon petit... You are safe. I 'ave you."

The french accent over the low, calming voice that could only be Severus Snape had Harry
suddenly planted in the present. Familiar as those tones were, they had never been spoken to
him with such softness, such warmth.

Harry took another breath, and though he grimaced at himself and tried to loosen his grip in
the silk of Severus' shirt; something in him clawed and whined at the prospect of losing the
physical contact. The older vampire's gentle purr was calming to him in a way nothing else
had been. Something frantic and panicked in his head was suddenly still, his body lax
beneath the scent of copper and warmth and, beneath it all, the perfume of a thousand
potions.

He slumped in the man's grasp and groaned when Severus laughed at him, the sound odd and
fond; but no less welcome. When the darkness receded slowly, Harry blinked dazed eyes to
see that it had been the Vampire's wings around him that had caused the sudden eclipse. The
leather appendages had cocooned around their bodies, drawing them away from the scene of
Harry's nightmares.

He frowned, slumped as he was with his body's sudden relaxation, Harry could make out
shelves upon shelves of books around them. He had been moved, without his realisation, to a
room that looked more like a library. It was piled ceiling to floor with tomes, new and old.
The curtains that had been pulled across tall windows were pale and light.

Harry let loose some sort of squeak of a noise as he was dropped abruptly, before realising
that he was being passed on to someone else. Draco glanced down at him with a furrow
between his brows, the blonde's arms tight around his middle as he pulled Harry's smaller
body onto his lap from where he was seated in a massive, plush armchair. Harry glanced up
at him for a moment, thoughts soft and hazy and almost... Fuzzy.
The green eyed boy grinned, nuzzling his nose into the expanse of white throat on show and
sighing when blonde hair tickled his cheek and Draco's safe, soft, sweet, scent washed over
him.

"Scent drunk."

Severus' voice was amused, his fingers trailing over Harry's cheek as the boy's green eyes
fluttered closed. "I 'ad forgotten zat ze boy was not used to scents yet, I meant only to calm
'im down." The dark haired Vampire smiled, flashing small white fangs. "Zis also works."

Fred leaned over the back of the armchair, his eyes on the small thing falling fast into sleep.
Harry looked so very small on Draco's lap, the boy tucking his nose into the crook of Draco's
neck as though he was seeking comfort in the scent. "Will he be okay?"

George watched Severus straighten, the omega's wings flaring once in a stretch before he slid
them back against his spine. His dark hair was clasped back, his feet covered only by his
socks which let the redhead know that he had been lounging somewhere in the manor before
rushing in at the scent and sound of Harry's distress, and whisking them away to the library.

"It was most likely a panic attack, I do think the little thing will be okay."

Narcissa Malfoy smiled down at her son when Draco glanced up at her, the man at least
having the decency to flush as his mother watched him clutch the younger boy closer. Her
pale hair was loose about her shoulders, and her robes were casual and silver, not a jewel to
be seen. Still, the Lady Malfoy looked every bit her regal self as she clapped her hands
together and smiled at them.

"I shall have lunch prepared then, shall I?"

###

Harry woke to a pair of bright, familiar, grey eyes looking down on him.

In his sleep-fogged brain, the only possible thing he could do was squint, thoughts sluggish
and slow.

"Malfoy?"

There was a laugh, soft and sweet. "In a sense, yes. Hello, Mr. Potter, it is a pleasure to meet
you."

Harry shot up, the full image of Narcissa Malfoy coming into view as his head began to clear
and he nearly vaulted off of the seat he was in. A hand on his shoulder steadied him back
down and Harry snapped his head back to take in the smiling face of Severus Snape.

Recent memories were swift to remind him of his actions and Harry groaned, one hand lifting
to scrub across his eyes.

"Oh, good! You're up."

Harry grimaced over the top of his fingers, turning away from the equally unnerving smiles
to watch as Draco drew aside a stiff wooden chair from the table he had been at and pulled it
closer to the two-seater couch Harry must have been sleeping on.

Merlin, he had fallen asleep in Malfoy Manor library.

Harry lifted a hand to his head as a spark of pain throbbed through it, only for Fred to appear
at his other side with a cup of tea that was easily coaxed into his hands.

"It's got a pain reliever in it," The redhead said with a smile, "Remus swears by a pain relief,
tea mixture after a sudden flux in emotions."

"Not to mention the sixteen spoons of honey you doused it in." George supplied behind him.
Harry ignored them all in favour of focusing his sole attention on the cup he was currently
sipping out of, his cheeks steadily flushing a bright red.

It had been a solid few weeks since he had had any attack like the one he had just had; but, he
supposed, it had been longer than that since he had been inside Malfoy Manor. Harry had not
even visited the house in the aftermath of the trial for Narcissa and her son, despite the
woman's insistence that he do so. Every letter of hers had sought to thank him for all he had
done for her, for her son. He had not had the heart to keep repeating that he owed her her
freedom and so much more. If it were not for Narcissa Malfoy's devotion to her child, Harry
would be dead and Voldemort would have won.

As much as he respected her, though, and as much as he admired the woman she had slowly
become in the absence of her husband; Harry had not been able to bring himself to go back
through the gates he had once walked down. He understood why, now. Memories could be
haunting, even in the light of day.

"Mrs. Malfoy," Harry sighed into the silence, straightening himself against the back of the
couch and looking the woman in the eye. "I am so sorry to be meeting you under these
circumstances. I assure you, had I known that I would be arriving in Malfoy Manor, I would
have better prepared myself."

Narcissa was as beautiful as her son, as tall and willowy with her immaculate pale hair. Her
grey eyes narrowed briefly, before she smiled at his words and tutted softly. "There is no need
for formalities, dear. Draco has informed me of your life and I am told it was not an easy one.
Whatever experience you have come to have in my home that would cause such a reaction,
you need not speak of it; and I am sorry for it."

Harry set his empty cup on his lap, eyes soft. "Easy is not something I am accustomed to, but
this is a different world to the one where I'm from and I can only keep reminding myself of
the fact. You need never apologise to me, Mrs. Malfoy."

Narcissa hummed a soft noise, her lips lifting in a full smile. "Narcissa, dear. If my Draco's
intentions are as I believe them to be, you may call me Narcissa. Mr. Potter, you are a
remarkable young man."
Harry grinned, "I am indebted to the people who have made me who I am, and that includes
you, Narcissa." He beamed suddenly, the woman so familiar, the conversations with her as
eloquent and patient and ridiculously easy as the ones he had had with Mrs. Malfoy back in
his own reality. "Call me Harry."

Narcissa inclined her head, standing suddenly with an easy grace.

"I will see that lunch is coming along, Severus, do me a dear and accompany me?"

The Vampire moved to follow her, only for one of Harry's hands to reach out blindly and
catch the cuff of Severus' sleeve. The dark haired boy was flushed with embarrassment, but
his eyes were no less sincere when he glanced up to meet the older man's. "Thank you."

Severus smiled, soft and small, before reaching a hand out to grasp Harry's. "You are most
welcome, mon petit."

Harry watched the both of them leave, before turning to look at the three other men that were
gaping at him.

"Blimey..." George whispered, lounging against the back of Draco's seat. "I've never seen
Mrs. Malfoy warm so quickly to anybody."

"Too right, George," Fred shook his head, his brows disappearing beneath his red fringe.
"That is one scary as all hell Beta when she wants to be..." He glanced back at Harry,
smirking, "And you just got on a first name basis in under two minutes."

The twins shuffled, standing and walking towards the open doorway as they talked between
themselves, grinning and pushing until George collided with the frame and Fred took off
running with a laugh. They moved as though they were familiar with the Manor... As though
they had been there multiple times. He was beginning to realise that there were portions to
this world that were incredibly different to his own...

Harry was jolted from his thoughts by a body joining his on the couch, Draco twisting to face
him and an impressive sized, leather bound tome held in his hands.
Red eyes locked with Harry's, the blonde's face impassive for a moment. "You speak with my
mother differently... Did you come to know your version of her well?"

Harry set his cup down on the carpeted floor beside the couch, his cheeks bright still. As
clearly as he remembered being calmed down by Snape... Harry could also remember those
pale arms wrapped around him as he drifted to sleep. He cleared his throat.

"Not well, exactly..." He tilted his head, "I guess I just could understand her better? Like I
said before, your mam saved me Draco. Without her, I'd have been a goner. I have nothing
but respect for Narcissa Malfoy... Any version of her."

He turned to smile at the blonde, and his breath stuttered to a skip when he realised that
Draco had leaned closer. Red eyes peered down at him, one brow lifting. His lips were
brushed once with Draco's own, the touch incredibly soft and gentle. The Vampire pulled
back with a soft, little smirk, his hands sliding up the binding of the book in his lap.
"Make no mistake that I will query at a later stage what it was exactly that caused such an
attack in my home. I will know everything about you, Harry; the good and the bad and the
boring in between. "

Draco's voice was soft, low in the dim lighting of the library with the curtains pulled as they
were. The blonde lifted his wand to cast a charm towards the light above them, his features
incredibly defined in the gentle glow as he grinned. "But, right now, lunch will soon be
prepared and you are in need of a history lesson."
 12

"I will start somewhere in the beginning of where I believe would be most appropriate. I will
tell you what I know and answer whatever questions you may have, is that agreeable with
you?"

Harry nodded, pulling his knees in to sit cross-legged on his side of the two-person couch.
The room was quiet, no draft or whispered hum from around the manor to break the still.

Draco sat with one leg beneath him balancing the history book, the other planted firmly on
the carpet and his blonde hair held back with a gold clasp that he had taken from the pocket
of his robes. His forearms were bare, the dark sleeves pushed up to his elbows; they were
slender with lean muscle as he moved the book idly, as though it weighed little.

"Perfect," The Vampire flashed him a smile filled with fang, his red eyes bright. "Alright...

"Hogwarts was founded by four incredibly powerful Alphas. In the time of the Founders,
muggles had grown wary of witchcraft, incensed by anything wicked, or abnormal. Religion
took fast hold in small towns and forced bad blood between those with magic, and those
without. The unease, the fear, the killings... All of this led to a rift between the founders and
Slytherin believed that their newly formed school should include only those who had known
magic their entire lives.

"The others were not so keen on such a notion. To include only the children born to magical
parents meant muggleborn witches and wizards would be left to fend for themselves. In a
time where one might have been hanged at the tender age of eleven for the simple act of
floating a feather, this did not sit well with the founders. While pureblood children were often
born strong, often presented as Alphas; the four soon realised that the line of magic could
become diluted, could fizzle to nothing with the lack of pureblood Omegas being born.
Slytherin conceded for the preservation of magic; but worked at night with young
muggleborns to teach them the ways of the wizarding world, our culture, our traditions, our
way of being."

That was new.

Harry perked, brow lifting as he leaned closer when Draco opened the book and swiveled it
to face him. The page he had opened it onto was filled on one side with handwritten Latin,
beautifully curved and perfectly penned on the crisp, faded, ivory parchment. The second
page was an image of the Hogwarts crest, though it was basic and worn with age. Draco
flipped it over softly, showing the next page to be an image of two women.

The one on the right was most definitely Rowena Ravenclaw, Harry realised, her likeness to
her daughter, Helena, was indisputable. She was stoic and fair looking, her brown hair to her
waist in a mass of curls that hung about a dress a brilliant blue. The woman beside her then,
smiling up at Harry with her intricately braided black hair, must have been Helga Hufflepuff.
Hufflepuff was shorter by just a fraction, face pale and kind and her dress a vivid yellow that
cinched in her tiny waist before falling into ruffled skirts. Harry stared down at them, before
glancing up at Draco. The blonde raised a brow. "Still with me?"
At the younger boy's nod, he continued.

"Ravenclaw soon realised that when bloodlines were mixed, meaning from a muggleborn and
a pureblood; that it resulted in more Alpha males, more female Beta children to a higher ratio
than any other blood pairing; lines could prosper and birth rates could rise. The melding
between the bloodlines was encouraged, celebrated just as strongly as they had once
celebrated a sacred union between pureblood lines. New families formed, new connections
were made.

"For a while... There was peace, between the humans who feared us and the wizards and
witches who learned to hide in plain sight. The classes Slytherin had been so keen on, to
acclimatize the muggleborn children, grew less and less until they were deemed unnecessary
by new teachers. Muggleborns began to bring in their own customs, their own beliefs. As
years passed, they were brought to the school older and older, until they arrived with pre-
conceived notions and an instilled fear of all things... Different. A fear of the strange, the
unknown, the dark..."

Harry frowned as Draco flipped the page, showing him a portrait that could only be Godric
Gryffindor. The man was broad, tall and stern as he stared with bright blue eyes. His red hair
was loose to his shoulders, the sword of Gryffindor clasped in one armored hand. The man on
the other side, was just as stern of face, but young. While Salazar Slytherin's features were
more delicate, his tall form more lean and encased in vivid green robes, he looked no less
imposing. His green eyes were extremely bright and his pale, silver hair was to his waist and
clasped neatly in a braid.

It was... Not what Harry had been expecting to see.

"When Slytherin brought creatures whom he had offered refuge to in his travels, to the castle
and the surrounding forests, the muggleborn children grew frightened. Though Gryffindor,
Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tried to teach them of the creatures, tried to show them their
beauty; it was too late. Creatures were struck down if they so much as approached the castle,
hounded into the forest's deepest, darkest parts with cruel words and crueler spells.
Slytherin's beloved beast, his basilisk, was slaughtered when students stumbled upon his
Chamber."

Harry jolted, his eyes lifting to find a pair of red ones already on him. The Vampire smiled
softly, nudging Harry's knee with his own and a gentle whisper. "I do believe being twelve,
defending yourself from a Horcrux and fighting for your life does not count as slaughter,
Harry." He continued at a louder volume, leaning back to allow Harry time to look at the
book in his hands.

"Furious, Slytherin cast the muggleborns who had tormented so many into the forests; and
begged help from the 'dark' creatures that resided there to show the young witches and
wizards the error of their ways. He sought help from the Vampires to teach them lessons in
the dark of night, sought help from the Werewolf packs to guide them through their
presentations, and teach them instinct. Incubi, Mermaids, Succubi, Centaurs, Ghosts... He
enlisted them all when the rest of the world cast them aside as nightmares and ghouls.
"When the children seemed to fear no more from the world around them, when they grew
humble and brave, wise enough to offer the creatures that taught them kindness and respect;
the founders allowed the students back and Gryffindor made a Professor of every creature
that had taught in the forest."

Harry was enraptured, eyes wide as Draco flicked over page after page lined with stiff sheet
of Latin after stiff sheet. The words poured across the parchment, splashes of colourful
paintings of creatures spaced throughout. A mermaid drawn in a rough sketch of blues and
greens, a Vampire cloaked in black, leather wings and flashing fangs. A werewolf howled
agaisnt a full moon on the next turn, covered in black fur with glinting golden eyes.

"Over the years, the wizards, witches, the creatures who wanted to learn and the creatures
who taught them, formed a bond. They formed friend circles, family lines, magical blood and
creature blood intermingled until nearly every bloodline held creature at its core. The mix of
magic and creature lineage led to stronger children, more Omegas born, heritages passed
done from generation to generation."

Harry sat back with a huff, frowning at Draco. "Slytherin... didn't want to get rid of all the
muggleborns...? He... taught them?"

The blonde nodded, his red eyes bright. "Slytherin is credited with forcing the bond between
bloodlines. Both he and Gryffindor are renowned for the work they did in boosting the
population of wizard-kind. They helped build villages, taught children long into their older
years. They're incredibly revered names. When... You-Know-Who first made an appearance
and began to speak aloud, many flocked to him."

The man's eyes grew dark, his fingers gripping the edge of the tome. "He made a name for
himself as the birth rate dropped, as people grew wary and unsure. He was handsome,
charming. He was the epitome of the perfect Alpha, and he spoke of making the wizarding
world pure, of a way of uniting bloodlines once again to produce more children, children that
would live long, long lives. With so many desperate Omegas wading through complication
after complication, they were willing to listen; more than willing to beg their Alphas, their
Betas to hear what the man was whispering... And some Alphas listened. Some Alphas grew
angry, began to believe his lies."

There was a low growl and Harry felt a small thrill race down his spine as the Vampire's eyes
flashed. "The madman wanted to pull away from muggles and creatures alike, spouted poison
of the blood, of a betrayal of magic itself in our cores. He swayed many minds before his
defeat; creature and wizard alike, and we are battling still with creatures intent on going back
to the 'old ways', with school children and stubborn families who believe creatures are now
inherently 'dark'."

Red eyes glanced up, the man's head tilting to one side. "I believed you to be of the same
mindset when we first met. If creatures are uncommon to you, Harry, I can only assume that
there is no such connection between the bloodlines in your world. If you were raised with
such fears..." Draco's mouth drew down, his shoulders stiff, "We are not monsters... Our lives
have been intertwined with creatures for centuries. Born by them, taught by them, befriended
by them, sired by them... It is an honour to be named an Heir to a creature's line, it is an
honour to be held in high esteem by a creature... Wayward Clans and Packs remain, rogue
and full of fear just as wayward wizards remain, few in number and full of anger. But, please
know..."

A hand lifted his own and Harry flushed as those slender, pale fingers entwined with his,
before he glanced back up into sincere red eyes.

"You have nothing to fear from me."

The dark haired boy grinned, his cheeks flushing dark. "You wish you could ever be big and
bad enough to scare me, Draco."

The Vampire chuckled back, dark and low as he leaned in to flash those ridiculous fangs. "Is
that so?"

Harry felt his pulse quicken, a quick flash of those red eyes against his neck enough to let
him know that the Vampire could tell... He could hear it...

Harry choked. His Gryffindor bravery seemed to reached its limit.

"Eh... Yes? Oh, Coming Fred, be right there, George!" Harry yelled into the silence,
scattering smaller, newer books across the table as he darted up from the couch and walked
on rigid legs out the library door.

It was only as he heard the bark of dark laughter behind him that Harry realised that he had
absolutely no idea where he was going.

###

Once Draco had caught up with the dark haired boy, he grabbed Harry easily around the
middle and apparated them both directly into the dining room. Harry's reaction to the foyer
was one that was still fresh in his mind.

The boy had paled so quickly, his scent sharp and twisted into something raw with fear as his
eyes darkened with a memory that Draco wished he could tear from his mind with his own
fingers. The blonde had felt useless, his voice falling on deaf ears as Harry spilled those
heart-broken whimpers and clutched his own head.

He watched the boy stare around the elegant, bright room now, his eyes alight despite the
pink flush that still painted his cheeks.

If Severus had not shown up, had not heard the boy's cry as only an Omega could hear from
so far away; Draco would have torn the house down around them just to put an end to those
pained whimpers.

He was fast becoming infatuated with the youth, with everything and anything that was Harry
Potter. His face, his smile, his green eyes that faded so quickly to darker thoughts and
bounced back with ease to sharp and sudden laughter. Harry was kind, he was strong, he was
powerful and funny...
And the scent that was beginning to take form beneath the powerful perfume of his anxious
magic clamored against Draco's senses in a way that had every nerve alert.

He sat Harry to his right, offering his mother and Sire a low nod as Fred leaned across the
slim, silver table to start loading sliced fruit onto Harry's plate. The Beta grinned as Harry
sniped something up at him, blue eyes bright as Draco sat and shared a glance with George.
The pair had been friends of his for years, familiar and trusting, as most of the Weasley
family was.

"So..." Harry spoke up suddenly, swallowing the slice of mango in his mouth and pointing a
finger at Fred. "If what I've been learning is right, then werewolves are also a technically
'dark' creature, that wizards are okay with?"

Fred's eyes flashed silver once, his gaze darting to his twin's face as the minimally taller
redhead grinned.

"Well, this whole mess isn't okay, obviously," George chuckled, pointing to the scars across
his face that shone silver beneath the sunlight streaming in the main window. "Werewolves
are a bit of a loose canon. Most are lovely, born werewolves who've lives with the instincts
all their lives, or bitten and perfectly delightful; like yours truly and our dear Moony. With
the new wolfesbane potion, the transformation isn't even painful."

Fred nodded, "You drink, shift with the moon and retain full mental capacity. You're you, but
not. Instinct gets a little sharper, bloodlust is a little higher, but it's all managable."

George pointed his fork at Harry, eyes narrowing, "But you do get your 'purists', who believe
that in taking the wolfesbane, we're denying some higher calling or some rubbish."

"Which, essentially, is just a bloody excuse to be an ass and hurt people," Fred rolled his eyes
with a snort. "Not a good mindset, so they're few and far between. They usually form rogue
clans, band together to try and avoid doing too much damage."

"Because too much damage, one too many injured muggles, so much as one human kill..."
George's eyes flashed silver, spearing the egg of his plate with a knife and earning a scowl
from Severus.

"And you're brought before the Council." Fred grinned, his teeth almost sharp against his
bottom lip.

"The Council?"

Draco spared a glance away from his own food, throwing a napkin across Harry's lap when
the boy held a slice of melon aloft, the fruit dripping onto his trousers. "The Council is the
creature equivalent to the Ministry of Magic. One dictates the laws of wizards, one the laws
of creatures. They work in the same building, and hold meetings to ensure balance is
maintained. An incident that involves both a wizard and a creature evokes a trial of both
Wizemgamot and Council-members."
George was nodding, "So when I was unlucky enough to be scratched up by one of these
rogue wolves, he was brought before the both. The Wizemgamot came to the verdict that he
would be rehabilitated in Azkaban, and the Council..."

He cast a small smile at Fred, who beamed up at him, before turning to Harry, "The Council
granted my request to received the bite so that George wouldn't go through the first
transformation alone. Remus, being the closest werewolf in proximity to us, was granted us
as two Heirs to train and mould to his heart's desire!"

"Not zat ze poor man 'as 'ad even a remotely decent influence on you two lunatics..." Severus
intoned dryly, earning a snort of laughter from a wide eyed Harry.

The boy was grinning up at Fred and George and Draco's lips lifted in a smile at the look of
awe. George ruffled his brother's hair fondly, something full of admiration in the Alpha's eyes
as his redheaded twin grinned up at him.

Draco felt a dark, cloying... want... snake against his spine as those big green eyes locked on
his, Harry's lips tilting in a sweet smile. The youth's hair was wild about his face, full of large
curls where it settled at the nape of his snow white neck.

He glanced away, a pink flush rising fast to his cheeks when his eyes fell on his mother
peering at him, the woman's chin braced on her fingers as her eyes lit bright with amusement.
Severus was lifting an eyebrow in his direction, his Sire's amusement ringing low and distant
in whatever remained of the bond between them. It would fast and gently Draco knew, as
soon as he claimed another.

The blonde felt himself shudder beneath Harry's sudden chuckle, the sound bright and
pleasant.

Salazar, help him, but he was already besotted.

 13

"Draco?"

"Hmm?"

Harry paused, lifting the quill in his hand to brace the feathered tip against his lips. There
were books and parchment sprawled across the dining table in front of him; Grimmauld place
quiet for the moment in the absence of everyone else. His father and Sirius he knew to be at
work, though where his mother and Remus were was anyone's guess.

Harry glanced across the old, wooden table to where Draco was leaning across his own
documents, though these looked a tad more formal than the textbooks and history books that
Harry was fast losing interest in. It was not as if they weren't interesting, they were,
incredibly so.

But there was an itch beneath his skin that had been subtly bugging him for the past day and
it made for a short attention span at the best of times, least of all when the man across from
him was trying to get him to study a whole world of history all the while looking
immensely...

Harry's eyes trailed over the blonde's exposed arms as Draco set a scroll aside with a flourish
of his signature and turned in his seat to lay out another.

"Any day, Harry."

Harry grimaced, his mouth snapping open. "What is it you do?"

Draco paused, his red eyes lifting from his reading to tilt his head. "I suppose that would be
something you'd be curious over, wouldn't it? My counterpart was the same age as you,
correct?" The blonde grinned, one strand of silver blonde hair slipping from the clasp he
bound it in and falling over his eye.

Harry nodded slowly.

"At the moment I am Severus' apprentice. As Heir to both the Snape and Malfoy name and
lineage, it is my duty to see over any legalities. Obviously, there are investments in the Snape
name that my Sire sees over himself, but some are entrusted to me. I handle rent overviews
for any properties, banking investments, missives, and all the like. In my spare time, I learn
potions under Severus' Mastery. He is gifted and I hope to one day be as good as he is." The
blonde seemed to think for a moment, his eyes darting up to meet Harry's before he glanced
back down. "I also handle any courtship offers that Severus or mother might receive."

Harry felt his brow rise, something of a snort leaving him. "You decide who gets to date your
Mum and Snape?"
Draco leveled a dry look at him, the blonde sinking back in the dining chair and aiming his
wand at the teapot between them to heat once more. "No, you arse."

Harry snorted a laugh into the crook of his elbow, tapping a finger against the head of the
snake that wound idly from the sunny spot on the table top up his arm. Tom had grown bigger
in the week that had passed, near the length of Harry's arm, now that the poor thing was not
confined to the small box he had had in the Menagerie. His colouring had shifted to a slate
gray, the yellow stripe across his back dulling to a tempered gold. Harry wasn't so sure
anymore that he was just a simple garden snake, but the serpent was harmless and sweet;
even Sirius had taken to it.

"Courtship offers aren't just a way of expressing a fancy in someone; they are a means of
securing a potentially powerful, potentially sought after mate. With my father's mind gone,
many view this as an easy way of becoming closer with my mother in order to secure the
Malfoy name and fortune. My mother may sometimes be lonesome, but she is fierce in her
loyalty to Lucius Malfoy." Draco's mouth twitched, his eyes fond. "She will bond no other,
even though her bonding mark fades every year."

Harry thought back to the regal woman he had had several lunches with since their horrible
first meeting, hearing Narcissa's laughter and wry voice in his mind. As proud as she was, he
did not doubt that the woman would allow herself to grow lonely to honour her husband. A
sad sort of tribute... He hummed softly, petting Tom's crown over the soft, yellow spines that
had begun to taper off the top of his head.

"When I was of age, being the household Alpha, the courtship requests automatically started
coming to me and mother was glad to be rid of them, so it is no hardship." His eyes darkened,
"Severus receives near weekly 'gifts' from those attempting to tempt his favour. His name is
an honoured one among the Vampire clans and the fact that he remains to this day an
unbonded Omega has done more than ruffle a few wings."

Harry half-grinned as the blonde ruffled his own wings in tandem, the black, scaled dragon-
like appendages stretching free from the man's spine briefly. "But, isn't that his choice,
though? Surely, people would have gotten the idea by now."

"You would think." Draco replied dryly. "Severus has long known that he could never bear a
child. He held little desire for children even in his youth and even less so now. Still, it is not
common knowledge that he is sterile, and most others would bond him regardless; the man
comes from noble vampire blood, diluted as it is. He is powerful despite those that choose to
see him only as an Omega. He is a gifted mentor, a potions Master and incredibly stuck in his
ways. He would create quite the scene if someone were to approach him for a courtship
outright."

Harry thought back to the stoic-faced potions professor in his memory, comparing the stern,
scowling face with the dark-eyed, handsome, quiet presence of the Vampire Severus. He
grinned, there was a resemblance in a love of black and sheer stubbornness if nothing else.

"So... What you've essentially said is you handle all the boring paperwork stuff and the
Omega and lady closest to you get to enjoy their lives; creep free?"
Draco laughed, bright and sincere. "I suppose, in a way, yes." His red eyes caught on to
Harry's own and softened as the boy smiled up at him. "It is an Alpha's duty to ensure anyone
in their protection or friendship is happy and safe. That is how my father raised me and it is
how my Sire continues to guide me."

Harry felt his brow furrow, his lips twisting suddenly. "I really like you."

Draco huffed a laugh, his fangs flashing. "Well, don't say it with such a face."

Harry drew himself back in the chair, mindful of Tom as the snake looped around his neck.
"No, I mean... I really like you. You're an incredibly decent guy, Draco. You're carrying on
your dad's line and Snape's line and you make sure everyone around you is eating before you
take a seat at the table... You're funny, you're smart... Why the hell are all the courtship offers
coming in for Severus and not you?"

Draco seemed surprised, his brows lifting as he stood suddenly and moved around the table.
The blonde dragged Harry's chair out, kneeling before the younger boy and looking up at him
with keen eyes. "I have gotten many courtship offers, and have chosen to turn away all of
them."

"You have?"

Draco nodded, once. "Over the years, those who have not managed to win Severus' attention
do not stop at him. I have had fathers offer their daughters' hands, Sires offer their Heirs,
mothers offer their Omegas. I burned each and every letter that offers practical matches and
political bondings. None appealed to me."

Harry watched Draco cup his hand steadily, the vampire's thumb rubbing against his wrist
softly, slowly. "Why?"

Draco smiled, his eyes bright. "I watched my mother adore my father, Harry. I grew up seeing
the interactions between Arthur and Molly, the battles filled with laughter and shrieks
between James and Lily. I have seen the way Sirius stares at Remus... I wanted to know what
falling in love felt like."

Harry felt something in him whine, his lips pressing down hard over the sound as Draco's
fingers cupped his chin and titled his face up so that his green eyes could meet red. "I did
things right, I sent my courtship request to your father days ago, Harry. James Potter scraped
the lot and told me to win you over myself, the old fashioned way. I am sorry if that upset
you, or if you misunderstood my intent when I kissed you. You are invaluable to me even
now, and I thought you would prefer things... A little less traditional?"

Harry dropped his head down against Draco's shoulder, one hand flying up to cover the man's
rambling mouth. With a sigh, he took in the thrill the blonde's words had sent through him,
the itching beneath his skin settling for the briefest moment. He breathed in deep breaths of
that safe, warm, heady scent that seemed to roll off of Draco and felt a tension he had not
even been aware of coil loose in his stomach.

Relief.
Relief that Draco was picking him. Merlin, he was a soft touch.

"Sure," he chuckled eventually, his head shaking even as he smiled. "That sounds good."

He lifted his face, and Draco's worried frown vanished at the smile Harry aimed at him, the
Vampire smiling back softly and humming a low sound that sounded almost like a muted
purr.

"Harry, look what I've- Whoops!"

"Lily, for the love of-"

Harry bound up from his seat, his cheeks flushed scarlet as his sudden movement knocked
Draco back and sprawled the blonde across the wooden floor.
The Vampire stayed where he lay, crossing his legs and with one eyebrow cocked as he
turned to take in the sight of Lily and Remus in the doorway. The werewolf was clutching his
face in his hands and the woman was sheepishly grinning down at them both, a cluster of
bags in her hands.

"Bad timing? Sorry Draco, love. Harry, come here and look what we've found you for the
Hunting Festival?"

"The what?" Harry felt his face pull in a grimace as Lily dropped the bags across the table,
growling when some fell to the floor. She straightened them with a flick of her wand and
turned to the blonde making his way off the ground.

"Draco, you didn't tell him?

"I was getting to it." Draco cast her a glance, his eyes narrowed and the redheaded woman
grimaced, her hand reaching out to pat the younger man's shoulder, "Oops?"

"The Hunting Festival is exactly what it's called, Harry." Remus' voice came from his other
side and Harry turned to watch the man put the back of his hand to the teapot of the table
with a grin. He flicked his wand to gather in several mugs and pour the tea, offering one to
Harry with a smile. "It's a Festival held in a different part of the world every year that
promotes Creature-Wizard unity. It usually goes on for the week, has spectacles and sports
arranged by the Council and Wizengamot. You can show off your talents, play quidditch, get
to know people, make friends, meet friends you haven't seen in a while. It's... A very, lovely
experience."

"And..." Lily turned Harry by the shoulders, grinning so wide that the younger boy could not
help but match it with his own. "This year it's happening in Scotland! It'll be so much fun,
Harry! It lets young people meet potential mates, show off their mates; there are bonding
ceremonies carried out between new couples. The Festival usually takes place in one of the
older buildings with massive grounds and lodgings available to all who want to stay or tents
for people who are fond of camping. Food is always taken care of by the Council and there's
so much to eat and see and do and... This is your very first one!"
Lily grinned, hugging him close and flicking her wand at the shopping bags until fabric was
pulled from them, shimmering and silver beneath the sunlight. "I know we should have really
let you pick out your own First Greet outfit, you're old enough; but I just couldn't help
myself."

Harry watched the sleek, silver robes flutter in the air, his eyes wide. The robes were light
and sleeveless, a high collar trimmed in gold with golden buttons down the neatly tailored
front. The material flared at the hips, open enough to peek glimpses at the slim, black
trousers beneath amid layers of golden chiffon and an intricate golden embroidery that spread
across the hem.

Draco was walking around the floating outfit, his mouth tugging in a smile. Harry watched
him reach out to pull a wrinkle from the collar, smooth fingers stretching over the tight-fitting
back of it.

Suddenly... Harry could not wait to be in those robes.

He grinned. "They're incredible! Do I need a new outfit, though? I mean, you've bought me
so many clothes already."

"One can never have too many outfits." Draco muttered from where he was inspecting the
black boots that floated beside the silver set of dress robes, his fingers clasped around the
short heel as he rubbed a thumb into the material.

Remus hummed, settling into a chair with his mug of tea as he nodded. "An outfit for your
First Greet is important. Curiosity will be aimed at you, eyes will be on you. While these
Festivals are for enjoyment and fun and meeting friends; they are also politically and
bloodline driven. There will be many who would view themselves potential suitors, or those
looking to be claimed and bonded. Your mother's outfit for you is a clever one."

Lily nodded, one finger lifting to tap her lip before her eyes zeroed in on the snake snoozing
around Harry's neck and she smiled. "The gold work around the bottom is an old Potter
protective rune, and they've got protection spells woven into the fabric. I asked her to leave it
sleeveless as these events get warm and I wanted you to have access to your wand holster.
The boots are charmed with a cushioning spell should you need to run."

Harry turned to frown at the robes, suddenly taking them in in a new light. The amount of
work gone into such a gestures, he felt his throat work around a sudden tightness as he
glanced back at his mother. "Thank you."

Lily grinned, leaning in to kiss his head and hug him with one arm. "Not that you need all
that protection when you've got your own, personal Batman over there."

The muggle reference made Harry bark out a sudden laugh, as he turned to watch Draco tap
the boots with his own wand with a satisfied grunt.

A Hunting Festival... That didn't sound ominous in the least.

###
Harry woke suddenly, his spine arching from the sweat-soaked bed beneath him to have the
young man panting into the silent darkness of the bedroom around him. Green eyes darted
about the room doused in shadows, taking in the curtains that fluttered softly beneath a semi-
open window. Despite the cool air, the temperature was stifling.

Harry drew in a breath and groaned when the heat of it hit the back of his throat and stayed
there, a firm grasp of raking hot claws against his windpipe. He whined, low and soft, his
hands coming up to dig into the heated skin of his face.

His pajamas clung to him beneath heavy blankets that he tossed aside with a snarl, his mouth
slick with spit that he felt pool against his bottom lip and drool over, hot and tacky against his
chin as he panted.

Each breath drove an errant whimper from him, fingers digging until his nails met blood as
he raked them down his arms with a satisfied thrill; the sound somewhere beneath a purr and
a startled coo.

There was a hiss in his ear, a thrumming, uncertain query before Harry cast dazed eyes to
look at the snake beside him.

The little Tom had grown to impossible levels, filling up the entirety of the small room; the
snakes' body wrapped fast and tight around his own to pull his nails from his arms. Harry
whined up at the beast, thoughts distorted and torn and waspish beneath a temperament that
tethered on the edge of pained and angry.
His body spasmed beneath the massive, scaled coils, a soundless scream tearing his mouth
wide as he tried to rip himself free, but could only brace himself within that tight embrace.

'Pain, little master, pain is familiar.'

The soft, velvety words were hissed gently in his ear, and Harry was too mindless to think on
them beyond the quiet tremble of his breath, his insides dissolving to flame beneath the
massive length of the snake's body.

He was going to die.

He was going to burn away and die.

He felt the pain lull, a precious second to wonder what on earth was happening to him, before
the pain reached new heights and Harry's eyes grew dark, his breath rattling in his throat as
he slumped against a smooth, ridged, head suddenly nosing beneath his own.

'Sleep, little master. I will protect.'

The words were a balm to his frantic, maddened thoughts, Harry desperately leaning into that
scaled head as he cried tears that scalded his cheeks and
whimpered around spit and drool that choked him. His mind fluttered once, sane enough in a
second, blissful lull to throw up a silencing spell that he felt crackle across his bones with the
weight of magic it carried.
Then, Harry began to scream.
 14

James watched the man work, his pale, slender, hands lifting to splay across the intricate
markings he had created that hung like crystal shards of light around the wards of the
Forbidden Forest.

"I don't think they're expecting you to find much of anything with the mess of magic that's
going on here... But the situation is an... Unusual one."

Xenophilius Lovegood hummed softly in response, the man's wild white hair billowing once
down his back as he cast another rune with his wand, his pale eyes unfocused to the scorched
and blackened trees around them. He stood with a straight spine, robes a pristine cream and
embroidered with his own mix of Celtic runes and symbols. The man was eccentric even for
a fae.

"Your son came from this forest, James?" Xenophilius' voice was soft, a breath of noise on
the air as he swiped his wand and dissolved the shining ward he had pulled up, bringing the
floating runes down to lay soft against the dry dirt of the forest floor. They simmered for a
short second, before dissolving with a spark of red. The fae frowned. "Cannot see any wizard
passing through this type of magic and not being worse for wear..."

James winced, lifting a hand to scratch his head. "The boy wasn't in the best of conditions,
coming from his own world or coming into ours. We're still using nutrient potions in his
breakfast to even get him up to a decent weight."

The man turned to look at him, his face impassive; though their seemed to be a flutter of
sadness around his pale blue eyes. "The shoulders of the innocent sometimes bare weight
they should not." He turned slowly, casting a glance across the barren earth before his eyes
flickered up and something of a smile lit his lips.

James looked up to watch Sirius traipse towards them across the shallow hill, the woman
behind him staring with wide eyes back on the ruins of the once proud Hogwarts castle.
There was a tremble to her lips that James could see even at the meager distance, her blue
eyes just as wide and bright and pale as her father's, as well as the blonde hair she piled high
on her head.

"Anything, Luna?"

The fae cast him a glance, something in her cheeks softening as she offered him a simple
smile. "The castle's magic is as chaotic as it has always been since the battle, dark and angry
and weeping. She is furious to have been used for war, tortured that the lives of the children
in her care were attacked so brazenly. There is nothing that I know of her today that I did not
know yesterday, that I will not know tomorrow."

James frowned, staring down at the girl as she stared back up at him, her smile serene. She
was a pretty girl, her pale eyes and the soft, silver runic symbols about her arms showing her
for the full-blooded fae she was. She had always been a help in the cases he and Sirius had
not been able to crack in the past and powerful if her employment by the Council was
anything to go on. "So... Nothing? You can tell me nothing?"

Luna hummed, standing by her father as the man pulled down his sleeves to cover his own
dark gold markings. "I can tell you that the magic of Hogwarts is a strange and tangible thing.
It is filled with pain and anger and sadness and laughter and joy and love and hate and all the
emotions of those who have passed through here. It is something unclear and unwritten and
we can only learn as we grow. Sometimes, a spell or ritual is needed for something
incredible, sometimes only a wish."

"A wish?" SIrius snorted, reaching out to touch the bare wood of a felled tree and grimacing
at the crackle of magic that raced across his fingertips.

Luna nodded, once, her gaze fond as she took in the decimated forest. "A wish can be a
powerful thing... Especially coming from a powerful person, or granted by a powerful
forest..."

She turned to James, her lips twisting. "I am sorry I cannot offer you more, James. Had I
known Hogwarts in person, had I been taught in her walls rather than home-schooled;
perhaps I might know her magic more intimately... As it is, she is a strong and foreboding
stranger to my own magic. Still... It would have been nice to know her in all her majesty."

The fae took her father's hand gently, jolting the man from his thoughts as she stared back
across the half-formed building and crumbling turrets. James turned to look with her, a
strange sort of sorrow in his heart every time he took in the devastation. Hogwarts had been a
home, despite all the fighting and war that had tainted the memory in the end. He sighed.

"I've a feeling you might just have loved it there, Luna."

###

Harry woke with a groan.

He blinked eyes that seemed stiff and dry, staring groggily at the curtains that swayed gently
in a soft breeze. It was passed morning if the light behind those drapes could be guessed at.

He made to haul himself up, only for his arm to give way beneath him; a muscle spasming in
the limb as he gasped and clutched twitching fingers into a clenched fist.

What the hell?

He drew in a sharp breath, wincing when a turning stretch drew a jolt of pain across his
suddenly tender abdomen. Merlin, what way had he slept?

Harry groaned pitifully, stretching out each limb with gritted teeth until the muscles coped
enough for him to haul himself into a sitting position.

His mind was foggy still with sleep, his hair in disarray about his shoulders as he blinked
blearily into the bright room, before glancing down at the small snake curled in a tight ball on
his pillow. The whisperings of a dream, a nightmare, came to him; dark and uncertain against
the edges of his mind. Limbs braced against giant coils, nails dragging against flamed skin...

Harry glanced down at his perfectly wound-free arms and rolled his eyes. With an
imagination like his own, he doubted he would ever be at a loss for strange dreams. He cast a
glance at the sheets bundled in a stiff mess at the foot of his bed as another breeze fluttered
through the room, a shiver raking down his spine as he realised that he was... Quite naked.

Harry squinted, glancing over the side of the bed at the rolled up heap of pajamas with a short
laugh, before stretching his arms up high and sighing at the crack that sounded in his ears.
His neck was tender to the touch, and he growled at the thought of dealing with a crick in it
from a night of obviously sleeping like a muppet.

With a sigh, he stood, and yelped as his legs wobbled beneath him. He slapped out his hands
to catch himself on the edge of the dresser, cringing at the sting in his palms. There was a
hiss, soft and inquiring and Harry flapped a wrist towards it. "I know, I know, still half asleep.
I'm being careful, Tom, don't mind me and go back to sleep."

He threw a look over his shoulder as he shimmied into a pair of soft tracksuit bottoms pulled
from the first drawer, smiling at the one-eyed look of derision the snake aimed in his
direction. His nightmare flittered back to him briefly and he chuckled; a snake the size of his
room indeed. Harry rooted through the clothes until he found a pale blue hooded-pullover,
wiggling into the over-sized, soft garment with a sigh of satisfaction. He rubbed his eyes as
he hopped awkwardly into a pair of socks, turning his nose up at the shoes at the foot of the
bed.

There was a crackle of magic across his skin that made him pause as he moved through the
doorway, his head tilting at the familiar rush as a silencing ward fell with the opening of the
door. Had he...

Had he put up a Silencio in his sleep?

Harry shook his head, more intent on the sudden rumbling of his stomach, than his bizarre
bedtime activity as he scuttled across the hall and down the stairs. Each wooden step was met
with a grimace as his muscles tightened as though he had overworked them the day before.
Each limb was stiff and sore, and he gritted his teeth against the pain.

What bloody way had he slept? Fighting with the damn blankets?

"Hello? Anyone home?"

Silence met his call, and Harry cleared his throat as he made his way into the kitchen, lifting
a hand to card through his hair. He shrugged, turning towards the cupboards with a single-
minded goal. He pulled out nearly everything, each item earning a stern glare as he set it
down on the counters. Flour, cereal, chocolate, crisps, porridge, bread, beans...

Harry moved onto the fridge, his face morphing in a scowl as he moved out rows of juice and
butter and milk and eggs, discarding them all on the counter-tops with a huff that bordered on
a whine. He wanted... Something...
He turned with a pout, his eyes catching on the bowl of fruit in the centre of the dining table
and lighting up. He sat with a grunt, tucking his legs beneath him as he pulled the whole bowl
closer and grabbed an apple from within. Harry groaned as he bit into it, the crisp and tart and
sweet flavour bursting across his tongue and quenching a thirst he had not realised had even
been there. He was grabbing another even as he finished the first, core and all. The juice was
sticky on his fingers, and he tugged the sleeves of his hoodie out of the way absently,
humming softly when he pulled out a peach.

He was halfway through the second peach, his other hand holding the only orange in the
bowl when the floo by the kitchenette area suddenly flared to life.

"I'm telling you Severus, something's wrong! He's usually so early to wake and it's gone five
and nothing! There's a silencing ward that I can't break through on his door. I can't reach
James or Sirius in work and Remus won't be back for another hour at least!"

Harry watched his mother dart her hands about, her back to him as she shook her head and
grabbed the arm of the vampire that had flooed through not a second behind her. The pair
were gone before Harry could even blink, and he listened to their rushed steps on the stairs as
he took another bite of the peach, his other hand placing the orange back in the bowl.

Was that about him?

The floor flared again and Harry cast it an upturned eyebrow, grinning when Draco stepped
out with a scowl already fixed to his face.

He swiped at a spot of soot on his arm and straightened to take in the room. Red eyes
narrowed and dark, seemed to almost skim over him; before Draco glanced back with a quick
turn of his head, and took in the sight of Harry half-crouched over the fruit bowl.

"I thought you were supposed to be trapped in your room?"

Harry grinned, setting down the peach and wiping his fingers on the dish cloth on the chair
beside him. "Was I?"

Draco's scowl deepened, his arms folding across his chest as he raised one unimpressed
eyebrow. "If what your poor mother was yelling when she flooed to my home is correct, then
yes." The blonde began to move forward, his folded arms dropping and his head shaking
slowly, "Trapped behind a silencing ward, no movement all day, not even to grab a bite to..."

Draco had frozen, his red eyes flaring wide as his entire body stilled just a few, scant feet
from the younger boy.

Harry tilted his head, frowning. "Draco?"

The Vampire was breathing through his mouth, his shoulders lifting with each inhale; before
he lifted his nose in Harry's direction and suddenly gasped. The sound was small, soft and
quiet and Harry felt his lips twist in something of a pout.

"Draco?"
Draco's wings suddenly flared wide, sweeping once in the dining room and drafting a scent
with them that had every nerve in Harry's body electrified. It filled his senses, warm and rich
and a thousand times stronger than any bare trace of the scent he had ever caught before. The
younger boy leaned forward, his lips parting on a sudden breath in as a sound crawled from
his throat. The sound was raw, a gentle mewl that he wasn't sure he should even be capable of
making; and it drew a snarl from Draco that had the blonde flashing fangs.

"He's not in his room, do you think he... Oh! Harry!"

Harry blinked, his senses slow with the scent of copper, warm, soft, strong... floating about
him still. He watched his mother come back in through the door, her stance startled and her
eyes flitting between Draco and Harry with a small furrow between her brow.

"Draco, love... What is it?"

She made to move, only for Severus to streak past her. The older vampire flared his own
wings out with a snap, breaking Draco's view of Harry and drawing a whine from the blonde.

Harry felt a whine of his own tumble from his lips like something broken, seeking, wanting...
His fingers flexed gently, the soft pain dull and sparking against his muddled senses. He
jolted when his mother's arms came around him suddenly, his eyes catching hers as she
smiled down at him.

"Hush, baby. You just need a couple of days to settle into your body. Draco will be back
again, I promise."

Harry could do little more but sink into the woman's embrace, his nerves alight and twitching
as he watched Severus back Draco towards the floo where the blonde took off with a
tormented growl. The dark haired vampire cast a look back in his direction, his dark eyes
bright and his mouth stretching in a smile.
"Blessings to your bloodline, Lily," The man bowed his head gently, earning a laugh form the
redhead before he, too, disappeared in a swirl of emerald fire.

Harry shuddered in the sudden chill that raked up his spine, a soft whine leaving his lips
unbidden. Lily cooed down at him, pulling him off his own seat and into her lap as if he were
no more than a child. At the moment he felt about as lost as one.

His mother kissed his head softly. "You're something special, you know that, sweetheart?"
Harry leaned into her soft scent, his breathing stuttering to a heavy calm as sleep touched
against the edges of his mind and his mother's voice murmured softly; happy and proud.

"Who would have thought... An Omega..."

 15

"Ouch!"

Remus laughed under his breath, and Harry scowled at him; grimacing as the man worked his
fingers deeper into the trembling muscles in his arms.

"Obviously, it's going to hurt, Harry." Remus shushed him gently, turning his wrist so that he
could make sure the potion was lathered into every inch of skin before taking up the boy's
other arm and beginning anew. "You went through a Presentation, a development; and a
rather late one if I'm being perfectly honest. Not to even mention the fact that you presented
as Omega, it's going to take a few days for all of that to settle down again."

Harry gave a startled yelp as the man pulled on a particularly tense muscle, glaring when a
snort came from across the dining table.

"Don't bloody well bate him, Sirius." Harry felt a small thrum of triumph as his mother
slapped the back of the Auror's head in passing, pointing a stern finger at both him and the
stunned looking James beside him. "His instincts and senses are all over the place, and it'd be
entirely your fault if he bloody well bites you!"

"He's an Omega, Lils," James Potter said for, perhaps, the seventh time, shaking his head and
leaning his elbows on the table with his cup of coffee untouched between them. "There hasn't
been an Omega in the Potter line in... Merlin, in centuries! Alphas sure, we make 'em like
there's no tomorrow, but an Omega!"

"I am right here, y'know." Harry sulked, turning back to Remus and watching the man roll his
eyes as James winced an apology.

"Don't mind them, Harry," the werewolf leaned in to whisper, his smile soft and the potion he
was rubbing into Harry's skin dulling the ache that had slowly become a sharp pain as the
evening wore on. "He doesn't mean anything bad by it, but having an Omega in the family is
a big deal and James is thrilled. He's happy for you, Cub; he's just too big an idiot to express
it properly."

Harry grinned, dropping his arms back down to his lap with a sigh. It was becoming
increasingly obvious to him in the few hours he had been awake that being an Omega
entailed a little bit more than he had originally thought. They had already received several
owls bearing 'congratulations' notices and old Wizarding blessings from Narcissa and
Severus, Molly and Arthur, Ron and Pansy, Fred and George, and Ginny and Dean. Harry
knew that Omegas bore a tiny percentage of the population nowadays, that they were the
centre of most households, but he had yet to actually grasp fully what that meant.

He knew from Draco's teachings that Omegas were the kind who... Birthed children and had
a protective sort of magic that was incredibly revered. He understood that most families
hoped to have an Omega in the bloodline and courting offers came fast for anyone who
presented as one. What he did not know, was how to bloody well feel about it all.
It was not a notion that he had entertained for himself, and it had rattled him to his core when
Lily had announced him as such. Granted, it was not as big a shock as discovering that he
was a Wizard for the first time, or finding out that a tiny portion of Voldemort's soul was
inside him. It was not even up there with secret Godfather who wants to kill him and abrupt,
unwilling participation in the Triwizard Tournament; but it was... Somewhat alarming to one
day wake up with the ability to... Carry a child.

Harry glanced up at Remus, his eyes wide as they watched the man lean back slowly in his
chair, the werewolf's golden eyes bright and watching Harry straight back. There was a
newness to the man's scent that wrapped around Harry like a blanket. All of their scents had
shifted, or at the very least, Harry could smell them properly now. Safe and warm and new in
a way that was strange but familiar enough to put him at ease.

Harry glanced over to where his mother was leaning on his father's back, laughing as she
pushed him forward and Sirius mussed his hand through James' wild, curly hair. He had
always wanted a family, had craved it like nothing else in the world. To think that in the last
month he had acquired not only the family that he had believed gone forever from his reach,
but the potential to start his own, in a way he would have never thought possible...

Harry felt his breathing quicken, taking in the soft scent of home and comfort around him and
feeling it fill him to almost bursting. His throat trembled on a noise, unfamiliar and strange
and it spilled from his lips against his will in a gentle purr that had him jolting in his seat.
Remus chuckled beside him, reaching out a hand to rub a thumb across Harry's cheek fondly.
"It's alright to be happy, you know?"

His own voice was low, a similar, more sedate purr rumbling in the older man's throat and
sparking something bright and delighted inside of Harry. "There's a few new things you'll
have to learn and get used to, but we'll be with you as you do, Harry. I promise."

The purr trembled in his throat and Harry felt himself nod. A few new things... He could deal
with a few new things.

###

He could not deal with a few new things.

Harry snarled as he shook his hand out, lips pulling back over small fangs that had absolutely
no business being in his mouth and had cut his bloody tongue the first time they had snapped
down the second morning, when Sirius had snatched a mango from him. They were an old
Omega trait, his mother had said as she and Remus worked to calm him down, some Omegas
inherited them after Presentation, some did not.

There were features known as throwback traits that were not evident in every Omega born in
modern times. Fangs were one. Claws were another, though Harry was beyond thankful that
he did not have that particular annoyance to deal with. He liked his nails short and trimmed,
not sticking in his cloths and slicing up his scalp every time he used shampoo. He had
shuddered at the mere thought of it. Like the fangs and claws, there could be other physical
attributes that Remus had ghosted over, shrugging them off as unimportant for the moment.
Just as there were physical changes to deal with, however, there were other, internal traits that
he had not been expecting.

Like a sudden flair in a wizard's innate magic.

Harry cursed as he clenched his sparking fingers, waving off the tremor of raw magic that ran
through them as he tried to put up another shield. There was a thrum of energy, erratic and
bouncing, to his magic that had never been there before. It coursed through him like
something alive, narrowing with an almost brazen streak each time he used his wand, and all
but exploding out of him each time he cast wandless.

His first shield had taken James an hour to take down, much to the amusement of Sirius, as it
had been poor Remus that Harry had trapped in a warded bubble. He winced, he had only
meant to half-shield the man from the spilled coffee pot.

Now he was with his mother in the living room, the furniture pushed back to the walls and
shrunken down as Harry tried to channel his newly charged magic through his fingertips in a
way that did not bring Grimmauld place down around their ears. He growled low as he tried
to condense the next shield, his magic sparking against his hand again as the shield popped
out of existence and a spike of pain lanced up his arm.

"Don't try to block it off, love!" Lily grinned over at him, her wand raised. "Let it run through
you, it's instinct! You're focusing too hard on making it small and harmless, but your magic is
more like a massive shield! Let it be big."

"Let it be big, she says." Harry glanced down at where Tom was wrapped around his neck,
the snake tasting the static of magic in the air and hissing in delight. "Yes, yes, I know you
approve, but I can't bloody well try and tear my arm off trying to channel that in the one go,
can I?"

Tom arched an eyebrow up at him and Harry arched one back, drawing a sigh from Lily. The
redheaded witch tousled Harry's hair as she moved to pass him, her smile wide. "You'll get it,
love. Don't think so much on it."

Harry hummed as he followed her, his brow drawing down in a scowl. Magic had never been
something he could just 'not think so much about', it was a hard learned skill that he was,
despite his failings in certain things, quite proud of. He flexed his fingers as he followed Lily
into the kitchen, green eyes following the spark of wild magic that danced like smoke and
light around his fingertips.

It was so very real in a way it had never seemed before. Of course Harry knew his magic was
real, he knew he could wield a wand well and he knew it thrummed beneath his skin as
naturally as his heart beat. But, he had never in his life expected to feel it in such a way. He
had never thought that he would ever need his wand for only the more complex, intricate
spells. Even when he had begun to learn to throw up shields and deflect the curses cast so
often in his direction, even then; his magic had felt a degree sluggish... Timid...

Harry glanced up when the Floo suddenly flared to life, his green eyes pinned to those flames
as Severus stepped out and cast a curious glance in his direction. The man nodded, his lip
twitching in something of a smile. "'Arry."

"Is Draco with you?"

The vampire snorted, his small smile morphing into a full grin as he strode forward and
landed a bag filled with clinking, glass bottles on the dining room table. "Non. Nor shall 'e be
for the next few days. Use zis time wisely, learn of yourself."

Harry snorted as he folded himself into the seat beside his mother, craning his neck to see the
vials she was pulling out and inspecting with pursed lips. "I've known myself for eighteen
years, Severus, I'd be alarmed if something strange didn't happen to me. This is just another
weird Harry Potter thing to add to an ever-growing list, I promise you. What're those?"

Lily shook a bright pink potion at him with a grin, chuckling when Severus flashed him a
smile filled with fang. "Zat one, is to be taken once every four months, to regulate your
cycle."

His what?

Harry watched the redhead pluck out another, this one a dark green that looked like someone
had dunked it in slime, he grimaced.

"Zat one, to be taken once a year, to prevent cramps outside of ze cycle. A common potion
for young Omegas, in time you will not need it at all."

Cramps? Harry glanced up at Severus as the man inspected a mustard yellow coloured vial.
As in muscle cramps?

"Zis one, only ze once in your lifetime. It will settle any pain remaining in your little bones."

Harry clenched his fingers softly, taking note of the gentle tremor. Though it had been a few
days since his apparent nightmare that was half a nightmare, but not quite a nightmare, but
was actually his Presentation... His muscles still ached. He reached for that one, only for
Severus to pass him a thin glass bottle of something that looked suspiciously like water.

"Zis first." The man arched an eyebrow at Harry's look, stubbornly silent despite Lily's
chuckling as Harry gave in with a sigh and swigged the contents back. He swallowed the
bitter taste down with barely a grimace, clenching his teeth on the sharp, peppermint
aftertaste.

"What does that one do, then?"

Severus took the empty vial back, dropping it into the bag he had brought with him before
handing Harry the yellow, pain reliever. "Birth control."

Harry choked.

###

'You were told to rest.'

'And you were told to not shed on Mum's bed, and you did it anyway, so who're you to talk?'

Tom all but chuckled from his spot draped across the kitchen counter, his body long and sleek
beneath the dimmed yellow light and his eyes dark with humour. The snake was definitely
getting bigger, little by little, and Harry thought the yellow plume atop his head that spiked
up when he was curious, was beyond adorable. Whatever breed of snake he had stumbled
upon, he could say with certainty now that it was not 'common variety garden'.

'What if he harms you?'

Harry startled, lip drawing back in a delicate growl as he threw an annoyed look at his friend.
The house was entirely silent, save for their conversation. His parents and Godparents were
no doubt fast asleep, the sky outside incredibly dark. 'Draco would never hurt me, Tom!'

Harry was standing in front of the fireplace, a handful of Floo powder clutched in one hand
as he debated with the snake. He doubted that the Vampire could harm anyone, let alone
someone that he actually cared for. There was something about this Draco Malfoy that was
incredibly kind, indisputably friendly... And Harry missed him.

There was an ache in his stomach that he had found himself wallowing over with each day
spent without the blonde beside him. As comfortable as Lily and Remus continued to make
him feel in his new skin, and as much as James and Sirius drew out his magic and coaxed
him into trying new things; there was something inside of Harry poking and clawing at the
tender memories of the blonde.

'I won't even be gone for long, I'll just pop over and have a quick chat and I'll be back here
before the lot of them even wake up!'

The look of disbelief that Tom threw him must have been exceptionally difficult for the
creature to make, but he achieved it all the same. Harry rolled his eyes. He was a bloody
grown up, anyway! He had fought wars, survived in woods, chased away monsters and faced
down creatures he could not have begun to dream up! He was Harry bloody Potter!

He scowled, stepping into the open chimney breast in the simple grey joggers he had thrown
on only minutes ago and the pale blue fleece that he rolled the sleeves of up, with a
determined glint in his eye. He shot one dark look at Tom, a warning not to wake his parents,
before throwing down the powder and speaking a password Draco had taught him only days
before.

Harry tripped as he was propelled through the sudden flames and smoke and into the Malfoy
Manor library.

He clutched a hand to his mouth to stifle a cough and patted down his remarkably clean
clothes with a grin. The password had been a gift, a means of accessing the manor books and
all the history Harry was so eager to learn without having to walk through the main foyer.

A thoughtful gift.

But then, Draco was incredibly thoughtful.

Harry felt a purr build softly in his chest, the noise soft and gentle in the quiet of the manor as
he walked through the open doorway and into the hallway filled with doors.

Finding Draco, Harry realised with a surprised smile, was infinitely easier than he had been
dreading. The blonde's scent was as familiar as his family's, warm and sleek and strong and
full of that rich, copper almost-taste that had Harry's eyes fluttering and his heart spiking in
his chest. He followed it like a golden thread, winding his way down the massive, dark
hallways in the soft slippers he had slid on at home. The carpet was lush and thick, the walls
cool and soft beneath his fingertips as he reached out a hand to skim across it.

Draco's scent was headier than he remembered, filling his senses in a way the other's back at
home had not. His neck prickled, hot and irritated and Harry swiped at it with a hazy frown,
rubbing at the thin layer of slick, not-quite-wet, scent that burned hot against his fingers. Was
he sweating?

He was feeling a tad... Warm...

Harry made his way across a landing, staring up at the impressive windows that let the light
of the moon spill through and cast shadows across the carpet. He tugged at the collar of his
fleece, whining softly when the material rubbed harsh against the sides of neck and his
wrists, where the sleeves had fallen back down.

His steps carried him ever closer to a door at the end of the next hallway, quickening but
making no sound against the thick rug.

Draco was in there.

The blonde's scent was thick and wrapped around Harry's thoughts like a thread, tight and
binding and constricting every, little fragment down to one thing...

Harry tapped his fingers lightly against the wood, a thrill of something wild and crackling
going down his spine as he heard the sound of movement on the other side. The telltale shift
of material, a groan of confusion, grumbled, tired steps growing closer and closer until the
handle in Harry's own grasp was pushing down and the door was opened and Harry found
himself staring up into dark, red eyes that snapped wide at the sight of him.

The blonde did not breathe a word, seemed almost to be holding his breath; if Harry could
guess. His posture was rigid, his shoulders tense and his blonde hair messy and tousled about
his shoulders. His black wings had spread wide behind him, blocking out the light of the
moon and shrouding Harry in sudden darkness.

The younger boy tilted his head to the side, green eyes wide and glinting as he took in the
Vampire. He made a sound, an inquisitive. little chirrup of a noise that Draco almost
immediately drowned out with a rumbling purr of his own. It was a sound that turned Harry's
insides to molten liquid, his lips parting on a pant of a whine as something warm and wet and
slick suddenly slid between his thighs.

His thoughts grew murky, his eyes lidding as he snapped his head to one side to bare the
white column of his neck. Draco snarled, his wings pulling up sharp and his eyes flashing and
Harry could only whimper in response, his legs suddenly weakening. He would have fallen to
the plush carpet, had Draco not whipped an arm around his waist and dragged him close.

The Vampire nosed along his bared throat with ragged breaths, hot and full of the scent of
copper and tea. There was a press of sharp teeth against something tender and aching on his
neck, not breaking skin but a gentle threat all the same. Harry purred into it, leaning against
Draco's weight as the blonde shook his head and pressed a kiss to the spot instead.

A sharp, bark of laughter left the blonde and Harry grinned up at him lazily, tucking his head
beneath Draco's chin.

"You're a bloody trouble-maker, Potter, do you know that?"

 16
Chapter Notes

I did just want to say that I do really appreciate your comments. I read them all and I
thank you for them. Any small show of appreciation, commenting, bookmarking, kudos;
it is incredibly rewarding and I hope you all continue to enjoy this story. Thank you.

Draco ran a hand through black hair that was almost silken to the touch, the ends curling
against Harry's shoulders. His pale skin was flushed with heat beneath the light of the
dawning sun that had begun to peek through the slant of space between the curtains. His
breathing was soft, even as he slept, his head pillowed on Draco's chest where the older man
was leaning back against the library couch, a blanket thrown over the both of them that Harry
had happily stolen the majority of.

The Omega had fallen asleep almost as soon as Draco had found him standing in his doorway
like some tormenting dream. He had dropped into a happy, little slumber with his nose buried
in the crook of Draco's neck, and the blonde had not had the heart to part from him. As
impeccable as his control was, though, it was not something he wanted to test with Harry's
pre-Heat scent flooding his senses.

He had carried the youth from his room back to the library he had obviously floo'd in from,
with the intention of bringing him back home.

But he had not been able to.

Every well-trained, well commanded instinct inside of him had abhorred the thought of
leaving the sweet, little thing in his arms. He had battled with his own thoughts as fiercely as
he had battled with Harry's scent beneath his nose. The Omega was like nothing he had ever
scented before, a warm, safe pastry-baked aroma that wrapped so delicately around the
treacle-sticky-sweet scent of the boy's upcoming Heat.

His first Heat.

Harry smelled incredible, Draco inhaled it even now as he watched the youth, as he had
watched him for hours. His scent was soft and sweet and held the barest streak of something
wild and crisp, like the night sky before a bolt of lightning. His magic was tangible to Draco
in a way the man had only known it to be in a handful of people; namely the late Headmaster
Albus Dumbledore, and a few well respected names of the Council.

His Harry was powerful. Draco preened at the thought, his lips tilting in a soft smile as Harry
scowled in his sleep and shifted closer, lips parting on a small sigh. Powerful and so very,
very sweet. The blonde dragged a hand through those curls again, his eyes fluttering as he
breathed in another lungful of scent. There was a part of him that wanted to ravage the boy.

Like a thought stalking towards the forefront of his mind, the idea that he might take Harry in
the hours he had held him pliant and soft against his body. The carnal want to hold that pale
throat down with one hand and spread thighs that he knew, from the damp of Harry's trousers,
were coated in slick. He wanted him in a far fiercer way than he had wanted many things in
life. Some things he had worked for, some were gifted to him; but there had never been a
thing in his life that he had longed for with as much intensity as he longed to claim Harry as
his own. Draco swallowed down a growl, leaning his head back to take a breath of the fresh
air that floated through the window he had opened the night before.

Harry deserved better, deserved something of a courtship.

The youth's first Heat would be nothing the boy could not handle alone, even if the thought
clenched Draco's jaw and sat unpleasantly in his stomach. The first Heat was always one that
occurred softly, gently, a coaxing of what was to come that would keep Harry in his senses
and aware. It would last hours at the most, and the youth had his mother and Remus to speak
with, had he any questions. It was something demanding but manageable, a final step of the
presentation that would make Harry a full Omega.

Draco could do little to help the purr that escaped him, the sound tumbling from his throat
and drawing an answering purr from Harry despite his sleeping state. As perfect as Harry had
been to him with his bright smile and sharp humour, with his protective streak and his fragile
desire for safety and home... As much in inescapable, incomprehensible love with the boy as
Draco was beginning to feel; that Harry become an Omega was a thing he had not dared even
hope for.

Draco glanced up when the library door opened suddenly, his body tensing and his eyes
darkening before he took in the slightly stunned face of his Sire. Severus raised an eyebrow
at him, the man's own gaze locked on the little Omega still sleeping in Draco's grasp. He
glanced from Harry to Draco and back again, casting a look at the Floo with a slant to his
mouth that told Draco the man was amused but trying not to be.

"Draco..."

The blonde winced at the disappointed tone, his head canting to one side to show deference
to the man who had raised him. "I promise I did not harm him, Sire... He came to me last
night."

Severus clucked a sound with his tongue, his lip twitching briefly as he strode forward
slowly, mindful of the wings that Draco held spread around them both. Harry's scent was
untouched, from what Severus could tell, and he felt his heart soften for the apprehensive
look Draco was directing up to him. He crooned a sound, his lips softening to a smile.

"Of course you 'ave not hurt 'im, mon étoile. You are a sweet, incredible Alpha and your
control 'as never ceased to amaze me."
Draco's shoulders sagged, his face softening as he glanced down at the smaller man in his
arms. Harry was sleeping still, soundly enough that Draco thought he might sleep through his
Heat entirely. He smiled. "I could never hurt him..."

Severus chuckled, tilting his head to one side to watch his besotted Heir. "Non... I believe you
could not." The man beckoned Draco forward when the blonde next glanced up, his smile
bright. "Let us get 'im to ze guest bedroom zen, oui? I will ask Narcissa to send for Lily."

Draco grinned, gathering Harry close as he made to stand up, and purring when the younger
man scowled in his sleep.

###

Harry woke up in a nest of blankets that smelled of family and Draco.

His nose was sniffling through the mix of fabrics before he had even fully woken, taking in
the soft, familiar scent of his own bedding and the new, lush feel of the blankets and pillows
that smelled incredibly of Draco.

He blinked open eyes stilll hazy with sleep to a room that was unfamiliar and dark.

It probably should have panicked him, was an errant thought that flittered through his mind,
before dissolving into dust when Harry burrowed himself further in the twisted, soft nest and
the plushest mattress he had ever felt in his life. He might have been panicked had this
happened in any other circumstance; but Harry felt safe and content, and his instincts were
lazy and happy as he sighed into the dark room.

He could smell his family in the blankets someone had brought from Grimmauld and draped
across him, could even smell Severus and Narcissa in the room around him, faded though
they may have been. Draco's scent was directly beneath him in the layers of pillows and
sheets that Harry must have bunched towards the edges of the mattress in his sleep. It was the
safest he had ever felt, wrapped in blankets that flushed his skin and heated his cheeks and in
a room he did not recognise.

Harry burrowed deeper, purring deep within his chest as he battled with the tracksuit bottoms
wrapped around his legs until he had kicked them off and pushed them out of the nest he
seemed to be creating. His fleece was long gone, Harry groaned as he rubbed his front against
a particularly soft blanket, his thoughts jolting with the flicker of arousal that licked down his
spine.

That was new.

Harry pressed against the fabric slowly, biting down on his arm with a whimper when the
same spark lit his senses. His thighs were slick when he pressed them together and Harry felt
his head tip back on a gentle groan, his fingers skimming down his over-sensitive stomach.

He was not so much a prude that he was unfamiliar to self-pleasure. Harry had touched
himself before, on the very, very brief occasion where his hormones had gotten the better of
him and the dorm-room had been blessedly free of every other teenage boy that made such an
act impossible for the most part. It had never before felt like this, though.

Harry gasped, fingers trailing over his length before jerking back as the barest touch had him
spilling across his own stomach. He panted into the darkness around him, thighs trembling as
the slick, thin, translucent release only added to the mess of wetness that seemed to be
steadily growing between his thighs.

Merlin, maybe he should have listened better when Remus had attempted to tell him what the
rest of his Presentation would entail. Harry skimmed a hand slowly through the substance
that was... leaking from him, holding his fingers up in the non-existent light to catch the
barest glimpse of something clear and glistening.

Slick.

Isn't that what Remus had called it? Natural lubrication... Produced by the body... Produced
by... Him.

Bloody Hell.

Harry's hand shook as he slid it down further than he had in the past, his stomach clenching
on the sparks of arousal that were flushing his skin a pale pink. His fingers trailed gently
down between his thighs, his lips clamping down on a desperate whimper as the digits
slipped into the incredibly warm slick that was still seeping out of him. His middle finger slid
along slowly, drawing a startled yelp from his throat when he nearly slipped inside the tender,
swollen opening of his back passage.

Harry felt a sound leave his throat, high and thin and needy as his eyes clouded and he dipped
the finger low again, barely catching on the rim of his opening and lighting a fire low in his
belly that threatened to burn him alive. The heat was incredible, hot as a furnace as he
clamped down on the barest of intrusions. Still more slick leaked out of him and Harry's
breaths came fast and sharp as each new spurt forced his finger further in, sliding against
inner walls plump with warmth and so very, very sensitive.

The second climax took him as unawares as the first; a thrill of a sound leaving him that he
quickly covered by pushing his face into the pillows beside him. His entire body shook, taut
as a pulled string and his nerves alight as he coated his stomach again. Harry gasped, sliding
his hand free and curling up around the pillow that smelled most of Draco. His stomach
clenched with the heady musk, a pitiful moan leaving his lips as he felt his hips begin to rut
against the material slowly, gently.

That scent was going to drive him out of his mind.

###

When Harry woke again, it was to a blessed stillness to his body and the distinct lack of a
need to rut against every available surface.
He heaved a sigh as he peered blearily around the room. It was brighter now, partially lit with
the glow of morning that shone from behind pale, white curtains. His nest was an absolute
mess of soiled blankets and even wetter pillows and Harry was mortified as he pushed them
to one side in a feeble attempt to hide the evidence of the last...

How many days? Hours? He groaned as he sat, his body loose and warm and every inch of
him begrudging the fact that he was pulling away from the lovely, soft bed that smelled
predominantly of Draco and Harry and... Sex.

Harry snorted, purring despite his own embarrassment. As mortifying as it was to realise that
he had spent an unknown amount of time bedding himself in a strange room, in a strange
house; Harry could hardly feel anything beyond the safe, happy, comfortable lull that his
senses were now in. His body no longer hurt, his limbs free of aches and pains and his fangs
were small enough in his mouth to not nick against his tongue.

Harry stood from the mess of blankets, glancing about the fancy looking room and finding
his wand on the locker beside the bed. The bedroom was ornate enough that he knew he had
to be in Malfoy Manor. If the snippets of memory flashing back to him were any indication,
then he was most definitely in for an earful from his mother about Flooing off in the middle
of the night.

Still, as welcomed here as he may have been, Harry felt a twinge of guilt when he pulled out
drawers to find Draco's own clothes sitting neat and tidy. The blonde had obviously left Harry
in his bedroom, and the thought was a ridiculously warm one. He only hoped the blonde had
had an alright night sleeping in a guest room as opposed to his own. He cast a quick cleaning
charm on himself, grimacing as his sensitive skin shivered and ran a hand through his hair to
try and assemble it into some form of a shape. His fingers were quick and deft as he rooted
through the pristine clothes, pulling out a pair of black lounge-pants that he had to roll the
ends up on at least four times before they somewhat fit.

He found socks next, much to his delight and pulled on the pair before opening the doors of
the massive wardrobe set into the wall of one side of the room. It was lined with clothes,
formal and informal, but Harry caught them all between his fingers before settling on a dark
green hooded fleece that felt incredibly soft to the touch. Fully dressed, he made his way out
of the room, casting a glance at the pile of blankets and pillows on the bed with a wince. He
would need to find a house elf and very politely ask them to take care of that before Draco
came anywhere near his room again.

The manor was quiet, windows opened wide to let in a soft, cool breeze that had Harry
crossing his arms in the over-sized pullover. He made his way down a back stairwell that
Draco had shown him led directly to the dining room, his steps whisper soft on the floor.

The dining room was set up for lunch, filled with trays of food and pots of tea and Harry felt
his stomach give a firm protest as he passed it to make his way towards the main doors. He
could eat in just a minute... He just need to find... Someone.

His steps quickened, nose perking in the air as a familiar scent came to him and a rumbling
purr dropped from his lips. The door to the dining room opened and Draco stepped through to
dart a look in. The blonde laughed when he spotted him, his smile wide and his wings flaring
behind him.

"I thought I heard you."

Harry paused, for a fraction of a time, unsure; until Draco spread his arms wide and beckoned
him forward. The blonde grinned down at him. "Come on, then."

Harry found himself pressed against Draco's chest, his purr an explosion of sound from inside
his chest as he tucked his nose into the vampire's neck and huffed a breath. "Missed you."

Draco crooned, his arms tightening around Harry and his wings bowing forward to offer them
some semblance of privacy.

"My Harry."
 17

Draco's scent was palpable.

Harry could almost taste it, dark and heady and warm where he pushed his nose into the
crook of the man's neck, his feet arching off the floor to press himself closer.

His breath huffed hot and suddenly fast against that length of pale skin, his fingers grasping
tight in the blonde's black silk shirt.

There was a sound building in his throat, spilling from his lips in a desperate whine that had
Draco suddenly stilling in his grasp. The Vampire growled a purr
against the crown of his head, his arms tight around Harry's waist as his wings stretched
around them; a dark cocoon.

"Missed you..."

The whimper was soft, barely breathed in the warm darkness between them and Draco met it
with a sudden, firm kiss.

His mouth slanted down over Harry's, hot and slick and Harry parted his lips with a gasp. He
groaned as Draco's tongue slid inside, his legs buckling until the blonde was the only thing
holding him up. Draco's arms wrapped tight around him, his teeth nipping at Harry's lip.

There was a purr vibrating through the man's chest, deep and slow and rubbing against
Harry's senses in a way nothing in his life ever had before. He panted into it; a small, broken
whine leaving him as he found himself suddenly lifted, his backside hitting the flat edge of
the dining room table. Draco growled down at him and Harry could do little but preen up at
the blonde, his lips stretching in a lazy smile that caught the tips of his small fangs. Red eyes
widened, Draco's breath huffing on a sigh as he trailed gentle fingers along Harry's chin,
tipping the younger boy's face up.

His thumb caught briefly on one small fang, the Vampire forcing Harry's lips to part as he
rubbed the digit against the pointed edge. He slid his thumb against a plump, bottom lip, eyes
lidding as he pushed the digit further into Harry's mouth and rubbed the boy's tongue slowly.

"Look at you..." Draco's voice was hushed, dark and low with the growl that threatened to
spill from his throat as Harry stared up at him with hazy green eyes and sealed his lips around
Draco's thumb with a content, little purr. The Vampire bared his own fangs in a hiss that had
Harry trembling against him, his mouth opening on a desperate little pant.

"So pretty, Harry... You're such a good boy..."

The words had a croon spilling from Harry, his thoughts chaotic but vicious in their intent.
He wanted Draco.

He had never in his life wanted anything more than he wanted Draco.
Draco was his.

"One usually seats themselves at the dining table, Dragon, not on top of it."

Harry had the barest of seconds to press his lips together on a sudden squeak as Draco
winced, his body frozen as the sound of Narcissa's wry voice met them through the curtain of
the Vampire's wings.

"You can remain frozen all you like, dear, I can still see you."

Harry broke on a snort of laughter, his thoughts bright and amused despite Draco's scent that
still clung to him like a physical thing, warm and soft. The blonde heaved a wrought upon
sigh, his wings drawing back slowly and the light of the dining room clearing whatever
notions were still half-clouding Harry's head.
Narcissa was closer than he had thought, and he jolted when he was met with a set of familiar
grey-blue eyes looking down at him. The woman's mouth was twisted, as though she wanted
nothing more than to laugh. Still, she offered Harry a soft smile and pushed her son aside
with waving hands to pull the younger boy into a hug.

It was not a formal gesture, but a moment of weakness that the woman had offered both
herself and Harry. He saw the gesture for what it was and grasped onto her tightly as he slid
from the table-top to land on his own two feet. Narcissa pulled back to cup his cheeks gently,
her expression open as it so often was not.
"Congratulations of your Presentation, Harry, dear, and if I may be so bold as to assume;
welcome to the family."

Harry ignored Draco's eye roll and hissed 'Mother!', his smile wide as he took in the mild,
cool scent that was Narcissa. Inoffensive, light and gentle as a summer breeze, it was lovely.

"Thank you, Narcissa."

"I haven't even formally asked him to fully bond yet..."

Again, Harry ignored Draco in favour of taking Narcissa's arm as she offered it, casting a grin
at the other man when Draco walked beside them with a shake of his head and a small smile.
Narcissa scoffed, her spine straightening as they made their way from the dining room and
through the back parlour.

"As if you need ask, Draco. Harry's made his choice fine and clear." Harry snorted at the dry
look Draco sent their way, Narcissa ignoring her son in favour of smiling down at the
younger boy. "I thought, with it being so lovely out, we might take lunch in the garden
instead."

Harry was led through a sudden open archway, the walls fading from concrete and marble to
glass and wire as they stepped through to a conservatory that spilled sunlight and blue skies
into a patio filled with soft couches, expensive-looking armchairs and tables filled with food.

What caught Harry's attention, however, was not the spread of food or the fantastic gardens
laid out beyond the open glass doors; but the group of people that were milling about the
open space.

For a second, Harry froze, his eyes flaring wide; before one of the people turned and Harry
met the smiling face of Fred Weasley. George was beside him, a full plate of sandwiches in
his grasp that the other twin was trying to steal from. Ron and Pansy were to his right, Pansy
pointing a stern finger at an immaculate white peacock that was hissing back at her and Ron
glaring at the creature from behind his partner's back.

There were others, Harry could see; Ginny and Dean chatting in one corner with Molly and
Arthur, and Sirius and Remus lounging on one of the couches. Lily was first to spot him, her
smile wide and breathtaking as she leapt away from where James had been about to hand her
a cup of tea and raced towards him.

Harry felt his smile break as he lifted his arms for the hug she pulled him into, her laugh loud
and happy in his ear. She cooed back at him when he purred in the
embrace, looking him over, before nodding and flicking the tip of his nose.

"That's for running off, brat," she grinned down at him, running her fingers through his hair
and tutting gently. "But so long as you're happy, then that's all that matters."

Harry glanced around at his family and friends, before tilting his head back and meeting
Draco's ruby gaze with a smile, something swooping low and warm in his stomach.

"I am."

###

"Where's Severus?"

Harry was sitting cross-legged on the grass, throwing crumbs towards two albino peacocks
that cooed back at him and ruffled their features with the breeze.
Draco eyed the birds from where he sat perched on a nearby stool, his back against the table
behind him and his face turned towards the sky. Lily, Molly and Narcissa sat not far from the
both of them, and Harry was still attempting to wrap his head around the sight of his mother,
and his adoptive mother, laughing and smiling with the pureblood blonde.

"His presence was requested by the Council," Draco closed his eyes, his chest lifting gently
as he took in a breath. "He will meet us at the Hunting festival."

There was a groan beside Harry and he turned to find George grimacing where the redhead
was sprawled across the grass, Fred chuckling where he was lounged back against a cushion
beside him.

"The bloody festival."

"You don't like it?"

George cast a narrowed gaze at Harry, his chest heaving with a sigh. "I like it well enough,
but I could bloody well do without all the propositions."
Ron perked up from where he was half-asleep in the nearest padded chair, his fingers
dragging through Pansy's hair where the woman was lounging with her
back against his long legs, a cushion beneath her own backside. "You got more last year than
before, actually; thought Mum might wee herself in excitement before she saw the look on
your face."

Fred made a sound like an 'aww', his foot stretching out to kick George in the side with a
snort. "And he sent a 'no' to each and every one of them." The twin glanced at Harry with a
grin, taking in the boy's confusion. "What George dislikes about the festival, Harry, is that
with being the oldest, un-betrothed Weasley boy, and an Alpha to boot, and Remus Lupin's
oldest Heir... It comes with a few perks that certain people would happily bond their kids
away for."

"And then some." Pansy snorted, her lips curving in a smile that she aimed at Draco who
rolled his eyes at her.

Harry frowned, glancing between the pair of them. "Oldest? What about Bill, or Charlie? Or
Percy?"

Fred winced and George cast Ron's sudden scowl a weary look. "We haven't heard from
Percy in a fair amount of time; not since he mated Penelope and the pair danced into the
sunset together. Wanker forgets he's got another bloody family most of the time."

"And Bill and Charlie have been bonded to their partners for years, full on love at first sight."
Fred sighed, doe-eyed and fluttering his hands about his face, "No way anybody's getting in
between that amount of sickly, sweet romance."

Harry hummed, glancing back at George with a grin. "And Ron's with Pansy," he pointed at
the lovestruck pair as they grinned at one another, before glancing over at where the youngest
Weasley was playing an outdoor game with a laughing Dean Thomas. "Ginny's with Dean...
You two are the only ones left."

Fred clutched at his heart as though wounded, his expression shocked. "Say it like it is, Harry,
why don't you?"

Harry barked a laugh, drawing a chuckle from Draco beside him and a howl of laughter from
Ron. "Well, if you're not ready to bond, then don't. You can't be forced, right? And if you
don't want to be with some stranger that's after your name, then tell them to sod off."

George grinned as Fred flopped beside him on the grass. "It's not as though we're opposed to
bonding..."

"Quite the opposite really," Fred continued, grinning "we're all for it. It's just..."

"Well, we can't bond one of us off and not the other, can we?"

The twins glanced at each other, before looking back at Harry and shrugging in tandem.
"We're kind of a package deal."
George moved to sit up, his face bright and open. "I won't bond with someone I might have
an interest in, if they couldn't understand that I've already got a different kind of bond with
Fred. We're a duo, y'know? And it'd take a pretty special person to recognise that and accept
either one of us anyway; knowing that they'd never have us completely to themselves."

Fred sighed, his face suddenly serious. "And still, I reckon you should just give courting a
chance. Let yourself be happy, George." His mouth twisted in a grimace, as he lay himself
back down on the grass and frowned up at the sky. "I'm beginning to think that there's no one
out there who would get what kind of bond we have..."

It was an expression Harry had never seen on Fred Weasley before, and it unsettled him. His
memories flickered with all the times he had seen the man happy, dancing with a certain dark
skinned beauty at a ball... Eyes bright and smile brighter as he handed Angelina's hand to his
brother and pulled a protesting Lee Jordan to the dance floor instead...

"There are people out there who get you and George, though," Harry frowned, tossing the last
of his crumbs aside to the birds. He knew there was, he had seen it himself... And the fact that
this Fred and George had grown up without the incredible friends they had had in his
universe was just tragic. "I'm sure you'll meet them... I just don't know how, yet."

Pansy cooed, reaching out to ruffle Harry's hair and break the weird sort of tension his words
had created. "You're such a romantic, Harry, who would have thought it?"

George chuckled as Harry scowled and pushed her hands away. "Whatever about me and
Fred, I'll be looking forward to seeing the amount of courting letters your poor father gets
buried under as soon as people start laying their eyes on you, Harry."

Draco growled, the sound snappish and harsh as George broke into laughter and bared his
teeth right back. The blonde's lip curled, his eyes narrowed. "They can send the moon and the
sun to try and grab his attention, they won't have it."

Harry felt his back straighten as those narrow, red eyes landed on him. A spark lit across his
skin and he felt a shiver dance up his spine. Draco was right.

Whether or not they bonded before the festival or after; as much as Harry believed that Draco
was his...

He knew he belonged, irrevocably, to Draco.

###

The impromptu party was dwindling down with the sudden Twilight.

The skies were getting darker, people heading home with smiles and hugs and sound
goodbyes. There was only a handful left in the manor conservatory, with his mother and
father sat on a plush couch between Sirius and Remus. A content Narcissa sipped tea in front
of the fire she had cast into the stove with the chill of nighttime approaching.
Harry and Draco had just said goodbye to the twins, had walked the pair to the nearest floo,
with Harry laughing promises that he would find them someone special so long as the pair
worked on their abysmal dating skills. He was chuckling still at their identical, irate
expressions as the green flames swept them away and Harry found himself suddenly pressed
against a cold wall, the candle-lit room around them vanishing beneath a curtain of black,
silken wings.

He had little time to do more than gasp as Draco's mouth found his, tongue slick and sure as
it slid between his lips and pressed so softly against his own tongue. The Vampire's hands
were on his hips, lifting him until his feet left the floor and the hard press of Draco's groin
against his own kept him from sliding down the wall.

Harry whimpered, wrapping his legs tight around the man's hips and delighting in the pleased
growl that trembled from Draco's throat.

The man was hot to the touch, skin soft and warm where Harry grasped his forearms. His
mouth was demanding, slick and full of that incredible scent that sent Harry's mind reeling
and his instincts turning to putty; safe and happy. He was strong, holding Harry's weight as
though it were nothing, his hips pinning the younger boy against the stone wall that was fast
heating up behind them.

One hand left Harry's hip, pale fingers toying with the edge of the fleece he wore and pulling
it out until a draft made its way up and Harry shivered. There was a purr, soft and muted,
before those fingers slid gently along the exposed skin of his stomach, deft and smooth as
they trailed a heated pattern slowly up his side. Harry found himself suddenly tensed, his
thighs clenching down on the Vampire's hips and a soft whine leaving him as Draco trailed
slowly upwards.

A thumb slid along his nipple, drawing a startled gasp from the brunette as Harry arched
suddenly, his lips breaking from Draco to sound a desperate, little keen into the enclosed
space around them.

Draco hummed back at him, his lips tilting in a smile that Harry could just make out beneath
the haze that clouded his half-lidded eyes. "Poor, little lion... So sensitive... So sweet..."

The man's thumb caressed his nipple again, pressing firm against the small, nub, before
rubbing against it hard. Harry's eyes nearly rolled back with the spark of sensation that
flickered across his chest, his mouth dropping open on a breathless intake of air as Draco's
other hand crawled up his other side and his fingers pinched the second nipple with a gentle,
little twist.

Harry shrieked, the sound piercing in the small space, unnatural almost. It was a sound he
had never made before, high and needy and full of something...

Draco's fangs bared in a sinister smile, one hand catching the excess of soft material to pull it
up and over Harry's head, flinging it to the floor as though the expensive looking garment
cost nothing. Harry flushed, glancing away and baring his neck as those pale hands slid up
his skinny sides slowly, tracing the scars that littered one half of his ribcage with a sort of
reverence.
"I forget." Draco spoke softly, his words gentle even though his voice had grown dark. Harry
glanced at him, watching as the man frowned at the scars that had been healed smooth with
dittany, but were still a vivid, irreversible pink where they trailed across his pale skin. The
man smoothed a hand across the worst of them, tracking one up to where it ended just below
Harry's collarbone.

"I forget, just how much you've been through... Just how much you have seen in your short
life..." Red eyes met his and Harry felt himself flush scarlet with the intensity of that stare,
full of admiration and awe. Draco's purr was raw as it rolled through him, drawing the
smallest of groans from between his lips.

"You are so strong..."

Those thumbs rubbed over his nipples again, Harry gasping as Draco's hands cupped his
sides and his fingers dug against the skin. The Vampire stared at him, eyes dark and lidded,
before Harry was hoisted up a fraction and the man's mouth was suddenly on his chest.

Lips latched, warm and wet, to one nipple and Draco sucked the tender skin between his
teeth, biting down gently and laving his tongue across the throb the bite left behind. Harry
thought he might collapse against the tepid wall, his eyes rolling back and his lips parting on
a desperate, keening whimper that he could not seem to halt.

It spilled out of him, high and soft and sweet as those lips latched to the second nipple and
Draco's sucking, biting mouth left him senseless. Harry felt the push of the man's groin
against his own, the Vampire's hips rolling gently as he worked his tongue against the rigid
nubs that sparked pleasure down his stomach.

The younger boy choked on a moan, his hands clinging to the blonde's shoulders as he rolled
his hips against Draco's. The length of stiffness in the Vampire's trousers was heavy against
his own, bigger and longer from what Harry could feel of it as he buried his face in pale,
blonde hair and rutted softly with a frantic whimper.

Draco was growling, dark and low against his chest, his mouth moving to lave hot, wet
streaks against Harry's throat as he rolled his hips against the younger boy's. The friction sent
Harry reeling, his mind spinning as that hard length pushed relentlessly against his own.
Draco's mouth suck a pattern on his throat, the Vampire snarling suddenly as he shifted Harry
to press against him even more.

The sudden shift brought the dark haired boy closer, his eyes sliding shut as heat pooled fast
and hot in his stomach and his spine bowed with a sudden arch. There was a press of teeth
against his throat, a sudden, gentle warning, before Draco had pierced the skin with his fangs.

Harry felt himself stiffen, the white hot pain only adding to the boiling, trembling sensations
inside him as he suddenly climaxed. He felt himself spill inside his trousers, his hips working
still as his mind blanked and pleasure roared across his senses. The sting against his neck of
Draco pulling blood had him wailing, gasping against the onslaught of such a feeling.

Too much... It was almost too much...

And Harry wanted to feel it again and again for the rest of his life.

The blonde huffed a growl against his skin, Draco's tongue lapping against the marks as he
stiffened against Harry with a groan.

Harry trembled in the blonde's hold as the pair slowly came back to themselves, Draco's arms
wrapping tight and unyielding around Harry's waist as he pressed gentle kisses to the boy's
neck.

Harry felt his own lips pull back in a satisfied, little smile; his body sinking against Draco's
with a small sigh.
 18

Remus threaded his fingers through the thick hair, styling the curls back with a potion that
James had handed to him in passing.

Harry winced as the man pulled on a particularly difficult knot, before he sighed in
satisfaction and took a step back. The style was one Remus had attempted on Harry before, a
simple, tidy look that did its best to stop Harry appearing as the vagrant his hair and
oversized clothes had so often coaxed him into.

The outfit his mother had had tailored for him fit exceptionally well, sleeveless so as to leave
his pale arms bare, his wand holster dark and almost like a warning against his forearm. It
was tight but flexible across his chest, opening to part just below his waist where it billowed
out to show the black trousers and impeccable black boots he wore beneath.

The collar was the only thing that mildly bothered him, its fabric stiff and awkward and
hiding the mark he had worn for the last few days with no small amount of pride.

Remus grinned down at him as he tugged at it, rolling his eyes and folding the fabric until
Draco's mark was half on show. "You do realise that it was bold of him to put such a mark on
you without asking you to court him first, right?"

Harry grinned back, skimming his fingertips against the slightly swollen skin. The bite had
been placed on a gland, he had learned from his mother, in between her giggles when she
noticed it. Draco's intent, with such a placement, meant that he not only wanted everyone to
see it; but he had wanted Harry to feel it with every pulse of scent he released.

"I'm not really about being courted, though, to be honest." Harry chuckled as Sirius whizzed
past them, the man grumbling something about his favourite pair of hiking boots being
stolen.

"They're in the suitcase, Sirius, I packed them last night!" Remus shouted after his thundering
husband before rolling his eyes at Harry. "Well, far be it from me to tell you how to run your
life, young sir."

The older man grinned as he hoisted his own suitcase beside Harry's before shrinking the two
of them down and popping them both in the pockets of his robes. He winked at the younger
boy as he ushered him into the kitchen. "Personally, I am beyond thrilled that the young
fellow went and took a step forward. It's about bloody time, and the mark will deter a certain
amount of... Unwanted attention from you at least."

Lily nodded as she rounded the corner beside the pair, her own suitcase dangling, pocket-
sized, from a clip in her belt as she fastened an emerald green sash around her waist. "Too
right, Remus. Don't let anyone you don't like the look of get away with any funny business,
Harry. Draco's mark is a security for that, but some people are just without manners."
His mother looked every bit the fearsome witch Harry had once envisioned her to be. In an
outfit similar to his own but in vibrant green, with a leather trim and long, black sleeves; the
woman almost looked like a warrior. Her fiery red hair had been pulled into a high ponytail
atop her head and her grin was feral as she leaned in to straighten Remus' own lilac robes
with a sigh.

"Not that I'm trying to frighten you, pet. You're going to have an absolute blast at this thing!
We'll be staying near Molly and the lads and you'll get to meet the others and their partners;
not to mention all the new people that will be clambering over themselves to get a chance to
be friends with such a great kid!"

Harry flushed as Lily chucked a hand beneath his chin and turned in time to stop James from
running head-first into the three of them.

"Right!" The Alpha was dressed as finely as his wife, in bright blue robes, and clasped his
hands tight together with a grin in their direction. "Have we everything together? Are we all
ready?"

There was a muffled shout, the sound of something half falling down the stairs, before a
harried looking Sirius stalked into the room carrying his battered looking suitcase. Remus
offered the man the driest of looks before shrinking the luggage down and popping it into his
own pocket. He pulled his mate in close and used one hand to tighten the band around Sirius'
hair.

"Honestly."

James turned to cast an unknown spell into the fireplace, the Floo powder turning a fierce
golden orange, before it fizzled to its regular green flames. "Speak the password I've given
you clearly and quickly, the journey won't be a terribly long one but do keep your elbows in;
some of these chimney systems are desperately old! Ready?"

"Oh, wait!"

Harry snapped his head around to see something small and dark and curious glancing at him
from behind the fruit bowl on the kitchen counter. He grinned as he held a hand out for Tom
and guided the long snake to wind about his middle beneath the flair of his silver robes. With
a smile, he turned back around and nodded to the group.

"Ready!"

###

Harry could most certainly say that that had been the longest Floo journey he had ever taken
in his life.

He all but tipped out of the fireplace when his feet eventually touched down, scowling at the
ornate ledge that nearly tripped him up a second time and hissing back at Tom who was
scowling up a storm where the irate beast was winding his way up around Harry's shoulders.
"I know, I know, 'tis no fault of mine that you went and decided you wanted to come with me,
is it?"

"Pardon?"

Tom halted his sniping, Harry glancing up to find a pair of bright yellow eyes staring down at
him. He jolted, taking a step back when he realised how close his aggravated steps had taken
him to someone else.

"Sorry! Was... Ah... Talking to the... Er... Snake..."

The yellow eyes blinked, the man who owned them seeming only a scant year or two older
than Harry as he turned a slender body gracefully in his direction. His skin was incredibly
pale, translucent almost beneath the bright light of the massive room Harry now stood in. His
hair was long, snow white and piled high in an intricate knot on top of his head as he peered
down at Harry.

"You are not family that I know," The man spoke in Parseltongue, Harry realised with a jolt,
his voice curious and young. His tongue was slender, flecking out like a snake's as though to
scent the air. "But you speak our language all the same. You have a feel of our blood about
you..."

He peered at Harry with no small amount of interest, his brow furrowing, before he tilted his
head as though listening to some distant call that Harry could not hear. With one last,
intrigued look, he bowed and turned away to vanish into the crowd.

And it was, indeed, a crowd.

The room was a ballroom of some sort, Harry was beginning to make out despite his strange
first encounter. The ceiling was incredibly high, far enough up to the sky that it would have
been in shadow if not for the hundreds of immaculate, glass chandeliers that lit the room just
as much as the narrow, tall windows did despite the lack of sunlight. The walls were lined
with marble statues, creatures and wizards alike twisted into gentle, relaxed poses with
beautifully carved faces. Harry stared at them in awe as the fireplaces behind him flared to
life, letting in person after person to steadily fill the gigantic room.

Despite the dozens upon dozens of bodies, it was open and un-cluttered still. There were a
multitude of tables all lined with food of all sorts, goblets filled with drinks and water; and
the sound of people laughing and chatting and squealing as young children met other young
children to befriend or to chase.

"Woah."

"Right?"

Harry turned to grin at the redhead that had appeared by his side, taking in Ron's slick hair
and the dress-robes that hung dark and perfectly fitted to his strong frame. Harry whistled.
"Don't you clean up well?"
Ron flushed, and Harry laughed to see his ears turn the same shade of pink as the rest of him.
The redhead huffed as he smacked his arm lightly, the pair turning to watch as the rest of
Harry's family made their way from the fireplace to where the two were standing.

"Harry, dear!"

Harry squeaked as he was embraced from behind, his instincts fast catching the scent of Mrs.
Weasley as the pair crowded in close to their group.

"Hi, Mrs. Weasley."

The older woman crooned, catching his cheek in a gentle pat as she swooped in to give Lily a
one-armed hug. "Doesn't he look smashing, Lily? You look beautiful Harry, dear, oh, come
and meet Charlie!"

Harry was taken by the arm, Molly chatting to Lily about their arrival earlier that morning as
the woman steered the pair of them away from their small group and towards the main
crowd. "Your suite is just beside ours, Lily; Severus even managed to secure a suite for
Narcissa and Draco just a few doors up. Wait until you see the rest of this venue, by Merlin, it
is something else! You know I haven't even been outside yet and I think I am in love with it
all..."

Harry's smile was soft, half his attention on the women as they passed by person after person
that seemed to be having the same, excited sort of conversations. A few eyes caught his,
some smiling, others glancing away again; and some holding his own to such a sudden
intensity that he turned from them with a flush, his cheeks alight by the time he realised
Molly had stopped and he was stood in front of none other than Charlie Weasley.

By Merlin, if Charlie Weasley was not one of the best looking men Harry had ever laid eyes
on; in his own world and, seemingly, in this one too.

He was older by a few years, his frame tall and broad and all but screaming Alpha as he
laughed at something a bright-eyed, blonde was whispering up at him. He turned as he caught
sight of his mother, his long hair back in a vibrant red braid that dropped the full length of his
spine. His blue eyes were piercing as they locked onto Harry's, a sudden, curious smile taking
over his face.

"Lily, an absolute pleasure to see you again, how are you?"

The man's voice was deep and kind, his hand sweeping out to catch Lily's own before the
woman huffed and pulled him into a hug. "Charlie, sweetheart, it's been too long! You've
your poor mother's nerves frazzled from what I hear!"

Charlie laughed, his gaze straying to Harry once more as the younger boy lifted a hand to
wave his fingers with a grin. Charlie smiled at him. "No more frazzled than I would assume
yours are at the moment. From the letters and Floo calls, it's hard to keep up with all that's
been going on at home. You must be Harry."
Harry was unprepared for the redhead to grasp his hand and pull him in for a sudden hug. His
magic flared for the briefest moment, flashing green across his skin until the familiar scent of
Weasley and home settled his nerves and he relaxed into the sudden hug, tapping at Tom's
head when the snake grumbling at being half-squashed.

"Christ, look at that magic!"

Charlie drew back with a wide grin, his eyes alight as the small blonde beside him suddenly
bounced up and stuck his hand out.

A Beta, Harry's instincts mulled idly, as he shook the man's hand and took in his pale pink
robes and lilac coloured eyes with a smile. "Yeah, sorry, I haven't quite gotten full control
over it, yet."

The blonde shook his head, scoffing, his Irish accent thick as he spoke. "It doesn't need to be
controlled, darling, it's a part of you! It's bloody incredible aswell, I've never seen magic so
bloody... Visible! And bright! And I'm bonded to a damn Dragon!"

The blonde chuckled as he moved to pull Molly into a hug and Charlie offered a hand to Tom
for the snake to scent. "A Draonette, to be specific," the redhead grinned when Tom threw
him a dry glare and rolled his head under the redhead's hand for a scratch. "Rory is the
newest addition to our nest. As soon as I find where the rest of my lovely mates have gone, I
will be sure to introduce you, Harry. Rory is right, by the way. Your magic is magnificent.
And this little guy is one intelligent beastie... I wonder what breed of snake he is..."

Harry watched Charlie scratch under Tom's chin with a chuckle, plucking at the plume of
feather-like yellow spikes atop his head.

Wherever he ended up, Harry was beginning to believe that Charlie Weasley would forever
be the kindest of souls.

###

The air outside was incredibly fresh, the sights around them stretching further than Harry
could see across the horizon. The main building that most had floo'd into was a manor house
of incredible proportions. It rivalled even Hogwarts in length and width and breadth and was
situated in the centre of a field of perfectly paved stone paths and lush green lawns. There
were houses scattered beside it that could house families, and even more tents and space
strewn across the impressive amount of green in one direction. The gardens to his right were
filled with families, picnic blankets and baskets strewn across empty spots as children ran in
and around the hedge-work.

Across to the left was a field that carried on for miles, where winged creatures dotted across
the clear skies in dark streaks as they flew. A forest cropped up even beyond that, littered
with trees that had to be miles long, if their size was anything on what Harry could see of
them even from the distance he was at.

It was incredible, a massive, impressive, fantastic amount of space and housing some of the
most incredible people Harry had ever seen in his life.
As soon as the twins had arrived to all but tackle Charlie to the ground and demand a game of
quidditch, Harry had been fast to hand Tom off to his narrow-eyed mother and
follow them. He stood between Fred and George as they pair chatted above his head, George
snapping his teeth as Charlie goaded him; the older Alpha poking holes in whatever strategy
he was trying to name.

As they neared, Harry could make out the telltale sign of brooms in flight amid the many
winged creatures; the shouts and roars of delight as they flew overhead. He was peering up at
the sky as he slowed, the people around him milling past and stalling to stare up just as he
was.

There were dragons in the sky.

Magnificent, enormous dragons the size of houses in shocking colours of green and purple
and blue and peach... They careened through the air, flying past the creatures with the pale,
feathered wings and deadly looking talons, past vampires with golden wings spread wide or
black wings dipping low to skim the edges of the treeline. Creatures he could not even begin
to name, all flying in one sky...

It was beyond anything that Harry would have ever thought he would see.

He was so enraptured in his staring, that he full on collided with someone stood in front of
him. He smacked face first into the stranger's back, a yelp leaving him as he lost his balance
and landed square on his backside with an undignified squeak of alarm.

Harry groaned as he straightened, before there were hands suddenly on his waist and he was
righted back to his feet, his cheeks scarlet with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry..."

"Hello, Omega."

The voice was dark, incredibly elegant and terrifyingly familiar.

Harry's breath caught in his throat, his fangs flashing once in a grimace as he snapped his
head up to stare back at the golden eyes of one, Theodore Nott.

The Vampire was just as impressive as he had been the last time, dressed in elegant grey
robes with his dark, golden wings half-flared behind him and his lips tilted in that same,
curious smile.

"Harry." Harry scowled as he batted the man's hands away from his waist, his magic
crackling across his palms in a manner that drew Theo's gaze with no small amount of
amusement. "My name is Harry."

"Harry..." Theo purred the word, and despite a portion of himself that wanted to smack Theo
square in the jaw, a fraction of his mind turned to putty at the noise. He shook his head,
taking another step back and glancing around for the three redheads that he had obviously
lost track of with all his staring.

What the hell was wrong with him?

"I guess I'll be going, then..." Harry tensed as Theo took a step towards him, the Vampire
lifting a sudden hand to his throat. He stopped a scant inch from Harry's neck, the dark haired
boy breathing hard beneath the scent of curiosity and interest that seemed to swell from the
golden-winged man.

Theo's hummed, his golden eyes soft as he traced the barest touch against the outline of
Draco's mark on Harry's neck.

"He has not claimed you..." Theo's voice was a whisper, his brow furrowed, "One must
wonder why... When you are what so many desire..."

Harry glared, his fangs flashing in a bared growl. "An Omega?"

Theo laughed, the sound soft and delighted as his golden eyes suddenly flashed and he leaned
in close, his breath sweet with the scent of copper and mint. He tsked, shaking his head.

"Powerful."

Harry felt his own confusion like a palpable thing on his face as Theo suddenly pulled back,
one eyebrow lifting as he peered at someone over Harry's shoulder.

"Theodore... There wouldn't be an issue happening here, now would there?"

The voice was strikingly familiar to Harry, and he spun to find himself staring up at the
grinning, friendly face of Lee Jordan.

The man was as tall as Theodore himself, though his shoulders were nearly twice as broad
and he had a maturity to his age that Harry had never seen on his counterpart. His dark hair
was littered with tiny braids, all pulled back from a handsome, dark face in a ponytail. The
clothes he wore were severe, black robes slashed in vibrant red runes with his arms left bare
to show the wand he had lifted from its holster.

By his side stood a fearsome looking Angelina Johnson, her features sharp and blank as she
pointed one slender finger at Harry and crooked it towards where she stood.

Memories of his own Angelina snapping down at him flared fast in Harry's mind and he felt
fear like a genuine thing for the woman he thought he knew.

This Lee and this Angelina were far more intense than any version he had ever known. They
moved with a grace that spoke of years of training, the scent of Alpha strong and almost
overwhelming from them both. Angelina's own dark hair was pulled up in a fierce knot atop
her head, her features beautiful in the way a lion or a wolf might be beautiful; dangerously so,
and to be admired from afar.

She wore the same black robes as Lee, her arms toned and her height a fraction taller than the
lot of them as Harry sidled closer, his head bowed beneath the weight of those dark brown
eyes.

"Did this man bother you, Omega?"

Angelina's voice was a growl, and Harry felt his magic crackle in response across his skin,
the green light flaring like a subtle beacon as Angelina held up her hands and smiled at him.
The smile brought a degree of warmth to the woman, softened her features and Harry felt the
tension drop from his shoulders. He sighed, glancing back at Theodore with a small look of
confusion.

"He didn't really, to be honest... I was the one that bumped into him..."

Angelina hummed, before Lee waved Theo on and turned in their direction; his grin bright
and wide. Harry watched Theo take flight without a second glance in his direction, the
Vampire's golden wings spread wide across his sight for one brief moment.

"That's a neat party trick."

The voice was Lee's and Harry glanced down in time to see that he was pointing at where the
magic skittered still across his fingers. He shook them out with a growl, crossing his arms. "I
can't exactly do it on command yet... Thanks, though, for making him leave?"

Lee chuckled, Angelina's own laugh soft and dark on his other side. "No problem kid," The
man grinned down at him, the scent of Alpha less thick and more comfortable; as though the
air had evened out. "It is kind of our job."

"Your job?"

"Harry!"

"Merlin, Potter, are you trying to give us heart failure?"

Harry squawked as his arms were gripped by two separate hands and he was turned to face
two wide-eyed, white-faced Weasley twins.

"Do you have any idea what your mother would have done to us if we'd lost you on the first
bloody day?"

"Do you have any idea what our mother would have done to us?"

"It doesn't bare thinking about, Forge."

"Most certainly not, Gred."

The twins blew a sigh out in tandem, their bodies sagging in relief, before they seemed to
register that Harry had not been alone and pulled the younger boy in close to eye the other
two with narrowed gazes.

"Is there a reason he needed two members of the Guard around him?"

The Guard?

"What Guard?"
Lee glanced down at Harry's question with one raised eyebrow, his lips still tilted in a smile
even despite Fred and George's sudden suspicion. "Never heard of the Guard? Merlin, kid,
what rock did you grow up under?"

The man yowled as Angelina punched him square in the arm, before she turned to Harry with
a smile. "The Guard is employed to protect the Council and the Ministry. We are sought out
at a young age due to our innate ability with Shadow magic. Our schooling is difficult, and
not many can bare the weight of it; but those who do are honoured as members of the Guard.
We protect people, little one."

Well... Harry stared up at the both of them, that would explain how they never made it to
Hogwarts.

"I'm Harry," he offered the tall woman a hand, smiling when she glanced first at George,
before clasping his with her own.

"Angelina."

Lee nodded, grasping Harry's hand with a grin when the younger boy offered it. "Lee." He
glanced up at the twins, his grin morphing into something mischievous. "Are these poor dears
belonging to you, then, Harry? It's an absolute crime that they would let someone as
delightful as you wonder off alone."

George's outraged growl was broken off by Fred elbowing him in the ribs, the Alpha twin
looking down at his brother in betrayal. Fred flushed. "No, Harry's not ours, I mean like, he's
family. We take care of him, he's, like... He's not our, um..."

"They're my brothers." Harry grinned pulling Fred and George in closer and delighting in the
flush that stole across Fred's cheeks as Lee purred down at him. "And they're probably the
best Beaters in all of England."

Angelina's eyes flashed, her white teeth snapping on a feral smile as she eyed the shorter
form of George. "Is that so? That seems an awfully big thing to boast about..."

George eyed her back, his lips drawing back over his fangs as he glanced at his brother and
their eyes flashed silver.

Harry stepped back in time to see Charlie striding towards them, with Rory and another man
fast on his heels. In their hands, they held several of the latest Firebolt editions, a quaffle
being tossed up and caught by the smiling redhead. Harry grinned back at him.

He would happily show the twins just what, or rather who, they were missing in their lives.
 19

The man following in behind Charlie was as tall as Angelina, and had hair the colour of
molten fire.

Scarlet red and brazen orange, it was held back in a simple band and left bare his pale face
and fantastic, amber eyes. Scales of rich ruby lined each high cheekbone and he flashed a
smile filled with sharp, white teeth as Harry stared up at him.

Rory handed Harry a broom, the man's own soft smile breaking him from his staring with a
flush. "I don't blame you," was whispered, thick and fond, in his ear as Rory pulled his hair
back in a tight ponytail, his lilac eyes darting to the man that was leaning an arm on Charlie's
shoulder and grinning down at something Fred was saying. "Gabriel is a looker, to say it
plainly."

Harry could not help but think that was possibly the understatement of the century as Rory
snorted a laugh beside him, glancing back at the man as he barked a low, rolling laugh; his
head tipping back to show off the littering of scales that wrapped around his throat and
beneath the collar of his black tunic. The man was like some magnificent, medieval painting
or sculpture come to life. Charlie caught Harry's eye with a sudden smile, before nudging
Gabriel forward.

"Gabriel, go and introduce yourself to Harry, will you? And nab the other two as soon as we
find them again to do the same. From what my brothers have been saying, he's practically
family." The words brought a soft smile to Harry's face as he glanced up at the man leaning
down to stretch a hand out to him. Practically family was always how he should be
introduced when it came to the Weasley's; even if he had found a family all his own, it
relaxed something inside him that he had not even been aware of. He offered Gabriel a bright
smile, his magic sparking across his fingers as he reached out to clasp a large hand soft with
silken scales dressing the centre of its palm.

Gabriel's eyes widened, his smile dropping to let loose a snap of a sound that sounded almost
like a laugh. Warm eyes regarded him curiously. "Harry, yes? A strong one you are!" The
accent was Romanian, subtle in a voice well used to speaking English. "I am Gabriel,
Charlie's favourite mate, of course. I am a Dragonette by nature and an incredible Quidditch
player by natural talent."

"Yeah," George snorted, throwing the Quaffle he held at Gabriel and grinning when the
Dragonette caught it with one hand, "when he's not being a bloody cheat."

Gabriel gasped, his other hand going to his chest to clasp it as though affronted, "I would
never."

The scent of Gabriel was Alpha, without a shadow of a doubt, but it was different in a way
that Harry assumed was due to the... Dragonette thing mentioned. It was clear the man was
some sort of creature, and if his scales and name were any indication; Harry was going to
assume that Gabriel had a few other Dragon-like attributes, that would probably come in
handy in a game of Quidditch. He grinned.

"So if you're so good, you won't mind a Rookie like myself on your team then, yes?"

Harry widened his eyes innocently when Gabriel cast a look down at him, the red haired
Dragonette cooing as he reached out to take the younger, much smaller boy under one arm.
"No fear, little one! I shall guarantee our win, single-handedly! I am fantastic at this game,
one of the best!"

Charlie rolled his eyes with a grin as Lee balked on the insinuation, his chest puffing out as
George handed him a Beater's bat with a feral grin. "I will be sure to tell Viktor that, then,
when I see him, shall I?"

Gabriel seemed to deflate a fraction, his grin wilting as he grimaced a scowl down at Charlie.
"You do and you see how quick I am to revoke your... bedroom privileges', my Charles."

Charlie flushed scarlet as Rory and the twins let loose peals of laughter, his eyes narrowing as
he strode to stand beside the little blonde with his arms crossed. "I'm on Rory's team."

"We'll be on that team as well, then!" Lee announced, dragging Angelina by the elbow to
stand beside Charlie and shooing Fred and George to stand beside Harry and Gabriel. George
glanced down at Harry with a smile filled with teeth. "Fine by us."

They mapped out their field in a space of air devoid of others, careful to make sure there was
no one above before Charlie unshrunk the chest and released the bludgers and snitch with a
satisfied little sigh. Harry was grinning as they took to the air, his eyes snapping towards the
little snitch that fluttered about them for the barest fraction of a second, vibrant and golden
against so much lush green field and trees. The broom beneath him was a newer model than
the Comet, nearly as fast as the Firebolt had been and responsive to the barest of maneuvers.

He tested it slowly, dipping low and pulling up again as there was a sudden shout beneath
him and the game began in full. Rory had pulled up high across from him, lilac eyes
narrowed and stance low to the broom that suggested he was experienced enough when it
came to playing the Seeker.

Harry's head snapped down as a massive crack shot through the air and Fred howled with
laughter as he sent a bludger bulleting towards Lee. The dark haired man yelped, dipping low
against the sudden projectile as Angelina growled and darted in behind him to send the ball
careening straight back towards the other team. She was as fierce in the air as she had been
below it, her teeth bared in a snow white grimace as her dark eyes followed the game.

Gabriel was the first to score, throwing his head back in a laugh as he sped passed a bemused
Charlie to cast in the first point. He preened as he passed his mate, Charlie throwing his eyes
up but flushing nonetheless as the Dragonette's broom sidled in close to his own and the man
leaned in the whisper something in his ear.

"Oi!" Fred bellowed, breathless as he swerved to knock a bludger away from the pair and
growl at them in turn, "No fraternizing with the enemy!"
Gabriel took off with a smile and a scowl from Charlie and Harry grinned as George snuck
between Angelina and her ploy to aim the ball at the man's retreating form, his eyes flashing
silver as he sent the ball speeding back her way and drew a snarl from her as she ducked.

The game was quick, Harry's eyes barely able to keep up with the speed these people were
capable of when competitive. He blinked as he saw Rory suddenly dive, his back
straightening and his arms tightening their grip on the broom, before he realised it was a feint
and his fangs flashed in a smile. He watched the blonde pull out and glance at him with a
frown, before Harry was streaking off towards him in turn, in a sudden loop that had the man
nearly toppling from his broom.

Harry chuckled as he watched the blonde straighten back up. He looped around him once
more, drawing a huff of laughter from Rory, before Harry glanced down as though spotting
something and tipped himself backwards in an abrupt spin that dove him straight towards the
ground. Rory followed him, the blonde letting loose a sound of surprise as Harry pulled out
of the feint halfway through and sped upwards to hover beside him for the briefest moment,
delighting in how responsive the broom was beneath his touch.

With a flick of his wrist, he left the blonde behind and shot upwards through a startled Lee
and Angelina and snapped to a stop just above gameplay and in time to watch Rory try and
right himself on his broom again with a fierce glare.

George was laughing somewhere behind him, Charlie gawking up at him as Gabriel let loose
a whoop of delight.

"That is how you feint, by Merlin, our Vik will love you, Harry!"

Harry had barely a second to dwell on what must have been the name of one of Gabriel and
Charlie's missing mates, before a sudden shriek tore through the air above them.

The sound was deafening against the gentle shouts of those playing around on brooms and
creatures flying aimlessly. It shot through Harry's heart like a lance of ice, shrill and high and
full of horrified fear; an inhuman shriek of terror. The sky itself seemed to still at the sound
of it, those around him frozen.

Harry's eyes snapped to the skies, his skin alight with nerves as that scream cut off with a
breathless gasp before another one, louder than the first, rent the air and there was suddenly
something white plummeting before him.

He moved before he had even grasped what it was he was doing, fingers pressing down on
his broom handle to spin him straight down in the direction of that falling bundle of white...
Feathers? Harry tore through the still, locked forms of the others as he shot closer and closer
towards the falling bundle, the fingers of one hand outstretched to trace the barest edge of
that pristine plummege.

He hissed a gasp at the sound of a bludger speeding towards him met his ears, his eyes locked
only on what was before him and his body stretching across the broom as he reached both
arms out to grasp the tiny thing with his hands. WIth a cry, he grabbed it, pulling his broom
up mere feet above the ground they had been fast approaching. With one arm wrapped tight
around the crying, squirming thing he held so close to his chest, Haryr lifted the other to cast
a shield around them both as the bludger barreled towards them.

His shield flared in a crackling bubble of violent green, full of the scent of magic and strong
enough that Harry could barely see through it to watch as the bludger halted in its tracks. The
simple spell that kept it moving seemed to have shattered as the ball fell harmlessly to the
grass beneath them, his shield flickering once before fading out with nothing more than a
crackle of energy.

Harry's chest was heaving, his eyes wide as he floated down to the ground. His legs buckled
beneath him as he took a step off his broom, his breath panicked even in his own ears as he
clutched the little thing close and peered down.

It had been a child.

An infant, really... A baby...

Maybe three, or four... Wide blue eyes peered up at him from a pale, round face surrounded
by fluffy, blonde curls. The kid looked up at him with a pout on their lips, their young eyes
filled with tears as they ruffled snow-white wings covered in the softest feathers Harry had
ever felt in his life.

"Hi there," He whispered, his voice a tiny, shaking thing as he shuffled the kid awkwardly in
one arm. "You're okay..."

"Victoire!"

There was a flurry of movement, a sudden inhuman shriek and Harry looked up with wide
eyes.

Fleur Delacour had never looked as beautiful and equally as terrifying as she did at the
moment. Her blonde hair was wild about her slender face, striking and lovely even as
pinched with fear and worry as it was. A pair of incredibly bright white, feathered wings
sprouted form her spine and bowed forward as she hit the ground, her pale pink robes
billowing about her.

Harry felt his heart clench at the sight of her, his chest still heaving with the force of his
breath as he turned the young toddler towards their mother. He watched Fleur drop to her
knees in front of him, her face streaked with tears as she reached out trembling hands to take
her baby. A trembling coo broke from her throat, her own body heaving with a soft little sob
as she tucked the young child beneath her chin and their small hands clasped at the front of
her robes. Her words were laden with her tears, wet and so very grateful.

"You saved 'er... You saved 'er... You saved 'er..."

Harry jumped as the Veela woman grasped one arm around her child and reached the other
out to pull him in close, his face as buried in her bosom as her toddler's. The reality of what
had happened was causing a tremor in his hands, though his panic was almost overshadowed
by the sudden mortification Harry felt as Fleur began sobbing, her chest heaving into his face
as he tried to both free himself and pat her arm in comfort.

There were voices around them, shouts, cries and talking and laughter in disbelief as he was
disentangled from Fleur's iron grasp and took a gasp of much needed air that had George
snorting a trembling laugh behind him.

"Merlin Harry... If you hadn't been... If she... Thank you..."

Fred's voice was soft as he kneeled beside his twin, his eyes warm as he put a hand on Fleur's
back and the woman glanced up at him before breaking into tears anew. Her child, Victoire,
was fussing against her, squirming and letting loose little screeches of discontent as she tried
to twist in her mother's arms to look around her.

"We got here early and had gone for a fly before meeting Mum... We used it only last night
and it was fine... The strap just snapped, it just broke while we were up there... We had no
time to even grab her, I thought..."

Harry heard Bill's voice before he saw him, the redhead paler than Harry had ever seen him
and devoid of the scars he had become so known for in Harry's old reality. He was older,
cutting an impressive figure even as his hand trembled where it clutched a broom and the
broken remnants of what looked to be a Baby Carrier. The man's voice was weak as he stared
down at his wife and child, his other hand over his heart as Charlie wrapped one arm around
him and shushed him gently.

"Harry got her, Bill, don't even think of the alternative. She's alright. It's okay, she's alright."

Harry felt those piercing blue eyes land on him, and smiled weakly up at Bill. "Hi... Ah... I'm
Harry."

Bill crouched down to look at him, the scent of Alpha unsurprising and a strange comfort to
Harry's fraying nerves. The man reached out to put a hand on his daughter's curls, his breath
heaving out of him as he smiled back at Harry. "Harry Potter I have heard so many good
things about you from my mother... And none of it does you a blind bit of justice." His brow
furrowed, his eyes trained on Victoire and Fleur's weepy, smiling face as she cooed down at
her baby. "You saved my daughter's life. I owe you a debt I will never be able to repay."

Harry jumped as Fleur began weeping again, her words muddled between French and English
as she clasped Harry's hand incredibly tight in her own. Harry shook his head. "You're family,
Bill. You don't owe me anything..."

"We felt Charlie's panic in the bond, Molly's on her way! Is everyone alright?"

The voice struck Harry to his core, panicked but no less confidant as the people around them
parted to let a new pair enter the strange circle they seemed to have formed on the field. It
was a voice that Harry had been so sure he would never again hear. Prim, perfectly accented
with her London background and ready to take full charge of the situation around her if need
be.
A voice that sounded exactly as it should have done. Harry whirled in her direction.

"Hermione."

The woman was the same.

Older than him as everyone seemed to be, but timeless with her somewhat tamed mop of
warm brown curls floating about her face. Her brown eyes were wide and stern, motherly and
so reminiscent of Molly Weasley's own brown. She started when Harry spoke her name, her
hands dropping from her scarlet robed hips to peer down at him with a soft face that morphed
to one of worry. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

Harry felt his heart break at the same time that something incredibly thankful swelled inside
him. As bittersweet as it was that she did not recognise him, that she could not possibly have
known him; there she was. His friend. His sister. There she stood between a stoic, bemused
looking Viktor Krum and a fond Charlie who placed a hand on her back as she bent forward.

Harry felt a laugh, high and full of tears break from him, before his magic crackled once
across his fingertips and he was sobbing, his hands wrapping tight around his waist at the
weight of what could have happened bowed his spine. If he had been just a fraction slower to
react... If that bludger had hit him before he reached her... If the bludger had hit her...

Harry felt a desperate little sound spill from his own mouth, high and panicked. He had only
a split strange, overbearing moment to hear the sudden flare of wings and an alarmingly
familiar growl; before scarlet eyes were in front of him and Draco's soft hush and cool fingers
on his neck were sinking him softly into darkness.
 20

His fingers were clutched in something soft, the material stretching beneath his sudden grasp
and strong with the scent of...

Home.

Harry groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as he half rolled where he lay to bury his face in the
shirt beneath him. Images flashed like demented, little movie snapshots in front of his eyes,
despite his attempts to shut them out; a terrifying kaleidoscope of feathered, white wings and
petrified faces. His chest heaved a sob of a breath, fingers clutching tighter as if he might
wrap himself in the silken shirt. "She..."

"Is perfectly safe, in her mother's arms where she belongs."

Draco hushed him before his cracked voice could even form the question, a hand slender but
strong wrapped in the thick, dark strands of his hair and tugging gently. Harry focused on the
touch, let the gentle pull ground him, his eyes still shut to the world beyond Draco's scent.

A whimper left him all the same, and nails scratched lightly across his scalp, the drag of nails
clipped but sharp.

They were lying down, Harry wedged between the vampire's thighs with his face pillowed in
the man's chest. The ground was cool beneath them, what seemed to be grass brushing the
edge of Harry's elbow where it lay just off the warm silk. If he concentrated beyond the scent
of copper and warmth, he could smell distinct, scent of a forest around them, cold beneath the
branches blotting out the sun and full of life, floral and green; far enough from everything
else that no noise barr the gentle hum of wildlife and wind reached his ears.

"Where...?"

"Hush, I said," Draco hummed, his voice a gentle vibration against Harry's face and whisper-
soft in the peace around them. Still, there was humour there as he carded his fingers through
the younger boy's hair. "Everyone is safe, everyone is well, we are simply taking a moment."

A moment.

Harry's frantic thoughts slowed at the word, his lips twitching on an aborted snort as he
rubbed the side of his face back against Draco's shirt like some massive house cat staking its
claim. He doubted he had ever taken 'a moment' before. His smile widened, fingers tight in
the silk shirt and breathing in the scent of Draco so deep it almost hurt his chest.

Everyone was safe.

Harry felt the truth in those words, there was no way Draco would have meant them if
something had happened otherwise.
Merlin, if he had been just a second slower... He felt his heart almost miss a beat at the
thought, his grip tightening.

Draco growled a sound, low but deep enough to shake Harry from his own morbid thoughts.
His scent was sharper beneath Harry's nose, invasive in a way that was bizarrely comforting.
It kept the muddied, darker thoughts at bay where they belonged on the fringe of his
conscious. Still, as far as he could push them aside, they lingered... "But, how-"

Draco huffed a sudden laugh, his chest jumping beneath Harry and forcing his eyes open a
fraction. The chuckle went deep, rolling in the man's chest as wary, green eyes watched the
pale blue fabric rumple beneath his face with the movement. The sunlight was staggered,
filtering down through layers of leaf and branch and tree, to where they lay on the forest
floor, half-cloaked in shadows.

"You are quite horrible at taking a moment, did you know that?"

Draco's voice was a purr against the peaceful quiet, exasperated and fond and amused all at
the same time as he gripped a handful of black locks and tilted Harry's face up a fraction to
look at him. The blonde's hair was pristine, despite the tree he was leaned back against. Sleek
and free, it trailed across broad shoulders decked in sky blue silk as the man's wings rested
low behind him. That they were visible at all still, let Harry know just how frantic Draco
must have been. He winced, his lips parting as he stared up into lidded red eyes. Draco
moved the hand still carding through Harry's hair to slant across Harry's mouth, his lips
sliding into a smirk when the younger man growled a surprised sound beneath the hold.

"If you say another word, Harry Potter, I will not be held accountable for what reaction I may
have."

The blonde sighed, his chin tipping back so that his head rested against the bark behind it.
Scarlet eyes slid closed as he breathed slowly, fingers moving back to grip Harry's hair as
though the action itself was as comforting to the vampire as it was to Harry. Maybe it was,
Harry winced, clamping his lips shut for a moment on the dozen or so questions he wanted to
ask. Draco's breath was frantic compared to the vampire's usual, stoic countenance. Each
intake raised his chest and each breath out parted his pale lips. His thighs were strong where
they gripped around Harry's body, not an inch of space allowed between them both as they
lay there.

It was more than obvious that Draco needed this moment.

Harry let himself be still, forcing his own breath out to match the older man's as he stared up
at a face that was a fraction paler than what he had grown used to seeing. Draco seemed...
Rattled; if 'rattled' was ever a word that could be attributed to a man that had always seemed
so collected and so calm. Slowly, and with little thought to it, Harry's body relaxed back into
the hold, his limbs heavy again where they lay, as he kept his face tilted up. If time was all
that Draco needed from him without compromise, then Harry would happily give him every
second. His lips were turned up in a smile despite the horror that the day had ended up being,
bright eyes focused on the Vampire's peaceful face.
There was the warm thought on the edge of Harry's mind that tampered with the idea that
they could be doing... Other things... With those seconds...

Eventually, and with a hushed, little sigh, Draco slanted one eye open to peer down at him;
his lips tilting in a smile. "Good boy."

Harry felt himself flush, body hot despite the cool ground beneath him and the gentle chill in
the air. His eyes flicked downwards beneath Draco's stare, his own hand suddenly fascinating
as Draco's silken chuckle rumbled from the chest he was still sprawled across. "I suppose you
would like to head back."

When Harry glanced back up at the blonde, it was to see him smiling; his expression soft.
Draco hummed, his knees lifting as he braced his boots against the forest floor, and clasped
his thighs gently around Harry's waist. His own less than subtle thoughts, and the heat of the
blonde's praise was there, still, beneath the touch of his own clothes and Harry was having a
difficult time focusing on why, exactly, he could not just stay where they were, well, forever.

Draco seemed to sense his hesitation, lips curling in that satisfied, little smile that Harry was
beginning to feel giddy for. He shifted beneath the younger boy, until they were near enough
chest to chest, and clasped those flushed cheeks in his palms gently. "I did send word to your
family that I would be stealing you... And I did ensure that little girl was well and there was
no danger... But you are so frightfully unpredictable, that I am tempted beyond measure to
keep you here with me..."

The words were fragile, breathed in a whisper against Harry's lips before Draco closed the
distant with the sweetest kiss, his fingertips feather-light against his skin. Harry whimpered
as the man dragged him close, Draco's breath warm against his lips and with the barest hint of
static to its scent.

"I saw you dive for her..." Draco ghosted his lips against Harry's cheek, "I was not quick
enough to stop you..."

The vampire gripped Harry's neck suddenly to still the protest on the younger boy's lips,
fangs pressing against his cheekbone as Draco smiled.

"I never should have even tried..." His voice had dropped, fingers pressing against the soft
column of Harry's throat like some beautiful... Threat. "You are... Magnificent... My little
lion."

Harry felt his breath catch, a purr building in his chest seconds before Draco stood so
suddenly that Harry clutched at the man's shirt to keep himself upright, glaring when the
blonde chuckled down at him and snapped his dark wings in along his spine in one smooth
motion.

"Magnificent," Draco smirked, the flicker of something calculating and deviously familiar in
that one expression, "But not impervious to the ire of your Mother. Lily Potter is not a
woman whom one keeps waiting; come along, little one."
Harry watched him walk off with his mouth agape, his heart fluttering somewhere far too
high in his chest. Draco's words registered a fraction too late for an appropriate reaction, the
blonde half lost to the shadows before Harry groaned and stomped off after him.

###

"Mum... Please... I'm fine..."

Harry tried again to catch his father's eye, wide and panicked, when Lily growled down at
him and caught his chin between her two fingers, her wand alight as she cast a different
diagnostic spell over him.

James Potter glanced between the pair of them, shoulders hunching up by his ears in a
clueless move that had Sirius snickering beside him; at least until Remus elbowed the dark
haired man hard enough in the side to have him finish his mouthful of cake the wrong way.

Where had he even gotten cake?

Harry watched him cough with a grimace, rolling his eyes as his magic sparked again against
Lily's spell; flaring up like a bubble of bright green before fizzling over the diagnostic charm
she was trying to read, all while she growled down at it as though it was some sentient being
that she might be able to have words with.

"Mum..."

Tom peeked an eye open from where he lay draped around Draco's shoulders like some
bizarre scarf, a hint of humour in that yellow eye that Harry glared back at. It wasn't as if the
snake was of any help at all. He had been less than interested in the whole affair, sliding from
an irate Lily Potter and wrapping around the next nearest heat source to slumber without so
much as grumbling a complaint.

"Lils..."

Lily huffed, stilling beneath the hand her husband placed on her shoulder and closing her
eyes. When she opened them again, it was to look at Harry with an expression that could only
have been pained, her fingers tight still where they grasped his chin. He met her gaze with a
smile, taking her wand hand and pushing the offending thing down.

"I'm alright... I promise. I've done way worse and come out okay."

Lily shook her head, her mouth puckering before she sighed and cupped his cheek gently.
"That's not exactly setting my nerves at ease, love."

Harry grinned, glancing over the rest of the room. The family were tucked away in a secluded
corner of what, at some point, may have been a greenhouse. The massive room was entirely
designed of glass walls, the ceiling high and vaulted and filled with a million glass panels
spiraling in a mesmerizing pattern that Harry would swear moved each time it caught his eye.

They had taken over an empty section, far enough away from the other witches and wizards
and creatures scattered across the well-lit room. The small corner was filled with plush
armchairs and golden backed couches, a small selection of the many different styles of
seating that were clumped across the white marble floor that radiated some sort of cooling
charm. With the sun shining bright through the glass and no entrance barr the gilded, frosted
doors they had entered through; the room was incredibly warm. The plants still left decorated
the walls and hung from chains throughout; a thriving, incredible mix of colours.

One delicate golden tree leaned gracefully over the family of redheads, all of whom were
laughing and smiling and clutching certain members a fraction closer than they might have
been before the... Incident.

Fleur was sitting in her husband's lap, Harry noted with some amusement, her snow white
wings arched over the arm of the couch as she stared up at him with a look of such devotion
that he felt his own cheeks heat. Their little daughter, Victoire, Harry had come to learn, was
sitting happily in her grandmother's arms. The tiny Veela was no more than two years of age,
a ball of ruffled, young feathered wings and pleated pink skirts in the little dress she wore.
Molly stuck her nose into the little one's curls and let loose a pleased croon that had Harry
smiling back when the redheaded Omega caught his eye.

In another seat, Ron and Pansy debated the likelihood of Sirius having hidden more desserts
on him as his Godfather bared his teeth in a wide smile down at them and on the other side
and standing; were the rest on their mis-matched group. Arthur was lifting his hands, waving
them about as he spoke to Fred and George, and to Charlie and his Dragon-like mate,
Gabriel. The man's brightly scaled arm was wrapped around the Quidditch player, Viktor
Krum. Harry watched the dark-haired man smile back at the Weasley patriarch with no small
amount of bewilderment, his head shaking at the strangeness of it all, even as he moved to
take in Narcissa and Severus examining one of the taller, blue-tinted trees that crawled its
way across a glass pane, blooming white flowers the size of both of Narcissa's hands held
together.

He was so entranced on trying to take in the strange collection of people, Harry all but
jumped out of his skin when his arms were captured in two hands, his magic sparking against
the touch as he was dragged backwards and abruptly planted on what could only be
someone's lap. He glared back at Draco, rolling his eyes when the vampire cast a questioning
eyebrow in his direction, and the sharp scent of warm amusement filled his senses. His
mother cast him one last stern look before she conceded with a grin, shaking her head as she
carded her fingers through his hair one final time. Harry leaned into it, a soft sigh working its
way free as the world around him, and his own manic thoughts, settled back to some sort of
normality.

"Hello."

Harry met the voice with a tired smile, body suddenly heavy where he leaned against the
Vampire behind him. He felt as though he had both slept for a week and was in desperate
need of a nap. Still, it was incredibly easy to give his full attention to the pair that had sat
down beside them.

Rory was still shaken, the blonde man carding fingers through his hair as he slumped into the
corner cushions; his face pale as he offered Harry a weak smile and drew his legs up beneath
him. The woman beside him took the seat closest to Draco, her posture perfectly proper as
she fixed a crease in her scarlet robes. The colour flushed out her freckled skin, seeming the
brighten her brown curls where they rested, smooth and sleek, against her front. Her brown
eyes were intent, that familiar gentleness in them almost soothing to some innate piece within
him.

"Hi, 'Mione."

Hermione's brows lifted, her lips parting on a sound before she pursed them closed and
peered at him with something of a glint in her eye that Harry almost dreaded. It brought with
it rapid memories of times spent coursing through NEWT homework and scroll after scroll of
essays; long nights in libraries bent over books of spells and potions and stuff that they really
should have learned to keep their noses out of.

This Hermione may not have been his best friend, she may have been older and she may have
held herself in a way that seemed too proper and too formal for the bond Harry felt they
should have had; but if there was one thing about Hermione Granger that Harry could always
depend on, it was her unbending curiosity, her insatiable thirst for knowledge.

"It's true, then?" The woman leaned in, offering a nod to Draco before her eyes glittered back
at Harry, her fingers clenched in the soft material of her robes, as though they wanted nothing
more than to thumb through some ancient tome in search of answers. "We received the letters
from Molly, of course, she tried her best to detail what it was that had happened. I did write
James in the hopes he might have a bit more information for me; but, of course, there's only
so much he could have possibly known. I mean, travelling from one universe to a similar
kind entirely different..." She grinned down at him and Harry felt his own lips spread in a
similar smile, "It's not exactly common magic, is it?"

"Not to mention the sheer amount of power one would even begin to need to attempt such a
feat! I did a bit of light reading, just to see if I could come up with a start; anywhere we might
be able to begin, but, Merlin, there is really no personal case that I have come across that
even begins to stack up with your own, Harry Potter. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm
Hermione Granger, but then," she wrinkled her nose on something of a laugh, "you already
knew that, didn't you? Spectacular job on saving the day, by the way; I only saw your shield
charm from a distance but it was absolutely incredible. I-"

"Hermione, do take a breath between sentences, would you?"

Rory was grinning behind the hand he had thrown up to shield his eyes from the sun, Harry's
own chuckle drawing a larger smile from the blonde. Hermione flushed, rolling her eyes
playfully and glancing back at Draco. The scent of Beta was clear from the woman, soft and
comforting like the crackle of fire and driftwood and Harry watched her catch Draco's eye
with a slant to her own.

"Surely you're just as interested as I am myself... Harry here represents something...

Incredible." She arched a brow at the Vampire, Draco humming as his arms snaked around
Harry's middle and he pulled the smaller man in close.

"Harry is increidble."
"You sap." Hermione giggled, relaxing fully as she leaned back against the blonde behind her.

Harry could do little but shake his head; the easy camaraderie between the brunette
Gryffindor and the silver haired Slytherin was like a douse of water to his senses, strange and
startling and, at the same time, he couldn't help but feel at ease. It was almost as though tiny
pieces of his life were slowly slotting back into place; better fitted and brighter than the
pieces he had been so desperately trying to clump together... Before...

Harry gripped the pale hands beneath his own.

Something incredible

He could settle for that.

 21

The scent of rose was one Harry had never considered before.

Granted, he knew what it was. He knew a rose from any other given flower, and he knew it
was a scent that could be nice when it wasn't aggressively perfumed.

At the moment, it was beautiful; fragile and soft and twining in the air despite the fact that he
had yet to see any rose bushes in the near vicinity of the garden they were stood in. He
breathed deep, a click in his spine as it straightened ever so subtly into that scent that was as
welcoming as home.

Draco was a step ahead of him, his gait leisurely as if he somehow knew that Harry's own
would slow. A scarlet eye flickered to catch his every ninth or so step, the blonde's face soft
and his hands clasped behind his back like some...

Well, he was a Lord, wasn't he?

Lord Malfoy.

Lord Malfoy-Snape.

Ludicrous. Harry's lips twitched in a smile as he followed behind the taller man, the soft toe
of his boots kicking tiny flecks of gravel as they walked along the main path of the garden.
The majority of it was covered in lush, green grass. It was unkempt in a rather pleasing way,
taller than the perfectly keep lawns of Privet Drive and with the scent of wilderness about it
as it edged its way along the loose gravel.

The forest, or a portion of it at least, lay not a stone's throw away, filtered through with
sunlight doused green from the leaves that swayed beneath what was left of the wind. It was
warm, warmer than he had been anticipating when they first ventured back outdoors and
Harry had a moment to be thankful for the silver, sleeveless gown his mother had bought for
him.

"Where is it we're headed, exactly?"

Draco hummed, tipping his head back so that his blonde hair slipped from his shoulder and
swept down between his folded wings. Harry watched them flex briefly, another smile
tugging at the corners of his mouth. He knew for a fact that those wings blended almost
seamlessly away whenever the Vampire wished it. If he didn't know any better, he would
have said that Draco was acting like a snake atop a big heated rock, basking in the warmth.
An image of Tom where he had left the dozing serpent in his family's suite flittered across his
mind... Content. Happy.

"I promised we would drop in..."

"Promised who?" Harry side-stepped a rather grand looking cat as the feline waddled its way
towards him, her puffed out tail the only indication of her ire as she padded towards a woman
cooing in some foreign language and a group of tittering young girls. There were people and
creatures of all sorts throughout the massive garden, some walking as they were, some
stopping to chat idly and some even sprawled across the lush grass.

Wizards and witches, animals and magical beasts, people with traits he could only begin to
guess at. Scales, fangs, scars, markings, fur, wings, tails...

It was like seeing Diagon Alley again for the very first time and Harry could do little to stop
the smile that he was sure was flashing his own fangs to the mix.

"Hmm?" Draco stilled for a moment, grinning down at him when Harry realised he had come
to a stop and hurried to catch up. "You're welcome to take your time, you know. I can't
imagine how strange all this must be for you... We've only just split from the group, we can
enjoy a moment's peace again if you like?"

Harry took a breath, the subtle perfume settling something inside him that he had not even
realised was tense. Their family group had dissolved easily as the day wore on, splitting with
each ceremony or event that they passed, with each old friend encountered, until Draco had
taken his elbow and pulled him towards a set of glass doors that had led to sunshine and air
and Harry hadn't even thought to slow down and question it.

He glanced at the Vampire, at that loose, pale hair that shifted about a set of robes a blue so
pale as to almost be colourless. They opened mid-way, gently swaying around a strong stance
clad in tight, leather boots and a set of dragon-hype pants that Harry knew were soft beneath
the pads of his fingers. He glanced back at red eyes and held out a hand, taking Draco's
offered one with a grin.

"Nah, lead on, I trust you."

###

Harry had no problem as to where Draco eventually led him.

He had spotted them only after Draco and himself had already been spotted, and the pair had
both raised a hand in tandem before batting at the other playfully. Severus Snape and
Narcissa Malfoy made for an astoundingly handsome pair, all the same.

They had had an outfit change; with the former dressed in ruby red robes perfectly designed
to flow about his slight form, and Narcissa in a pale green gown embroidered beautifully with
white patterns; it was impossible not to see them as the united front they seemed to put forth.
Severus' dark hair was free, his wings folded away as he finished what remained of a flute of
champagne before vanishing the glass with a deft flick of his wand. Beside him and seated on
a decorative, wrought iron bench, Narcissa was flawless as she sipped her own drink, her
smile soft and her pale hair coiled at the nape of her neck.

Had he not become familiar with the air the two seemed to exude when together, Harry
would have perhaps been a tad more timid as Draco leaned in to grace his mother with a kiss
and Narcissa beckoned the smaller boy to do the same with a raise of one perfectly shaped
eyebrow. As it was, he chuckled and leaned in to kiss her cheek, her subtle scent becoming as
familiar to him as his mother's own.

"You look incredible, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Narcissa, Harry, dear, and likewise, as always" the older woman lounged back on the bench,
her silver eyes sharp as she watched Severus plant a kiss on Draco's cheek. "Word is
travelling fast on that spectacular bit of magic in the courtyard some hours back, a 'rather
splendid bit of broom-work and incredible improv shielding when a young nestling fell from
her harness'... From what I hear so far, and I do hear everything, darling." Her eyes softened
just a fraction at the heavy sigh Harry heaved as he plonked down beside her, his fingers
fiddling with the leather strap of his wand holster. "Molly has passed through with the little
one only an hour before, and if young Victoire's attempts to take flight by herself were any
indication, she had suffered no stress from the whole ordeal. How are you, though, dearest?"

Harry watched as a familiar pair waded through the thickening crowd to half-collide with
Draco, the vampire lifting a brow before he straightened the smaller blonde boy that was
grinning up at him. "That's Tommy, right?" Harry watched the vampire push the man aside
with an impish grin until he bounced off the human wall beside him. "And Gregory Goyle? I
haven't seen those two in a bit."

Narcissa hummed as she flicked her eyes up in time to watch Severus glower at the three of
them and earn a rather pretty flush of pink in Draco's cheeks. She huffed something of a
laugh. "They've been securing a flat in Diagon, and about time too that the pair found a place
of their own. With any luck, they might move their relationship onward now; Merlin knows
young Thomas is more than deserving of it, with that self-serving wretch he calls a father."
She glanced back at him before he could open his mouth, her eyes once again sharp. "And
you are no master of deflection, Harry. Do know that you can speak to Severus or myself if
you wish, we are always here."

Harry flushed, sparing a small smile for the woman who was fast becoming a staple in his
life. "Thank you, Narcissa."

"Bonjour, mon Dragon!"

The voice shook Harry from his peaceful thoughts, as thunderous and abrupt as it was in the
peaceful space. He jumped, his green eyes snapping up to find Draco being embraced by a
woman who easily had another foot in height on the blonde. She was dressed lavishly in
robes a brilliant scarlet, blood-red where the lace lay against her pale arms and slender neck.
The hands that clasped tight to the vampire's shoulders were covered in intricate black
markings that sprawled like dark vines around each digit, each slender wrist and higher.

Her face was familiar not for her impressive cheekbones, or her bright, scarlet eyes, but only
for the long, classical nose in the centre of it. Sleek, black hair framed her handsome features,
perfectly in place as she patted the younger man on the back once more and her scarlet eyes
bore down on Severus with a grin as she pulled the older man into just as tight an embrace.
Harry knew his mouth was open, but it seemed near impossible to close it as the woman
bellowed a laugh that he was sure almost shook the bench beneath him. She towered over
him in such a way that he was inclined to believe she was part-giant, if not for the slender set
of her shoulders and waist; not to mention the black wings that flared once behind her before
folding away to nothing along her spine.

Draco was turning towards him, his face soft with a smile as he spoke rapidly in what Harry
could only presume was French, before Harry's fraction-too-slow brain realised that the
vampire had suddenly switched to English.

"... And I've written to you about Harry, of course, Grandmere."

Grandmere.

As in... Grandmother?

Harry blinked as he realised he was suddenly the focus of those bright, red eyes. She flashed
a smile, reserved but white with fang all the same and the scent of Alpha that spiked through
the air had himself and a fair few others shifting subtly.

"Aha!"

That voice, even lowered as it was, was resonating. The woman flapped a hand to ward
Draco to one side as the blonde tried to edge closer to the bench, her smile turning coy. "Ze
infamous new 'Arry Potter... Your unexpected arrival 'as caused no small amount of chaos,
mon petite fleur. Zis chaos 'as impacted my Council, invigorated ze British Ministry and
caused equal parts fascination and disruption to my family. What, joli Omega, do you 'ave to
zay for yourself?"

She had crowded him with each step, her voice a tepid purr and her presence like a boulder to
his chest, even if he could feel the undercurrent of play to it. His magic peppered against the
binding of his own skin like pinpricks in his blood, the barest wisps of green flickering to
dance around his fingertips and catching her ever so watchful eyes.

"Eh... Sorry? Chaos is kinda my thing, I guess..."

The woman stilled, her countenance frozen for one brief, tense moment before she barked a
laugh that had Harry almost jumping out of his skin. Draco growled as he pushed her to one
side, taking Harry's hand and pulling the shorter boy up beside him. "Really, Grandmama, I
was more than polite in my request that you not show me up when I introduced you. In fact,
if I recall, it was a stipulation of the meeting taking place at all!"

The statuesque woman simply cackled, Severus rolling his own eyes as he sat back down
beside Narcissa, and stole her champagne from between her fingers. Harry was wide-eyed
when he chanced a glance up at Draco. The vampire was harried looking, but unbothered.
Though his cheeks were flushed the barest touch of pink, his face was slack with ease and his
smile came steadfast as he glanced down.
"Harry, this is Council Head Mera Prince," he gestured to the vampire woman as she dipped
into a perfect bow, her smile a fraction warmer as she took one of Harry's hands and placed a
kiss on the back, a gesture that had the green-eyed man flushing scarlet. "She is Severus'
maternal grandmother, the woman who sequestered him away to live in France, and then
stole myself and my mother to add to her brood."

Mera Prince tsked, pinching Draco's chin in her fingers and sneering down at him. "I assure
you, mon Dragon, ze choice was entirely Severus' own and I still believe 'e 'as ultimately
failed in teaching you basic manner and etiquette. I was say, despite your failings, you 'ave ze
most exquisite taste." Her tone was hypnotic, Harry decided, as dangerously enchanting as
her look and, overall manner.

"Mr. 'Arry Potter, it is a pleasure to meet you, little one. Your sudden arrival 'as 'ad no small
amount of scholars frantic in zeir exploration of a meaning, both 'ere in Britain and abroad.
Zough ze Council is not many, we 'ave a wealth of resource and still know absolutely nothing
as to 'ow zis all could 'ave 'appened. Not zat we will get far with zat family of yours so
determined to keep you, 'ow to say, 'under wraps'... Ah! Zere she is!"

Harry was so abruptly not under that vibrant gaze as the woman suddenly turned to gesture to
someone else, that he had to blink at the flood of sudden sunlight. Draco placed a hand to his
back as he turned a wide-eyed look on the blonde, his own cheek twitching as if a smile was
threatening the corners of his mouth.

"Wow."

Draco snorted a short laugh as he bit the inside of his cheek. Harry cast a curious glance back
at Snape, only to find the vampire hiding a laugh behind his fingers at something Tommy had
grinned down at him, the stoic shape of Gregory Goyle rolling his eyes as Narcissa patted his
hand. Council Head Prince may have been a heavy hit to all his senses, but he could not find
it in himself to even remotely dislike her. She was strong and stoic and alight with life, and it
was more than obvious that she was the type of person who spread such rich emotion
wherever she went. She was brass and loud and perfectly poised and new and... Clearly, a life
away from his... Mother and abusive father had done this Severus Snape no harm at all.

Harry shook his head, wondering if he would every get over the strangeness of it all as that
subtle scent of rose shifted through his senses once more. He faced forward again with a
small smile, one that bled to heartfelt in an instance as he met a pair of piercing blue eyes.

"Luna!"

The woman was smiling serenely, her sleek pale blonde head just a scant inch or so taller
than his own. Her hair wound in a braid down her front, tied softly enough with a petal-pink
ribbon that loose strands escaped to sway about her face. She was ageless, beautiful in a
shimmering pink fabric that seemed to float about her. The only telling difference between
this Luna and his own, Harry noted with a sudden curiosity, was the pale silver markings that
flowed beneath her skin. They wrapped and danced around themselves in ever-shifting
symbols, running like blood beneath her translucent skin.

"Ah, the strong and foreboding stranger... Hello, Harry."

The smile she offered him was sincere, as if she had always known him and he could do little
but smile back. "I guess I am a stranger now, but we haven't always been, or at least not the
other you, and we definitely couldn't be when we get to know each other like how we used to
know each other... Merlin, that doesn't make much more sense than it did in my head."

Harry laughed and Luna answered it with a smile just as bright, her pale eyes practically
shining. "It makes perfect sense, Harry, perfect sense. I look forward to knowing you as I
have done so before."

It took only a fraction of time to realise that, despite the delicate scent of roses that seemed to
emanate from her, Harry had absolutely no idea what designation Luna was. For the regal,
gentle way she held herself as she all but floated where she stood, waving and beckoning
'good evening's' from the others; Luna Lovegood could have very well been Alpha, Beta,
Omega all at once or not at all. For a person like himself who was becoming attuned to
noting the dynamic of everyone he encountered, it had Harry off-kilter in a strange way. A
sense he had not even realised he had become adept at using was slightly off.

Draco's hand on the small of his back drew him back to the present, the blonde trailing slim
digits down his clothed spine in a move that had him almost jumping. There was a huff of
laughter.

"Trust you to become best friends with actual royalty. How on Earth did any version of Luna
become known to you? I find it hard to believe the woman would be easy to befriend, even if
ever she were without her Fae bloodline."

Fae?

Hang on... "Royalty?" Harry frowned, glancing back at the woman as she smiled serenely up
at the intimidating shape of 'Grandmama' Mera Prince.

Draco hummed an affirmative, his fingers now threading through the length of Harry's dark
hair, cool against the nape of his neck as he settled the stray hairs down into the curls that had
begun to border messy. "Luna is of the Si Ri Clan, with roots in Whales, Ireland, Scotland...
Though there is no legitimate line of succession among their people, she is most definitely
considered in extremely high regard. Many of her people would be terribly looked down on
were they to leave the forests and join the 'Lesser-Magic-Folk', as some have so charmingly
called us."

Draco's words were spoken playfully, and as Harry watched, he began to see that Luna was,
indeed, completely out of reach of everyone else around her. While conversations were polite
and tones were friendly, there was a respect for the young woman in the way she held
whatever attention she sought out.

"However, when Luna announced that she wished to live among us for a time, to court who
she pleased, to help the Council become stronger in the wake of the... You-Know-Who mess,
well, she was hailed a practical princess by the Fae of her Clan. She, and her father before
her, can do no wrong."
Harry smiled, shaking his head as he watched Severus stand to offer the Fae a glass of
champagne from a tray summoned straight to his hand, Luna's laughter bright and sweet and
lovely. "Xenophilius is a good man, and he loves his daughter, every version of himself."
Bright, blue eyes darted to him, as though the woman could hear his every word despite Mera
Prince's booming voice and the uptake in chatter around them. Harry met the gaze with a
flush.

"And Luna can do no wrong. She's everything good."

Harry watched the blonde girl's lips tilt in a genuine smile a split second before Draco took
his wrist to spin him in a circle. He yelped as the Vampire clasped his hips and bared his
fangs down at him in a brilliant smile.

"You, Harry Potter, you are everything good."

The embrace was broken by a sudden, loud clap as Mera Prince brought her hands together in
a sound that was far louder than such a simple gesture could have been. "Bien!" The woman
seemed to almost snarl, her mouth stretched in a grin as the noise around her settled
immediately, all eyes snapping to her in the garden that had steadily filled with people. "Now
zat we 'ave all gather with time to settle in, let us 'ave a beautiful bonding ceremony!"

A soft round of cheer went up as silver chairs seemed to sprout from the very earth with a
wave of the woman's wand, covered in pretty pink flowers and spread out across the lush,
green grass as they faced the tree-line they were all clustered around. Harry's brain stalled as
he watched the people... The guests... start to find their seats with a hum of excited chatter
once more, before it suddenly clicked.

"Bonding... Wait, like a wedding?"

 22

They were seated to one side, half-hidden in the gentle shadows thrown down by the tree
branches and leaves that hung above them. It was cooler here, a soft chill from the woods
meaning Harry leaned ever so slightly against Draco. The silver chairs that looked so delicate
at first glance were sturdy, and he braced his spine against the backing of his own as his
fingers found the trim of his robes to fret with.

Draco was the epitome of relaxed beside him, regal even as he leant back and threw a
careless arm across the top of Harry's seat. His robes were swept artfully to one side, dark
boots planted firm in the soft, wild grass below them. His red eyes were lidded, casting about
the people that found their seats and fluttered to and fro.

Harry watched them too, his lips puckered in a frown that he knew he really ought to wipe
from his brow. The metal bench they had all been gathered around only moments before had
melted to a firm pool of silver beneath a steady flick of Mera Prince's wand. The woman
herself stood proud in the centre of it, her fingers flicking with each spell she cast to wrought
from seemingly thin air a collection of items. Candles in holders a crystalline glass, a table of
pewter carrying two tumblers of something that struck the air with wisps of telling steam.
Two chairs, separate from the rest that gathered haphazardly about, and seemed to be made
from the very grass and roots beneath their feet.

"Should we really be here for this?"

Draco continued his survey of the guests, but reached a hand to tug Harry's fingers from
picking at a thread in his clothes. He wrapped the smaller digits in his own, before bringing
their clasped hands into his own lap. "Formal etiquette dictates that for all ceremonies for
which Grandmama Prince has been requested as Celebrant, her family are also cordially
invited."

The words were spoken with an amused twist to Draco's lips, "As we are all conveniently in
the one place for this ceremony, she simply would not hear it from me to decline such an
invite. As much as I do find them to drag a bit, myself, I will admit that this particular
betrothal did catch my eye when it first came out, long before I had even received note from
Grandmama that she would be officiating."

"Officiating," Harry murmured, "That means she'll be the one marrying them, right? Is she a
Minister then?" He felt his frown deepen. "What do you mean, 'it caught your eye', whose
wedding are we at?"

Draco laughed, his smile flashing down at Harry and softening the younger man's glare with
far too much ease. "Celebrant. Grandmere Prince is a Celebrant. Being one of the Key
members of the Council, and a frightfully busy woman, one would have to be of high enough
standing in name and power to even pen her a request for a Bonding."

Harry glanced across the myriad of figures still chatting and laughing and smiling. The semi-
circle of the layout of chairs let no distinct set of people gravitate towards the front of the
platform where Mera Prince stood, for the moment, alone. It was impossible to discern what
section was there for whom, if sections even existed amidst the many people still joining the
gardens.

Big.

It was a big wedding.

"And to answer your second question, you did just meet the Bride, you know."

Confused, Harry whipped his head back to stare at Draco for a moment, before he slowly
turned towards the two people now whispering together just a dozen feet from where he sat.
The man was decked in robes a vibrant gold, stark and bold and cut perfectly from his broad
shoulders to a trim waist. His pale hair was gathered in a braid to his front, in much the same
style of his daughter's, as he fastened another pink flower to the golden clasp now adorning
her curls.

"It was last minute, of course, the request, not the betrothal." Draco's voice was soft, his
thumb stroking along the edge of Harry's hand, "But most things arranged by the Lovegood's
are and Grandmama has held a soft spot for Luna for as long as the Fae has aided the Council
and the Ministries."

Harry took the words in slowly, willing himself to glance away from where he knew he was
absolutely staring at Luna and Xenophilius Lovegood. Slow on the uptake as he may have
been on occasion, it was embarrassingly obvious how bride-like Luna was in the moment.
Her beautiful, one-of-a-kind dress stood out among the other well dressed people around
them and the flowers in her hair looked more and more like the delicate crown they had
clearly been designed to. Though her hands were free of any bouquet, as Harry watched,
Xenophilius spun his daughter in a gentle circle, his fingertips flicking with wandless magic
to douse the feather-light trail of the dress in tiny yellow flowers.

"Sun colours..."

"Sun colours?" Draco questioned, making Harry jump and flush as he darted his gaze
between the smiling Vampire and the pair of Fae that seemed so familiar and, at the same
time, almost untouchable. He watched Luna create a tiny sunflower between her fingers, and
tuck it into her father's braid.

"Sun colours." Harry nodded, bending down to twine his fingers in the grass and coax a few
sturdy strands free, he slid his wand from its holster on his arm and transfigured the sweet-
smelling bunch into a handful of brilliant, yellow buttercups. All of these he handed to Draco
with a smile. "You're supposed to wear them to a wedding, for luck."

Draco took the delicate flowers quietly, rubbing the soft stems between his fingers before his
tempered scent flared enough to have Harry blinking up at him.

"I had once believed a Bonding to be a farce, something to placate the masses when a simple
desire between two people in love could accomplish just as much, without all the ceremony
and displays of wealth and status." The blonde plucked a single buttercup from the bunch as
that heady copper scent flooded Harry's senses for a brief moment. "I am beginning to realise
that if it shows the people around us, even a fraction of, how incredibly in love with you I
am... Then it would almost be worth it, Harry."

Harry felt something of a whimper catch in his throat as Draco looped the single buttercup
through the button hold of his collar, fixing it there with the tiniest nudge of magic that
danced along the edges of Harry's neck and held him transfixed. Whatever reply he might
have managed to eventually coax from a mind rushing with the sound of his own blood and
filled with Draco's incredible smile, was interrupted, however.

Harry could do little but blink as the blonde placed the smallest kiss on the corner of his
parted lips, before turning him back to face the platform and the several people that had
suddenly appeared beside it, a swiftly closing parting through the trees the only indication
that Harry could see of where they had come from. Foggy though his thoughts were still with
scarlet eyes and the scent of peppermint and copper, Harry did his best to blink and take in
what appeared to be the groom's side of the whole Bonding ordeal... And immediately
straightened in his seat, his lips parting on an indrawn breath.

They were a striking set of people.

Striking, in the sense that Harry could feel magic shifting about them as if he might see it if
he squinted hard enough.

It sat like a weight on the air around them, as they filtered in, waving gracefully and smiling
as they sat themselves in the forefront of the crowd that seemed to come to life with an
uptake in chatter and whispers. The sudden flux of excitement was so loud, it buzzed in his
ears. Almost like an afterthought, he took in their appearance; polished and perfect and
beautiful in gowns and robes of varying shades of brilliant green.

They ranged in age, young adults carrying the odd toddler on their canted hip and children no
older than ten gripping the robes of adults ranging more his parents age or stature. Though
some held an air about them that suggested they might be older, their faces were bright, an
agelessness about them. When one of them parted from the group to face the intimidating
shape of Mera Prince, Harry stuffed his hands beneath his arms, his surprise a visible thing in
his frown and the trickle of magic about his fingertips.

He knew that face, Harry realised, as the man bowed low and his snow white hair fell like a
waterfall against the prying eyes of the crowd. He knew that face, because just that morning
he had just about barreled into it at full pelt, when he had almost tripped coming out of the
Floo.

Harry cringed, sinking in his chair and half-hiding behind Draco as those large, yellow eyes
glanced about the many faces.

"It is not often, if at all, that the family extend the invitation to any outside their circle of
friends and acquaintances to attend a Bonding. I did question whether he would truly go
ahead with it when Grandmere first stated they intended to hold a short ceremony at the
Festival." Draco's voice was hushed, his hand coming down to rest on Harry's knee as Luna
stepped on to the pewter alter with a gracious smile, her father placing a soft kiss on his
cheek before he took his seat to one side.

"Not to mention the fact that it is Altair, himself, who is to be Bonded."

"Who?" Harry whispered back, the sudden booming of Mera Prince's generous voice
bringing a hush to the crowd as she welcomed those around as family and friends. Harry felt
a prickle of panic in his chest, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Family and friends...

He knew not one face in the crowd that remained in the gardens save for those of Draco's
family. Even Tommy and Gregory Goyle seemed to have vanished with the starting of the
wedding, he suddenly noticed; slouching further back in his seat behind Draco. Was he
supposed to still be here? He didn't recall exactly getting an invite...

"Altair," Draco cast a curious glance down at him, one great wing rounding behind Harry's
chair as if to block him from the view of those to their left. "You know I had thought you
might enjoy the ceremony, but it's only now dawned on me that this may not exactly be your
thing. We can leave if you like, I know she seems a tyrant, but Grandmama wouldn't be too
put out."

There it was again, that lovely feeling of simply being with the man beside him, that
damnable flush that he was sure painted his cheeks a shade of scarlet. Harry pressed his lips
on a smile, watching as Draco's 'Grandmama' waved her hands about, one gesturing boldly to
the handsome stranger, while the other dipped in a gentle bow to a preening Luna Lovegood.

"I'm here as your plus one, aren't I?"

Draco blinked at him, his smile confused. "Was that not obvious?"

Harry rolled his eyes, partially at the blonde who squeezed his thigh gently, but also at
himself. As he was himself, Harry had to concur with his own thoughts that, yes, to anyone
else, it probably was exceedingly obvious that he was Draco's guest at this wedding thing. He
flushed as he watched on without comment, eyes fixed on the pair as they suddenly stepped
towards one another. Luna's hands stretched out to clasp the pale, pale hands of the man who,
very nearly, towered over her. He was as willowy and slender in shape as Luna herself, as he
dipped his head in a bow, his striking features suddenly soft and fond.

"He loves her."

Draco hummed, a curious little sound, the Vampire's gaze on the yellow-eyed blonde as the
man sidled closer to the blue-eyed Fae, despite the positions their Celebrant directed them to.
"So it would appear. You know, there could quite be some truth to the rumours that Altair
remained the last unbonded Alpha in his family due to a sense of loyalty to his heart.
Romantic as the notion seemed, I was in two minds as whether or not to believe it. After all,
the lineage of the Peverell line has been under terrible scrutiny after the trouble caused by
You-Know-Who; and his claim to Cadmus Peverell's blood was weak."
There was a moment, brief as it was, when Draco's words almost floated by him unheeded.
Harry was so engrossed in the ceremony, in the little flourishes of love between the pair, in
Mera Prince and her majestic voice as she spoke of honour and name and truth and spirit. A
brief moment, wrapped up in the simple show of faith between two people, before Harry was
turning to stare at Draco.

"I'm sorry, did you just say Peverell?"

Draco glanced down at him, an eyebrow raised and a little grin about his mouth. "You've
heard of them in your world too, then, I take it? I was beginning to wonder when you seemed
not to recognise Altair Peverell. Yes, I'm unsure how the bloodline would have taken shape
where you come from, but they are an extraordinarily distinguished family."

The blonde cast a furtive glance towards where the group of... Peverell's were sitting and
smiling, drawing Harry's eyes back to the family. "They're don't all hold the name of their
ancestors, of course, but they do tend to go by it. The Stewards, a distant link to the second
son, Cadmus, as well as the Sayres. Thin though the blood might be, they each hold a fraction
of what connects them. Lord Gaunt is still dealing with the aftermath of his iillegitimate
grandson, though I do hear stories of him being a decent fellow, overall. He has been through
quite a bit, if even a fraction of the stories are to be believed."

Lord Gaunt.

Harry would have known him had he thought to focus on the individual family members at
all.

He would have known him, because it was as though he was looking at a fully matured,
human version of Voldemort himself. Tall and decked in robes a deep green, the man looked
to be no older than James or Sirius. His pale face was perfectly poised, lips slanted on the
most imperceptible of smiles as a woman to his right leaned in to whisper something that had
him nodding in return. His hair was the deepest shade of black, perfectly swept to one side
and held by his nape in a silver clasp before falling down his front. He held all the grace and
pride of a young Tom Riddle... And his eyes were a green so vivid, Harry could see them
from even so far a distance away.

He knew this world was different.

It was an inescapable truth each morning he woke to the smell of breakfast cooking, or the
sound of Sirius and Remus bickering in another room. It was an inevitable fact each time his
heart stalled at the sight of his ruby-eyed Draco, or some new scent or another would catch
him off guard and remind him of how seamlessly his body was attempting to bind itself to
this reality.

He knew this world was different.

Harry wet his lips, turning back to the couple that looked so very lovely up on their short,
silver alter, hands entwined and sneaking smiles each time they thought they might get away
with it. "So... So Lord... Gaunt, he..."
Is alive?

Is... Decent?

Looks far too young for a man his age?

Had absolutely nothing to do with how hateful and lost and broken his grandson was...? Had
nothing at all to do with the man attempting to murder and burn the world down around them
for the sake of... Purity?

"He's descended from the brother Cadmus too, then? And from Slytherin?"

Harry tried to discreetly shake the confusion, the questions from his head, far too much to
focus on to even begin to tear apart the bomb Draco had just unwittingly dropped on him. He
felt it though... Ticking and heavy; an uncertain, strange, alarming thing fretting somewhere
in the regions of his stomach and the magic he hid by shoving his fingers in his armpits.

"Well, they all are," Draco's brow was furrowed, his head canting to the side to stare more
fully at Harry. "Descendents from Slytherin, that is... Salazar had an Omega son, who went
on to bond with a high-standing Alpha of the Peverell line. The pair were blessed with
triplets, three boys; Antioch, Cadmus and Ignotus.

"Naturally, it is a well documented case in our history. Multiple births were, and are, a thing
almost unheard of. That the son of Slytherin, a male Omega, could produce three, healthy
sons that, in turn, were each of an Alpha designation. It is an incredible bit of history, I will
dig it out of the library for you to have a read; though the romantic stories written ficticiously
on the whole affair are rather more enticing." Draco was smiling, his fingers lacing through
Harry's seamlessly to stop him tugging at a curl by his ear before Harry had even realised the
action himself.

Bizarre.

It was... bizarre.

"It seems such a long time for the name Peverell to still even be a thing..."

The blonde huffed a small laugh, his scent amused. "As I said, it is not a common name.
Through Bonding, through inheritance, through appointing Heirs and picking and choosing
families renowned for their wealth, their beauty, their importance; All of these are factors
which have influenced the initial blood of Cadmus' Peverell's line. Altair, however, is a near
direct descendant of Antioch, the eldest. Each first born son of Antioch's line has, without
question, been a male Alpha. Each son, born of a son, born of a son, born of a son, and so on,
has lead a rather concrete paper trail to Altair Peverell himself. With his Sire passing while he
was quite young and having no siblings, he is the very last of an incredibly long line."

"Sounds like an incredibly stressful amount of pressure." Harry muttered, straightening his
spine as his eyes darted back to Lord Gaunt's for a moment. The Cadmus line, the ones who
held the resurrection stone in his world. Harry frowned, glancing back at Altair as the yellow
eyed man held an arm out for Luna to loop with one of her own. A line for Antioch, where
there had been none in his reality, if he remembered correctly...

And so the elder wand had never ended up passing from battle won to battle won... Right?

And his...

His cloak!

"What about the third triplet?" Harry raised his voice just a fraction over the sudden clapping
that rose up around them, the sound so polite and sincere as the couple on the stand gave a
bow together. He almost felt a pang of embarrassment as he joined in hurriedly, "Ignotus
Peverell, you've not spoken about his line?"

Draco was clapping softly, wings melting back behind him enough that Harry felt a chill race
along his spine from the breeze that swept through from the quiet forest behind them.

"Ignotus?" The blonde's brow furrowed, "Lost, I do believe, through secret Bondings and
disinheritence. Though some scholars do theorise that Ignotus may have never actually
produced a child, or subsequent Heir, at all. A pity, really."

Harry frowned as the people around them began to stand, the clapping all the louder as the
couple raised their bound hands high in the air and Luna's laugh rang clear as a bell. He let
Draco tug him to his feet, the Vampire's hand wrapping warm around his own cold fingers.

"They were really Slytherin's grandsons?" His voice was almost lost to the noise around
them.

Still, Draco nodded, his fingers twisting Harry's hand in the sunlight so that the scars that
littered his knuckles glinted gently. Red eyes darkened ever so slightly. "They were his
grandsons, and they were raised in his belief that all creatures were deserving of grace and
opportunity. They all attended Hogwarts in the years Slytherin travelled, and they are the
only Wizards in the history of magic as it is written, to complete a rather obscure ritual
involving the last known Basilisk, on the night they discovered it had been slaughtered. The
source of their power, so they say."

At Harry's quizzical look, Draco began striding towards where Severus and Narcissa were
congratulating the newly Bonded couple; his hand in Harry's assuring that the wide-eyed man
got dragged along with him, despite the way his heart had leaped into his throat.

"The Peverell family has Basilisk venom in its very blood."

 23

Altair Peverell.

A son of a son of a son and so on, and a near tangible connection to a figure that should have
been no more than fairy tale and hearsay... That had been no more than hearsay and fairytale
in the world Harry had come from.

The man was tall, exceptionally so, as he bowed at the waist to thank a happily surrounded
Mera Prince for her service and kind words.

Each movement was fluid, as though he had practiced it a thousand times before, his body
graceful and strong, muscles taut and half-hidden beneath slender limbs and a willowy frame.
Despite the youthful cast of his face that belied whatever age he might have been, he moved
with the assurance of a man decades older. His smile was perfectly polite, perfectly placed on
that pale, ageless face. He was so beautiful, he very nearly eclipsed his own bride.

That was, he might have, had Luna herself not been glowing. There was a shimmer to her
skin that made Harry blink as he tucked himself behind Draco, though no one else around the
newly wedded pair seemed to be at all bothered. Her smile was a contradiction to her...
husbands. Wide and bright and carefree as she hugged her father and laughed that tinkling
laugh.

Harry could do little but smile with her, that infectious sound so much more alive in this
Luna, in this world where she was so very loved, she glowed.

He was so lost watching the pair of Fae that Draco's hand against the base of his spine had
pushed him into the spotlight and half into a bow before he had even thought to tear his eyes
away. When he did, it was with a jolt as he found himself suddenly right in front of the
strange Alpha he had all but collided with, what felt like a lifetime ago.

Yellow eyes, wide and curious, suddenly slanted on a look Harry could not hope to decipher.
Though Altair nodded his head to whatever congratulations Draco's muffled voice seemed to
be offering at his side, Harry stayed pinned beneath that stare. The man's scent, too briefly
known and in too crowded a room before, was now so very obvious. It crept like cold water
over stone, brisk and chilling and bizarrely calming. Whether it was Draco's words or the
familiar colour, Harry could compare him to nothing other than the Basilisk in the frozen
moment they shared; he was so suddenly aware of the life he had lived... Of memories of
petrified friends, warnings written in blood and wailing ghosts...

"Little Speaker."

It was Parseltongue, as Harry knew it would be, that Altair acknowledged him with, and it
brought him back to the present with a snap. Curiosity softened the man's gaze, his face
suddenly gentling with the softest of smiles as he bowed his head towards them. He seemed
to catch himself staring, his face turning towards Draco instead to offer a polite smile and a
nod. If the blonde vampire was perturbed by the unknown language, he did not show an
ounce of it as Harry blinked up at him.

"Thank you, Heir Malfoy-Snape, for your kind words. The ceremony was flawlessly
performed and I commend your family for the advancements they have made. Your Sire has
successfully created another healing concoction with your aid, from what my Luna has told
me. My sincerest congratulations."

Draco's form remained relaxed beside him, one hand held in the pocket of his trousers as he
nodded his head. His own pale blonde hair spilled down his front, a mirror of Altair's snow
white waves. For the first time, Harry saw them together and it was almost alarming to take
in the physical similarities. Both tall and lean and of impeccable holding. Their bright eyes
seemed the only bit of colour to them in faces pallid and robes a pale, pastel blue and even
paler, pastel green respectively. It was almost bizarre to watch them, two living, marble
statues brought to life to exchange pleasantries and polite how-do-you-do's.

Harry clamped his lips down on a snort.

"Many thanks, Lord Peverell; it is gratifying to see our work acknowledged. Severus is a true
master of his craft." There was a gleam to the vampire's eye that Harry had begun to
recognise, a glint of something self-satisfying that very much never failed to remind the
younger man that Draco was, and would always be, a Slytherin. The blonde turned in such a
way that his hand spun Harry out in front of him, the Alpha holding tight to his forearm as
the sudden movement brought up a startled 'tsk' from Harry's own mouth. His magic reacted
in kind, a fragile, whippet-fast flicker of green dancing about his raised hand before settling
away beneath the skin.

"Please, allow me to introduce my Betrothed; Altair Peverell, meet Harry Potter."

Damnable Slytherins.

Harry clenched his jaw as those yellow eyes flared wide, tracking his magic before flitting
back to his face. Had the scent of enamored copper not clouded his senses, Harry would have
happily landed on elbow in Draco's gut for such a move. Dramatic. In every world, Draco
was so bloody dramatic. He pinched the vampire's fingers when they captured his own
instead, though it seemed to elicit nothing more than a smile from the blonde.

"Ah, a... Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Peverell, sir, sorry about nearly bumping into you earlier."

The embarrassment of the apology was entirely worth it to feel Draco cast a frown down at
him in confusion. Altair, however, simply laughed. He waved his hand in front of him, smile
spread wide over perfectly white teeth as he chuckled.

"I do believe it entirely served me right for standing so close to the Arrival Floo's. An
absolute pleasure to make your acquaintance, Harry Potter. I have heard your story, of course,
how could anyone not? You are quite the extraordinary conundrum at the moment." He
bowed towards Draco again, holding himself just a fraction taller as he smiled that soft, polite
smile. "Blessings on your betrothal, Lord Malfoy-Snape."
Altair opened his mouth to say more, only for a sudden, thrilling call, so high-pitched as to be
nearly silent, to catch the man's attention. He turned as Harry did to find Luna waving at him,
the golden haired bride beckoning him over to greet the smiling, waving people who
surrounded her. The Alpha nodded back at her, his eyes gentle and a whisper-soft sigh
leaving his lips. He bowed to the pair of them, before catching Harry's eyes as he passed.

"We will speak soon."

The low, impressed whistle that Draco sounded in Harry's ear as the man strolled away was
followed by a curious, little hum of a sound, as Narcissa and Severus stepped up beside them.
Draco arched an eyebrow as he smiled down at Harry. "Now what did you manage to do that
caught the attention of the most powerful man in Britain?"

Harry's cheeks flooded crimson, his elbow finally landing a solid nudge to Draco's side as the
vampire chuckled and Narcissa nodded sagely. "He's all but gone and invited you to family
supper, Harry, dear, what in Salazar's name was that about?"

"Eavesdropping, Mother, really?"

Severus hummed, trailing a hand through Draco's loose hair as he sidled up beside the
younger man. "If information is readily available, zen one would be a fool not to ensure zey
are fully informed. 'Arry, you appear to 'ave made a rather incredible ally."

Harry grimaced, watching as Altair and Luna entwined their arms, the man's yellow eyes
watching her every move as though besotted. He had absolutely no idea what to even begin
to make of Altair Peverell. Good, bad, indifferent, his senses swayed to none at all. The man
was a mystery in as much a way as he thought Harry himself to be one. Probably more so.

He sighed suddenly, leaning into Draco. "All I did was bump into him after flooing here, I
didn't even know who he was. He heard me talking to Tom. I should've known something odd
would happen the second he answered me back."

"Talking to Tom?" Narcissa scrunched her nose at the mention of the snake that was, at the
moment, resting on Harry's bed in the centre of what was his guestroom in their family suite.
She held much the same reservation for the creature that Lily herself held, much to the
amusement of Severus and her son. Harry did truly believe he was growing on the two
women, however. Tom was as charming as his namesake had been.

"Harry's a Parselmouth." Draco's hand was in his hair, Harry realised, fingers carding gently
through dark curls and sending a shiver racing up his spine that all but locked his shoulders.

Severus whipped to face him with much the same level of intrigue and gleaming curiosity
that Altair had held, but Draco spoke before the older Omega got a chance to unleash a
torrent of questions.

"Speaking of, I do believe it's time to check in on him, is it not, Harry?"

That hand stayed wrapped in his curls, fingers tightening just enough that Harry felt the strain
against his scalp. His green eyes fluttered once, a simple sigh shaking through his lips at the
thought of his Draco... His Draco... And a bed...

"Yes, please," he whispered the words, and if the sly look Narcissa cast their way was any
indication, he did not whisper them with any sort of normality.

"Very well, off with you both," she waved at them before linking her arm through Severus'
and smiling a fairly wolfish smile. Draco bowed to the couple, ever the gentleman as he
placed a hand on Harry's hip to drag the smaller man in close.

"Oh, and Draco and Harry, dear?"

Harry flushed at the woman's sudden teasing tone, canting his head back to look at her, even
as Draco tried to hurry them forward. Narcissa and Severus raised a flute of champagne each
that neither had been holding only seconds before.

"Congratulations on your betrothal."

###

"So, a betrothal is like an engagement, right? You've engaged us?"

Harry heard the door click shut behind him as he stared at the room. Draco's room.

He supposed they were not checking in with Tom, then.

"Of a sort, I suppose, though that is a rather plain way of looking at it."

Draco's voice was soft, beautifully arrogant in a way that messed with Harry's senses as he
look in the beauty around him. Draco's guestroom was larger, filled with soft, golden rugs
laid about the dark, hardwood floor that Harry wanted to scrunch his toes in. The boots that
had been so comfortable suddenly seemed far too tight.

"So, we didn't do the courting thing, not really... And we haven't done the asking each other
out thing... 'Cause that doesn't happen here? But, we are..."

The sound of a latch being turned sent something desperately warm coiling in his stomach.

"We are...?"

The spill of a silencing charm taking effect doused him like a sudden summer shower,
Draco's magic hot against his skin. The bed in his line of sight was large, and draped in layers
of cream silk and overhead chiffon. It was warm beneath a fading sunlight that shone like
tangible gold through a massive window.

"We are... Content."

Draco's voice was a purr, the vampire's copper, heady scent like a perfume in the heated
room. It spilled down Harry's throat with each breath he took, as cold fingers trailed along the
insides of his arms and whispered across the clasps of his robes to unhook each one with a
deliberate slowness.
"We are at peace," Draco caught the robes as they fell, folding them with his own and
spelling them to one side. Harry felt his breath against the nape of his neck, the vampire
steady and strong and se very warm behind him. The simple vest he wore beneath the robes
was incredibly thin, hiding nothing of his ribs as Draco pressed pale fingers to each one. "We
are strong."

The blonde's tone had taken on a growl that coiled that burning warmth inside Harry, each
rough vowel forcing his spine to straighten, his fingers clenching on hands that grasped his
hips with a firmness that had him tilting his head back.

He gasped, eyes sliding shut as he braced himself against Draco, a vibrating purr in his chest
suddenly spilling from him. Draco spun him so suddenly that Harry saw stars, his eyes
blinking open as his cheeks were caught in a hold that was tender and fantastic. Draco stared
down at him, his eyes a red so dark as to almost be ruby, and his face impossibly beautiful in
the setting sunlight.

"I adore you, Harry Potter. Every piece of you has become something so precious to me, I
could never want to be parted from it. You are... Beautiful and strong and kind and something
so sublime I feel as if you might just be a dream and I may some day wake to find the world a
dark and lacking place without you in it."

Draco's thumb was gentle as it wiped against his cheek softly, smearing tears there that Harry
had not even realised he had shed. The vampire's face was so very open and Harry's heart
ached with the press of his words.

"Loving you is a chance for the universe to break me, but I would do so a thousand times if it
meant I could know even a fraction of who you are. If I could understand even a fraction of
the things you do. If I could hold even a fraction of your heart. It would be worth it." Draco
smiled then, before lifting Harry up into his arms so suddenly that the shorter man barked a
startled laugh.

"I love you, Harry Potter and I want you, if you would have me. Whatever way you might
have me. Your bonded, your betrothed, your fiancé, your friend, your mate, your lover... Will
you be mine just as assuredly as I am yours?"

Harry laughed, the sound ridiculously wet against the emotion that tried to blind him. He
smiled down at Draco from the vampire's hold, before wrapping his arms tight around his
neck and burrowing his nose into the soft, safe, warm scent that he desperately never wanted
to be without.

"You could've just said marry me and I would've said yes, you do know that, right?"

The words were not nearly as tart as he wanted them to be, choked as they were in his throat
and with that scent that he wanted to drown in; Draco spun him in a circle so fast that he
could hardly add to them. His laughter was shrill, and he was laughing still as he was all but
dropped down on the soft, cool bed sheets. Draco smiled down at him, and Harry could not
resist dragging the blonde towards him by the front of his stupidly well-fitted shirt.

"I love you too, Draco."

He gave the man little time to reply, choosing instead to slant his mouth across the vampire's
own in a kiss that all but took his breath away. It was warm and sweet and tender and Harry
reveled in each puff of copper-scented breath that seemed rich and thick enough to drink. The
bite mark that had been almost forgotten to him, throbbed with heat in his neck and he arched
with it, a startled, gasping whimper dragging from his throat.

Draco stilled above him, his teeth scraping against Harry's bottom lip before he nudged along
the pale, flushed skin of Harry's jaw and throat. The vampire all but growled against the mark
he had put there only so many nights ago. Harry was all but delirious as he arched his head
back, mewling when Draco licked a wet trail against skin too hot and too sensitive.

"Harry..." The blonde's voice was molten, low enough to send the throbbing in his stomach
lower, his entire being so focused on the man above him that he could hardly breathe through
the want of him. He had parted his lips to say his name, to beg, to plead, to ask for
everything, anything...

But what came out instead was a desperate whimper, a shrill, soft cry that bled out to a
frazzled, unfocused gasp and a word that felt infinitely more right.

"Alpha..."

His every nerve felt Draco melt against him, slender fingers suddenly working fast on what
was left of his clothes. There was a growl building in the blonde's chest that relaxed every
single one of Harry's tense and waiting muscles.

"I have you, Omega."

 24

His fingers were warm, flushed where they slipped and clutched against the pristine sheets
draped in the light of a waxing moon.

As deliciously cool as they covers had been against his blushing skin, they heated quickly
beneath him. Almost scorching now, they seemed to fray his fragile nerves as his chest
pushed down against them, bare and flushing primrose.

A whine caught in his throat, testing the tense muscles there.

The shush came in tandem with the sound, dark and soft from behind him, from above him...
From all around him...

He dropped his head down again, his breath fanning a pool of molten air in the space between
those expensive cream sheets and his grasping fingers. He whimpered.

"Shhhh..."

The scent of copper and rich, dark tea enveloped him, as cool fingers just barely touched the
base of his spine. They trailed a path upwards with a deliberate slowness, nails skimming the
surface of his skin. The touch drove his senses wild and he gasped a breath as he tried to lean
up into the feel of it, only for those fingers to splay and push him back down into the sheets.

Draco's chuckle was soft.

"Be still... Let me look at you..."

Harry huffed, whatever snark had been about to fall out of his mouth lost to another sharp
gasp as Draco braced a hand against his side. The vampire's skin was alarmingly cool, stark
against the heat that seemed desperate to burn him from the inside out. Fingers trailed a
gentle, deep pattern into his back as he tried to hold still; rubbing harsh lines against his spine
before tracing the barest of flutters over his ribs.

Draco was weightless against the back of him, each touch focused and determined.

Harry had never considered himself one to ask too much of others. He had never needed to
entertain the possibility of pleading for something, pleading with someone in a situation
where life and death and sacrifice did not come into the picture; and even then he was not so
keen on the whole idea of actually begging.

He would have, once upon a time, thought it a ridiculous notion.

That deliberate weight rolled forward again, Draco's thighs pressing against his own where
the vampire kneeled for one harsh second, cool hands bracing a thoughtful amount of weight
across his shoulders... And Harry nearly bit a hole through his bottom lip with his own, sharp
teeth.
Now...

Now, he might beg.

He struggled with another whimper that fell broken from his throat as Draco leaned over the
back of him. The vampire's presence was known to him only for the way it seemed to absorb
the heat of his own body. Enticingly cool and filling each gasp Harry took with that rich,
heady scent. Harry felt one of those large hands cup his neck in a sudden, gentle grasp and
nearly choked on the sensation that raced through him.

The heel of Draco's palm ground down into the bite mark there, and sparks skated across
Harry's skin, something dark and pliant and warm coiling in his core and lighting his blood
on fire. He bucked up against the press and Draco allowed it, purring as he cupped Harry's
stomach with his other hand.

"Good boy..."

Harry's body would have jerked had the vampire given him an inch, that hand clamping down
over his throat as he tilted his head back to gasp. His thighs had slid apart over Draco's lap
and the blonde's purr was vibrating through his spine as Harry felt a sort of wetness spread
between them. He grit his teeth, his cheeks flushing suddenly scarlet as Draco took a breath
behind him. The Alpha's purr deepened to a throaty growl, clouding Harry's senses for a brief
moment.

"Sweet, little thing..." Draco's voice was the darkest Harry had ever heard it, almost rasping
over the words as he moved his hand from the bite to curl his fingers into Harry's hair. The
gentle tug against his scalp had the Omega's legs spreading, the rush of slick so sudden that
Harry could almost hear it drip from one slow drop to the next against the soft sheet.

"Pretty, little Omega..."

The word should have blended in with all the rest, a lovely buzz of noise in Harry's ears. It
should not have throbbed in his throat like a brand... Forcing a whine from him that bordered
on pitiful...

Draco's nose nudged the space behind his ear, the vampire's lips tracing a sudden, cool path
against the other side of his neck.

"My Omega."

Harry felt his eyes roll, his body going suddenly slack. Were it not for Draco's hand on his
abdomen, and with the amount of slick between them, he would have slipped into a heap on
the bed, he was sure of it. That word, in the state Draco had coaxed him into with soft kisses
and gentle touches...

It was like sparking flint stone against dry leaves.

Harry growled, a snappish sound that drew a similar, wicked response form the Alpha behind
him.
Draco's teeth nipped at the nape of his neck, the blonde's fingers clutching harder into dark
hair. Harry ignored the warning for what it was, his own magic sparking against his fingertips
as he pressed back against the Alpha with what strength he could find; a demanding little
chirrup of a sound snarling from his chest.

With a snort from the man behind him and a sudden, disorientating spin, Harry was on his
back.

He had barely a moment to blink in the semi-darkness the moonlight provided before Draco
was suddenly inches away, the vampire pressing between his legs until his cool body was in
line with Harry's own. He snapped his teeth, a dark growl in his throat as his hands rested in
the bedding either side of the Omega's head. The weight of him was heavy, full... Suddenly
very deliberate.

Harry's whole world seemed to narrow down to those scarlet eyes, fierce and bright even in
what little light they had. His breath was trapped somewhere in his throat, the scent of Draco
and Alpha so strong that it took him far too long to realise he was making noise too. Each
indrawn breath was exhaled with a sharp, desperate whine that rasped rough and course
against his throat. Draco sealed it off with a feverish groan of his own, scarlet eyes searing
into Harry's mind even as he closed his and gave in to the kiss the Alpha slanted across his
panting mouth.

Harry could taste him, could savour the scent of Draco with each roll of the vampire's tongue,
each careful bite against his lips.

"Pl...p...Please..."

It was the first word he had managed to get out in hours, Harry realised, broken and
whispered into the dark heat and he meant it with his soul, he was sure of it.

What he was pleading for exactly, he had no detailed idea. Inexperience painted his canvas all
but blank, and there was little he could conjure up when his whole being was already
enthralled by the reality of what was happening to him... With him...

Nothing he had experienced this night so far had been anything his imagination could have
thought up; and the heated kisses and intense touching that the vampire had all but drowned
him in would have been considered tame by the standards his peers had once boasted about.
Tame. As if such a word could even begin to be applied to the Alpha that towered above him.

Draco seemed so much larger than his tall, delicate frame, when Harry was spread out
beneath him. His shoulders looked broader than they had done in his shirt, his arms lean and
solid beneath Harry's fingertips. His hair hung loose enough to trail against Harry's cheek, a
delicate touch that was almost maddening. His wings... Those wings were open...

Harry stared at them, his breath panting as Draco's purr gentled, the vampire's hand moving
with purpose now as it trailed down Harry's heated side and over one, sharp hip. Draco's
wings moved with each minute move of the man's body, a gentle sway of leather and scale
that was so incredibly dark, Harry wondered how he had even begun to glimpse them in the
dark room.
Cool fingertips pressed against the inside of his thigh, smoothing against the skin there until
Harry realised that Draco's fingers were trailing through the slick still leaking from his own
body. He flushed, another desperate chirrup leaving him as he spread his thighs further apart,
and felt Draco press a gentle touch to his opening.

With only a look to brace him, Harry felt the Alpha's finger slide inside, his breath catching
in his own throat as his body bore down on the digit.

Draco's finger was longer than his own, Harry's breath stayed caught, his hands rigid against
the vampire's arms. With not a second to adjust, Draco was curling that long digit in, his
fingertip suddenly rubbing against the inside of Harry's walls as slick all but drooled down
the blonde's wrist. The Omega's body went slack, his mouth dropping open on a moan as his
legs splayed open and the tension winding around his hands and shoulders suddenly eased.

He had thought it would hurt.

Shouldn't it have hurt?

Draco's gaze seemed curious when Harry's wide eyes met his, his finger still keeping up that
steady rhythm that was only fanning the fire already hot enough to set Harry alight.

Something seemed to click in those red eyes as Harry stared up at him, the Omega's lips
parting on tiny moans as if he couldn't help the noises.

"You were made for this, Omega."

A second finger slid inside his heat to join the first and Harry's eyelids almost fluttered
closed, his mind fogging quicker than he could keep up. He was so very aware of each tug,
each curl, each rub against walls slick and hot and opening with ease beneath Draco's
insistent touch.

"Your body is built... To be filled... To be bred... To be fucked..."

Draco's words were teasing, but heated, his tone, his mouth, his lips soft and playful, as he
slipped another finger in. Time seemed to stall and flicker erratically all at once. Morning
could have come and gone a hundred times in the space around their heated, copper, magic-
scented bubble... With those words that felt like tiny barbs doused in honey... Harry would
never have known.

His whines were reaching a sharper pitch, his nails digging into Draco's arms as he reached a
sudden peak, body arching as white-hot pleasure bubbled in his core and sparks of emerald
green lit Draco's face for the briefest of moments. The vampire growled, fingers pulling free
and skating through the slick, treacle-sweet scent of Harry's release.

Harry felt his heart pick up a rapid pace as those long fingers coated in a clear, hot mess came
into view. As sharp and unexpectedly pleasurable as the sudden pop of climax had been, his
body heated still, satisfaction far from stilling his frantic breaths.
He was so enraptured watching as Draco brought his hand to his mouth, as that dark red
tongue darted out to lick a path across his palm...

He had not a second to tense before the Alpha had pushed his hips forward and the head of
his length had slid inside.

Harry's mouth dropped, a strange, panicked thrill leaving him before Draco caught his chin in
his hand and slid his thumb against the wet of Harry's tongue. The taste of himself slid down
his throat just as that solid, heated length slid further in. Just as Draco had said, Harry's body
opened for it. There was only pressure, building like blood rushing in his ears as Draco
pressed steadily into him.

Scarlet eyes held his own as Draco's hips pressed solidly against him and Harry's rolled back
as the Alpha began to draw back again. A dark chuckle filled the space around them, a space
now drenched in the scent of slick and sex.

"Good boy."

###

"Do shut up, will you?"

Theo did not wait to see what shrill, annoying response his ask would garner from the blonde.
He turned away with an impatient shake of his head as she opened her mouth to snap back at
him. He did not remotely care; the woman had the means to converse about anything at all in
the world, why she chose to harp on about bonding ceremonies was just his exceptionally bad
luck.

"Daph', he's got a point, you do go on a bit."

"Excuse me!?"

Theo rolled his eyes, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose where he lay on the velvet
blue couch. It was a hideous piece, really, in a room otherwise lavished with simple, white
timber or gilded mirrors and frames. Nonetheless, as hideous as it was, it gave him a moment
to breathe through the noise that was carrying on by his side.

One would think the pair lacked the acceptable upbringing of their family names. They were
as loud as single children spoiled to the core tended to be; irresponsibly and unapologetically
so. Still... As much as it aggrieved him to admit it; he did love them to a near pathetic degree.

Daphne suddenly flung herself to the end of the couch, missing his feet by millimeters as he
pulled them up to gave her the space she so desperately seemed to need. Her golden hair was
beautifully styled, delicately curled and gathered in a half-up, half-down scenario that left her
pale neck terribly, wantonly bare. The robes she wore were a child-like mimicry of the gown
her mother had worn all day, a pale-pink gathering of chiffon and impeccably placed ribbon.

Theo took a moment to spare it a distasteful glance.

"Is the whole tradition of dressing one's offspring like oneself not supposed to end when
adolescence ends?"

Blaise snorted at the scowl Daphne threw in Theo's direction, the dark-haired man stepping
into the vampire's line of sight as he caught hold of his reflection in one of the large, ornate
mirrors. Blaise was the exceptionally beautiful sort; with pristine skin a dark olive in tone
graced to him from his heritage, and a dark brown, come-to-bed stare decorated with what
Theo would assume was at least three layers of eyelashes. The man's black hair was perfectly
curled and stayed as such as he ran long fingers through his fringe.

"Merlin's beard, Blaise, is that a spot?"

Theo could do little to help but rile the beautiful thing up, delighted as Blaise froze for one
horrified second, before turning back towards them with eyes now a wickedly, furious snow
white. It was a fault of his, Theo knew, to be peevish, to provoke... It was a mischievous
streak that simply could not be beaten out of him, and Blaise was downright fun to bother.

The Incubus was exceptionally easy to get a rise out of.

"Theodore."

The voice had Theo suddenly feeling as though he might have jumped from a ledge... And
landed feet first in a pool of frozen slush. The vampire almost fell to his knees in his haste to
gather himself up from the couch and face the direction of the door. His heart rate picked up a
frantic beat in his chest as he turned his eyes to face the floor. He had not realised they would
gather so soon... He should have been ready... He should have been standing...

Daphne sidled in beside him, her hands clasped neatly in front of her as a mark of respect as
she bobbed a short curtsey.

"Lord Nott, sir."

Blaise echoed the sentiment where he stood, his normally loud voice hushed.

Theodore Nott Senior merely grunted, his presence a heavy one as he eyed the three of them
as several others filtered into the designated meeting room behind him. Theo caught sight of
Madam Greengrass' abundant pink skirt as she sidled past him, her hand lifting to place a
particularly heavy pat on her daughter's head.

Daphne's wince was enough to have Theo's hands clenching by his sides.

The vampire clenched his jaw, and he lifted his head just enough to meet the heavy weight of
his father's gaze across the room. Gold eyes met sharp blue, and held long enough for that
blue to darken dangerously. Theo dropped his gaze back down with a silent sigh.

He would pay for that.

 25

He felt him before his eyes had even opened.

Physically and in his senses, in the deep ache of his bones and the pleasant haze of his mind;
Harry felt him.

He came to awareness with the gentle weight of Draco's consciousness pressing like a heated
blanket across his own satisfied, indulgent thoughts. Soft and steady with the pull of sleep,
Harry knew without having to even consider, that the Alpha was far from waking and
peaceful in his rest.

It was like a bond half-formed, in a way his rational mind could not comprehend ever
forming such a thing. It left him unbalanced in the most peculiar of ways, new and different
and unexpected and...

Desperately important.

The sensation of skin against his own was a second sensation to the new awareness he now
held in every inhale of breath, and his eyes fluttered open as heat flooded fast through him.
The light in the room was harsh, and he narrowed his gaze against it as his eyes tried to
adjust, his breathing shallow and gentle.

His fingers gripped harshly onto the arms of the man below him, nails digging crescent-
shaped marks into perfect, alabaster skin as Harry felt his own cheek rub against the sweat-
slicked chest he had been using as a pillow.

He kept his eyes lidded as he took in the sheets around them, damp and wrinkled in the
morning glare the sun was casting through the open curtains. His legs were useless, he
deemed, for the moment at least. He lay straddled over Draco's hips, each knee tucked in
close to the blonde's sides and an unmistakable length pressing ever so softly against his own
with each breath the man below him breathed in.

And Draco was hard.

The thought should have been an obvious one, and still Harry flushed. His cheeks heated and
his grip tensed on the lean muscle he held in his fingertips. The warmth, the cloying heat of
his body from the night before was simmering still, just on the edge of where outright
weariness tried to push it away.

It was a sense of heat not dissimilar to the one he had experienced in the manor not so long
ago, though he was far more in control of it...

At least, he had thought he had been before Draco broke him to pieces.

The memories of the night before were stark, more vivid than the disorganized cream sheets
he could clearly see, and Harry was almost lost to them as that heat crept steadily over him.
His breathing quickened, his gums suddenly itching in a way they had never done before and
Harry panted with the sensation.

The more his thoughts devolved into that heavy length pressing still against his own, and the
scent of warm copper and black tea that seemed to drown the very air around him... The more
Harry tried to concentrate on thoughts suddenly scattered and disorganized, the faster he fell
to a sensation that veered so very quickly from pleasant and sated, to desperate and...

Painful...

It was abrupt, the sudden drop he felt into... Pain, Panic, Disorientation...

So abrupt, so impossibly sudden, was he pulled from his post-morning haze to what he was
sure was fire suddenly catching his body alight. The ache in his muscles had him gasping, his
eyes opening wide as he tried to drag in another breath against a chest that was sinking in on
itself.

What was...

What had...

Harry pushed himself suddenly upright, the break in contact from his own body and Draco's
like a physical snap of pain. He yelped with it, fingers clutching in his hair as the aftermath of
the sting wrapped impossibly quick around his senses... Around his fingers... Around his
stomach...

The scent of his magic was sharp with distress as he felt it crackle once in the air around him,
tearing from him the scent of copper that he desperately tried to sniff out. He was so lost in
the sudden loss of connection that he froze, fingers clenching hard in his curls and eyes
squeezing shut and...

He couldn't...

He couldn't...

He couldn't breathe...

Harry's frantic, clouded thoughts suddenly fizzled to nothing as a hand gripped the back of
his neck, harsh and firm, and his body was flipped beneath another.

The move buried him in sheets thick with scent, his nose pressed against them as he inhaled
on a gasp that flooded his mind with the unmistakable taste of...

"Alpha..."

The word was a whine, thin and desperate and pressed from his throat just as Draco's length
pressed between his cheeks and the man now braced above him drove it in in one, full push.

Harry half-lost himself to whatever desperate noise spilled out of him, sparks of heat flexing
hot and painful inside him, against his thighs, against his own sex as his release spilled to
dampen the sheets beneath him even further. HIs thoughts fluttered weakly, scattered and
disjointed, to his first Heat and the ease of each climax as he rutted against sheets and his
own hand.

This... This was that... And so much more...

Some distant, still thinking part of himself was almost buried beneath the onslaught of need
that all but possessed him. His own need, his own desperate desire, was his driving force and
Harry leaned into it...

He needed...

He needed...

Not wanted, not hoped for... He needed. In as much as he needed to breathe in the desperate
gasps filled with the scent of home and safety and... Power.

In as much as he needed to fully succumb to that hand braced on his nape and let Draco take
the full brunt of his weight as his arms splayed in the sheets beneath him... He needed it...

He needed the pace the blonde set as he drove into Harry from behind, one piercing grip on
his thigh bruising and forcing whatever ache still lingered in his muscles to just that one,
single, perfect point...

He needed the growl that rolled steadily from Draco's chest and vibrated against his spine, to
still the panicked breathing in a chest that slowly opened to let in more air and eased the fist
of anxiousness that had gripped hold of his heart...

He needed that scent... That body pushing down on his... That grip... That voice... That...

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He needed Draco to stop him from burning alive from the inside out.

"N-need... Alpha... N-need..."

His own voice would have caught him unaware had he the presence of mind to listen for it.
High and pained and filled with a keen that begged something of the man behind him on a
near primal level. The high-pitched cant of his whimper drove an answering snarl from Draco
as he stilled suddenly.

His length throbbed inside Harry, catching fast against the inside of his walls until not even
the slick that leaked from him could force him back out. The swelling pressed against nerves
and forced the head deeper, until Harry was wailing as he spilled again, his peak unexpected
and painful and... He just... He needed... Just...

He felt the moment Draco reached his own climax, Harry's entire body seizing as something
incredibly hot and slick spilled inside him. The Alpha snarled as Harry whimpered beneath
him in relief, his body hot and tense as he bowed over the small Omega and set his fangs
against the days old mark that throbbed dully.

Harry felt his heart rate calm suddenly... Draco's presence in his mind became an almost
indulgent press, soft and sweet and... questioning And Harry answered him just as softly.
With a purr building slowly and his head still full of that incredible scent of copper and
almost-treacle, he turned his face to bare his neck to the Alpha.

The permission was all Draco needed to pierce down with fangs that felt far longer than they
looked and Draco's hands tightened where they held him at the squeak of pain that left
Harry's lips. The noise soon became a moan as that bite spread like ice against his heated
blood. The balm to his frayed senses had Harry losing what was left of his thought pattern.

Instinct cluttered a suddenly peaceful mind and Harry felt his own fangs threaten that
damnable itch once more. He whined, voice huffing as his Alpha pressed a smile against his
throat, the slide of spilled blood hot against his neck. His waist was cupped by a gentle arm,
his Alpha holding him steady as a wrist danced suddenly against his nose.

That sublime scent enraptured him and Harry chased it as he reached out with clumsy fingers,
his grasp searching but sure as he brought that wrist to his lips and clamped down hard with
his fangs. The taste of copper and blood filled his mouth and Harry lapped at it, his breath
chuffing against pale skin stained pink as Draco dipped his head to breathe against his neck
and the fresh pulse of the bond mark there. It forced another gentle push of the man's thick
length against the mess that had begun to leak from inside him and Harry felt fire flicker once
more against his skin.

He needed...

###

Had Harry the willpower to do more than wince... He would have been grateful that the
bedroom Draco had chosen had an adjoining bathroom.

As it was, the gratefulness was there, he was sure, buried somewhere deep beneath the
enormity of the ache that was his entire physical body, the newfound bond that was flaring to
life amidst his own sluggish thoughts, and the overwhelming desire to try to remember the
entirety of the day without blushing crimson to the roots of his hair.

It was not as if he was embarrassed about his behavior In a traditional sense, it was more
along the lines of being appropriately aghast that some of the things he had demanded from
his... Boyfriend? Fiance? Bonded?... Had been downright depraved.

At least, what he remembered beyond the Fiendfyre that had attempted to eat him alive, both
physically and mentally, had been depraved.

Draco's humour at the distraught train of his thoughts was palpable, amused and fond, and
Harry blinked open his eyes to glare at the man in the massive mirror that faced the bath.
Because, of course there was a floor to ceiling mirror framed in gilded gold set across from
where they lounged in the indecently big bathtub.
The bathroom itself was indecently decedent, with the bathtub pride of place in the centre of
the white marble tiled room on a raised dais perfectly set for each golden clawed foot that
held it aloft. The window behind them was a floor to ceiling twin of the mirror, though with
frosted glass and letting in no light as, from what Harry could gather, it was sometime closer
to midnight.

Midnight.

He had lost a day... Given a day...

To a thing he had never even heard of before he had fallen into this mad and strange and...
Wonderful world...

To a Heat.

A Heat with Draco Malfoy... Snape.

His eyes trailed over the reflection of his own face, weary and pale, as he took in the sodden,
freshly washed hair that had just begun to dry and curl around his cheeks. They flickered for
a moment to the short, scattering of scars across one slender shoulder, before trailing again to
the bruised and pink bite mark that decorated the curve between his neck and shoulder. It
twanged with each pivot of his head, each tilt, with a deep, pleasant pain that sent a burst of
light across that new bond sitting snug against his own thoughts and conscious.

Draco.

Alpha... Some mindless part of himself still hazy from the Heat that Draco had unwittingly
induced purred the word, smug with it in a way Harry had never known himself to be smug
before. Not righteous or heroic or complacent But entirely self-satisfied in the most basic
way his instincts could comprehend.

Happy, safe, fed, clean, warm...

Content.

He was more than just a fleeting moment of happy, a thrilling moment of excited or joyful...

Harry was content.

Though there was no way for the blonde behind him to know the words of his thoughts, the
message of them clearly bled through in the burst of superior pride that Draco let thrum along
the new bond and Harry rolled his eyes with a grin.

"Just 'cause I'm this happy now doesn't mean I don't still blame you, y'know."

Harry's words were plyaful but heavy with how tired his body was beginning to feel. The
bath had been a suggestion of Draco's as Harry's Heat had begun to ease and he had really
started to feel the tole certain... Strenuous, physical activities had put on it. It had been a
while since he had pushed himself so far, and never for such a good reason before.
There was the barest flutter of guilt, there and then gone, as Draco met his reflection in that
pristine mirror.

The Vampire's eyes were the brightest Harry had ever seen them, a glittering scarlet even in
the dim lighting of the candles on the walls, though whether that was because of the bond or
the fresh blood ingested, Harry could not tell. As unusual as they were, they comforted him,
full of mischief and devotion and a fond, little spark each time Harry held his gaze.

"It was not my intention to force a Heat, obviously... From what I understand, they can be
quite painful and I would have been just as happy to wait for the arrival of your next one to
cement our bond."

The drawl that came with the Alpha's sense of pride was so eerily akin to the superiority of
the Malfoy Harry had known before and he grinned despite himself.

"I wil not lie, though... I am ecstatic you slipped into a full Heat in my bed. In my arms.
Some would say it could be an indication of a good match, even."

"Would they?" Harry humoured him, lifting his hands from the lavender scented water to rub
tiredly at his eyes. This, it seemed, was indication enough to Draco that the bath had done the
trick. The Vampire hummed as he guided Harry forward and stepped out, his wings fanning
out to balance his stance as he lifted the Omega up against him, uncaring of the water that
sloshed over the edge of the dais.

"Severus believed so, when he and your father came to check in around Lunch time. Do
remind me to thank him tomorrow, by the way, that incessant knocking may have lost us a
portion of sleep during one of your Heat Falls, but it was most definitely worth it."

Oh... Godric.

Harry brought a hand to his mouth as Draco walked them back to their bed, though it
appeared to have been entirely stripped and re-made with fresh sheets in the near hour they
had spent in the bathroom.

What he recalled of that impromptu visit was nothing outside of the desire to nestle into the
scent of both he and his Alpha, surrounded by twisted sheets and rolled blankets and pillows
he had raked his nails through until plump and soft. Nothing, that was, until the scent of
another unbonded Omega and his mate's sudden disappearance had filtered into his sleeping
state, and he had growled a noise that had bordered on violent, his magic slamming the door
shut fast as he looked his Alpha in the eye and slid both knees apart and...

Harry groaned, swiping at his face again and glaring when Draco chuffed a quiet, amused
sound and dragged the cool sheets around the both of them. There were fingers in his hair,
light and gentle against abused roots and Harry felt his lids droop almost against his will.

"You're something else, Harry Potter."

###
CRACK

"Wotcher."

"Merlin's fuck!"

Remus scrunched his nose at the sudden scent of apparition that flooded through the nearby
hallway, licking his thumb before flipping the page in his novel and waving a greeting
towards the main door. "Good morning, Dora."

Tonks grinned, some stick of whatever brand of liquorish she was fond of lodged in her cheek
as she watched Sirius fan the rapidly cooling puddle of coffee he had spilled across her lap.
He growled as he reached for his wand in the band of his trousers, Remus not so much as
glancing up from his chapter to spell a new cup onto the side table.

"Watch you lot, booking into the fancy wing with the private dining room!"

"Tonks!" James lifted his own mug from where he sat lounged in one of the high back, armed
dining chairs, his hair disheveled as it so often was. "Fancy meeting you here!"

There was a familiar scent beyond that of Tonks' gentle one, and the harsh snap of apparition
magic. Remus lifted his nose to scent the air properly, his lips stretching in a proper smile as
he popped a delicately carved wooden bookmark into his novel before sliding it shut. "To
what do we owe the pleasure?"

The woman was nodding before he had even finished, her pink hair bobbing about her chin
and her blue eyes bright. "That job I was runnin' for Shacklebolt met with a dead end, and I
seem to have ended up with a tag-along that I can't seem to shift. Thought I may as well bring
him back here to the rest of you."

Tonks stretched with a groan, shuffling out of the leather jacket she wore and tossing the
heavy garment down on top of Sirius' head as the man took his seat once more. The older
Alpha pulled it off with a scowl, the jinx he had been about to snap at his cousin dying to
nothing as he spotted the figure that followed Tonks into the room.

"Regulus!"

The shout came from James, his eyes popping open before his smile stretched to an almighty
grin. "Good God, if you aren't a sight for sore eyes!"

Regulus smiled, a thing soft and fond, as he lifted a hand to greet the people inside, his eyes
softened as Lily made her way in from the adjoining tea room with all the ruckus. She stalled
for a moment when she saw him, before crossing her arms on a scowl.

"Regulus Black, all three of my most recent letters to you came back unopened, there had
better be a mighty explanation for that carry on."

The man groaned, a sound as soft as the air he held himself with, as Tonks pushed him
towards the couch Sirius had fallen back into. It took hardly a second for the slender limbed
Omega to drop himself into the soft padding, before Sirius was clasping the nape of his neck
and pulling him into a hug.

Remus felt his own smile soften.

It was uncanny, really, how alike the brothers were despite their many differences. Though
Regulus was an Omega where Sirius presented as Alpha, and short enough that Remus often
had to glance down to meet his eye; they were also impossibly similar. That raven dark hair
that looked silken to the touch was styled much like Sirius' own, in a single tie and left to
hang to his mid-back as was the family tradition.

The pallor of their skin was identical as Sirius clasped a hand over Regulus' cheek and
scented his wrist across his brother's neck in a deft, little flick. Even the Omega's eyes, as he
turned to glance around the room, were as identical to his older brother's eyes as the
mischievous little smile that flittered across his lips.

"I have had... A hell of a few years."

Sirius barked a laugh, his wand lifting now to pour a cup of tea from the porcelain pot that he
floated in front of the smaller man. Regulus took it with a nod, taking a swallow of the
scorching liquid with a satisfied sigh, despite the wince that Tonks offered him as she poured
herself into a seat on Sirius' other side.

James snorted, his head shaking as he offered what was left of his scone to Lily when she sat
herself on the arm of his chair. She took the cream covered slice with two fingers, her own
lips twitching in an attempt to hold back a smile.

"You've had a hell of a year?" She took a bite, her small finger swiping expertly at the cream
that gathered at the corner of her mouth. "We got a kid."

Regulus sat up straighter, his dark eyes widening as he brought the mug of tea to his lap. The
clothes he wore were comfortably muggle, black jeans soft and well-worn where the
vanished beneath an off-white hoodie several sizes too large.

"Excuse me?"

"No, no" Lily grinned, fluffing the air in front of her with her hand in a 'go-on' gesture. "I
wanna hear all about what you've been up to, first, Mister I-Don't-Even-Open-My-Mail."

"No way, Lily, you can't just expect me to ignore that!" Regulus groaned, his hand swiping
over his eyes as he glared at the redhead. "Being stuck in a cave under the centre of Bermuda
studying Alchemy is not exactly conducive to receiving owls! What kid? From where?
Sirius!"

"Wait, Bermuda?" Sirius frowned, "Last time you left, it was to study under that renowned
writer who was journeying through the Amazon, right? How in Merlin's name did you end up
in Bermuda?"
Regulus glared at the question, setting his mug on the carpet by his boots. "Technically, it
was under Bermuda, and that writer was an absolute bloody nightmare of a man. Delusional,
beyond dramatic and just horrid to even be in the company of. I daresay he's fabricated half
of what he writes about if his person is anything to base assumptions off! But that is besides
the point! What do they mean they-"

"Good morning every- Regulus!"

Narcissa's voice was perfectly delighted, her hands lifting to splay out the sleeves of her
splendid, violet robes. Her blonde hair was perfectly coiled at the nape of her neck and she
looked every ounce the beauty she had been when Regulus had seen her last, some years ago.

"How wonderful of you to have come back to us, Darling! And with such impeccable
timing."

"Cissy!"

Regulus stood to meet her, wrapping his arms around her in a hug that almost enveloped him.
Narcissa was a decent head over him in height and her presence was enough that Regulus
almost missed the dark haired Omega half-hidden behind her. He drew back from his cousin
with a flush coloring his cheeks, his fingers finding purchase in the loose hem of his hoodie.

"Severus... Hi."

Severus Snape regarded him for a moment, his eyes a shade of red so deep they almost
seemed black, and desperately void of emotion. That was, until the older man lifted one
sculpted eyebrow and the corner of his mouth curled in the slightest of smiles.

"Bonjour, Regulus."

The words were a purr and Regulus would have leaned in to follow the soft, simplicity of
them had a cough of hidden laughter from Sirius not sent him glancing away with a furious
blush. He glared at his brother when the Alpha smiled up at him, full of teeth.

"Didn't you have a question, or two, Reg?"

A question... Regulus took far too long a moment to remember what it was he wanted an
answer to, all the while desperate to ignore Severus Snape as the tall, willowy Omega made
his way towards the dining table still lined with breakfast foods. Well, he had a different
answer now as to why his family were lounging in their own, private dining hall, at a Festival
catering for hundreds.

Narcissa Malfoy and Severus Snape did not dine well with others.

And, apparently, had more money than sense.

Which, actually, only begged a new question. As fond acquaintances as the families had been
throughout the years, and as eager as each one was to help out the other if needed; Regulus
could not recall an instance where they had all shared living quarters during a Hunt.
Naturally, they had bumped into one another, and the Weasley's had had them all round on a
time or two for celebrations and get togethers, but...

Regulus frowned.

"Where's Molly and the lads?"

Lily handed Narcissa a cup of tea as the woman perched on the silver chair beside James, her
blonde head bowing in thanks as the redhead glanced up at the clock ticking near silently in
the centre of the feature wall at the back of the room. "No doubt well on their way here, I
would say! Molly is not one to sleep in past nine and she will drag as many of her brood with
her as she can."

The redhead straightened her spine, one finger pointing towards the ceiling and her face
pinching in a mimic of the Omega Matriarch. "A day started without a good breakfast is a
day already ruined!"

Regulus glanced at the empty place between his fair haired cousin and the dark haired Omega
he could not seem to look at without a rather indecent flush decorating his high cheekbones.
"And my Godson? Is Draco not in attendance?"

Severus hummed, a soft little smile playing about his lips as he carefully pinched the
midnight blue sleeve of his robe close to his wrist, keeping the seam clean and dry as he
poured his own cup of tea. Grace, it seemed, still came as naturally to the Vampire as
breathing.

"Draco is... ah... Otherwise engaged."

Regulus frowned at Sirius' bark of laughter, his eyes flicking towards where James had
groaned and slouched in his seat, a hand thrown over his face dramatically as Lily grinned
down at him. "He won't be at the Festival at all?"

"I doubt he has much need of the overall function of the Hunt," Narcissa spoke softly, but her
tone was playful as she plucked a strawberry from a glass bowl and bit into it with a sharp
smile. "Though I do hope they simmer down in time to enjoy some of the activities, not
pertaining to the bedsheets they are determined to destroy."

Regulus heard Remus' soft snort of amusement despite the scandalised shout James let out as
the Alpha slapped his hands over his ears, his neck a rather strange shade of scarlet. With a
confused, sort of sigh, he sank into the chair beside the other Omega.

"I've clearly missed a bit..."

Remus hummed, his hand lifting to press his wrist gently into the side of Regulus' neck in a
soft show of affection.

"Nothing that cannot be caught up on, though it may take a moment to explain." The older
Omega smiled down at him, his book clutched on his lap. "It is lovely to see you home again,
Regulus, dear. Are you back to us for a while?"
Regulus dropped his chin into the palm of his hand, his eyes flitting again to catch a dark pair
that watched him from across the length of the massive, ornate dining table.

"For good, I think. I've had more than my fill of being away. I missed everyone."

Remus purred a curious little sound, his lips curving in a feral smile as his golden gaze
sharpened and darted towards a certain, scarlet-eyed Potions Master.

"Everyone?"

Regulus glanced back at him, his cheeks flushed as he grinned and flashed a set of dainty,
Omegan fangs. The soft, crisp-sweet scent of silver and blood reached his nose despite the
dozen or so other scents weaving through the room and Regulus almost basked in it as he
tilted his head back.

"You always knew too much for your own good, Remus. Go on then, tell me what I've
missed."
 26

Theo grimaced as he worked the stiffness from his shoulders. His wings bore a weight
against the tense line of muscle that was both unnatural and painful; their presence so often
second nature to him. It seemed as though they felt their heaviest after an altercation with his
Sire...

His 'Master'.

Almost as though they felt the brutal grasp of the Wizard's fingers still against the fragile
bones.

His lip curled in a silent snarl, before the Vampire heaved a sigh. His pale fingers trembled as
they worked the delicate lace along the cuff of his charcoal black robes, and he stilled the
tremor with a clench of his fists. The sky around him was slowly lightening, whispers of soft
greys and blues against the horizon of tall trees and stretching hills. In the early morning
glow, the dew that glossed across the field of grass in the garden he stood in the centre of,
looked pristine. Perfect.

He could almost appreciate the simple sight as beautiful... Were it not for the state of his own
mind.

Flickers of the meeting since past lay like scattered pieces of glass across his waking mind.
His every thought was a tiptoe around facts he did not wish to know, the petrified faces of his
friends... The harsh and disgruntled, eager and delighted faces of others... The hushed voices
and that damnable...

Sound...

Scales against tile... Against wood... Soft and slow and sinister...

It set his nerves alight in a way his father's well aimed wand or hateful gaze never could. Not
to even begin to mention her Master's... Voice...

Theo blinked, his throat working over the lump of sudden fear that had lodged there. His eyes
focused again on the dew, on the fragile blades of grass that bowed with the weight of each
drop, as footsteps suddenly sounded behind him. They crunched against the loose stone of the
garden path, unsure and wary and paced in such a way that they wanted to turn around and
run back.

And so they should...

He would run with them... If he could...

Theo turned to watch him approach, his eyes quick to take in the tired cast beneath those dark
eyes, and the wayward mess his blonde curls were still in from sleep. Still, despite his
appearance, his mouth was set and his hands clenched in the oversized sleeves of the muggle
hoodie he wore.

"I got your letter, Nott, and it was maddeningly vague. What do you want?"

It was probably for the best that Thomas Pettigrew took after his Mother in most ways. Her
dark eyes, her bright hair, her round face... But Theo saw the likeness of the Sire in the son all
the same. For all his attempts in the last few days to not meet the gaze of the man who now
owned his veritable soul, Theo knew every detail of the... Monster... That was now Peter
Pettigrew.

"Your Father has requested a meeting."

He watched the younger man's face twist into something like fear, something vulnerable and
shocked; and he hated himself. He hated himself, because, in the midst of the pain that he
battled through from his Sire's recent punishment, and in the midst of the fear he held for his
two friends... At a moment when he could have felt kinship, and compassion, Theo instead
felt a stab of satisfaction for that frightened, little look.

"How... How do you... Where even is he? He's been released for weeks now! If he wanted to
see me, he should have shown his damn face here!" The words were sound, but the voice...
Thomas' voice was terrified.

Theo's eyes darkened, thoughts vicious and vindictive as his lips curled in a smile and he
stalked a slow, steady pace around the mouse of a boy.

"He misses you dearly, Thomas..." Theo purred the words, sharp and vicious as they were
despite the soft tones. "He has battled for so long against his unreasonable, unjustified
imprisonment... Has tried so hard to get in touch with you..."

"He deserved what he got." Thomas Pettigrew's voice was waspish, tart despite the stark
horror in his tone. "He was a coward... He followed the wrong side, and he was given a paltry
sentence for what he did, for the amount of people he attacked, and...

... And he never reached out to me."

And there it was.

Buried beneath the spite and the indignation and the righteous anger... That fragment of doubt
that Theo himself so viciously battled with in spite of the hate and the abuse and the torment
his Father bestowed on him.

That doubt... That unsure, desperate, bleeding bit of Hope... That the man who sired you...
Who created you... Who molded you...

That he might actually love you.

Theo hummed, a simpering, gentle sound as he stepped, slowly around where the shorter man
stood, glancing down at those blonde curls and swallowing down whatever shattered pieces
of guilt were trying to embed themselves within his throat.
"You know that's not true, Tommy... Your father has thought of you every moment he was
locked away... He missed you so much... I heard his weeping with my own ears, as he knelt
by my Sire's feet and begged for his help only hours ago. The Dark Lord was a powerful
adversary... There are not many who could have ever escaped him. Your poor father... Well,
he was one of the unlucky ones, wasn't he?"

The hesitance was there, desperate and disbelieving and hopeful and wary, in those dark eyes
that tried to search answers from Theo's own.

Hope.

Fragile, beautiful, distant, uncertain Hope...

Theo held out a hand, his smile soft and and an Alpha command just a whisper below his
chords as he purred in the young Pettigrew boy's ear.

"Come and hear him out at least, Thomas... The Festival is for families coming together"

Desperate, tragic, agonising Hope...

Thomas reached for him at the same moment that Theo clasped a second hand around his
arm, grinning as he whisked the pair of them away with only a scent of apparition and a
sudden, harsh snap of sound left in their wake.

Hope was dangerous.

###

He had a moment, in the commotion that followed the couple's sudden appearance in the
dining hall; in which he did not recognise either of them.

The Alpha caught his attention first, the scent of New Bond a fresh coat over his own copper
coloured aroma. He watched Draco as the man waved away his Mother's hands as she tried to
pinch his cheeks, which, pink as they were seemed to be no match for the blush that was
overtaking his small partner. It took far too long a moment for the realisation to sink in with
Regulus that the man was Draco.

Naturally, he had not been gone so long that he would ever truly forget the boy. Draco was
family, was his in a way bound by blood and fond memories and family. He remembered the
gangly youth of his recollection and could attribute him with ease to the man now standing in
the centre of all the attention; his smile sincere and satisfied and so undeniably Draco that
Regulus had to grin.

But... The other...

Regulus watched him duck his dark head, curls loose and wild just like his Sire's as James
cupped the back of his neck and dragged him in for a hug that looked entirely at ease. He
watched those pale cheeks round with a smile as Lily cupped his chin in her palm; her laugh
easily the loudest out of the noise being made mostly by the Weasley family as they cheered
and teased.
Harry.

Except, it wasn't. Not really.

Regulus watched him, in that short moment as he spoke to his family, to his friends; he
watched the way the boy's hands fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, tense fingers lifting as
though they wanted to move with his words, only to fall back down by his sides. He watched
that soft, happy smile and noticed the way a strange stare would sometimes follow it... As
though the Omega was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

For the bad that often followed the good to spring up on him.

Regulus knew that feeling.

He had had a lifetime of that feeling.

As docile as their parents had been in some regards, in others and with him they had fallen
woefully short. Prideful in his Omegan presentation, and bitterly disappointed in the health
check that had spelled out the extent of his infertility; they had not been subtle in their
manner of showing their youngest son what they thought of him. They had been almost
desperate in their attempts to wed him off... unconcerned for his lack of interest, and citing
only the Family Name and what might become of it should he not comply.

As horrible a son he believed himself to be to admit it... Their deaths had been...

Freeing.

Regulus was suddenly inundated with the scent of his brother as the man all but leaned over
him as he plonked himself into the cushion beside the younger Black.

"See, there he is! Weirdest bloody year that has gone by in my life so far, and that's including
that time Benedict Guppersberg downed that homemade alcohol myself and James had
confiscated off that dealer in Knockturn. Didn't do much for my day seeing his wrinkly arse
race naked through the Auror Department, and I would say it did even less for his poor wife
when the woman had to be called down from the Atrium to tackle the poor bastard, but... I... I
was going somewhere with this..."

"Were you?" Regulus grinned, chuckling when Sirius nudged him into the small of his back.

"How is it you've been gone for eight bloody years and you still manage to act the part of the
snotty baby brother, hmm?" Sirius took a gulp of what had to be a rather tepid mug of tea, his
face open and happy and without the bags and shadows that had hampered him down during
their last interaction.

"Untrue, I came back for a bit there." Regulus glanced up at the couple now standing in the
centre of the room, Draco nodding sagely as Severus beckoned the youth towards him to
speak softly. One elegant, pale hand tapped against the blonde's chest, over his heart in a soft
gesture that was missed by most. Regulus felt his face soften.

Sirius hummed, dragging another sip from his tea as he leaned back against the couch.
"I did appreciate that, y'know," he mumbled, rubbing a hand across his eyes, "I don't think I
said it at the time, but I really did appreciate you comin' back for her funeral. I know it can't
have been easy."

Regulus grimaced. Receiving the news that his Mother had died had not been easy. Knowing
his father had spoken ill of him every day until the man's own death had not been easy.
Understanding that his Mother had not reached out to him in the years that followed, as she
met her own untimely demise had not been easy.

Knowing his Father had died unwilling to apologise for attempting to force Regulus into a
bond at the young age of seventeen had been a hardship he could have done without, and his
wife's pained, petrified expression as she watched her youngest son walk out of their lives
was an image that would haunt him forever. Though he maintained his doubts on how good
they were as people, and he bore the trauma of hardships on his shoulders more than his
Alpha brother had ever had the need to; Regulus had good, sweet memories too, and his final
encounter with the couple had been fraught with pain and yelling and tension.

It had not been easy to come to the realisation that, that would forever be his final goodbye to
them. A scathing match of screams and tears that had become the beginning of him upending
his life and his studies to disappear to America; where he had spent years wishing for the
woman he recalled singing lullabies by his bedside to reach out to him.

It was probably why he had returned for his Mother's funeral at all, when he had been so fine
with ignoring his Father's some three or four years into his journeys. It had been all too easy
to lay a hand on her casket and whisper an apology he had been far too proud to say out loud,
or to write in a letter to be sent.

But it had been so much harder to return for very long after it all. In fact, his drop by to see
Narcissa in recent years had been more a fluke of loneliness and too much whiskey, than any
real event. He could only be grateful that his cousin had deemed it unnecessary to share such
an interaction with the rest of their circle.

"Regulus!"

His reverie was broken, sombre thoughts shattered as he blinked up at the blonde Alpha
grinning down at him. He smiled.

"Hello, Draco, love, how are you?"

Sirius pushed him to a stand as Draco neared, earning a shove back into the couch cushions,
before Regulus turned and embraced the man his Godson had become. The Alpha had begun
to fill in his frame in the time since Regulus had last looked at him properly. Though lean
still, he was no longer the skinny, wide-eyed youth that would often follow Regulus around
with that starry expression, seeking answers to questions his books could not give him.

The scent of copper and black tea leaves was as familiar to the older Omega as anything he
had ever called 'home'. Draco was, at a push, probably the only thing that Regulus had ever
had comparable to a son. He had held the boy not yet days after his birth, with Lucius beside
him bursting with pride and a weary Narcissa sleeping soundly in another room. He looked
over the boy now with that same keen eye that had watched that tiny infant all those years
ago.

"You look well, Draco."

The Alpha grinned, and Regulus saw the flush of youth to him still in the way he bowed his
head. "I didn't realise that you would be here, Mother did not say you would be making an
appearance... Here, let me introduce... Harry?"

The excited cast to his Godson's face furrowed to one of confusion as he turned to find the
younger boy suddenly beside him, Harry's green eyes round and his lips parted as he stared
up at the younger Black sibling.

"Regulus Black."

The voice was different, from what he could recall of the painful, sad memories of James'
young boy. Deeper now, and with a regional twang that differed in the slightest way. Regulus
was near enough eye-to-eye with the lad, a strange thing in itself as he remembered James'
son being quite tall for his age...

"Harry Potter." He said the words with a small smile, popping his hands into the pockets of
his jeans to stop from reaching out... From checking if the boy was actually real. It was... A
bizarre scenario to say the least. His mind could almost just wrap around the concept without
curiosity bursting from him unchecked. The Omega's whole story, his entire existence here,
who he was and why he was and what it all meant for their world and for his own...

Regulus shuddered.

It was fascinating... And oddly terrifying.

There was a wildness to the young Omega, the excitable energy that came from a new Bond
the reason for a great deal of it, Regulus knew that. The rest, though... The rest was entirely
Harry. The boy's eyes, pretty as they were, were hard and aware. They looked him over like
they might stun him as soon as embrace him for a hug and it was unnerving, but altogether
fascinating. What had a version of himself done, he wondered... That might warrant such a
look of wary admiration.

Harry blinked, breaking whatever curious tension was building with a blinding smile.

"I am, but also, not, I guess... It's a pleasure to meet you."

The hand he held out was small and covered in white scars and Regulus grasped it with a
palm that was jsut as coarse, just as scarred and thin. He grinned back at the boy.

"Actually, I think the pleasure might be all mine."

###

Sirius tilted his head back against the padded curve of the couch, his mug and the tea inside it
cold and, if he was being honest, thoroughly rotten. But, it was the second cup Remus had
poured for him in the drama that had been most of the morning, and he was determined to
finish it.

He felt the couch dip beside him and hummed a greeting without looking, the caramel, toffee
scent all too familiar to his senses as that of his beloved, and annoying, younger cousin. It
was a scent that ran foul the smell of burnt sugar whenever something was bothering the girl;
and it was testament to how often in his life he had taken it upon himself to bother her that
Sirius recognised it before she even opened her mouth.

"What's wrong?" He said the words softly, to the ceiling above; but she sighed all the same.

"Work. That last job I was runnin'... All signs point to nothin' funny goin' on, but, I dunno...
Maybe I'm paranoid still from how long it ran, but, somethin's not sittin' right with me."

Tonks was probably one of the Ministry's finest Aurors, even as young as she was. The
woman was like a hound when she got whiff of something not on the up and up. She was a
veritable beast when she found a case she could sink her teeth into and her instinct had never
strayed her far wrong. Brash and unpolished as she was to the older Auror's that double-
checked every word and ran amuck of her klutziness at the most inopportune times, Sirius
had never doubted her ability.

He frowned up at the pale ceiling, the sound of chatter and the scent of new Bond and that
strange, o-zone scent that Harry's magic left in its wake mixed in the air. It was powerful
enough that Sirius almost lost the scent of Remus beneath it all. And Sirius never lost the
scent of Remus.

"Go on, then, spit it out." Sirius grinned, knowing without so much as glancing that Tonks
was scowling up at him.

"It's Hogwarts."

"The school?" Sirius frowned, looking down at her.

"No, the very popular Muggle telly-scope adaptation."

"It's called a television," Sirius chuckled at the smack that came down on his arm, holding his
hands upright to ward her off. "Alright, Alright! What's going on with the school? You know
James and I went back to check on it. There's no Packs or anything forming there. I doubt
much could survive in that mess of a Forest for long anyway."

"It's not the Packs that the Minister's worried about no more," Tonks hissed, dragging her
boots up to rest them against the couch cushion beneath her instead. "I read your report after
Shacklebolt asked me to keep an eye on the castle after young Harry showed up. I know you
had Xenophilius and his girl do a Reading of the place and nothin' came of it. Nothin' came
of any of my visits, neither, if I'm bein' honest. I'd always pop in for a bit, do a wander around
the rubble and come away..."

Tonks frowned, her fingers tapping on her chin suddenly.

"But, when I went to do a check in last night before poppin' over here, I could smell magic.
Not just any magic, neither, I mean y'know I don't pick up on that as well as half of the
Alphas in the division. This was like weird and kept vanishing, like someone had... Had... I
dunno, dropped a great big bloody cauldron of something rank, and then threw a bucket of
Armontentia over the lot to mask the smell... And then, then, on top of that, went mad with a
few spells just to top it off."

Sirius frowned, his eyes glancing over to catch James' as the man nodded in their direction.
Sirius beckoned him forward with a nod, his lips pursing. "You're sayin' you think someone's
up to something there, but you've got nothing to go on. I've been to Hogwarts recently, I
know the place is pretty heavily scented with Magic and the like but... The way you're
describing it sounds..."

"Intentional." Tonks nodded, her jaw set as she watched James approach, his way half
encumbered by a delighted Narcissa Malfoy and a rather tearful looking Mrs. Weasley. "It
smelled intentional and I couldn't even begin to tell you how in Merlin's balls I know what
that smells like."

Sirius snorted, tapping the cup in his fingers, before taking another deliberate mouthful.

"Well, it might be nothing," he mused, "but the way things have been going as of late..."

He glanced at Harry just in time to see the boy all but melt into Draco's side as the Vampire
chatted to Ron and Pansy. The Omega's eyes were besotted, bright and green and full of love
and Sirius could do little to help the small clench in his heart that wondered if it was the first
time those eyes had ever looked like that.

"We'll keep an eye on it, 'Dora. I believe you."

 27

It was an impeccable thing crafted around boundless energy.

Like a picket fence, or an iron casted gate wrought in silver wrapped delicately, intricately,
perfectly fitted to the skittering, flaring, inconsistent chaos of an uncontrolled and anxious
mind.

The bond existed as such in his head, when Harry truly took a moment to regard it.

Had he ever before taken the time to consider the abstract notion of how his thoughts might
come across to another person, Harry probably would have assumed that they would be much
in line with the pattern of the thoughts of those around him.

That, or he would have wondered if they might in fact be a thing too cautious to understand,
and far too suspicious to be considered coherent; bruised from years of interruption from a
fragment of soul withered and dark and inherently alien to him.

In fact, it seemed to be neither.

His thoughts were, despite now being bonded to another and suddenly tangible to him in a
near external way, ultimately, his own.

Young and yet jaded from a war thrust upon him, mature in nature and immature in
deliverance; a kaleidoscope of indistinct images and sounds and pictures and memories
blended and unchecked, like a movie played in fast forward.

Much like that instance of his lesson in legilemency that had in no way helped him, his
thoughts flickered in that timeless, pattern-less, inconsistent void. There was no string, no
tether that might link one to the next, and now that he had been made aware of such; he was
maddeningly affected by the need to coral some sense into them that had never existed
before.

Harry could only assume that such an awareness could be blamed on the shiver of
embarrassment he felt in his core, now knowing that the workings of his mind, carefree and
child-like and wild as it was, was now laid bare beneath the eyes of his Mate.

Beneath the eyes of Draco.

It was this innate sense of self-consciousness, the Vampire himself had theorised that
morning, as they had lounged together beneath a sun dawning through open curtains, that had
formed the bond in such an inexplicable manner. While Harry's own thoughts remained as
they were, an inherent part of who he was and just how reliant he had become on his ability
to make quick decisions and think on his feet; Draco's thoughts wound around him like an
embrace.
There was a border in the fringes of his thoughts that had never existed before, malleable and
full of the sense of rigid, formal, devoted curiosity. It crept against the edges of his sometimes
panicked, sometimes seeking mind, strict and unbending beneath an untamed wild.

In essence, Harry's mind was encased by Draco's own. The blonde's thoughts were unyielding
against the whisper of his fleeting, scattered thinking. Each one was deliberate, a perfectly
understood drop of serenity, before his mind clamored to respond to it. He was at odds with
it, in much the same way as he was fast falling in love with it. It was unusual and unfamiliar
and strange; and ultimately, safe.

Therefore, a fence. A gate. A capture. A thing not to impede, not to hinder, but to guide, to
enclose, to protect.

The likeness was imperfect, such a thing as an actual, mental bond impossible for him to
grasp even with the very real thing alive and working in his head and in his heart; but it was
enough that Harry felt confident in sharing the thought, the musings, the... Mental images, he
had even now as they dressed, across a bond that made him almost giddy.

Draco took them in, as the blonde stood across from him, his fingers deft as they buttoned the
tiny, gold pieces on the front of his stark, black robes.

Those fingers did not pause as Draco's lips curled in a smile, red eyes flashing up to meet
Harry's where the Omega sat cross-legged on the clean sheets now draped across the bed he
had spent far too many hours in.

"There is some small part of me that is sure, that I should take your mental portrayal of my
mind in some form of slight, little lion," There was humour across the bond, sharp and
delighted and stoic and Harry reveled in the sensation that lit so bright and clear, despite the
twist of Draco's lips.

"A fence, you say?" Draco continued his musings, finishing his task with a flourish of long
fingers as his thoughts squeezed almost imperceptibly along the line of Harry's own
meandering ones, as the younger man watched those hands reach suddenly for his face.

They were cool against his cheeks, soft and gentle as they tucked beneath Harry's jaw and
guided his face upwards.

"A fine portrayal, one could suppose, to mean strength and stability; a means for you to lean
against, should you require the support..." The Vampire's voice was dark, whisper soft in the
room the was fast becoming a fond space to the pair of them. Harry almost mewled as those
fingers dug in just a fraction, the bond between them dark and soft with the scent of copper
and sugar-sweet tea as his thoughts derailed from their innocent, wandering tangle to things
warmer and sharp with the taste of blood.

Draco growled, the sound echoing in the room as much as it echoed in Harry's head.

"Though I do hope you do not see me as a whole as something so... Heartlessly rigid."
That stoic piece of Draco in his mind's eye warped beneath his own heated thoughts, bending
suddenly supple and flexible, until metal alive in the shape of twisting, coiling snakes was
wrapping soft and silken and cool around the flickering, flame of his erratic mind.

Bound still, but in a manner far less platonic and with a means to force his thoughts to arch in
much the same was his body attempted to, as Draco's smiling lips pressed a kiss to his open
mouth. It was brief, a fragile thing with the dark promise of more, and Harry almost bit
through his own tongue when it was interrupted by the gentle tapping of something against
glass.

He blinked, eyes bleary against the sudden sunlight as he tried to wrangle his thoughts back
to the present. Draco's humour was palpable still, his own unyielding frame of mind back to
stabilising the bond, as he veered away from Harry towards the open window and the black
eagle owl that now rested on the sill outside, a scroll rolled and bound to one leg.

Harry frowned. A letter?

Draco's thoughts hummed in agreed curiosity, as he pushed the window open and held a hand
aloft to take the parchment.

The bird itself seemed a proud one, dark and with the scattered speckle of white and plush
brown across its wings. It was almost charming, the way in which it dipped its head into
Draco's outstretched hand for a well-deserved rub. Harry watched it settle itself down on the
ledge as his Mate unrolled the missive, its demeanor obviously happy to wait for a penned
reply.

There was a sudden flare of sharp intrigue, hot and curious, across their bond as Draco's eyes
passed across the roll of parchment, his face impassive enough that Harry had to wonder how
often the man had had to study to school his features in such a way that no reaction could be
forthcoming.

"Years, in fact, all of them," Draco's reply was dismissive, humour again at the differences
between them, a flicker of warmth even in the tone of his voice. He instead held the
parchment towards Harry, beckoning the smaller man forward to read it with a sudden smile
that was very nearly delighted.

"You have made a very powerful friend, little lion."

A friend?

Harry frowned, snatching the letter from Draco and throwing the blonde a suspicious glance,
before dipping his own head to read the thing. It was penned beautifully, impressively
delicate in purple ink. Harry pursed his lips, the words of the letter falling like a whisper from
them all the same in a habit he had yet to break from years of reading his Hogwarts mail
aloud.

"Dearest Speaker, though the manner of my reaching out to you may, in some form, be found
wanting; I confess to a rather impetuous desire to know more of who it is you are, and how it
was you have come to meld so seamlessly into a world not your own. There is much in your
countenance that has given me pause for thought after our initial meeting, and far more in
your gentle and gracious manner that has endeared a side of me to you despite our brief and
strange encounters. My Luna sees a Magic in you akin to strength, and I ask that you and
yours might spare but a moment of your time to attend the evening festivities..."

Harry trailed off, the name of the room given in the letter written in a language he could not
comprehend, though his eyes skimmed the rest of the sheet enough that he felt almost
deflated.

"Sincerely yours, Altair Antiochus Peverell... Is he," Harry glanced up, eyes squinting, "did
he actually invite us to... What, it's not even clear, evening tea? A friendly meet and greet?
What? Why?"

"One would assume that he has offered an invitation to our party to attend the celebration of
his bonding; a simple frivolity often given to the end of a Bonding Ceremony."

Draco hummed, the sound oddly satisfied as he took back the letter in Harry's grasp and
folded it perfectly, before slipping it into an inner pocket of his robes. "Isn't it obvious, Harry,
dearest, you intrigue him, of course. Luna too, by the sounds of it, which, trust me, is no easy
feat. They wish to get to know you."

"But, why?" Harry's thoughts were oddly, sour, suspicious and confused. "Isn't he supposed
to be, like, Wizard royalty? What does he want from me?"

"Not in the least," Draco tutted as he stepped in closer, his pale hands coming up to fix the
collar of Harry's grey robes where it rested crookedly. "Wizards do not have royalty. Though,
his bonding to Luna does in fact ensure his lineage will inherit a royal moniker and title of
some sort, I believe, on the Fey side of things, of course.

"As to the question of what he might want from you, little lion; I can only begin to assume.
The Peverell line is of impeccably high standing. They are held in high regard by the
Council, are noted for their strength in magic, their long lives and healthy lineage. They hold
their wealth of galas and the like, to raise indisputable amounts of money for charities across
Britain and Europe. Like many of such a standing, it would not be beyond the realms of
possibility to believe that they would find you fascinating, at least. A letter from the Head of
such a family is nothing to disregard, at any rate; I would be lying if I was to say their
standing was shaken for any real length of time even with the direct link to, well... You-
Know-Who."

The old adage almost brought a grin to his lips, before Harry was scowling again.

"That still doesn't explain what he wants with me."

Draco stilled for a moment, in both mind and body, as he cast a searching look down at the
Omega. His hands lifted, gentle as they carded through dark hair thick with wayward curls.

"How is it you still don't realise just how... Incredibly impressive you are, Harry Potter?"
The words were whispered, a subtle disbelief colouring them as Draco tried to peer behind
his suddenly flushed cheeks to find an answer Harry had no hope of knowing for him.

The Vampire seemed to shake himself, their bond suddenly snapping tight and alive as he
dived in for a second, searing kiss, before pulling back with a smile that bordered on
mischievous.

"Regardless, I see no harm in attending, and I am certain Mother and Severus, and most
assuredly Lily and Molly, will be beyond intrigued to have a peak at the, what should we call
it, grander side of life."

Was there a grander side of life than white peacocks and a manor spread across several acres
of land? Harry thought loudly enough to warrant a flash of fang.

"Obviously, dear, you're standing in it."

Harry glanced down as Draco moved to once again throw open a wardrobe practically
bursting at its mahogany hinges with the sheer amount of lace and chiffon and silk that was
the Alpha's impeccable, expensive wardrobe. The owl by the open window hooted once as
Draco cast it a placating wave of his hand, fingers grasped around a bottle of ink he had dug
out of the corner of some shelving.

"Huh?"

Eloquent as always, Harry frowned at the man's words, and felt warm at the thrum of sincere
humour and delight that plucked at his very mind. Draco threw a soft smile back at him, his
head shaking as he sorted through sheets of parchment with a keen eye.

"The room, the country manor, the lands, the forest... All of this belongs to Altair, Harry."

Harry stalled a moment, his eyes slanting to the window and the sprawling miles of land
outside, as he sat himself back down on the clean bedsheets, his own grey robes spreading
about his black trousers.

"Well... Huh."

"Indeed." Draco's laugh was half lost to the expanse of the wardrobe.

###

Despite his attempts to distract himself throughout the day, time whittled away as it was
prone to do; and took with it a fine chunk of Harry's unlimited resolve and plain stubborn
streak.

The crowds had been vast, enough so that it had set him on edge during the Quidditch game
his father and Sirius and dragged both himself and Draco to, an unenthused Regulus at his
brother's side in a sort of resigned manner. The dissonance of the man's unexpected
appearance strung at Harry still, and the sounds of cheers and outright chaotic joy had been a
familiar balm in as much as they had set his teeth on edge.
He was out of sorts, frayed at the edges, it seemed; and those ragged strands had not been
tidied as the afternoon flowed with meet ups and meanders and activities and, eventually,
what amounted to simple tea and trivial gossip.

Suspiciously, Harry had found himself all but deserted at that last event, left to the mercy of
the excitable Lily Potter and Molly Weasley. Draco had remained inconveniently absent in
the hours his mother had all but claimed him, her smile warm and fond and lovely, as they
watched what he could only assume was some bizzarre spectacle of teacup magic.

Teacup magic, but if that was not a phrase he had never in his life thought he would consider.

Still, it was appropriate, as Harry had watched the fine china and dainty porcelain scattered
across one white-washed stone wall come to life and put on what had to have been the
strangest show of levitation magic he had ever had the misfortune of watching his maternal
figures enjoy.

Had it not been for the fantastically critical commentary throughout from Charlie and his
partners, he was fairly certain he never would have made it through. As it was, Harry found
himself falling into the lull of their unamused and scathing banter, slapping a hand across the
snort of laughter that had left his mouth when Hermione had 'tsk'ed a particularly disgusted
sound and asked the stoic and unamused face of Viktor Krum beside her if they had, in fact,
wandered into the children's entertainment by mistake.

She was different. Herself, but different.

They all were, that was still something that caught Harry unawares.

Familiar, and not. Themselves, and not. It soothed something in him, as much as it hurt.
There was no part of the world now around him that he could comprehend not adoring in the
life he had all but fallen into... But, he doubted whether the ache of a thing long since lost
would ever truly heal.

And so, he was unbalanced.

Full, from a day spent surrounded by loved ones and friends, and not even all the loved ones
and friends that he had been accumulating. Full, from a day of joy and laughter and
amusement and spectacle. He was full, fit to bursting as Draco's adoration and humour and
fond speculation waned across their bond. Sometimes palpable and taking him in his senses,
and sometimes so faint it was hardly a whisper.

Full.

But there were holes in him still, and it would only be a matter of time before something
reminded those holes that this life had come at the cost of a one he had carved through grit
and brute force; and left behind.

Draco's consciousness, when it whispered suddenly near from wherever it was the man had
vanished so many hours ago, was exceptionally cool. It was like a cold compress against
thoughts heavy and tangled, slipping just as surely into place, as the man's arms slipped
physically around his chest from behind. They pulled, a subtle, gentle tug that forced him
away from where he had been standing on the edges of their chattering, giggling, group of
people.

The invitation to the 'celebration' drawing ever closer with each hour spent, was suddenly the
topic on everyone's tongue. Draco had not been wrong in the slightest, when he said that the
family would be more than willing to accept a penned invite to a Peverell party.

How the Peverells could host a party at all and only invite a certain amount of the many,
many hundreds of wizards and witches and creatures milling about; Harry had no idea. He
himself could never have dared; though, he imagined the owner of such a ridiculous amount
of wealth and property as the one he had been traipsing through, could be afforded some
audacity.

Draco's lips pressed against his temple, cold and soft.

"I thought you liked Altair..."

Harry felt guilt twinge in his gut, but pursed his lips all the same and held fast. "I'm not
saying I dislike him... I just, I don't like snobby gits."

Draco laughed, sincere and open as he pulled Harry back further from the crowd and shook
his head.

"On the contrary, I think you very much do like snobby gits; in fact, I have it on exceptionally
good authority that you very much like one particular snobby git... One with a manor and
white peacocks, of all things, and, merlin forbid; A 'Lord' title. Incredible snobbery, right
there."

Despite himself, Harry felt the corners of his mouth lift in a smile, whatever weight that had
been pressing down on his shoulders suddenly shifting, in the face of Draco's teasing, and
that impeccable scent of copper and tea.

"Yeah, well, the other snobby git hasn't kissed me senseless, has he?"

The jab was worth Draco's eyes flashing down at him, the Vampire's lip catching on a
sudden, familiar sneer that had Harry chuckling.

"I should bloody well hope not."

"Where are we going, then?"

"To get ready for the party, of course."

Harry groaned, suddenly dragging his feet as Draco gripped him around the middle and all
but pulled him past the crowds and people applauding the boring, expensive dishware doing
its jigs and reels.

"But it's not for hours yet, Draco!"

"Exactly," the Vampire steered them towards one of the corridors, smile full of teeth. "And
aren't you so lucky you have a Mate just snobby enough to get us both ready in such a small
space of time."

Well, Harry conceded with a stifled grin, he supposed he should have expected that one.

###

Ron and Pansy's scents were intangibly twined around one another's; a perfectly soft
combination of the pair of them in equal counts that pricked at the frayed edges of his nerves
just as assuredly as they settled some strange, instinctual part of himself that Harry was still
attempting to come to terms with.

The scent permeated the room in the short time the pair of them had been there, Ron lounged
across a rather dainty armchair with one of his long legs thrown over the arm. The redhead
was, to his most finite mannerisms, far more comfortable a man than Harry had ever known
him to be. He held none of the awkwardness the Ron of his own world had grown into with
the blossoming of his and Hermione's relationship; rather, he was certain in the conversation
he now struck with Pansy, and with Draco and Harry, as he toyed with an ornate silver, hand
mirror that sighed out compliments that had him highly amused.

"I'm not saying that it's necessarily what needs to happen, just that it is the done thing to
usually bring a gift to the newly Bonded when one gets an invite to this sort of thing."

Pansy scoffed, the woman a literal vision in the layers and layers of chiffon that twisted about
her, warm coral against a sallow skin tone and blushed enough in colour to bring out the dark
mahogany of her long, loose curls. She rolled her eyes at her partner where she stood before
the open window, fingers holding her brush just a fraction higher as she dusted her bare
shoulders with something that seemed to sparkle under the near full moon.

"Nonsense, Ronald. Had it been an invitation to Draco and Harry, then I might concede; from
one Bonded couple to another, it would be scandalous not to bring a reasonable gift! But,
Altair Peverell has invited all of Harry's kin and so on; the man has all but encouraged Harry
to fill space at his celebrations. That is beyond exciting, it's practically a dare!"

A dare?

"Wrong choice of word, Pansy, love."

Draco's voice all but floated to them as the man emerged from the adjoined bathroom, pale
fingers straightening the high collar of a set of impeccable silver robes. They fit as though
they had been layered upon his skin and sewed together, the silver warm enough to keep from
casting a pale hue to the Vampire's already pallid tone.

Each crease sliced perfectly down a lean torso, to a place where black pleated over the most
errant strands of emerald green in a makeshift belt that seemed to almost glide into the robe's
floor-length skirt. Harry watched as Draco folded the sleeves against strong forearms in a
manner that was almost casually stylish, as he strode forward enough to spare a fleeting
glimpse at the dark grey skin-tight trousers and black boots that lay tucked beneath the
slashes of open pleating.

The man was beautiful.

There were other words, he was sure, that might have described him in the sudden moment.
Elegant, handsome, regal, even. He was the epitome of composure, down to the last, stray
thought.

But as he watched him, pale and artfully put together, with long, blonde hair loose about a
face almost delicate in bone structure; he was beautiful. Harry could do little but think as
much as Draco turned to peer down at him with a smile so soft it seemed to soothe the frayed
edged of Harry's nerves; if only for a moment.

Draco held his hand out, and Harry felt his cheeks colour as Pansy let out a breathy sigh as he
reached up to clasp it. He was spun slowly, in a circle, as Draco cast a critical eye over him.
As if the man had not spent the better half of an hour simply staring at the contents of Harry's
personal wardrobe, before shaking his head and choosing instead to refit one of his own
outfits on Harry, with an exceptional ease of some rather clever tailoring magic.

The robes Harry wore were similar to the style his mother had purchased for him, a cobalt
blue that seemed both strong and fragile, exceptionally light against his skin where they sat.
Sleeveless, as seemed to be the style, and with a low, near revealing collar that showed an
exceptional amount of his neck and the fresh bond mark there.

He wore his own trousers and boots beneath the breathy, gentle flow of the soft skirt that slid
almost extravagantly from a waist bound so tight, Harry thought he might feel the stitching if
he took a breath too roughly.

It was... Something, Harry supposed.

Draco's humour was a gentle thing, a spark of light inside his own manic thoughts as he came
back around from his spin to face his mate.

"You look so beautiful, Harry."

The sentiment came from Pansy, and she smiled at him as she moved to prod Ron from his
chair, the redhead groaning with the effort it took, as he straightened his own black robes
with a flick of his wand.

"Stunnin', mate. We'll meet ye outside then, yeah?"

Harry had barely begun to nod before the pair were gone, hustling through the door and out
of sight. He frowned, and felt his body twitch when the scent of copper flooded fast to wipe
away whatever question had been about to fall from his parted lips.

Draco's mouth descended on his, a sudden, cool press of lips and tongue and Harry felt his
own surprised, strangled whimper press into the man's mouth as hands braced against the
fragile material on his hips and waist. That scent echoed like a living thing inside his head,
the idea of it tangible in his mind in the way it was tangible in the air, seeping into his pores
and thoughts until the worries that he had amassed throughout the day faded to nothing.

Harry nearly buckled beneath the relief of it all, his wand holster digging into the crease of
his elbow as one hand gripped against the plush silk of Draco's sleeve.

His other hand was captured in one of the Alpha's own, Draco's lips sliding into a smile
beneath his panting breath as graceful, elegant fingers slid something solid and cold onto one
of Harry's own.

Curiosity alone dragged him back enough to part from his mate, his cheeks flushed and his
heart a rampant beat still in his chest as he glanced down at his own left hand; and to the
sleek, white-gold band that now nestled against his skin, one finger in from his pinky.

His ring finger.

The piece was heavy, thick and perfectly fitted beneath his knuckle, wide enough to bare the
face of the intricately carved dragon that slumbered in several shades of gold against a stark,
white, embossed, letter 'M'.

"I know we have yet to discuss an actual bonding ceremony, but I do hope you don't mind...
That ring belonged to my Grandmother and Mother has kept it squirreled away since the
woman passed in France some years back; but she was quite ecstatic to travel home with me
this afternoon to retrieve it for you. Apologies, for that, I had not meant to leave you alone
quite so long. She was rather eccentric, from what I can recall... Grandmother, that is, before
she decided to take off and explore the wealth left to her from Grandfather Abraxas' untimely
demise. Of course, you need not wear it indefinitely, I understand the design may be
cumbersome..."

Rambling.

Draco Malfoy was rambling.

Harry stared down at the ring, the wedding ring, that Draco had just slipped over his finger;
before staring back up at the other man and whatever nonsense was still falling out of his
mouth.

With a grin, Harry wrapped his fingers around the back of his mate's neck, all but standing on
his tiptoes as he dragged the man's mouth down to his own once more and sealed the man's
rambling away with a hard kiss and a sigh.

"Thank you, Alpha, I love it."

The Vampire seemed to stall, frozen for a moment with those elegant hands on Harry's hips,
his eyes dark enough that Harry wondered if they might make it out of their room at all;
before the man straightened with a physical shake of his head and flashed a smile filled with
fang down at him.

"You are welcome, sweet lion."

He made to offer Harry his arm, before casting another look of scrutiny across the cobalt
robes that clung to Harry's delicate frame. "One more thing, actually."

With a deft flick of the wand suddenly in Draco's hand, Harry's robes lit aglow until the dark,
royal blue that they had been, suddenly vanished beneath a rush of vibrant, rich, emerald
green. The new colour of the robes glowed against his pale skin and Harry felt Draco lean in
to twist one of the dark curls by his face around a single finger as he grinned.

"Much better."
 28
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

"You said it would be small."

"I said nothing of the sort, dearest."

Harry would have turned to glare at his mate, were it not for the fact that he was having just a
modicum of trouble tearing his eyes away from the behemoth of a room Draco had led their
group towards.

"A 'simple frivolity', those were your exact words."

Narcissa hummed as she passed by him with Severus on her arm, her dark-lined eyes
glancing about the room in something that looked like vague amusement.

"There could not possibly be more than two hundred people here, at most, Harry, dear.
Simple would be quite apt."

The scowl Harry narrowed in her direction was lost as she swayed past him, her prominent
violet skirt wide enough that he wondered how it was Severus managed to stay in step with
her, at all where the Omega trailed dressed in dark charcoal and detailed silver.

Simple.

There was nothing at all simple about the whole affair.

Harry watched his family and friends step into the room, around where he stood rather
cemented against the main entrance way, the exceptionally tall oak doors suddenly
oppressively where they slid silently closed against his back. The space was smaller than the
initial meeting room everyone had travelled to via floo, was the only generous estimation
Harry could think of for the others to believe it to be in any way 'simple'.

It spanned further than he could make out with the groups of glittering, smiling, dancing
people taking up so much of the white marbled floor. The walls, pale and designed from
rough stone, were draped in golden netting, fragile curtains adding a layer of gossamer to the
spinning, twirling figures with each catch of the dozens of candlelit chandeliers above.

He was accosted by the scent of rain and rosewater, as if the very air itself had been perfumed
with something heady that made him altogether... Dizzy.

Draco's arm, in fact, was probably the only thing that had stopped him from bolting straight
back out the doors behind him. The man was a steady, patient presence by his side, face
gently amused and beautifully charming in the golden light. His fingers held fast as Harry's
eyes flickered across the span of people, across the tall windows sealed tight against the cold
air, across the second set of oak doors that they could see above the heads of others on the
other side of the hall.

Essentially, he felt very much trapped; and it was a mentality that the peace and sense of
safety that Draco's very scent offered, battled with. Despite his internal war, however, with
each moment that passed, those steady fingers, and that enveloping copper and black, sweet
tea scent was fast winning out as Harry stared at the unfamiliar faces that trailed past them.
There was music, Harry realised, as his heart found its way down from his throat and his face
smoothed from the scowl that had twisted his lips. As he calmed beneath Draco's touch, the
ringing in his ears abated enough for Harry to hear it.

Soft and lilting and lovely, it filled the room, hall, cavern of a space.

The gentle swoon of a violin threaded a haunting pace, and the voice that followed it hit each
note with stark perfection. Harry's eyes found the singer as she swayed on a raised podium
towards the centre of the room, her blonde hair and her bright, pale green eyes all but
shouting her relation to the other, Peverell descendants that floated about the room, poised
and perfect.

Merlin, but it had to be exhausting to be so damn perfect all the time.

Draco's own perfect mask cracked a fraction, a snort of laughter slipping through as he slid
his hand down Harry's arm to intertwine their fingers instead.

"I am not so sure." the man mused as he gently dragged Harry closer towards the section of
floor cut in pristine, black marble, where bodies were waltzing slow to the soft, swelling
lullaby of that sweet voice.

"You're not so sure, what?" Harry narrowed his eyes, digging in his heels just a tad as Draco
put a bit of weight behind his pulling.

The Vampire huffed a laugh, clasping Harry's waist suddenly and swinging him around until
his boots landed firmly on the black marble.

"I am not so sure that it is exhausting to be so perfect. After all," Draco's voice dropped into a
purr, and Harry had to stop his fidgeting for a moment to lean into what was fast becoming
one of his favourite sounds.

"You make perfect look so very easy, Omega."

Harry scoffed, the sound rough and amused as he shook his head. "One: that was a terrible
line, dreadful really."

"Oh, you think so?"

"I do," Harry replied tartly, flushing all the same as Draco backed him further onto the
section of the floor clearly reserved for dancing. "And two: you are about to see how really,
horribly, not perfect my dancing is, if you keep this up."
The gentle, bright twang of Draco's humour across the bond was enough to keep Harry from
running away, but only just. Still, even his honesty did not deter the man as Draco wrapped a
strong hand around the green chiffon on his waist, the touch cool beneath the thin material.
His other hand grasped Harry's own, as he smiled and suddenly spun him into a dip.

Blood pooled fast to Harry's cheek where he hung suspended for a moment, before Draco
was dragging him back with those controlled, well-placed hands, into a kiss that fried the last
of his borderline panic, and rational thinking clean away.

"Is it not lucky, then, that you have a dance partner like me?"

It was.

He was...

Lucky, that is.

Harry could not help but think so, as Draco guided him through each gentle sway, those
hands rigid and steady through each spin and twirl and so very strong as they held onto him
with each misstep of his own. His feet, he was sure, hardly touched the marble at all.

And, with his body as occupied as it was beneath Draco's touch, Harry suddenly realised why
the man had guided them to a dance before anything else. Each step brought them slowly in a
circle wide enough to survey the entire room. In just a single, cadence of song, they had
rounded the podium and Harry had seen more of the room and the people within than any
attempt at walking through might have given him.

He knew that Narcissa was in deep conversation with a woman with bright, scarlet hair and a
smile filled with sharp teeth; and that Severus beside her was holding a drink out to a
Regulus Black that blushed down the length of his throat to where his low, green collar hung
undone and purposely messy.

He had seen his parents sway past him, his mother grinning as she swung James just a
fraction too hard into a spin, the wizard all but wheezing with laughter as he tried to
straighten them up without colliding with anyone else. Draco had slowed them enough to see
that Remus and Sirius had settled into a section of room scattered with high, slender tables of
bone-white stone, filled with drinks and food and sweet things, and that Pansy and Ron were
fast on their way to devouring an unsubtle amount.

The Weasleys had almost been a blur as their pace quickened, fanned about in a manner most
impressive, their red hair a familiar beacon to Harry regardless of situation. Molly and Arthur
in the midst of conversation, Ginny raising a flute of champagne in his direction as they
passed, her arm wrapped possessively around the familiar, unfamiliar shape of a Dean
Thomas Harry had never known. Charlie and his brood had commandeered a section of black
marble all on their own, his arm around Rory's waist as Gabriel laughed at something they
had said, a smiling Hermione in his own grasp and a placid looking Viktor Krum leaning
across them both to grab a glass of his own.
Harry knew as Draco spun him slowly away that Bill and Fleur were in their chamber,
choosing to spend the evening with their softly sleeping daughter; the only two of his family
missing were the twins, in fact, and he had only a moment to wonder what type of mischief
their absence might entail, before Draco was pulling him away again, past the high, stone
fireplaces and the green eyes that had been so intently focused on his own.

Marvolo Gaunt.

Harry felt fear skitter unwillingly down his spine, so sudden and abrupt that Draco almost
stalled with it.

"Now," the blonde said suddenly, his voice gentle despite the intent focus of his mind. "That
is an interesting reaction. What is it that Lord Gaunt could have possibly done to elicit such a
response?"

Harry grimaced, trying to shuffle some sense into the mess of thoughts that Draco was
suddenly so focused on, their bond thrumming with tension as the Vampire tried to hold back;
to give him just a moment.

Harry sighed.

He had no intention of hiding any of his life from the man he had bonded with; but that did
not mean that he was keen to drag it into the golden-hued present with them.

"It's... It is not so much what he did, as the man I was told he was, I guess? His history is one
I can't seem to unravel from Voldemort's in my head."

Despite the stoic cast to his mate's face, Harry felt the flinch at the name in his mind all the
same. Why was it, he wondered, that the wound was so raw still in the people of this world?
Why was it that Voldemort had been dead and gone for five years and still, still, his name was
the stuff of nightmares?

Draco slowed their dancing, his hands still pressing down on Harry's hips as he looked down
at the younger man with a darkness to his face.

"He has done much, in our reality, to earn our nightmares, love. He was so charming, so very
assured of his manner of thinking that those who believed in him sometimes still do, in their
darkest moments. He was skilled, gifted even in the art of legilmency and mind magic. Lord
Gaunt is not the villain of our story, Harry.

"The man's name has been trodden over, but his actions have never earned him any suspicion.
From what I know of his history, and believe me when I say that what I know is most
assuredly fact; Gaunt despaired of his children. Lady Merope and Lord Morfin wanted for
nothing, but desired everything they should not. Merope bore her son of a man against his
will, and Morfin destroyed her and cast the child away, so that his father would search
forever for his illegitimate Heir."

Harry felt his eyes widen, their dancing slowing to a gentle sway as Draco relayed a story of
Marvolo Gaunt that Harry would have never considered possible.
"He was horrid, in my world," Harry whispered back, conscious of ears that paid them no
mind, "He hated muggles and he hated everyone who wasn't pureblood. He was mean and
twisted and awful to his daughter, he nearly killed her. And he definitely didn't look like,
well... That."

His eyes slipped back, through the throng of dancing people and onto where Marvolo Gaunt
stood beside another, one arm anchored on the stone mantle piece as he peered into the glass
held aloft between his pale fingers. His green eyes were exceptionally bright, much like the
eyes of all the Peverell family that Harry had seen throughout the room. For a man that had to
have been at least a hundred years old, Harry could hardly bring himself to think he looked
more than fifty at a push.

Draco tugged him in, his thoughts aghast as he pondered over the mental image that Harry
held in his head of his reality's Marvolo Gaunt.

"Good Gods, but your world seems dreadfully unkind to an aging wizard."

The snort of laughter left him unbidden and Draco grinned down at him as they swayed,
pressed together as another slow, sleepy melody drifted through the rose-scented air. "In
regards to Lord Gaunt as he exists in front of you now, I do believe the man is one-hundred-
and-twenty? Give or take a few years, of course. The Peverell line is long lasting, of course,
and by their blood he still has quite a few years ahead of him. There are wizards older than
him still alive and still in far better shape than the brute of your memory."

Harry shook his head, disbelief colouring his own thoughts. "That's just... Insane."

"Quite," Draco grinned, spinning Harry once more until the Omega caught sight of a cackling
Nymphadora Tonks as she grinned up at a man he did not know. He frowned.

"Did he never find Tom Riddle, then? What did Morfin do with him? Obviously, he didn't kill
him."

Draco drew him in with a hand against his lower back, his red eyes glancing off as though
trying to recall something. "He had dropped him off at a muggle orphanage, though I can't
recall the name... When Gaunt discovered his daughter had been, well, decimated, and
Morfin admitted to what he had done in his rage; he was sent so quickly to Azkaban for the
kiss that Marvolo never did get a chance to find out where it was the boy had been sent.

"From what I recall of the stories Mother and Grandmere have told me, he did search for him
for a time, even ventured to the Riddle estate; but grew to believe that Morfin must have
killed the child and wiped the muggle's minds clean. None remembered the boy. It was many
years later, when Tom was a boy in his first year at Hogwarts, that Dumbledore reunited the
pair."

Harry felt his eyebrows fly upwards, his surprise like a veritable snap against the bond.

"He, what?"

Draco nodded, his face imperceptibly grim.

"Dumbledore brought the two together, and Marvolo offered the boy a home in his manor. He
thought him magic, introduced him to the Gaunt library and the tomes of spells within. I
cannot recall why it was, exactly, that Lord Gaunt grew wary of the direction his grandson's
intrigue was leaning. I know only that he moved the youth to a country home of his own, and
refused to teach him a thing more.

"In fact, it was Lord Gaunt, I believe, who informed the Order of the possible existence of,
well, the Horcruxes. Though, from what I can gather, it took many years to even begin to
verify such a claim. Regardless, what I had been attempting to convey to you, Harry, is that
our histories are vastly different."

And then some.

Harry glanced again around the room, and noticed the stark reality of the many, many
creature heritages that lay inherent in the wizards and witches around him. The scent alone
that permeated through the perfumed air of Alpha, Beta and Omega was enough of a
reminder of just how far he was from the life he had grown accustomed to.

He had found a home in this strangely familiar land of twisted stories and jumbled fact and
fiction, but that did not stop the little shock to his core when he was reminded of just how
little he knew of that new home.

"Harry Potter."

The voice knocked him back to the present, Draco bringing him to a gentle stop as the scent
of roses and rain over dark rock nearly clouded his vision for a single moment. When he
blinked, it was to find Altair Peverell staring down at him; those yellow eyes searching and
earnest.

"Lord Peverell," Draco's voice saved him from his own hesitation, smooth and classically
charming as the Alpha dipped into a bow that Altair mimicked with a small, graceful smile.
"Thank you for your gracious invite. The families were most delighted."

Altair laughed, and Harry thought the sound almost genuine, as Luna sidled up beside them
with a smile in his direction that soothed the magic thrumming beneath his skin.

"Hi Luna."

"Hello Harry, are you enjoying the dance?"

The dance... He had been too, despite all his claims at being horrendous at it. Dancing with
Draco was easy. He nodded, grinning when the beauty clad in silver grinned back at him.
There was a sharpness to this Luna, despite her softly tempered air and peaceful face.
Whether it existed in that scent, and the way Harry was unable to place her Dynamic; or even
just the sudden shine of her eyes, he could not say.

Still, nothing in it unnerved him; and so he stepped aside with little fuss when Luna leaned in
to tilt her head up at Draco.
"Then, would you permit me a dance too, Lord Malfoy? That is, so long as it is alright with
Harry?"

And, had it been anyone else, Harry thought, it would not have been. Even after such stark
proof that his own reality and this one held certain truths that did not correlate or harmonise;
there was nothing in him that could not trust Luna Lovegood in every form.

So, he smiled, nodding again and watching as Draco held a hand out to take Luna's delicate
grasp in his own. They were akin in the pallid cast of their skin, hardly a blush of colour to
differentiate between the two. The glance that Draco cast down at Harry as he led the Fey
away was filled with all the soft assurance and unwavering attention of their bond, that stoic,
iron-crafted fence wrapping around his scattered thoughts with the Alpha's possessive nature.

Harry watched the pair of them, slender and hardly a shift in the colour of their hair, their
cloth, their entire selves beneath the golden light to tell them apart as they spun in a gentle
twirl that parted the sea of dancers in front of them.

"Harry," His name was spoken not in English, but in the soft, dark tones of Parseltongue, that
slipped as easily from Altair's lips as it would have from any living snake. "Will you walk
with me, little Speaker?"

With the notion that he had very little choice in the matter, Harry slipped his fingers into the
crook of the dark, velvet cloaked arm that was offered to him. It was soft beneath his touch,
thinner than he had anticipated as he felt the lean pull of corded muscle beneath, as Altair
stood once more to full height.

The man was impressive.

There was not another word that suited him more. From the sleek, impeccable length of his
golden hair, to his stance and his scent, to the expensive, finely tailored black cloak that
covered skin almost paler than Draco's, Altair held a presence that something in Harry tried
to bow to, just as surely as a part of himself wanted to rebel against it. The Alpha's yellow
eyes glittered beneath the lamplight, as though one look might leave a person literally
spellbound.

Or paralyzed.

"It is not often an Omega attending a celebration of mine feels the need to arm themselves."

The conversation continued in Parseltongue, and Harry wondered as to the choice of

language, before the group they were passing through went suddenly silent and seemed to
practically lean in their direction. Listening. Eager to catch a snippet of what it was they were
talking about.

He supposed any conversation Altair might have, being the popular sort that he was, would
not be privy to the basic dignity of actual privacy. Harry glanced at his arm as Altair held it
out, pale fingers inches from where his wand sat in its leather holster, the bindings sleek and
dark and, bizarre beside his green, flowing robes. He grimaced.
"I don't go anywhere without my wand, sorry."

Altair hummed, and the sound carried with it the gentle pull of a half-hidden hiss, trailing and
curious. "Indeed. Which, and pardon if I overstep, does beg the question of your life before...
That you feel such a need, even in the presence of your Alpha."

Harry scoffed in the very human sense, as he followed Altair off the black marble dance
floor. Songs faded out again in the background, whisper-soft as the sombre weeping of the
violin echoed against the gentle music instead.

"What, so I am supposed to assume Draco will be there to protect me every minute for the
rest of my life? I can take care of myself, thanks." His voice was acidic against the waspish
tone of the snake language and Harry himself winced at the defensive tone of it.

Still, it brought a chuckle from Altair that sounded oddly real, the blonde peering down at
him with eyes alight with curiosity. "And why is it you think you would ever need protection,
little Speaker? You are young, and sweet, and I find myself desperate to understand. Why is it
you were such a target, that it has left you so guarded?"

Harry felt the spark of fight wisp away, his fingers tense on Altair's arm. "I had to be..."

They stopped, Altair staring down at him, or rather, at the parting of Harry's hair, as the man
lifted a hand to press a thumb gently against the scar so long a part of him.

"So you did." The man mused, his voice hushed as he ran his thumb against the raised skin,
his eyes suddenly dark. He pulled his hand back before Harry could grow uncomfortable, his
smile gentle as he tightened his grip on the hand Harry left in the crook of his elbow.

"I have seen only one such scar before in my lifetime," Altair was leading them towards the
fireplace he had passed with Draco, Harry realised suddenly, as the flickering of orange came
into view and beautiful, perfect people gathered around it caught his eye. "On the body of a
child who took his own life, at the end of a war I should have played a far greater role in.
How is it..."

Harry felt suddenly pinned down as they passed through a fragile ward, a privacy charm like
ice against his skin for the shortest moment, before he was suddenly surrounded by the scent
of Alpha. Lord Gaunt peered down at him, frown curious and brow raised beside a women
and a man nearly identical to one another, who spoke behind raised hands as they stared
down at him. The scent of them all, every single one of them, unmated, mated, or otherwise,
was overwhelming in the enclosed space; from the men and women standing with glasses, to
the two women draped demurely across the daintiest of armchairs.

"How is it," Altair continued, shaking his head, "That you managed to survive the Horcrux?"

He felt panic, a spark sharp and bitter, against instincts unfamiliar and strange and his hand
lifted to clasp across his mouth. Harry would have choked beneath that intense, Alpha scent,
he was sure of it; had it not been for the sudden breath of midnight air that swirled in from
the back of him. Hands clasped over his arms, dragging him back a fraction towards a torso
lean and oddly familiar.
"If it was your intention to frighten ze boy, Altair, zen consider your attempt a success.
Entirely unacceptable."

Merlin, but Harry did not think he would ever have been so glad to breathe in the calm,
controlled scent of potions and dark skies that was Severus Snape.

Still, Altair's face as it suddenly peered back at him was contrite, and Harry felt the
admonishment of the French vampire in his own core as Altair bowed suddenly.

"That was not my intention... Not at all... I am sorry, little Speaker."

The transition from Parseltongue and English was near imperceptible, Harry catching it only
from the 'tsk' of aggravation that Severus sneered out as Regulus Black appeared on his other
side, his brow furrowed and a rather furious looking Draco at his back. The Vampire's
irritation was like a sting against their bond, sharp and sudden, and Harry felt his own
aggravation nettle back like a well-honed instinct from years of having to be on defense.

"What in Merlin's name is going on here? Harry, step back from them. Is he alright,
Severus?"

Harry felt his eyes narrow as he shook off the hands Severus still held on his shoulders,
before the man could answer for him.

"Did I say I wasn't?" he huffed, straightening his robes as he glared about at them all.
"Severus, thank you, really, for trying to help, but Altair has done nothing wrong. I want
information from him, just like he wants it from me."

There was a moment of silence, both parties turning to look at him, before Draco sighed.

"Information? Harry, Altair really should have requested..."

"What?" Harry glanced back at his mate, his brows raised, "An audience with you? A written
enquiry from my parents? I don't know about your rules, here, Draco, but as far as I'm
concerned, Altair didn't break any of mine. Is that okay with you?"

The spark of anger at the loss of agency was enough for his magic to streak against his palms,
crackling hot for the briefest second as he pointed a finger in Draco's chest and the Vampire
raised his hands in surrender, his mouth clamped tight over the unexpected jolt of amusement
that Harry could feel practically singing against their bond. His own lip twitched.

Damn, but it was so much harder to stay mad, when someone was essentially giggling in your
head. Draco's relief was palpable, and Harry felt his anger abate at the realisation that the
irritation he had felt from the Alpha had been purely worry, their bond bright and soft and full
of warmth between them once more.

"I concede, little lion," Draco said instead, his lips shifting in a smile, and his copper scent
practically heady wrapped around the scent of the crackling flames in the nearby grate.

Harry ignored the snort of laughter from Regulus, the younger Black far too alike his older
brother in the moment, as Severus cast an unimpressed eyebrow in his direction. Still, the
 smothered snap of sudden laughter was enough to diffuse whatever strange tension had built
in the presence of so many curious, powerful Alphas; and Harry felt his chest lift just a
fraction easier as Altair gestured for the four of them to take a seat.

"Thank you, Harry." The man's smile was a genuine one, soft and oddly fond as he cast a
glance between the hard-backed armchair Harry settled into, and the stool Draco dragged
over to sit beside him. "I feel as though I may have gone about this in a manner not entirely
suited to you... You seem more... Straight-forward than I anticipated. I do apologise for that."

Harry waved the words away, his cheeks hot beneath the blatant curiosity of the several,
unfamiliar faces now intent around him. Though they had yet to add any actual conversation
to the noise around them, their countenance seemed somehow more relaxed, Lord Gaunt
himself leaning an elbow against the stone mantle and offering a polite nod to the look
Severus cast him, as the Omega dragged an unsure Regulus to sit down onto the padded
bench to one side.

"I guess I'm not exactly the type to beat around the bush?" Harry grimaced as the muggle
saying was met with no small amount of confused stares, Draco's humour at his
embarrassment just about the only thing that stopped him from sinking back into the chatting,
laughing, swirling crowd on people just beyond the Peverell's bubble of privacy.

"Straight-forward," Harry insisted instead, "I'm good with straight-forward."

Altair considered a moment, settling himself down on the double armchair that was cleared
for him almost immediately, the Alphas sitting there suddenly finding something do
elsewhere. Actually, apart from Lord Gaunt and the identical pair still standing by his side,
the bubble of privacy seemed to suddenly empty of any other Peverell; as though they had
heard some silent command that Harry's group had not been privy to. He frowned at the four
remaining, as the sound of another haunting melody echoed into the room, the notes of the
violin seeming almost piercing.

"Very well," Altair narrowed his gaze. "Then, in the hopes of being straight-forward, Harry
Potter, I need to ask; do you still bare a piece of my cousin's dark soul inside you? Is Tom
Marvolo Riddle still alive?"

Chapter End Notes

Thank you to everyone following and reading this story. I do appreciate all your
comments and encouragement.
 29

The privacy charm was entirely effective.

Mild enough to sit just on the edges of those gathered around the open archway of the
immense fireplace, it was a gentle reprimand to the likes of those who might wander near in
the hopes of catching some errant piece of straggling gossip.

It was strong enough, however, that Harry felt the weight of it against his skin just as he felt
the weight of those unnatural yellow eyes. Altair's gaze was fixed on him, as relaxed as the
man seemed to be reclined as he was on the plush, lilac coloured seat; his scent was near
tangible.

Draco held all the decorum of a small child made to attend a greeting he held no interest in,
as he scoffed by Harry's side, one long leg folding over his other as he leaned an arm against
the armrest of the rather uncomfortable chair that Harry had had the misfortune of choosing
to sit on.

"The insinuation that any part of my Mate is not himself is an insulting one, to say the least,
Lord Peverell. His mind is intrinsically linked with my own and I have proven my name a
thousand times over in the face of my father's wrong doings."

The words were mild, spoken in a tone that Draco would have used just as readily to describe
the beauty of the party still ongoing around them; were it not for the sharp dip his copper-
coloured scent took, suddenly metallic and strange against Harry's tongue.

Furious.

Altair held a hand up, his head bowing once to concede to whatever point it was that Draco
seemed to be making.

"Peace, Mister Malfoy. I mean no slight against your name, nor the name of your new Mate. I
simply needed to ask the question... I need to be sure, and in recent times I find myself
distinctly uncertain. It unnerves me."

The man sighed, his raised hand lifting to card through pale hair in an almost agitated motion.
It was, perhaps, the first normal thing that Harry had seen the Alpha do.

"It's gone, just to be clear," Harry said, glancing up at the twins still intent on watching him,
and the mysterious Lord that stood beside them. "I did have the Horcrux, an accidental one at
least, I really don't think he intended on making one when he attacked my family that night...
But, it ehm... It died when I did."

Altair frowned, and Harry found himself suddenly pinned beneath that yellow gaze.

"I don't understand."

He hardly did himself, Harry huffed something of a laugh. As much as he had tried to come
to terms with that night, with what he had experienced and with the haunting realisation that
he had quite deliberately walked to his death... It was a dark spot still on the recesses of his
soul. It was an unasked and unanswered question, a bruise best left alone that he would
sometimes prod and poke at on the darkest nights, when sleep was far beyond the reaches of
his whispering mind.

His death had been something he had felt it best not to examine... For fear that it would send
him spiralling into madness. It was a thing that had happened, an incident of the war, a
nightmare and nothing else... and something in him was exceedingly reluctant to relive any
part of it at all under the watchful gaze of strangers he had once known, and strangers he had
yet to meet, of strangers he never would have imagined meeting and strangers he would
never again be willingly parted from.

Harry cast a glance at his mate as he sighed.

"There are... Things... Events... Between our worlds that just don't add up. People, things,
timelines... What I once would have believed as solid fact in my own reality, unquestioned,
has been cast into doubt in this one. The Voldemort I knew and fought and defeated is dead...
Any lonely, unwanted piece of him that once existed was destroyed; and that includes
whatever piece was living inside me."

Draco's fingers reached out to thread through his own cold digits, the bond a thrum of
comfort that dragged Harry back from thoughts far too dark to be had in the blaze of a fire
near twice his width across. He frowned, back straightening as he glanced back at Altair.

"But your history here... Something feels... Sometimes wrong about it. I get this feeling every
time it's brought up, and I've tried to ignore it, tried to understand that the timelines are
different and different things happened, but there are pieces missing and I can't even begin to
think what those pieces are."

Harry watched Altair narrow his gaze, the man's demeanor soft but calculating as he tilted his
head back in thought. It was one of the identical siblings that spoke into the silence that
followed Harry's words; and their voice was whisper soft. Bled through with the lisping,
echoing feel of Parseltongue, but undeniably English, the man looked uncomfortable to have
even opened his mouth in the first place.

"Tom was family... And he betrayed us."

The weight of the gentle admission was enough to have Harry leaning back against the stiff
chair, some form of clarity settling like a shroud across his senses.

That was the difference, Harry was slowly beginning to realise, between the two versions of
the same monster.

Voldemort was a man turned bitter and full of hate in his loneliness, in his strive towards
leadership and immortality and a destiny greater than the sum of all the parts that made him
and rejected him. Voldemort had been a desperate, heart-broken child eager to learn his name
and his roots... And just as eager to burn them all to the ground when they turned on him so
vehemently.

And the Tom Riddle of this reality had found them.

The Tom Riddle of this world had had not only Hogwarts and Dumbledore, but a father in the
impressive, elegant figure of Lord Marvolo Gaunt. He had had his history spoken to him
from voices that carried traces of his own blood, and that history had been rich with intrigue
and power. The Tom Riddle that had chosen Neville Longbottom as his rival, that had used
magic and charm to bewitch and enchant his followers, despite what harm it might bring
upon the family name...

The Tom Riddle that had been loved... And had still chosen himself.

Harry felt his breath hiss out of him, a shiver racing up his spine at the very thought. There
could be no empathy in such a creature.

"Why?" Harry whispered, "What happened that he betrayed his own family? The Voldemort I
knew, the man I learned about, he would have given anything for this family and the amount
of power you hold."

Altair merely inclined his head towards the older man standing still by the mantle, his
impeccable dressed form to the burning flames as he stared down at Harry with that face that
was so brazenly familiar. That jawline, sharp and clenched, as he seemed to battle internally
for a moment before something dark settled on those classically handsome features. It all
very nearly sent Harry's fingers towards his wand, were it not for the subtle clench of Draco's
hand in his own.

After a painfully long moment, Lord Gaunt seemed to come to a decision, his eyes glancing
away to take in the swirl of colour from dancers far too engaged in the rhythm of a song to
pay any mind to the gravity of the conversation at play.

"Tom was placed in my care at the age of eleven. He was my ward in as much as he was my
biological grandson, and I shared his history, our history, our family with him, from the
moment he asked me of it."

If nothing of his visage shared a hint at the years Lord Gaunt had been alive, than his voice
would have surely given him away. It was a kind voice, something in it soft and sure and
altogether gentle with whatever he had lived through. It was a voice not unlike the wise rasp
of Albus Dumbledore, or the weary acceptance of a Remus Lupin beaten down by years of
torment. Lord Gaunt's voice was the voice of a man who had lived through tragedy, and was
standing still despite it all.

"I adored him." It was a whisper, a confession against the crackle of flame. "He was every
ounce my daughter's spirit and insatiable curiosity. He held her eyes, and when he gazed at
me as I spoke of our lineage and our ancestors and our magic; I imagined he held just a
fraction of what my sweet Merope may have been, had I not failed her."
One of the pale haired twins reached out a hand to tap against the man's arm; a gesture of
connection in an instance when the man looked near ready to break apart. The motion seemed
to still the imperceptible quake to his scent and Harry wondered for a moment who, exactly,
these two identical individuals were. Unalike Marvolo Gaunt in a way that spoke of no
family connection, but with a familiar sheen of Altair's golden hair and alabaster skin that
must have held some shared blood in that regard. Cousin, Altair had referred to Tom Riddle...
As his cousin, and Harry wondered if they might all look upon each other in such a way. Was
the blood that bound them so important to them, that they held onto that connection with such
a firm grasp?

"He was seventeen, when he came to me in search of Horcrux magic."

Altair's powerful scent spiked in the enclosed space of the privacy charm, and Harry's eye
caught on where both Severus and Regulus leaned back a fraction, the movement near
imperceptible save for the hand that Severus used to clasp the back of Regulus Black's neck
in comfort.

"He had been so sincere, so much of my curious and intelligent grandson as he begged me to
allow him unrestricted access to the tomes of our vault. He believed the magic itself was not
inherently dark, that he could study it in such a manner as to change it, reform it, that he
could make a veritable elixir from the workings of it that would keep a man young and
powerful for centuries, for millennia."

"Like the philosopher's stone?" Regulus' voice was a whisper, his brow furrowed as he leaned
against the taller Omega beside him. His jaw clenched as Marvolo Gaunt looked at him, the
man's green eyes weary.

"Stronger. Better. Tom wanted none of the frailties that came with an inevitably long life...
And I... I never wanted to see him perish." If a man could have been haunted by the thoughts
in his own head, then that was what had befallen Lord Gaunt over the course of his years.
The past had an inescapable grasp on the Alpha's heart, and for the first time, Harry felt pity
for the creature.

"I allowed it... I would have allowed anything at all in the times when he would speak in such
a manner. I believed he would pave a path of greatness through the world, that his life and his
suffering for the years he spent apart from his family would mean something. I allowed him
access, and I granted him whatever he might need in his bid to outsmart death. It was years
later, when Tom had consumed the very most of what our family tomes had to offer, that I
realised the full extent of what I had wreaked upon our world."

The graceful Lord seemed to crumple, one large hand lifting to cover his face as his shoulders
suddenly hunched inward. "If I had known he had... Such plans... If I had watched him
better... I..."

Harry felt his own magic crackle in response to the grief that seemed to pour from the Alpha
in physical waves. Light skittered, green and fragile and waspish, against the skin of his
palms, his forearms, and it was enough to drag Lord Gaunt's gaze from the spaces between
his fingers, the man's look one of torment.
"Your presence is akin to his... In a manner..." The whisper was quiet, and Harry had a
fleeting moment to consider if he should worry that he had just been compared to Lord
Voldemort for the second... Third?... Time in his life.

Altair tipped his head back with a sigh, his yellow eyes closing.

"Tom had found a means of developing some... Twisted version of legilimency through the
Horcrux magic. He had discovered a way to bind his soul with an object of his choosing, that
left the sacrificed witch or wizard or muggle alive... But barely."

The man's disgust was palpable even with his eyes slid shut, his top lip lifting over his fangs
in a dignified sneer.

"They were little more than puppets, dolls on strings tied around Tom's fingers that would
have impaled themselves on a blade if the boy so much as tweaked a thumb. He had made
two of the young servant girls that dusted the Peverell family library. His notebooks held the
workings of it, the twisted magic and vile potions of his making were worse than dark magic,
worse than blood magic. He had created some form of spellwork that would allow him to
take over the body of another, wholly and completely his own to do with as he wished."

Regulus let out an incredulous sigh, the Omega's eyes exceptionally wide as he leaned
forward suddenly. "Possession? Full, corporal possession? I had heard he had been gifted at
partial possession of a willing subordinate, but..."

"There was no willingness required," Altair growled, and the sound of it carried like a roll of
magic in the heated air. "Despite his banishment from the Gaunt manor, and the restrictions
we placed on him for his wrong-doings, he continued to work in secret, completely without
our knowledge. For decades, he fought the world around him, believed there was no end to
what he could learn to 'purify' us from the concept of mortality. He led men astray with talk
of whatever appealed to them, bloodline, family, wealth, power... The Horcruxes he created
were only one part of the battle he started, of the ongoing prejudice he imbued in the nation.
His death was nothing to him, a blip on the scale of his plans as we all scrambled to discover
a means to destroy the objects he had tainted, and wipe all trace of him from the minds he
had ensnared.

"Neville Longbottom was a veritable prize in his eyes... A living, breathing Horcrux created
with the intent to be a vessel Tom could use to grow even more powerful. That his attack on
the child and his family resulted in the near eradication of Tom and his followers meant
nothing to him... So long as Neville was alive, Tom would continue to come back."

Harry felt his brow crease, his mind flickering as he tried to keep up with the volume of
information being thrown at him.

"So," he scowled, his chest lifting with a breath, "So, wait, Voldemort... Tom... He intended
to make Neville a Horcrux? Neville wasn't a mistake?"

Altair opened his eyes, that yellow a shade just above golden as he peered down at Harry.
"That it was Neville Longbottom was no choice of Tom's, Albus had informed us of a
prophecy he had come to know that he believed might dictate the madman's actions, but there
were several children born on such a day, and there was no indication that Tom could be led
by such... Inconsistent magic as prophecies and divination. Neville's Sire had been the man
sent to spy by the ministry, and had led the Aurors in an attempt to stall their plans once
again. We believed that the retaliation of the attack against the Longbottom's and Neville was
simply that; a retaliation.

"But to answer your question; no the magic that made Neville what he was, was no mistake.
Tom detailed as such in the journals we discovered after his final death, how he had
inadvertently found a means of creating, as he called it, the 'Perfect Vessel'. The boy was
made into such a subtle Horcrux that it took Albus years to even begin to assume... He did
everything he could think of to find a means to save that child, while the Aurors battled on to
find every creature Tom had ever bespelled, and the four other Horcruxes he had ever
created. The war was long, and my family spent years bleeding and broken beneath the task
of finding a means of destroying that accursed diary that was his first step into madness."

Harry felt something dark and cold delve against the inside of his spine, his heart stopping for
one, exceptionally long, frigid second.

Four... The other four... Diary... Ring, Locket, Cup, Diadem... Neville.

Draco was talking, the Vampire leaning forward as though entranced by the full story of a
war he had played little part in, but felt as a sense of himself all the same. Harry heard
nothing, a sudden, desperate buzzing in his ears that he had heard wrong.

"Seven..." Harry whispered, his eyes blinking as he wrenched his head up to stare at Altair.
"He made seven..."

Altair was nodding, that pale hand raking through his blonde hair again. "That's correct. Five
Horcruxes, one human horcrux and the piece of his own soul within whatever body he had
chosen to possess or use in the moment. All were eradicated, and the world has been peaceful
for years, but my Luna was sought out to test the magic that remained of Hogwarts, and I find
myself ill at ease with the lingering traces she discovered there, though she is unsure of what
they mean, herself."

"What do you mean?" Severus was asking, his voice fading out like the others as Harry felt
his magic crackle across his wrists.

There was one missing.

There was one... Missing...

But Harry could not discern whether that one had been a trademark of his own reality or if
they had truly, horrifyingly... Forgotten one.

"Nagini." He all but shouted the word, his eyes wide as he watched Altair tilt his head in
recognition.

Lord Gaunt hummed, the man crossing his arms in front of his chest and his gaze narrowed.
"What of her?"
No...

No, no, no, no, no...

"He had Nagini?" Harry breathed, "He had Nagini, and you didn't kill her?"

Altair leaned forward suddenly, his scent ferocious and sharp.

"Why would we? The snake was a gift of mine to Tom for his seventeenth birthday... I found
her locked away while exploring America. She was his familiar, his friend... And she was
good. She vanished to the forest long before he ever took his last breath."

Harry felt a whine claw its way out of his throat, harsh and unrestrained and it was alarming,
really, how quick Draco stood up beside him to place his hands on his back, to soothe
something like comfort into where his body was currently trying to flinch away in panic. He
felt his fingers come up to grab at his own hair, tugging down as the weight of what was
happening tolled like an ironic, laughing bell in his head.

Nagini was alive.

Nagini. Was. Alive.

Which meant...

"He's alive," Harry whispered, the realisation like a knife to his midsection, sharp and sudden
and twisting cruelly. "Voldemort's alive."

###

The party was in full swing, he knew.

He could hear it, lilting and full of laughter and chatter and the clatter of heels and expensive
shoes on more expensive floors, it may as well have been happening around him for how
loud it seemed to his sensitive ears.

"Have I lost your attention, puppy?"

The words sounded sweet, should have been sweet, but there was a dark streak to them that
had him shivering.

Fred grinned, his eyes flashing silver in the dim light of the hallway as he wrapped his arms
around the neck of the man crowding him tight against the wall. Lee Jordan was a beast of a
man, all prowling limbs and sharp smiles as he caged Fred in, his dark robes sleek and trim
on a frame slender with corded muscle and long, long legs. His hair, loose as it was in the
moment, was coiled in perfect locks, and it was soft against Fred's cheeks where the man
leaned over him with that sharp, sharp smile.

Fred sighed, he would very much need to thank Harry for introducing them.

"I guess you're just not working all that hard at holding my attention... Alpha..."
Lee growled, and the sound reverberated down Fred's neck where the taller man had pressed
his smile into the column of pale, freckled skin. That tongue, becoming so very familiar in
the short time Fred had known him, dragged once against a bruise just beneath the pale blue
of Fred's collar and he felt his body melt.

"As if we won't already have our ears scolded off by Mum for running late."

This was Fred's only warning before he was suddenly alone, the altogether playful shape of
Lee being dragged away from him with a familiar pale hand on the nape of the taller Alpha's
neck. George chuckled as Lee tried to tackle him around the middle, the redheaded Alpha
graceful as he hopped aside, his strength as wiry as Lee's own as he bared his teeth down at
the crouched man in a wicked smile.

Fred could do little but snort at the pair of them, until another set of arms were winding
around his neck from behind.

Angelina, despite her fierce demeanor, was an altogether different presence against the back
of him. She hummed where she placed the softest of kisses on his cheek, her tone like a dark
lullaby as she rubbed her chin across the top of his red waves, like some sort of great, big cat.

Fred leaned back into the gentle strength of her, into that body far taller and far stronger than
his own.

"We really should break them up before this gets out of hand again..."

He mused as he watched Lee grab George around the middle, the redhead practically yowling
against the high ceilings of the empty halls with a type of laughter Fred had never before
heard from his twin. Angelina hummed in thought, her chin rubbing back over his hair
slowly.

"We could." she agreed, her voice low and hushed. "Or..."

He was whisked away from the scene before his eyes could follow, all but dragged through
some unseen door until his brain had begun to pick up on what, exactly, was happening, and
he was suddenly hoisted off his feet.

He could hardly catch a breath in the rush of it all, his eyes open wide to the dark ceiling of
the half-hidden room as Angelina pressed her hips against his own, her hands hot even
through the fabric of his trousers where they supported his thighs. Fred felt the whine leave
his throat unbidden, his head falling back to brace against the wall behind him as the Alpha
purred in that silky, dark tone of hers.

"Pretty boy..."

Merlin, his mother could scold off both of his ears and he still wouldn't be able to find it in
himself to regret giving into this. Fred arched against her taller form, fingers fisting in the
soft, pleated pattern of her long ponytail as she ground her hips against his with deliberate
slowness.
"Sweet boy..."

Fred felt his whole body shiver, the scent of Alpha arousal thick in the air as he bowed his
head over her shoulder and glanced at the room beyond through lidded eyes.

There was someone there.

He flinched, a yelp leaving him as he knocked his shoulder against the stone wall. "Wait!"

Angelina spun around, her dark eyes flashing and her lips curving over her fangs in a beastly
snarl as she caught sight of the figure sitting awkwardly on the couch across the room.

Fred was clutched to her still, the redhead's backside beneath her hands as Lee and George
suddenly stumbled into the room, the pair rumpled in a way that was both graceless and
bizarrely fetching. Lee's wand was in his hand, his face a scowl as he cast a lumos strong
enough to spell the shadows from the room, and highlight the shape of the man sitting with
his arms spread open and his eyes unblinking at the ceiling.

He had hardly a moment to process it, for his mind to even begin to make sense of what he
was looking at, before Angelina had hid the man from view, her hand firm against the back of
his neck. She barked an order at George, and Fred saw enough to know his twin flinched
away from the sight, his blue eyes wide as Angelina set the smaller twin back on his feet and
moved them both from the room.

"Stay here, outside, the pair of you," the order was just short of an actual command, her voice
tight with something anxious and panicked. She cast them a hard look, before she was
suddenly gone, a flash of smoke and shadow left behind in her wake and Lee's steady growl,
a dictate beyond the door of the room they had left not to come back in, not to move.

"George..." Fred could hardly whisper the word, his hands shaking as his eyes played out the
image of the man, underfed and twisted where he sat in his final resting place. "Was that...
Was that Peter Pettigrew?"

His words were muffled in the silk of his brother's cream shirt, as George dragged him in for
a hug, his arms solid around his younger brother. The Alpha's eyes, where they looked
unseeing into the candlelit hallway ahead, were an intense shade of silver.

"Yeah... Yeah, Fred, it was."

 30

Harry stood, his fingers clenched on the stiff material of the highbacked chair in front of him
as he watched the world around him work.

In the hour since the revelation, since the Guard had all but commandeered the use of the
once cheerful and glittering ballroom, there had been little to nothing that had left his lips,
and far too much that had occupied his mind.

There was nothing he could say.

There was nothing he could even begin to think of to utter as the reality of the situation he
had suddenly found himself in began to weigh on his shoulders, like a cloak suddenly sodden
through with water.

Voldemort was alive.

Harry was sure of it, certain of it in every instinct once honed, every memory made sharp
with the war, in the very core of who he was... In the very centre of that long since dead link
that had once joined their two minds; Harry knew. Voldemort was alive, and he was far more
skilled a man in this world than even his incredible power had led him to be in Harry's own
reality.

That much could be proven with the unexpected announcement of the death of one, Peter
Pettigrew.

The name had meant little to Harry in the grand scheme of it all, barr some small, easily
unheard vindictive part of him that wondered if the notion of karma carried through every
known reality. Peter Pettigrew's death had not been one he had ever mourned, not when it had
been supposedly by the hand of a family friend, nor in the instance he had witnessed it with
his own eyes.

It simply was.

In much the same way, as word carried through the snarling mouth of Angelina and the other
members of the Guard, as Altair cast Severus a glance and the man moved with a near fluid
grace with nothing but a murmur in Draco's ear... Harry simply was. He stood, as their family
gathered around them, his mother's hand twice now a presence on the small of his back,
before some errant worry from another of their ever growing clan had her swiveling to try
and keep the peace.

From the murmurs and the whispered ponderings, Harry could discern one thing in the
slowly unfolding chaos: Peter Pettigrew had not been a good man in this world either; but
still it begged the question as to what manner his death had occurred? And why? And who it
was that might have done such a thing?

And where was his poor, neglected son?

Because this Peter Pettigrew, this version that had been malicious and unkind, that had never
been a Marauder, that had never been more than a quiet classmate to James and Remus and
Sirius; this strange and unusual version of Pettigrew had married, had lived his life, and had
had a son.

And Harry had met that son.

His fingers dug a little harder into the sturdy cushion, as Hermione cast him a small smile
from where she stood by Charlie's side, her cheeks flushed pink with the heat of the blazing
fire. There was no similarities that Harry could draw from his memory of the tall, blonde-
haired youth he had first met in that attic all that time ago, and the rat of a man he had
seethed over.

Tommy existed in his head as a separate entity to the life he had been building, a common
friend he had not had the chance to meet properly, to know on any level beyond the glint of
humour in his dark eyes and his carefree smile. Whoever his mother was, Harry could only
assume that he looked just like the woman, because he carried next to nothing of the image of
Peter Pettigrew that had seared its imprint into Harry's most inane nightmares.

Pettigrew had been a curse of a man as Harry had known him, and it seemed he was no better
here. Snippets of stories half gossip and half gospel, hushed assumptions and startled facts
filtered through his spinning thoughts. Pettigrew had only just been released from Azkaban
for his crimes committed in Voldemort's name. He had been one of a small, small few that
had been judged willing, and maliciously compliant, in the rise of the Dark Lord and the
mayhem of the war.

So, Harry could find little in himself to feel for the man's second death, though by the
accounts of a far too quiet Fred Weasley held in his brother's arms, and a near seething
George, the death had not been an easy one.

What had he done, Harry wondered, to earn Voldemort's ire to such an extent, when he had
remained so very loyal in the years he had been holed away in Azkaban.

Because, as sure as Harry was that Voldemort was alive; there was no doubt in his mind that
Pettigrew's release and subsequent death could be considered coincidence. And with a room
expanding inch by inch, with each family that had been woken and brought by a member of
the Guard through the green flames of the largest fireplace; where was his son?

Where was Tommy Pettigrew?

Gregory Goyle looked almost lost without the blonde by his side, his hulking form somehow
diminished as he glanced around the familiar faces around them in search of another. Draco
stood steadfast by his side, his mouth working on words meant to soothe and comfort, though
his eyes kept inadvertently finding Harry's through the throng of family members.

Tommy had been missing all day, apparently, with nothing more than a note left by his
partner's bedside that he had gone to sort something out.
Gregory had thought nothing of it, Tommy, by his accounts, was a man known for finding a
way to keep himself entertained in the hours Goyle liked to sleep in or laze around with a
book. Their entire relationship had been built around the ability for either of them to come
and go as they pleased, for hobbies to be enjoyed together and alone, for one to allow the
other time when time was asked for. He had thought nothing of it.

And so, here they all stood; in a room of people who grew by the minute.

Waiting.

And what it was they were waiting for amidst the chaos and uncertainty of it all, Harry had
absolutely no idea.

Families and friends and circles gathered together in confused and agitated groups, of those
that had been awake and dressed and those who had been soundly sleeping; a mismatch of
finery and silks and jewelry and nightgowns and pajamas and children draped over shoulders
with lidded eyes and yawning mouths.

With each person herded through the green flames that Luna seemed to be the key to, the
room was expanded again and again and again to hold them all. The fair haired fae held one
hand aloft, fingertips soft against the stone wall behind her as she worked on her magic, her
eyes sealed shut as her other hand held firm on the fireplace mantle. Her lips were parted in
the quietest hum of sound, and though she looked at ease, her concentration was immaculate
as she held the Floo connections open.

Harry had never thought to question just how different certain creature magics might be in
comparison with the magic he had been silently battling with since his presentation. As he
watched Luna work, however, holding that tenuous connection from one room to a thousand
others... Harry could only begin to assume at her power.

It was a feat he had never seen before.

And it sent streaks of his magic flashing about his fingers, as he watched the powerful
woman turn a subtle glance towards where a privacy charm split a group of creatures and
wizards perfectly apart from the main crowd. Their conversations were unknown, silent to
their watching eyes as magic shimmered around an enraged looking Altair, and several
others, their mouths snapping back and forth at one another in some silent battle. Each glance
Luna sent them as she worked, was filled with just a fraction of the uncertainty that had
begun to claw at Harry from the inside out.

He felt his shoulders dip with an anxious breath, his chest lifting beneath his thin robes as he
watched another family emerge from the flames; the Alpha at the helm grinding his teeth at
the Guardswoman as she growled back at him, her stance unwavering as she pointed him into
the room and spun on her heel to walk away.

The family was an older one, the man huffing as he wrapped an arm around the yawning
Omega beside him, her own fingers wrapped tight around the teenage girl who grumbled by
her side. Harry watched them as they trudged forward into the mass of jittering people, their
teenage son wearing little more than a pair of low slung black trousers and a scowl that could
turn the bravest man away.

Harry almost felt a flicker of amusement against the nausea building in his gut. He felt
Draco's distant curiosity, a faint and fleeting thing as Gregory fell to sudden pieces, his
sobbing loud and alarming. A cooing Pansy and a wincing Ron were like bookends on either
side, hands stretched out and faces grim, as they tried to console the young man. The sight of
them was obscured by Molly Weasley's suddenly fluttering hands, Arthur awkward and
attentive beside her.

Comfort.

Support.

It was what the family he had become a part of here was exceptionally good at. They leaned
on one another, supported each other like overlapping stones, each a pillar for the next, with
an unwavering amount of love.

It was something he had only had just a meager glimpse of, in the world he had come from.

It was something he wanted to cling to, in times when his thoughts were dark and distant.

It was so much more than he had ever dared to hope for himself, and so much more of what
he would never again be able to live without...

Harry's eyes followed the trail of his family, across the rows of familiar faces and into the
crowds of strangers sleepy and unsure, and full of the sound of whispers and complaints and
murmurs and the soft, inconsistent crackle of flames. He scanned the perfect, hardened faces
of the Peverell family still scattered about the room, to the stoic, unwavering faces of the
Guard gathered tight around that immaculate privacy bubble, and the Council members and
older wizards within; as they continued their gesturing, their alarm and disbelief conveyed in
the snapping of their teeth and rolling eyes and shaking heads. Of them all, Harry recognised
only Altair and the sharp curve of his snarl, and the powerful shape of Mera Prince from
wherever it was Severus had fetched the imposing woman from.

Her eyes caught his own through the sheen of the charm, narrowed and dark and assessing
when Harry held her gaze.

It was not the first time he had not been believed.

Harry sighed, fingers cramping as he released the chair from his grasp. His eyes trailed back
to Luna, to her lidded gaze and the gentle hum on her lips as her fingers danced along the
mantle in some inconsistent pattern, sweat beading by her brow. He frowned.

With a glance at his family, Harry moved, across the short space of heat and slate on the other
side of the armchair he had been all but squeezing the life out of. He yanked at a soft section
of his robes as he moved closer to the fae, catching her eye beneath those silver lashes before
lifting the material wadded in his fist to pat at her forehead.
She jerked all the same at his touch, a miniscule reaction of a thing, before her eyes blinked
open to him and she smiled.

The turn of her gentle humming twisted, pleased and soft, before lulling to an almost close as
she dropped her fingers away from the stone wall. The runes scattered across her pale skin
were alive with magic, pulsing like blood beneath the silver sheen of them.

Whatever he might have said to her, in that moment as his lips parted, and the uncertain panic
of the people behind him filtered through his skin and rubbed raw against some great,
unknown nerve. Whatever he might have said...

It was lost to the sudden crackle of flames too loud beside him, the sound like a snap against
his senses.

In the time it had taken Harry to realise that Luna had whipped her fingers from the mantle,
in the time for her to draw back as though she had been suddenly hurt, he was already lifting
a shield to protect her.

The wicked fast flash of dark magic that suddenly blackened the emerald flames of the fire
snapped through like a leash, tangible and cracked, like the fractured split of a looking glass.
It splintered, aiming with perfect precision for the Fae rearing back with her burned fingers
clutched in the palm of her other hand.

It hit the shield Harry had thrown up on instinct, the backlash of the force of it enough to run
static through the roof of his mouth, his magic snapping against his own palms as the dark
spell seemed to almost recoil...

Before it struck forward and wrapped around him like a vice.

He felt the shield he had cast in front of Luna shatter, his own nerves alight with the touch of
raw, static power as that spell forced his limbs down, and his head back, as it dragged him
lightning fast back through the dark, twisted flames of the fire.

Harry felt just a fraction of a second the sudden, unfiltered fear that gripped Draco's end of
the bond, as the Vampire's call of his name shot silence through the murmuring crowds,
before he was being squeezed, breathless and inescapably tight, through a Floo wrong and
old and off...

His every sense was alive with the feel of it, of something sleeping once disturbed, of
something old and crumbling, like dust against his skin, pressing, pressing, pressing...

Down.

Down.

Down...

That magic held him tight, like fingers of lead it dragged him faster and faster and faster,
through a space that felt as though it might turn to ash around him, blinding him with a stark
darkness until suddenly, suddenly...
He was free.

He gasped, as the magic and the Floo released him, dropped him down to slam against stone
cold and ridden with dirt and the scent of...

Of...

Harry snapped his head up, his gasping breaths catching in his throat and very nearly choking
him as he came face to face with scales and tongue and vapid, dark eyes that regarded him as
if she might truly swallow him whole.

"Wrong one..."

Nagini.

As powerful as she always had been, the snake rose up to all but leer over him, her eyes too
sharp, too intelligent to ever have been the eyes of a common variety snake.

A voice to his right hummed, the sound curiously soft, and Harry tried to turn, to look, before
a boot against his spine stilled him, pressing down on his lower back until his arms froze
beneath the strain, and he stared at the stone floor beneath him.

"So it would seem..." The voice was bored, dramatically so, and dangerously familiar in tone.
"It is not often that you disappoint me, Zabini, but, here we are."

"N-no, no, I... I went straight for her, I did! Sir, I swear, I-"

The voice of Blaise Zabini was one that Harry wished he had never known.

A voice, as common as it had been in the far off memories of his school days, it had never
been one that Harry could have ever anticipated knowing so intimately, as it screamed in pain
in front of him.

Harry felt his breath quicken, his magic crackling against the stone floor as that boot ground
harder into his spine, as Nagini watched him like a mouse desperate to escape a trap.

None of it, none of it took from the horror of his classmate's excruciating screams as Blaise
Zabini's body scraped and fought against the flagstone, against the curse that seared him alive
from the inside out. Harry thought he might vomit in the aftermath of it, in the ragged silence
of his pained and desperate breaths, as the Cruciatus curse was lifted and the disappointed
sigh of the other rang into the room above him.

"Do try to remember that it is that Fae I need in your next attempt, Zabini, lest your wretch of
a Mother be gifted your ashes on her doorstep."

Harry felt his body clench, his shoulders locking as some wild, feral, part of himself tried to
escape the sudden flux of scent, tried to burrow in to find some strand of Draco against a
bond faded with distance and panic. The scent of Alpha, unknown and dangerous, flowed
like the scorch of burning silver, molten and wickedly powerful through the room, as fingers
twisted in his curls and dragged him up onto his knees.
Harry's own hand, numb and clumsy, made to grab for his wand, only for the Alpha to catch
his wrist and squeeze, the delicate crunch of his bones drawing a snarl from him that he had
no control over. Still, despite it all, his magic flickered, wild and incessant and strong enough
for those pale hands to tighten as the Alpha suddenly hissed in delight with the sting of it.

"Disposing of you would be almost a shame..."

Harry's vision was obscured by robes a midnight black, those fingers twisting cruelly in his
hair as a body, slender and young and poised, suddenly crouched before him and his horrified
gaze was filled with the sight of another.

Dark blonde hair, swept to one side as though the monster within held even a modicum of
respect for the body now in his possession. Tommy's face was intrigued, unfamiliar and dark
without the smile that usually stretched those lips. His throat was alight with scales a glossy
grey, a glittering of armor that dipped beneath his black collar, as his eyes bore into Harry's.

Scarlet.

A spill of blood in a face pale and malicious.

Those red eyes narrowed on his face, twisted his head back as if he was inspecting something
in Harry, before he inhaled with a snap of his teeth that had the younger man baring his own
right back.

Voldemort grinned, and a smile once bright and carefree was suddenly monstrous, filled with
sharp, white teeth and so very wrong.

"Keep...?"

The word was hissed by the snake still looming behind the monster of an Alpha, her eyes
greedy as Voldemort suddenly hoisted Harry up by the grasp he held on his hair, his grin
spreading at the sharp cry of pain and the spark of bright green magic that danced along the
Omega's bare arms.

"I could almost consider it."

###

Draco felt the moment his heart began to shatter.

So vividly real, such a physical thing that he lifted a hand as though to catch the pieces, his
eyes pinned on the flames that had settled back to their emerald hue, a mockery of the space
his mate had just been taken through.

He felt his mouth part on a sound, though nothing met him past the blood rushing in his own
ears, the sudden twist of fear, of confusion, that speared through him as though it might
render him actually bleeding.

His feet moved before his mind could follow, the people around him nothing more than a
hindrance as he kept his gaze focused so keenly on those crackling flames, as though Harry
might appear from them in an instant, unhurt and just as perfect as he always had been.

The snap of their bond was a toll still ringing in his head, the strings frayed and ruptured
from a sudden distance too far and too forbidden for a bond so new and so fresh. The barest
wisp of life existed in it, bound by sheer will alone and it was all that kept him from sinking
his teeth into the hand that grasped him suddenly by his arm.

He was seething, he realised, as he followed the length of that hand, to the pull behind him
where his mother was trying to bring him back, her eyes wide and her mouth parted on words
he could not hear, would not hear.

Harry.

Harry...

He turned from her, ripping his hand from her grasp as he moved again, his chest lifting with
a growl he could feel in the very thrum of his blood, of the sudden, unbidden roll of fury that
set his teeth in a snarl and had him fanning his wings out in a sweep that all but knocked the
people clamoring to talk to him to the floor.

He needed to find him.

He needed to help him.

He needed him.

He needed him...

Draco felt the desperate, fractured snarl break in his throat, his eyes set again on the flames
that danced as though his world had not just been pulled from beneath his feet.

Where...

Where...?

"Draco!"

The voice was shrill enough to pull him from his spiral, the sharp twang of magic against the
hand suddenly planted on his chest dark and piercing, a magic that had his teeth grinding
down on a snarl, as Luna hissed up at him.

"I have him! I have his trail, I know where he is! Draco, calm!"

The magic was Fae, intrinsically different from his own, as it crawled beneath his skin and
flickered like shuttered, strange and unfiltered legilimency; flickers of stone walls and a
forest burned to blister... Luna's own magic held fast to the trail she had captured, clasped
tight in a hand burned and bleeding, a single strand of thread dark and twined delicately over
the spark of green that could only be...

"Harry."
Luna seemed to deflate, her magic held firm against the front of Draco's chest as he came
back to himself just a fraction, his wings heaving behind him with the weight of his own
panicked breathing.

"Yes... Harry. I have his trail."

She stepped back, her eyes flitting to the errant strand of magic held in her sore and sizzling
grasp, as it trailed back across the dark slate tiles to where the flames Harry had vanished
through sat so placidly.

"Whatever spell took him, I can follow it. I can bring us to him."

Altair's presence was a sudden press against even Draco's senses, the Vampire's frenzied fury
suddenly muted beneath those yellow eyes, as Altair Peverell glanced once between the
flames and his mate's bleeding hand. His scent flared, sharp and overwhelming, a dip beneath
water sudden and cold, before Draco could breathe again as the Alpha turned to beckon forth
one of the woman of the Guard.

He could hardly think, some part of him aware of the voices and the noise and the cries of
alarm and confusion that were springing up from the family behind him, some small part of
him eager to turn to them for comfort.

But he could not.

He would not.

His eyes remained fixed on that string of magic, on the flow of flames, as they spluttered
suddenly with the shape of something small and grey and slender. He had held out a hand to
stop Altair moving forward before his mind had caught on to how, exactly, the snake
suddenly speeding towards him had managed to find his way through the open Floo network
to Draco.

The blonde crouched, body half frozen still as he held a hand out for the snake, his legs
straightening to a stand as Tom wrapped himself around Draco's neck in a single, loose loop.
The hiss that the creature's tongue danced across his ear, unintelligible and unknown to him,
but sounding so distinctly like...

"Master?"

Altair frowned, peering at the snake for one intense moment with something like confusion in
his gaze. The Peverell Alpha seemed to cast whatever he was thinking from his mind as he
turned towards Luna, his own large hands cupping around her bleeding one to stem the flow
of pain with a feat of wandless magic.

Draco stayed beside them as his family pressed in closer, his gaze unwavering on the dancing
flames, as Tom's hissing pressed steadily against his neck and the sound of Lily's sudden
growl danced against his spine.

They would find him.

They would find Harry.

They would find Harry and bring him home...

And then Draco was going to find whoever had taken his Mate from him, and he was going
to shred them to pieces.
 31

Puppets, Altair had called those Voldemort chose to inhabit, puppets on strings.

The idea of the thing was mindless, thoughtless, a being that had once been alive and very
much themselves, now nothing but a shadow to a mind far stronger and far more vile than
their own. Harry could imagine Peter Pettigrew as such a thing. The wizard had been more
puppet than man while alive, it was no impossible feat to imagine that he had given his body
over willingly to a Dark Lord once threatened to the brink of eradication.

A body, a host, a loyal servant to an evil snake with a penchant for crawling beneath the skins
of others. Like Quirrell, Harry could have easily imagined Peter holed away in some cell in
Azkaban, Voldemort well and truly alive inside him as the man bided his time and his power,
waiting for release in a body weaker and far more pathetic than his own.

Such a body would have been of little use to the power that was Lord Voldemort, as soon as
the Ministry offered him his freedom. If the man still held favour with so many of his
desperate, broken-minded followers, he would have had his pick of puppets… That he had
chosen who he had chosen was like some perverse joke.

A son to follow on the work of his Sire... Except, it was no puppet that stood before Harry
now.

It was no marionette that pressed nails too long against the flesh of his scalp, no vacancy in
the eyes that watched him, intelligent and familiar and so very, very clever.

Tommy Pettigrew had not so much become a doll of Voldemort’s making, but rather, a
carefully crafted mask. It was a mask that bore the shape of something normal, something
human. A mask crafted from bone and skin and blood that slipped over the shape of
something cruel and wicked as though it had been made for it. Voldemort’s every move, his
every thought, bespelled his human mask. There was nothing, nothing, left of the young
Pettigrew. His every step, every smile, every careful gaze of those scarlet eyes, every
graceful, lupine move of his body was altered, changed, controlled entirely by the mind that
far over-shadowed and eclipsed his own.

Had his eyes been shut to the wickedness of it all, the reality of it all rubbed raw against his
senses. Where once there had been the subtle air of black ink and parchment to a man who
was inherently Beta, now there was the oppressive weight of Alpha. Unmated, intrigued,
fanatically twisted and desperately wrong, it wrapped around Harry’s throat like a collar, like
an unwanted touch as he grit his teeth about the dry rasp of his own throat.

The hand in his hair finally let him go, and Harry caught himself against the filthy stone floor
with the flat of his hands, his chest bowing in a means to take in a breath of air through lips
parted already on a gasp.

The scent of him was toxic, horrendously powerful and as enticing as poison dripped over
treacle tart, and Harry’s skin crawled that even just a fraction of himself could turn to be
enticed by any small piece of the man who had haunted him his whole life.

“I would strike it down to incompetence… But my little incubus has never failed in drawing
someone I wanted to me before.”

Tom’s voice was wrong, as wrong as the rest of him, dark and amused and lacking the vacant
madness Harry had once known it to carry. He squinted up to watch long legs decked in dark
trousers stand slowly, as a hand flecked with silver scales rested gently atop the head of the
massive snake that swayed by his side.

“Which does beg the question… Of how you came to get in the way, young Breeder. Too
close, perhaps, to the Lovegood fae? Were you merely in the wrong place, at the wrong time?
A terrible stroke a bad luck, that. Or… Or is it that you tried to intervene…”

Got it in two, Harry opened his mouth to snap back, only for a fragile voice to crack into the
tense silence between them.

“P… P… -otter.”

Tom hummed, the sound dangerously subtle, as Harry peered up at him, his hands pushing
back against the stone to bring him into something of a kneel. He hardly dared glance away,
something primal in him locked onto the Alpha and each careful move he made. Still, some
small part of him registered the shape of Blaise Zabini as the man tried to twist away from
whoever it was trying to hold him down.

“S… Is… P-otter. H-h… Harry P… Potter.”

Harry glanced to one side, his breath catching at the sight of blood, pale and pink and
inhuman as Blaise wiped the sticky trail from his own mouth, his eyes bleak and dark. The
man behind him caught Harry’s gaze, his own golden eyes narrowing as he silently shushed
his friend with a hand across his mouth.

Theodore Nott.

Tom tilted his head slowly to one side, the action drawing attention back to him as Harry
glared back, until that smile shifted to something unnerving once more.

“No… Surely not this fragile, little thing? This is the boy who died… Come back to life?
This… Is what Adorabella tells me has been causing such a stir?”

He seemed to think, red eyes far too alert in a face so carefully blank as he moved, his steps
casting up dust and dirt as he padded slowly around where Harry crouched against the stone.
Every nerve of his stood upright, alert and tense as the man’s steps trailed behind him,
Harry’s body turning despite the pain in his back to keep those clever, scarlet eyes in his
tracks.

“James Potter’s little dead Heir…” Tom’s eyes suddenly brightened, something far more
dangerous than simple curiosity lighting them as he leaned in closer, his hand reaching out,
until his thumb could stroke a path through the delicate curls against Harry’s forehead. “A
Breeder after a lineage of Alphas. What world did you come from, that you can even look me
in the eye, Omega.”

Something feral whipped through the man’s scent, until Harry could no longer breathe, his
breath catching in his throat as Tom pressed his thumb against his scar. There was a question
in those scarlet eyes, wild and curious and… Viciously thrilled, and Harry’s magic tried to
scald through the confines of his own palms, pressed as they were against the stone floor to
keep his balance. Tom’s fingers trailed, tapping a pattern down Harry’s throat until they
pressed against the bond-mark there, and Tom dipped his head to inhale.

The pain of that simple press had Harry’s stomach heaving, his eyes watering as he grit his
teeth against whatever whine threatened to spill from his lips. Fingers calloused with scales
simply dug in further, intentionally cruel.

“The little Malfoy.” The words were a purr, and the dangerous power behind it felt like a near
command in Harry’s body, his skin prickling as he laid himself low to the floor against the
sudden bark of delirious laughter. Tom’s fangs were far too long, sitting sharp against his
bottom lip as he strode past.

“If it is young Draco that comes for you… and his dear Sire, Severus, in his wake, then I may
have no need for the fae. You might just give me exactly what I seek, pretty Breeder.”

His humour at the situation was skewed, twisted, and wrapped around no small amount of ire.
If there was one thing that could hold true to the Voldemort Harry had known, the man could
not abide something unanticipated.

“Nott,” The word was venomous, drawing a jerk from the man still holding tight to his
friend, as Zabini’s breath turned ragged.

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Do ensure that young master Zabini is set to rights by the time I return, won’t you?” The
words were malicious, snared enough around amused, furious sarcasm that there could be
little doubt as to the threat half-hidden beneath them.

“And you,” Tom hardly cast a glance towards Harry, his smile already softening the sharp,
vicious jut of his jaw into something sickeningly indulgent. Harry bared his teeth back, his
fingers fumbling for his wand, before those teeth flashed, razor sharp.

“Be a good boy, and stay .”

Harry’s fingers stilled.

His entire body stilled.

His heart, once rampant in his chest, seemed to suddenly quieten, a muffled clench of anxious
sound lost beneath the buzz that suddenly filled his ears.

He lost himself, for a time brief enough to know that both Tom and Nagini had left, he lost
himself. His eyes were unfocused, some vital part of his mind entranced, centred on that one,
singular word, until his limbs began to cramp, crouched as he was.

As quickly as it had swept over him, it passed, and Harry was left frozen where he sat, that
word still at the forefront of his mind as panic seeped, sharp and sudden, in the confines of
his chest.

Stay.

Stay.

A whisper in the back of his waking thoughts wrapped in chords too dark to be human. A
spoken word that had never before in his life held the weight it held as it settled, some
imperative, inescapable command in the forefront of his mind. It held his limbs frozen, held
his mouth sealed shut over his own confusion. His head dipped, a fraction of movement that
forced that word to ring against the inside of his skull, sharp with the sensation of pain as he
grit his teeth against it.

Stay.

He was growling, he realised as he fought against himself, his chest heaving with each
aggravated whine that tore through clenched teeth and fingers numb against hard stone.

Familiar stone.

Harry could hardly stand to look at it, the room half crumbled to waste around him, standing
but stagnant, thrumming with whatever fraction of magic existed in the cold, dark Floo
entrance behind him. How he had even been dragged through such a thing with no fire to
guide his way, Harry did not know. How a gaping, near-ruin could make his skin crawl, even
less so.

No part of him wanted to acknowledge the wreckage around him, the wooden doors half-
rotted with wild magic, and the desk still scattered with singed quills and dried out ink pots.

No part of him could bare to think of himself suddenly trapped inside the decaying shape of
what had once been home.

Harry fought against the sob in his throat, his fingers clenching down against the bare, stone
floor until his nails threated to break. That command locked his hands, searing sharply
through his mind again as he tried to reach for his wand and snapped his teeth on the failed
attempt.

“Fighting a command like that is only going to be harder for you in the long run.”

The voice was a whisper, soft enough that Harry could hear no affliction behind it, as his
head tilted just a fraction towards where Theodore Nott held tight to the man in his arms.

He had moved, his golden wings dull where they pressed against the black stone wall, as they
dipped so very gently over where Blaise Zabini lay between his spread thighs like a broken
doll.
The incubus was in trouble, it could have hardly taken a Healer to know that much.

His chest was rising too fast, his breath a rattled thing where it escaped lips flecked still with
blood as pink as peonys. The man’s dark skin was ashen, his body limp as Nott dragged him
closer, one gentle hand pressed against the other’s neck as fingers trailed through hair dark
and slick with sweat.

There was nothing in Harry that could feel anything but wretched for the pair of them. Some
errant piece of him wondered as to the whereabouts of their third, as to whether Daphne
Greengrass looked as defeated and as beaten as they looked, discarded on the floor of a
building half-intact, and half dissolved into ash and broken stone.

Golden eyes met his, and Harry felt his heart stutter in his chest, his eyes pained despite the
command still ringing in his mind.

Nott reminded him so much of Draco Malfoy.

His Malfoy.

The man that had lowered his wand… The man he had made bleed… The man who had
followed his father’s orders until something in him had hoped… Hoped for Harry to win.

The man who had lied for him.

“Help me…”

The words were hissed, forced, and still the intent behind them fell against the soft silence of
the room, Harry’s eyes catching Nott’s and holding.

His was a body that ached… A mind that ached… And that ache was for the beautiful,
peaceful life that he had lifted not even so much as a finger to earn in this strange world. He
had never been more than what he had worked towards, what he had scraped together in his
own hands; a soldier primed for a war he had won and living in a world he had not. What
peace, what solitude that Harry could ever find in this place that was not his own, would
never quell the discontent inside him if he were to walk away now.

As if he could walk away now.

He and Tom were tied, a string of fate between them that had been dipped in family blood,
and survived the raze of heat and fire and spell. Ragged, and wrapped so tight around all that
could be right with the world if one man could only find it in himself to die.

It had never been a question as to whether Harry wanted to defeat the Dark Lord.

It had always been a command, born of blood and magic...

And that command fought viciously against the one still tolling in his head, the weight of
Tom’s power bearing all the damnation of pain as Harry turned, his fingers spreading out
against the flagstone as he tipped his head towards the door.
“Help me… And I will kill him.”

Nott watched him, those golden eyes narrowing as Harry leaned forward, every single muscle
in the Omega’s slim body primed for speed, for battle. Those pretty green eyes were filled
with fire, and the scent of magic was like a spark of lightning through a night sky, dark and
heady with storm clouds. That he could move… That he could even speak… With the weight
of the Dark Lord’s Alpha command spoken directly to him…

Harry watched the moment those dark eyes flickered, the moment Theodore Nott seemed to
come to a decision, his teeth clenching beneath his parted lips as he growled.

“This is gonna hurt, Omega.”

Harry grinned, his body buzzing beneath the flush of magic in his own skin, as it crackled
against the stone beneath his palms once more.

There were few times in Harry’s life that pain had not been the prelude to something better.

Nott glanced back at the door, his fingers clenching hard on the sorrowful shape of Blaise
Zabini. Gold met green once more as he looked back at Harry, and there was a spark there
that the smaller man had desperately wanted to see. A spark of hope, of chance... Of luck.
Sometimes it was all he needed.

“Run.”

There was a second, a split second of agony, of Harry falling forward from his crouch with a
sharp scream, as the conflicting commands met like a cacophony of sound, of shredded will,
within the confines of his own head. They seared fire across his senses, tore a desperate
shriek from lips he had nearly bitten clean through, before the rush of one suddenly
outweighed the other and Harry was flying forward.

His limbs moved, almost without his control, searing after so long cramped and confined. His
legs pumped beneath him faster than he had ever run, hand swinging out to catch himself on
the door and veer off into the near darkness of a castle half-formed. He hardly cast a glance
back, or a glance around, fingers clenched to fists as his boots echoed a rapport against stone
that had not been throd on in half a decade.

Run.

Run.

Run.

The command played to his frayed instincts, tense for too long.

His chest heaved, breath forced through parted lips tainted with the scent of dust and stale air,
from windows caked and crusted shut with debris. Light spilled through in patches of
corridors where the ceiling had fallen through, moonlight and stardust a swath of silver and
navy amid shadows of long forgotten statues and doors wedged firmly shut.

His mind flickered, body edging ever forward as he leapt across a patch of floor worn to a
fine bridge on one side, the rooms below so far down they seemed swallowed by darker
shadows. The scenes passed him by, bittersweet and fragile, against the memories that clung
stubbornly. Each corner, each room, each corridor, each unlit lantern, was bathed in the glow
of how he had once known it.

Regal and beautiful and ancient and magical, Hogwarts was alight still in his mind as he ran
passed her crumbling walls.

The thrum of magic beneath his feet was his own, a dangerous, wild flicker of life against
stone slumbering and dying. Each inch he put between himself and Nott dimmed the
command still prickling at the back of his skull, until it rolled to a fade as Harry launched
himself over the missing step of a flight of stagnant, frozen stairs, his boots hitting the stone
below and his legs folding beneath him, until all that remained were the desperate sounds of
his own breath and the anticipation that crawled a tepid path down his spine.

The corridor before him was vast, the end lost to open air and a night sky dark with the
sudden shift of clouds. The air that whispered against the shifting dust was cold, dragging a
chill down his bare arms as his fingers finally found his wand, the stick of wood held aloft
with a sudden, wordless lumos. He struggled to a stand, knees weak and body shivering in
the confines of the inadequate robe now painted with streaks of dirt and torn to ribbons down
one, delicate side.

The gargoyle he was facing was cracked.

Straight down the centre, a jagged line tore its face into something of a tormented grimace,
and it peered down at him with unseeing eyes as Harry crept ever closer, his ears alert now in
the deafening silence of the castle, free of the rush of his own blood and adrenaline. He had
no idea as to where Tom had gone off to, or which part of the place around him had since
been commandeered by any of the man’s mad followers. With a sigh, Harry regarded the
deformed stone creature.

“I don’t suppose you still have a penchant for lemon drops?”

There was a pause, a moment wrought with tension as Harry waited, before a sound like
stone scraping against stone had him dragging a free hand up to block his ear. The gargoyle
twisted, the figure grinding against its own stone base as he leaned down to take in the small
Omega with something like amusement on its twisted features. Slowly, and with the scent of
crushed rock and a plume of old, settled dust, the statue stepped to one side, and beckoned
Harry forward with one large, stone hand.

He hardly wasted a moment, tucking himself in behind the small divot remaining of the
entryway, Harry twisted his body into the staircase beyond, thankful for possibly the first
time in his life that he was just small enough to scrape passed a boulder wedged tight against
the first few, crumbling steps.
The archway was dark, his lumos alone lighting the cracks in the walls that slipped beneath
his reaching fingers, and the door above that seemed to glisten the closer he got. The thrum
of magic beneath it as Harry placed his hand upon the wood was unexpected, delicate and
curious and seeking, it met his own as he pushed the handle.

What remained of the office was immaculate.

It was perfectly carved in half across the stone floor, where one side of it had fallen into the
open, sprawling forest below. The entire wall that had been lost shimmered along its jagged
edges with the same, delicate magic; and his lumos melted away beneath the lanterns that
flared to life in the section left still standing.

There was no dust here, no dirt or rubble despite such a large portion of it long since fallen
away. Objects of gold and silver and copper shone on shelves pristine and straight, as Harry
stepped through. The desk, or the half that remained, lay scattered with an assortment of ink,
of parchment still wet with it when Harry smeared his fingertips against it, the black stark
against his pale skin as he brought his hand up to inspect it. The portraits that lined what
remained of the walls were empty, each occupant long since gone, and leaving behind only
the barest of painted sceneries and opulent chairs.

Harry watched them as he passed, the room warm against his skin despite the gaping maw of
a hole. He felt his lips clamp shut as he turned, his eyes sliding shut for a moment as he tried
to still his shaking breath. He trailed his boots slowly across carpets trimmed in scarlet and
gold, until he came to the very edge of the room, and glanced down at the forbidden forest
below. Half of it held gnarled and twisted trees ash-white with death, burned of their foliage
but somehow still enough to hide the forest floor from view. A twisted landscape brittle and
damaged and silent.

“As good a place to hide as any, I suppose.”

“Am I to take that as an insult against my person, my boy?”

Harry felt a deranged sort of laugh catch in his throat, his head tipping back to take in the
night sky, and the stars that flickered between the dark clouds that tried to hide them. The
flames alight in the sconces beyond the desk flickered over and through the figure beside
him, trails of pale yellow in the transparent, inconsistent shape of him.

“Even if it were, I doubt you would take it as such. You always did seem to have a plan none
of the rest of us were to know, Headmaster.”
 32

Draco Malfoy was no fool.

He was, by all accounts, a clever man. Intelligent, logical, could even find it within himself to
be the mediator in an event where the parties around him succumbed to baseless yelling and
all out altercations. He was reasonable, and lived by that reason after so long spent in the
shadow of his father’s once irredeemable actions.

Despite whatever conflict, whatever aspersions one might have once cast over the name
Malfoy, in refute of his father’s broken state of mind beneath the hands of one, Lord
Voldemort; Draco had never once taken them as anything more than the twittering of gossips,
easily ignored and manageably pathetic.

He was a man of thought, of contemplation. Patient. Calculated.

All of who he was as a person, however, meant very little in the face of his very, very newly
bonded mate being suddenly torn from his sights.

The moment their party’s emergency portkey touched down on the fringes of Hogsmeade
village, Draco felt his wings flare to catch the wind that would have carried him straight
towards where Hogwarts sat in the distance, beyond the ridge of hill like some crumbling,
dark giant crouched against the dark horizon.

“Do not, Draco Malfoy, you will give whatever element of surprise we have away. We do not
know, for certain, who we stand against.”

Draco hardly cast the Fae a glance, his eyes narrowing as he scoped the trail through to
Hogwarts that was only half-visible, beneath the sprawl of unkempt vegetation and singed
roots. Still, he listened, his own instincts spitting fire as he lifted his hands to tighten the tie in
his hair, and jostled the creature winding its way from his neck to his shoulders.

The snake seemed as impatient as he felt, the furl of spines against his head lifting like a
gentle warning against the cold night air, as black eyes peered into the dark forest that
bordered the edges of the old school.

“You have precisely five minutes to form some breed of a plan, or all element of surprise will
be lost. Patience is not a virtue I am holding dearly to in this moment.”

Luna reached out to pinch his elbow through his cloak, and Draco glowered at her as she
dragged him back towards the group, her markings sparking silver across her arms in a show
of how visibly aggravated the woman was, despite her placid face.

“Peace, Draco, we are all aligning for the same outcome here; to keep Harry safe and figure
out what in Godric’s name is going on.” The Alpha sighed, his head bowing in deference to
Harry’s father as James gripped his shoulder. Severus was a stoic presence behind him, as the
Omega beckoned towards a second group that had appeared along the same anti-apparition
line that lay unbroken, as powerful even now as it had been in the years before.

“Madam Prince has sent several members of the Guard to the Hogsmeade border to wait for
our signal, and I've sent a Patronus to Shacklebolt with what we know so far. I knew
something was happening here, I bloody well knew it!” Nymphadora Tonks was growling as
she trudged through a pricker-bush intent on swallowing what was left of the path towards
the village, her boots kicking up loose stones as Sirius grabbed her with one hand to haul her
out of the ditch she was veering towards, his face thunderous.

“Knowing something is up, and finding out You-Know-Who is probably still alive are two
very different things, Dora. How is it even a possibility? We found the Horcruxes! Albus set
the damn place up in flames to do away with the last of them!”

“We were incorrect,” Altair was a presence that very well seethed where he stood on the edge
of the sprawling forest, his yellow eyes narrowed and his fingers clenching on the wand held
in his grasp. “If Harry is right, and I am inclined to believe the boy’s reaction, Tom’s familiar
held a fraction of his final soul. We had no just cause to continue to monitor the last of those
who had pledged their allegiance to him in the wake of what he assumed was his demise, to
mention nothing of those who were loyal to him and never apprehended. All his followers
that were deemed of fit state of mind have been freed over the course of the last five years,
with the final man being Peter Pettigrew.”

“Meaning?” Lily Potter ducked in beside them, her green eyes wild as she rolled up the
sleeves of her scarlet dress robes. Draco felt a pang of guilt, his insides turning at the thought
of having caused the woman more hardship than she had already faced in her life. He so often
saw his own Mother in Lily Potter, and that reflection seemed to still the fire in his veins, if
only for the moment.

“Meaning,” Luna said, “that Tom was more than likely using Pettigrew as one of his puppets
for the entirety of his stay in Azkaban, and we did not know. Whatever Peter’s body suffered
through at the hands of the dementors, or his guards…”

“Tom could just slip right out of,” One of the pale haired Peverell twins growled, before his
brother nodded with a snap of his teeth, “and into another.” The pair hovered close to where
Altair was casting his sights across the ragged path, their pale eyes all but aglow in the near
darkness.

“And Tommy is still missing…”

George’s voice was unexpected, Draco glancing across the quartet of murmuring Aurors
beside him to find the redhead making his way over, a near feral looking member of the
Guard trying to pull him back. His friend’s words sunk in slowly, a chill skating down
Draco’s spine as he glanced back at Altair.

“Tommy… He would have gone straight to his father if the man showed an ounce of
contrition. Has… Has anyone ever survived being possessed by that… Monster?”

Altair cast Draco a sombre look.

“One, just one. The magic Tom created left much to be desired. It was a wicked thing,
shapeless and full of ill intent. The people he inhabited when he held a physical body of his
own could sometimes come to some semblance of living, though never beyond the safety of
the Janus Thickey ward in Saint Mungo's. I answered only one request for another to study
the notes my cousin left behind on his damnable magic, when we realised death would not be
a thing that held him for very long; and the potion created from those studies was only
brewed to completion the once, with my approval. I have witnessed one person survive
Tom’s possession; and that person was Tiberius Nott.”

Draco frowned, the snake draped around his shoulders shifting its weight as it leaned
forward, as though the creature could understand every spoken word. “Theo’s father?”

Tiberius Nott held no small manner of clout as a potions Master in London, basking in what
little avenue Severus’ primary sales in France and Italy did not steal from his spotlight. The
competitive blood between the two had been a long-standing point of contention well known
to Draco, especially after the man’s sole Heir had come into his unexpected heritage. As far
as Draco could see of the whole affair, Nott was like a man split straight down the centre of
his mind; both enraged and infatuated with his Sire.

It had been a common enough thing to have to field off both threats of retribution, and bizarre
letters of intent from the man, gifted to a near sickening degree to the unfazed and
unimpressed Severus Snape.

What poor and unwanted progress the man had made of a romantic nature to the Omegan
Vampire had only slowed so much in recent years, in favour of forming an alliance of sorts.
Nott had so often sent his son, his apprentice, to request a merger of their Potions studies and
Apothecaries to Draco, that the blonde had fast grown contempt for the boy he had once
called something of a friend.

Draco had seen obsession for what it was, in much the same way that his Mother had had her
fair share of obsessive fans in the wake of his taking over the family lines. He had hardly cast
them a thought more than that, sure that the display would stale and stagnate over time.

“Nott Senior… Theo’s father, he was possessed? During the war?”

George’s spoken confusion echoed Draco’s own, and the blonde cast the Alpha Guard beside
him a curious look as the redhead growled and shook off her hand, her dark eyes rolling
despite the reluctant acceptance to her face.

There was little time to speculate over what it was, exactly, he had missed, there; but Draco
filed it away all the same as he glanced back at his Sire, and found Severus staring at the
ground.

“He was, and it came to light during a battle lost to the Auror’s before any headway could be
made. Tiberius was taken to the Janus Thickey ward, and being that we had little reason to
believe the man had ever conspired with Tom Riddle willingly and his mind seemed partially
intact… We offered him Severus’ potion.”

“I wanted only to ‘help…”

Severus seemed somehow smaller, his dark eyes set on the stone beneath his feet as Altair
moved suddenly back to cast a glance over the people gathered tight together, his lips already
pursing on a sharp whistle to gather their attention. It took a moment for Draco to realise that
his Sire was speaking to him, directly to him, as one pale hand touched gently against his
own.

“I was too late to ‘help your father, Draco, and for zat, I am sorry. I wished to ‘help rebuild
everything and everyone zat ‘he destroyed… And I believe, some small part of me believes
I… I should ‘ave left Nott to die instead…”

Draco felt his breath catch, his eyes flaring at the implication of what was said.

“You think he has something to do with You-Know-Who…”

James Potter growled low beside him, as Lily drew Severus in close to her side, her hands
gentle on his arms.

“You saved a man you had no reason to doubt. Any of us would have done the same, had we
the skill and the means. If it does come to light that Nott is one of that madman’s followers,
Severus, that is not your fault.” Sirius was nodding to the woman’s words even as he moved
away towards where Nymphadora was bouncing on the heels of her boots, and Draco let the
soft purr for his Sire slip between his lips despite the anxiety holding him rigid, his fingers
twining in the older Vampire’s grasp.

“No,” Draco agreed as Altair cast a hand out to divide their group further into two, the man’s
fingers twisting on the wand in his grasp once again. “It isn’t your fault, Sire. None of this
is.”

Still, Draco felt his throat tighten as Altair marched towards them, his wand already casting
light across the nearest shadow of overhanging tree behind them, that appeared to take the
general shape of a map.

Tommy was a friend… Had been a friend for years in the midst of chaos and the unfair
balance of those who could fight and those of them that had been hidden away beneath the
sounds of cries and screams and devastation. He had held the boy’s hand in his own when
their families had been far from them, and he had battled with whatever loyalty the boy still
stubbornly clung to for a father, a Sire, that belittled and tormented him.

Tommy was a friend.

“Do you suppose that potion worked in the way you intended it to?”

His whisper was soft, as George and his reluctant Guard stepped in beside him, the redhead
ignoring the woman’s plea to ‘please, please, go back.’

Severus cast a glance up at the sky, the stars suddenly visible from behind a passing rain
cloud as the older Vampire took a deep breath.
“I believe, had it been ze miracle cure zat I so desperately wanted it to be… Zen, Nott would
not ‘ave been so insistent all zese years to ‘ave ‘his ‘hands on my works, and on me. I believe
I never should ‘ave created it… And I am sorry, Draco, zat I ‘ave no ‘hope to offer you for
your friend.”

He had suspected as much, but that did not stop Draco from squeezing his Sire’s hand in his
own once more, his agitated mind flickering back and forth from the fond memories of his
friend… To green eyes and wild magic, and the reality of what… Potential… Tom Riddle
might see in Harry.

The snake around his shoulders suddenly moved, deceptively quick and it pressed its cheek
to Draco’s own in a gentle rub, before sliding down one of his arms and dropping fast to the
snared forest floor. Draco watched him go, lifting a hand up when one of the Peverell twins
made as though to follow the subtle, fragile trail left behind.

He would be alright.

Harry would be alright.

###

Albus Dumbledore, or at the very least the ghost of the man who once was Albus
Dumbledore chuckled something of a laugh.

It was as familiar a sound to Harry’s ears as it had been when he had last heard it, though no
memory was clear enough to come to him as he tried to place the version of the Headmaster
stood before him now.

“What could have occurred between us, I wonder, that you seem to have the measure of me?”

It was a truth, Harry supposed; he had never met the version of Albus that stood, wraight-like
and inconsistent despite the gentle light. What little colour of the man he had been remained
only in the silver flecks of his once brown hair, and the glimmer in eyes that were still an
alarming shade of blue despite his passing. He was young, Harry realised, younger at least in
face than the man who had once been his Headmaster.

He held the resemblance of a memory, half-lost now with time, and not even his own to begin
with but rather, confined to the pages of a leather-bound diary. Tall, decked in splendid robes
and with a beard that he wore trim and neat against the sharp cut of his jaw; Harry had once
seen such him as such many, many years ago, through the eyes of a piece of Tom Riddle’s
tattered soul.

This world was very kind, it seemed, to the aging wizard.

Harry felt something like a smile tick in the corner of his mouth, despite the uneasy pit in his
stomach and the dread that seemed held at bay only by the magic of the room around him.
“This version of you? Either a great deal, or probably nothing at all, Headmaster. I’m afraid
there was no opportunity for us to meet in this world.”

The spectre seemed to regard him, that quiet, reserved glance filled with all the simple
understanding and clarity that only Albus Dumbledore could be assured of.

“Ah,” The ghost hummed, the sound seemingly knowing in the gentle silence between them,
and Harry became distinctly aware of the fact that the room had begun to slowly darken. The
flickering of the framed candles was growing dim.

“You know, dear boy, this forest here was once a most magnificent thing to cast a glance
over. It held so many living things, so much magic, one could have speculated that it came to
being through the veins of Hogwarts herself.”

The man’s gaze became sombre, his transparent hands dipping into the pockets of his trousers
beneath the folds of his robe.

“It was never my intent to hurt something so… Incredible. Our last resort in the moments
before our deaths can often give the measure of a person, and my own devastation at the fire I
wrought has held me captive in the ruins of what was once my home.

“For years, such has been the case. I have stood watch over the result of my carelessness,
baring the burden of a history now left to decay in time. Hogwarts will never again be as she
was, and I hold myself accountable for those I could not save, and the creatures I drove from
their homes in the forest, in a desperate attempt to snare one, rather impervious snake.”

Snake…

“She vanished to the forest long before he ever took his last breath.”

Harry felt his shoulders round on the weight of the man’s own contempt for his actions, his
lips clamping down on a sigh as he nodded slowly. “You went after Nagini…”

“Indeed.”

The flames flickered once more, hardly a glow left of where they sat in their sconces to
reflect back to him through the shimmering, gloss that was all that was left of a once proud
and powerful man. He seemed to shift and fade before Harry’s very eyes, no one part of
himself as whole as it had been. Harry felt something like panic stick in his throat, before
Albus was turning to him with the softest of smiles.

“I’m afraid they were borrowed without much permission, the tools that I had once believed
were my right to use, to put an end to the war that had wreaked so much havoc. You see when
the first came to me from Lord Gaunt in such a manner that it might need to be destroyed, my
hesitance in doing so made me foolhardy. I had come across something precious, by my own
regard, something of fairy tale and myth, fallen into my hand like some discarded stone one
might skin across a lake.”

A stone.
“My means of securing it, naturally, led me to understanding the importance of the second
tool. It had always baffled me how such a personal object could be passed from son to son
with such loyalty. I never did get the chance to return it to its rightful owner, much to my
regret… I wonder what type of wand young Altair has been using in its stead.”

A wand…

“A pity, really… I never did come upon the third…It was always my belief that it held such
devote loyalty to its owner that it never truly left his side.”

Harry felt his stomach clench, what little he had eaten throughout the day made him feel so
oddly hollow, as though his body could feel how very alone he stood in the company of
another. He turned, slipping his wand into the holster on his arm and finding himself under
that intense blue stare, so vibrant amid a night sky dulled by cloud and the dark scent of rain.

Albus had withdrawn his hands from his pockets, and Harry could hardly even find it in
himself to be surprised at the objects plucked from their depths. They laid out before him on
hands made of little else but shadow and silver stardust, and the laugh that found its way
from his throat was tormented.

“Would it be in bad taste to tell you to please stop haunting me with those wretched things?”

The resurrection stone felt much the same as it had the first time Harry had held it in his
grasp, cold and baring a weight its small form had no right to. It seemed to leech the very
colour from the centre of his palm as he closed his fingers over it, eyes blinking back tears he
had shed far too much of in recent times.

Albus merely waited, his face sincere and soft and heartbreakingly sad in the room left with
just the barest dance of candlelight, and a fragment of heat. It chilled Harry to his core as he
reached out to wrap his fingers around the other, his thumb gentle across the grooves of the
Elder wand, despite every instinct in himself that wanted to snap the bloody thing in half.

Albus smiled as Harry peered down at the two Hallows, the ghost sliding his hands back into
his pockets as the blue began to flicker from his eyes.

“I can trust you, my boy, to get these back to their rightful owners. The Hallows is a power
best left divided among those who hold their ancestor’s blood, don’t you agree?” Harry felt
tears catch against his eyelids, despite the stubborn clench of his jaw, as Albus sighed and
tipped his head back to peer up into the sky. His voice was like something from a memory, a
wisp of wind and fond recollection, as what was left of him began to fade to nothing.

“How funny… For my final regret not to be for the lost things I could not find, nor for the
damage I have wrought, or the wrongs I have attempted to right. How strange, for me to stare
into the abyss and wonder… What it might have been… To know you, Harry Potter. From
one Omega to another… I wish we meet again someday, under entirely more pleasant
circumstances…”

He was gone, before Harry could even bring himself to open his eyes against the whine that
choked him, as he tried to rub his bare arm against his cheeks to mop away what tears he
could.

“You daft, old man,” Harry half-sobbed the words, what was left of that soft, gentle magic
fading fast to let in the rolling chill of the forest that laid out below him. “You don’t get to
have me mourn you twice, you don’t get to meddle in this life too. You don’t get to help me,
especially when you didn’t even find the one Hallow that I might have used, that was mine,
that I actually want…ed…”

Harry stilled, where he had been tearing at the chiffon of his robes to get to the black trousers
beneath. The resurrection stone slipped from his grasp to bounce safely within the confines of
his pocket, as he traded it instead for a handful of familiar material that had appeared from
nowhere. It fell, fragile and soft against his arm as he pulled the length of it out, his eyes
peering through damp lashes at the familiar expanse of dark, shimmering fabric.

A cloak.

His cloak.

Harry stared at it, rubbing it beneath his fingertips as he holstered the elder wand in beside
his own on his arm, snug and cool against his skin. His breath left him in a huff of laughter as
he snapped the robe out in both hands, before donning it over his bottom half.

Harry rolled his eyes, his laughter wet and anything but pleasant, as his legs disappeared,
vanished from view. With a heavy sigh, he gave a glance around a room that was slowly, so
slowly, beginning to gather dust around him. With fingers numb from the chill of the
outdoors, and from the weight of his strange encounter, he straightened his spine, and nabbed
a silver cloak from the nook behind the Headmaster’s old desk.

The material was soft, thin and flexible and warm against his arms as he shoved his
invisibility cloak into the large, embroidered pocket of it, and cast one last desperate look
around a room that held as many memories as it did not. The edges of the floor began to
crumble and fall like snow into the dark, overgrown limbs of the forest.

He could hardly spare a moment to take it in, his eyes snagging instead on something else.

Harry plucked the dark, coarse piece of fabric from its shelf as he fled past, stuffing that too
into his pocket as he strode towards the door and flew down the staircase that was slowly
turning to ash beneath his steps. The Gargoyle had already stepped aside, his cracked face
looming in the darkness as it offered Harry a single stare, before the Omega was turning and
fleeing into the darkness of a nearby staircase.

His magic sparked against stone walls ancient and cracked and cold, a flash of vibrant green
against the dark as he descended, his blood thrumming beneath his skin.

Hogwarts, any version of her, in any world, had always been his home.

His Home.

That Riddle had reduced it to this…

Harry felt his steps quicken, his ears alert for any fragment of noise that might have carried to
him through the holes that splattered across the walls and ceilings. Frames lay torn and
battered against stone corners, landscapes shredded and painted faces forever frozen. And
beneath the wreck and the ruin, beneath the destruction… Harry could smell the scent of ash
and old blood and fear…

Among everything else the man had done, this was unforgivable.
 33
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

There were times in Theodore Nott’s life, hindered as it had been by the weight of his father’s
overbearing dislike of his own son, when a glimpse of promise had been enough to keep him
going.

The promise of morning, just a fraction of a glimpse through a window that looked upon the
horizon. Just a gentle bough of light in a room dark with fear and anger, slick with the scent
of his own blood, and with wings so badly broken he feared he might never fly again.

The promise of friendship, of an ally, in a relationship forged on blood purity and the
dependence of social propriety. One bare-faced grimace of kinship, of understanding, as they
stood, shoulder to shoulder, forced to bare the weight of expectations too high and too dark
for young minds to fully grasp.

The promise of being more to one another than those that had stood against them. More than
the sneers and the dislike, more than the pain of being not enough. One desperate reach for
hands that reached out in tandem for his own.

The promise of an end, however gruesome that might be, as Tommy fought against him, as
the boy bit hard enough into the skin of Theo’s arm that the brunette had a want to shake him,
and shake him hard. The promise that this was the last bad thing... That if another was
hurting… Then the two he tried so desperately to protect could be offered just the smallest
moment, just a second, to rest.

The promise of running away in the mess of it all, as Blaise watched him with pale eyes wide
and desperate, and as Daphne bore the latest gift from her Mother in the dazed pattern of her
blinking and the welt that bloomed across her forehead.

Promises were the only thing that kept them alive, that pushed them through each present
moment, without a thought to a future beyond just surviving.

To think about the future, about any future, was to hope. Wish and dream and hope... and
Theo had not dreamed in years. Hope was dangerous, blindingly dangerous; and so Theodore
had never let himself give in to the notion of it.

But promises… Promises made in spilled blood and pain, in dark bonds of debt forced
against their will, in broken whispers and jobs gone wrong, promises to better than their
blood and the hands raised in spite against them...

Promises between his Pack were a given, and he had lived from one to the other as if they
had been pockets of air in a pool he had been suffocating in for so many, many years.

It had never been a part of who he was to hope for more.

It could never have been a part of the man his father’s disgust and ire had shaped, to want
more for himself.

But…

But… Now.

Now... only for one pretty, insignificant little Omega…

Theodore Nott had begun to hope.

“Help me… And I will kill him.”

The snarl tore through his thoughts as he walked, his steps quick as he darted over sections of
rock both old and new, Blaise clutched to his front as though he weighed of little more than
some precious book.

Harry’s voice was like a promise kept, that first ray of dawn against a dark night, those eyes
sincere in a way Theo had never known of anyone who had ever met his gaze.

Every interaction he had ever had with the mysterious stranger seemed now so bizarre, so
inherently in Harry’s favour. Each taunting, teasing memory, each weak interaction and
curious thought, was now coloured with the scent of the strange boy’s magic, with the
physical taste of raw power that seemed to seep from the Omega's skin. Even now, as Theo
ran away from the castle ruins, there was a certainty that settled him... That Harry held far
more control over the events unfolding, than Theo could have ever hoped of anyone willing
to help them.

Harry was powerful.

Unpredictably so...

Which meant that, for the first time in a very long time, Theo had begun to doubt.

He doubted it all... Every task, every order... Everything...

Everything.

That doubt was like something alive, something that haunted him as he clutched the small
man in his arms against him, his throat breaking on a gentle growl as Blaise whimpered,
ashen fingers curling in the blood-stained front of Theo's shirt. It chased him just as assuredly
as a Dementor, dark with the promise of overtaking his mind and soul, should he give it even
a modicum of thought.

But he could not.

He could not… Because Blaise’s eyes were snow white in the near darkness, and his fingers
were growing weak, and every jostle over stone and root and around trees withered and black
dragged a pitiful plea from the Beta’s throat that sickened Theo to his core.
“I’m so sorry, love…I'm so sorry.”

Theo could hardly recognise his voice as his own, it seemed so very weak as it carried on the
tepid night air, almost lost against the sound of silence that fell so heavily on his ears. The
forest was dense despite the fire that had once raged through it, clustered thick between
pockets of unfertile swaths of land; but it was the surest way through to the village, to
safety... To where Theo had once strolled towards butterbeer and shopping, Blaise on one
side groaning of some unfinished essay for homework, and Daphne on his other as she rolled
her eyes and polished off the fizzing whizzbee he had saved for her.

Had they ever been so carefree?

Had they ever had the chance...

And where was she...

Where was she?

Theo felt his throat tighten, his steps stalling towards the break of a clearing as the sudden
clatter of rocks falling hard and sudden from a height sounded in the distance. He hoisted
Blaise closer, one hand baring down around the Incubus’ tiny waist as pale eyes blinked up at
him and a wary croon left the smaller man’s throat.

“Not far now, Blaise…”

“Not far from where, exactly?”

Theo could hardly help the silent snarl that dragged at his upper lip, his stance rigid as he
turned to catch sight of the woman behind him.

Ah.

Adorabella Greengrass was a wasp of a woman on a good day.

Nervous and impatient, with a penchant to dole out nasty barbs and vicious curses before
sparing a thought in any direction. Still, Theo barely cast her a grimace, before dragging his
gaze down the girl behind her.

Unharmed. Mostly.

He sighed as the older witch strode towards him with a face like one who had been asked to
shovel shit, her once perfectly curled blonde up-do frayed around the edges. The robes she
wore were no less garish than her personality, a prominent pink that clashed horridly with the
set of pale peach that Daphne was desperately clutching the hem of, as she stared back at
Theo.

“And just what do you think you are up to, Theodore, hmm? Trying to take off despite your
orders, are you? Tsk, tsk... How expectedly cowardly of you. You know, your father has
every right to be as withered of your antics as he is. The man should be commended for
having to put up with such a half-wit.”
The woman’s wand was raised, and it was for that reason alone that Theo did little more than
glare back at her, his teeth bared as she took another step forward.

Daphne’s eyes were wide, the whites of them stark as the young girl advanced behind her
mother, her own blonde curls a mess around her shoulders, and her plump bottom lip split
with a petal stain of blood that looked almost intentional smeared across her chin. She was
watching them, unwavering, her eyes darting fast to Blaise as she clutched her hands to her
chest. There was something frantic about her, every muscle in her body coiled as if she
wanted nothing more than to fling herself at the two boys in front of her.

Theo caught her gaze, his wings spanning out slowly. The right one flared pain across his
back, the cursed wound bleeding sluggishly.

“We are leaving, Adorabella. I am going and I am taking them with me, we want no part in
this madness anymore.”

The witch stared at him, her mouth agape for one second before she careened her head back
to let out a wicked laugh, her wand flicking towards him with a spark of wayward magic.

“Leaving? Leaving!” She crowed, snapping her teeth together in a show of what little
throwback trait she had been disgusted to have inherited. Her fangs were small, but sharp,
and she ground them together as she growled, the scent of enraged Alpha forcing Theo’s
stance to shift.

“You think you can just go, little boy? You think you can do all the horrible, terrible things
that you have done and just, what… Walk away? No one is going to save you... The Dark
Lord will find you… He will find you and he will tear you apart… And not before he rips
that little whore in your arms to shreds first.”

Theo snarled, his hands tightening over a shivering Blaise as Daphne scratched rough nails at
her own throat, her lips clamped shut over whatever noise she was desperate to voice.

“Daphne, come here.”

He kept his eyes on the younger woman, his face carefully blank as she stared back at him,
petrified and hurting and so small behind the shape of her mother.

She whimpered as Adrorabella snarled, the woman’s stance shifting aggressively as she
aimed her wand higher.

“You won’t corrupt my daughter, Theodore. Beta or not, the girl has her uses, and you won’t
take that from me. No! You will not ruin his plans!”

Daphne heaved a sob as she flung herself suddenly forward, her hands flying to the top of her
head in defence when her mother aimed her shrieks in the Beta's direction.

Her body suddenly curled, and became an indirect target as the blonde Alpha turned her
wand on her own child. Theo almost jumped out of his skin, his fangs flashing on a snarl as
tense as he was, as a spark of red light lit the space around them. The force of the abrupt
stunner seemed to come from the very trees themselves, and Adorabella Greengrass' petrified
body was left to sprawl across the loose dirt and stone in the aftermath of the sudden attack.

Theo could hardly hold his stance, his wings flaring despite the pain to cover both the
Incubus shivering in his hold and the blonde girl that had scattered a trail of loose rock and
mud she had raced to his side so fast.

“Theo.”

His aching wing shifted down to hide where Daphne clung to his side, the girl’s sobs
breaking against the eerie silence as Theo found the source of the spell cast, and felt his
shoulders slump in relief.

“Draco… Thank Merlin.”

The blonde Alpha stared at him, red eyes drifting over the shape of Blaise and Daphne
hidden beneath the folds of torn and bloodied wings, and his eyes darkened.

“Are you alright?”

Theo stiffened as the other Vampire neared, a pair strange and unknown to him entering the
clearing behind him. Though they did not exist on the best of terms, Draco Malfoy was
known to him, and was, as Theo was slowly coming to understand, a good Alpha. The
strangers, however...

They were identical, long blonde hair loose and their appearance bearing no telling scent
beyond the warm lingering musk of fire and burning stone. His body felt rigid in their
presence, his instincts skewed with the pain that rippled through his torn wing. Theo's eyes
narrowed as one of them held his hands aloft as he drew close, the growl coming to his throat
unbidden, even as he tried to calm himself. His throat tightened, a part of him warring with
the innate instinct to shield his Beta's away.

But...

“Blaise… Blaise is hurt...”

His heart shattered as he glanced down at the creature in his arms, Daphne’s hand on Blaise's
trembling chest as the blonde girl wept for him. Despite their touch, the Incubus was growing
unresponsive. White eyes stared unseeing, as Blaise whimpered in his hold, his skin hot
where it met Theo's. Whatever that... Man... had done to him... Blaise's magic was fighting
fast to battle it, and it was failing.

“How cruel…” One of the strangers drew nearer, his blue gaze steady as he stared back at
Theo, unblinking, until he could reach out hands as pale as moonlight to catch his fingertips
against the very edge of Theo’s chin. “How desperately cruel…”

It was only as the touch of his fingers left, that Theo noticed the willowy blonde had snuck
beneath the folds of his wing, to lay one hand on the very top of Daphne’s head and the other
against the pulse that beat erratically in Blaise’s throat.
“Can you help him, Antares?”

The blonde by the name of Antares hummed, his fingertips dancing a slow, steady beat
against that frantic pulse, until light glowed soft beneath them and Blaise fell slowly, slowly
into some form of fitful sleep. Theo felt his own heart quicken in his chest as those pale eyes
slipped closed, dark lashes casting long shadows across the Beta's cheeks.

“I can… But not here,” The man pivoted to glance up at the sky, where rain clouds were
beginning to roll in, “Go with Draco, Alniyat, I will seek help here from the Auror’s that
have gathered along the perimeter, and bring the children to safety.”

Aurors…

Theo growled, his breath breaking on a gasp as he shook his head, only for pale fingers to
find his lips and press down. Antares stared back at him, those blue eyes vibrant, as he
shooed his brother and Draco away with a firm hand, something of a smile lifting the corners
of his lips.

“No one will hurt you, or separate you. I have you now.”

Bizarrely... Theo believed him.

For reasons he could not seem to gather, or to even understand... He believed him.

Theo watched Draco turn, before the blonde Vampire grimaced, his shoulders suddenly rigid,
as though whatever thought he had been about to voice sat bitter as poison on his tongue.
Theo moved his mouth away from the strange man’s fragile touch.

“He’s alive, Draco. Harry, he’s alive and he… I… I told him to run… It was all I could do…”

Theo watched as the other Alpha blew out a breath, his fingers skimming over his own mouth
to still the tremble of his lips, as he huffed something close to a startled laugh.

“Something tells me he would not have asked you for more, even if you had been able, Theo.
Thank you.”

With that fragile truce between them, Theo watched the man he had once hoped to befriend,
take off into the forest, his steps silent despite the heel of his boots, and his wings a dark
shadow pressed along his spine.

“I hope he kills him…” Theo whispered, his eyes suddenly blurring, and his hands trembling
against the witch and Incubus that clung to him. “I hope he kills him.”

Antares hummed again, as he lifted a hand above his head to send a sudden streak of green
magic high into the sky above, that broke like silent fireworks and faded fast to the darkness.
A signal.

“Tom Riddle?” The question was amused, that soft smile still playing about the man’s pale
lips.
Theo barked a laugh, as he felt the first trail of tears wind a path down his cheeks.

“Him, yes…” he ground his teeth together, his own scent red-hot in his anger, and meshing
with that fire-sultry scent of the man that stared up at him.

“Him, and my father.”

###

Rain.

He supposed it was only fitting that it had decided to rain after all.

So much of his time at Hogwarts had so often been whilst running through the rain…
Walking in the rain… Throwing hoods over heads and holding backpacks on high while
those around him shouted after being caught in a downpour.

Actually, it was almost calming.

Harry lifted his face to the sky, a portion of the night visible between the very tops of the
blackened trees around him that still held the barest of dried and darkened leaves.

The rain was cool against his skin, and he closed his eyes as it fell like a fine mist, a drizzle
against Earth that should have felt scorched still, but was cool beneath the touch of his
fingertips and the palm he reached out to rest against the nearby trunk of a twisted Oak.

Despite the destruction, there was an energy to the Forbidden Forest all the same. Much like
the magic that existed still in the solemn cracks of Hogwarts herself, the forest thrummed
beneath his boots. It felt alive even now, twisted and razed and broken, and Harry could have
succumbed to that feeling of life on any other given day.

He could have almost basked in it.

The night air was still, tepid despite the patter of frigid rain, and Harry breathed deep as the
stillness lapped like a balm at some distant, wounded part of himself.

It felt… familiar.

Lonely and silent, still and waiting, trapped in the forest now as he had been in the past. The
weight of the additional wand felt like something dark against his arm beneath the thin sleeve
of the silver robe. Hot, unwanted, a once-remembered power that he had hoped he would
never have to know again. It sat as heavy as the stone in his pocket, rounded smooth with age
and freezing against the flimsy material of his dress robes. He felt the weight of those who
had passed with each glance of it against his thigh, as he moved forward.

He remembered them.

Even in this world where their deaths were nothing more than nightmares in his head, nothing
more than horror stories best forgotten… Still, he remembered them.
He tipped his head forward slowly, breath seeping from between his lips, as he cast his hand
inside his pocket for his invisibility cloak, only for his eyes to open and land on a figure,
frozen still between the twisted trees.

As calm as he had been, he felt his lip draw back on a snarl as he watched the woman stand
like some demented statue, her head thrown back to face the cold wash of rain.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

Except… It wasn’t.

It was the only thing that stilled his feet, that kept his anger from twitching fingers towards
where his wand lay not an inch away. Furious as he was at the sight of the woman who had
murdered his only family…

This... Was not her.

And it was painfully obvious as to why.

Harry felt his fingers clench down on nothing, his brow softening as he stared.

Pity rolled rancid in his stomach as he watched her, a stone guardian in a cluster of decaying
brush and brittle flowers. Her cloak was hardly a slip of a thing, the grey skirt of it moulded
to a waist wrought skinny with hunger. Her bare arms were flung open wide, mottled with
bruises and wretchedly thin, as though one gentle grasp around her wrist would snap the bone
inside in half.

Her dark hair had never looked so clean, wild and beautiful around her pale face and littered
with a thousand pearlescent drops of rainfall. It fell to her fragile waist, seeming altogether
too heavy for her tiny frame, as she stared with black eyes into a sky just as dark, and her
uneasy smile fell fast to a slant of immeasurable apathy.

She seemed unaware of him, though he was close enough to her to catch the unmistakable
scent of Omega. It was a scent that wrapped around the rain, cloying like a flower suddenly
fed and blooming, thick enough in the air between them that she had to have smelled him too.

Still, she remained frozen, those black eyes vacant and vast, as she stared so hard into the
darkness above. Her mouth stayed slack, as if the rain that landed on her tongue was her only
source of nourishment and she could not bare a second to swallow to take the parched rasp
from her lips.

With a sudden demented lift of her right hand, she pointed, high up into the clouds, her
fingers reaching for something….

Harry watched her, whatever fire in his veins turning to ice at the sight of her.

She was broken.

Like a doll cracked from the inside out, a fragile piece of porcelain that might shatter at the
first tremble of another’s touch.
Everything she had, or might have once been, was as lost as the life in the brittle vegetation
that surrounded her.

And as broken as she was, there was a humanity to her that he had never witnessed in the
version he had met before, in the vindictive, maddened woman that had once taken so much
from him.

He saw himself in her hunger, a version of what he might have been, in the way her face
softened beneath the gentle lull of the rain. He saw his own body perched beneath a moon,
bruised and broken and lonely. He saw himself for one brief, incredible second…

And Harry felt what remained of his anger abate.

Loneliness was a curse he would not wish on any soul. And whether it was the loneliness of
being without her family, or the loneliness of following a madman beyond the veil of his
death… With the near impossible promise that he might one day love her…

Loneliness had evidently consumed Narcissa’s sister.

Where had she been before all of this? Harry’s thoughts could not help but follow her, even
as the woman brought her head back down with a heavy swing, her eyes blinking rainwater
in a steady stream that looked so like tears cascading down her cheeks.

Who had she been with? Who had been with her? Why had it never occurred to him to ask…

The woman dropped her hand back to her side, her fingers toying idly with the ribbon at her
waist, as she stretched her lips to a smile and began to giggle. Harry watched her move, her
feet clad in the softest looking shoes stomping down over rock and root, as she wandered
back into the treeline, jilted and awkward, like a marionette whose strings had been horribly
tangled.

Some part of himself was distraught, so much so that he took a step forward as though to
follow her, before the dawning realisation of who she could be heading back towards made
him stop. He hissed, the sound ragged between his teeth, as he watched the other Omega
disappear into the darkness, her giggle still ringing, wrong and rough in his ears.

He scowled, fingers clenching to fists at his side as he glanced back the way he had come, the
exit of the back tunnel still half-buried beneath the blackberry bush he could just about
glimpse at the distance he had come. There was sections of the forest brighter, lit by patches
bare of foliage that let him know the stars were still out despite the clouds.

He could promise himself that he would return for her.

He could promise himself that she would be safe, soon... That she would be alright, soon.

He could promise the world inside his own head, and still, Harry felt wrong to turn away
from where that broken, lily-scented Omega had wandered into the darkness.

The weak, delicate flicker of the bond he shared with Draco was the only thing that forced his
steps, his head bowed beneath the starlight.
 But first...

He needed to find Tom.

Chapter End Notes

I just wanted to take a minute to thank all my readers. On this fic and on others that I
will post a note to, it is incredible to me to hear my writing is appreciated, and that my
stories are enjoyed. Thank you.
 34

“George, please…”

She was… Uncertain.

Uncertain, and unaccustomed to being so.

He could hear it in her voice, despite the aggression she put forward with each determined
step, and despite the growl that laced unspoken threats in the back of her throat. Each
reaction of hers was magnified, multiplied in this unfamiliar space that smelled of fire and
ash and rain. It was as though she saw the unseen dangers that they might have trodden on in
each too-sharp prickle of vine and nettle, or in shadows cast long and twisted across a forest
floor buried beneath rock and charred bark.

It was enough to set his own nerves alight, to spark a sense of danger in the back of his mind
as he trekked forward, her footsteps blanketing his own in silence despite the noise she was
making with each snap of her jaw against the stress of the situation.

He could hardly blame her.

George had always had another to take into account, in any given situation.

He had always had someone who was, by the definition of physical strength as the world
knew it, less than. He had always kept an eye out for another, kept an ear always listening to
the sound of someone else’s footsteps. His senses were primed to deal with the fear and
aggravation of someone he loved with his whole heart, of someone he had always been
inclined to protect.

George had always had his brother.

He had always had Fred.

Fred, who was smaller in shape despite the food they shared. Fred, who was quicker to duck
and slower to lash out. Fred, who hid his tears each time he failed in the crook of his elbow in
the dead of night. Fred, who had damn near taken him in his senses when George had tried to
deny him getting the Bite.

George had always been there to protect Fred.

And though that sense of protection had shifted as they both grew, from infatuated cuddles
and a prospect of a life shared and split straight down the middle; to a friendship and kinship
found in the hard parts, found in the need for each other and family and a platonic,
irreplaceable devotion many others could not seem to understand. Though their bond had
shifted to near equal footing with each moon that left George off-kilter and unsure, with each
friendly clasp of Fred’s fingers on his shoulder guiding him back home… It was a bond he
had grown to know as a part of himself all the same.
It was a mindset, a sense honed from the earliest remembered moments of his life, and he had
always made room for Fred in his waking thoughts. He was aware of his brother even when
he was not, cautious of his own strength and aware of Fred’s humour before the Beta had
even become aware of it himself.

And so, George could hardly blame Angelina for the anxious roll of her scent as she watched
him.

How strange it must have been for her, to one moment start the job she had been so perfectly
trained for, and so very good at, with the sudden, alarming realisation that she had more than
just herself to protect.

How bizarre it must have been to have always been one… To look out for just one, to protect
just one… And to now feel that biting need in the back of her throat to put that same focus on
another.

On him.

He understood her unease.

Though he could not feel it in the same way she must have been feeling it, he understood it.
George had been nothing to her mere days ago. A name unknown and a face one of many in a
passing crowd. She was once a witch above the mere notion of devotion, happy in the
company of her partner who was just as powerful, intent on her skills and how she could
make the best of use of them. Her mastery of her craft was evident, even now in this strange
and frightful place.

She exuded power, her skin seemed to spark with it with each incidental brush of his arm
against her forearm, the shadows quick to wrap around the black hue of it as she stilled him
once more with a hand flat across his chest, her nose searching, catching something in the air
that even his senses as a werewolf seemed to miss.

Even afraid for him, for anyone for the first time in her life, she stood her ground and bared
her teeth; and George felt every Alpha streak in him submit to her.

He was, surprisingly… Infatuated.

Beyond the playful teasing and the games shared in dark rooms, with Lee’s voice whispering
promises in his ear, with his brother’s stilted laughter and honey-rich scent enough to have
him flushing to the roots of his red hair. Beyond the fun they had been having in the short
time they had been distracted and desperate and sweet… He was infatuated.

He watched her peer through the darkness, eyes alight with a shimmer despite their black
colour. The ribbon Lee had tied through her dark braid only hours ago lay blood red against
the nape of her neck, half-hidden, a reminder of intimate moments too soft for their sad
surroundings.

“I’m never letting you go after this, you know that, right?”
She snapped a hush down at him, something playful in the curve of her lips despite her
unease.

“I should leave you in this forest, George Weasley, to fend for yourself with those
unsharpened claws and that constant mouth of yours.”

“You wouldn’t, you like me too much.” George grinned as they made their way forward
slowly, towards another black-streaked clearing. The mound of upturned dirt had flattened to
something of a hill in the years left sitting, splintered with bits of broken trees and scattered
with dark, petrified bark. “And if you did, Lee and Fred would be downright frosty with
you.”

Angelina hummed, her eyebrow lifting as she slanted a look down at him. “They would say it
was nothing your stubborn backside did not deserve, brat. Disobeying a direct order to stay
put…” She clasped his chin between her fingers to slow his pace, flashing her fangs as he
smiled up at her. “You are bold as brass. But… I suppose for the sake of our newfound
little… Pack… I might as well bring you back in one piece.”

Pack.

George felt his heart stammer in his chest at the word.

It was such an archaic notion, so often not spoken of in modern society that it had become a
near relic of a term; or at best, a platonic coo of endearment. He saw the nature of what a
Pack was, in the bonds between his family and the Potters, in the way Remus and Sirius
welcomed them all without question and without judgement. He saw it in himself, in the
carefree way both he and Fred had often trailed after and tormented Draco; and in the way he
had not hesitated to follow her for the sake of Harry. To help Harry, in any way he might have
been able to. George understood the notion of a Pack, and the connotations the word could
often come to hold in a society based so much around the perfect pair.

But for a werewolf without a mate…

For the likes of himself and Fred, who would never be something as simple as one of a
separate pair… Soulmates in the purest, most platonic sense…

The idea of a Pack, a real, honest to Merlin, untainted Pack.

It was…

It was…

The snap of a branch had him stilling.

George felt the sharp sting of claws in his neck long before he registered the horrified look on
Angelina’s face, as he was suddenly grabbed from behind, and dragged backwards across the
dirt and stone. He hissed, hands lifting to fight against the hold, as his back was pulled up
against another body, and the scent of the person behind him had his eyes snapping wide.

“No…”
The man behind him chuckled, the sound rough and grating as his claws tightened and he
shook George lightly by the scruff, as he were nothing more than a pup that had misbehaved.

“Oh, smells like one of mine! How nice of you to remember me, baby Alpha.”

George whined, his head lifting with the scent of Alpha as his hands scrabbled usually against
an arm thick with muscle. There were others, he realised now, shifting on the edges of the
clearing, eyes flashing in the periphery as Angelina fell into a defensive stance. Her eyes
narrowed as she snarled at the man towering behind George.

“Fenrir.”

The werewolf behind him growled, and it was a sound that swooped terror in George’s
stomach, his lips clamping shut over the petrified sound that threatened to sneak free. His
body was less than useless with his panic, suddenly once again the slender, weak thing it had
been at the soft age of fourteen; when a dare-gone-wrong and a group of ill-found friends had
left him deserted in the midst of a camping trip his mother had been against from the very
start.

He should have never gone into that abandoned barn.

He should have never listened to those other boys… Too young and too stupid to know any
better.

He should have stayed home… Fred had been so sick too, and so disappointed that he was
going to miss it. He should have stayed at home. He should have stayed at home. He should
have stayed at home. He should have…

“Y’know,” Fenrir straightened, and George felt his shoes nearly lift from the forest floor with
the height of the Alpha, his sneakers toeing the dead grass as he raked his nails down the
hand still wrapped around the back of his neck. “I remember you... You came to me all on
your own, didn't you, baby boy? Hush now... It was just a little love tap, I didn’t even take
your eyesight with that swipe across your face, and I very much could have. I kinda like it…
Adds to those soft cheeks, doesn’t it? What was it your name was again…”

George was turned slowly, his teeth flashing in a grimace as he was brought face to face with
the man that had attacked him in that old, dilapidated barn all those years ago. The scent of
him was the same, cloying and musky, and his handsome face was the stuff of literal
nightmares, bared as it was in a delighted grin. He watched those impossible silver eyes light
up, catching what little flicker of moonlight surrounded them.

“If I had known how well my little gift would take in you, well,” Fenrir barked a laugh, the
sentiment shared in snickers from the shadows stalking ever closer around them, faces
peering in now with eyes all that same, pearly shade of silver. “I would’ve fought a little
harder to keep you when those Aurors showed up. Who would’ve thought a little boy as
scared shitless as you, would’ve become an actual Alpha!”

The laugh was mean, and felt as cruel as Fenrir intended it to be, as those claws snicked into
the soft skin of his nape and the sweet scent of copper let him know he was bleeding.
“Did you remember my face during your first Rut, baby Alpha?”

George snarled, digging his claws in further as he snapped at the man’s face, his chest
heaving with the roll of his stomach. Had he had anything at all substantial to eat, he would
have heaved it up, Fenrir’s scent thick in his throat as the werewolf gave him another rough
shake.

“Well… Did you, Georgie?”

Maybe he would vomit anyway. George felt his jaw clamp shut over the rush of bile up his
throat, seconds before Fenrir suddenly drew back with a roar of pain. George was flung to
one side, his back striking the forest floor hard enough to wind him, and leave him gasping
frantically as he darted a glance back at the man that had thrown him. The Alpha's chest was
heaving with his anger, one clawed hand clutching at his cheek, where the skin had
mysteriously split in a jagged slash of a wound.

“You know, that is the thing about werewolf purists.”

Angelina’s voice was almost conversational, though there was a snarl laced in her tone that
George's every instinct took heed of despite the gentle hand she placed on his head, as she
moved to suddenly stand in front of him. Her legs bracketed him from view as she steadied
her stance, long slender fingers keeping him down on the floor in a gentle warning where
they twined in his messy hair. She lifted her wand as she took aim at a werewolf suddenly
throwing himself at her from the side-lines, hardly shifting an inch when the spark of wild,
violet magic struck him down before he had so much as covered a foot of ground.

“They depend so much on their physical strength… That they forget just how useful a simple
cutting spell can be.”

Fenrir snarled, the sound seeming to reverberate through the very earth George had been
pressed against, his own fingers digging into the coarse, dry dirt as he watched the mammoth
of a man turn his silver eyes on the younger Alpha, his claws rippling and seeming to double
in length.

“You can’t win against me… I have the backing of the Dark Lord on my side.”

His smile was feral, a split maw of sharp, white teeth that seemed to drip with whatever
violent intent rolled beneath the muscles coiled tight in his arms. Still, George felt Angelina
stand her ground. No portion of the woman faltered as she held her wand steady, the sudden
snap of magic in the air her only tell, as a shadow wrapped around her outstretched arm. Like
a physical thing, it took the shape of a great dragon suddenly curling up from a well-earned
sleep. It swung there, dark and obscure, a veritable pet as she wrapped her fingers round the
loose tendrils of it, and smiled.

“It will be an honour, Greyback, to drag you in front of the Council. How you escaped
Rehabilitation has left them baffled for months, and I believe Madam Prince will be intent on
learning the truth, by any means necessary.”
She hardly allowed the older Alpha a moment to comprehend the threat, before her arm was
slinging back, and she had physically launched the shadow wrapping slowly around the hilt
of her wand towards the Alpha’s face.

Whatever could be said of the gentle threats, of the reprimands she softly snapped in his
direction, George became swiftly aware that there was nothing he could ever have done that
would have earned him Angelina’s ire to the extent that a man of Greyback’s standing could.

The malicious crawl of her magic held the scent of her fury, wild and suffocating and still he
tried to gulp it down... The shadows spilled from her wand like spells cast without words, her
every stance measured as she flung a second, and a third, and another… And another…

They clung like streaks of mud, a splatter of black against the wolves that had slowly slunk
from the darkness beyond. Each splat of dark curse that landed against skin spread like cracks
in a mirror. They tightened, binding muscles and hair and anything they could crawl towards,
until the scent of pain and alarm, of panic and fright filled the air around them.

Some wolves dropped to the floor, desperately scrabbling at the crawling shadows that
wrapped and squeezed, the sickening crunch of bone sounding from one side just as the
wicked slash of spilled blood forced another back to his knees, his fingers weak against the
tendril that sliced through the pale skin of his upper arms.

Painful, confusing, a chaotic mess of shadowed streaks and binding, black ropes…

It was sudden, efficient... A display of innate magical ability as abrupt and measured in as
much as it was wild and untamed.

And not even remotely what it could have been.

Every spell flung hit its mark on a spot, a person, non-vital and non-life-threatening.
Angelina’s aim was to maim, and not kill. Her every move was meant to buckle, to deter, to
stall a fight before it had even a chance to begin, while never once taking even a single life
that struggled beneath the ingenious binding of her spell.

George watched her with wide eyes, his mouth agape as she dove out of reach of snarling
teeth and flashing claws. Her face was a mask of fury, lips thinned beneath the stretch of her
own snarl as she dodged beneath another swipe for her throat, and sent the woman who had
attacked her careening back with a forceful hex, to slump against the weather stump of an old
tree. She was furious.

Incensed.

Maddened and feral and…

Unmatched.

George was beginning to realise that she may have had a point, after all, when she had
ordered both himself and Fred remain back at the castle with Lee.

The members of the Guard, it seemed, were an altogether different league.

George felt his lips twitch, a manic smile catching the corner of his mouth as he rounded on
an Omega creeping up behind him. The man was as wild looking as the rest of Fenrir's
delirious Pack, his bronze eyes unclear as he launched himself at George. The redhead had
hardly a second to get his feet in under him, his knees braced against the older man’s skinny
chest as he threw a hand up to halt those snapping teeth, and felt them crunch down instead
on skin and, revoltingly, bone.

The bite nearly took a chunk of his wrist with it, and George roared as those teeth dragged
back viciously, tearing through his arm until the gush of blood splattered warm across his
face. He growled, digging the claws of his good hand into the skin behind the Omega’s ear
and ripping forward.

The howl that sounded crawled threw him, his stomach clenching once more at the soft
whimpering that followed. He had hardly a second to falter, his mouth baring down in a
grimace as he tried to see how badly he had hurt the other wolf, only for a sickening thud to
sound behind him.

It was loud enough to shake him, to have him fall backwards as he turned, his eyes flying
wide at the sight of Greyback hunched over her. His body hid everything from view, except
her long legs that aimed kick after wasted kick at the Alpha’s torso, legs, anything, anything
that she could reach. George felt his heart stammer to a near stop, his shriek filled with pain
as he reached towards her.

“Wotcher, Weasley!”

The grunt came with the sudden crash of boots beside his outstretched arm, Tonks landing on
one knee as she aimed for the hulking form of Fenrir Greyback… A second too late.

They watched, Tonks’s spell bouncing off him harmlessly as Fenrir was suddenly thrown
back, his body lax with what could have only been unconsciousness.

It lay sprawled against the earth, the baying sounds of his wolves dying down to a whimper
as the scorched, bloodied mess of their Alpha’s chest came into view.

George stared at him, at the blood that leaked sluggishly from the wound that looked like it
should have really killed him. Still, he was breathing, ragged as it might have been as his
mouth lay open in a gape, his bottom lip nearly torn clear from his face.

His eyes darted, almost in awe, to where the woman that had just been buried beneath him
struggled to a stand, her wand clasped in one hand and the other held loose by her side, limp
and bleeding. She was heaving, her scent heavy enough that even Tonks took it in with a low
whistle as the Auror glanced around the clearing at the dozen or so werewolves suddenly
cowering beneath Angelina’s bloodied snarl.

George watched her, as she straightened to her full height. Her bleeding arm lifted slowly as
she stalked a step, and then two, backwards, before she slammed her shoulder hard enough
into the nearest tree for them all to hear the squelching pop of a dislocation sliding back into
place. She stowed her wand slowly, eyes snapping to Tonks when the older witch kicked
Fenrir’s unconscious form with one thick, black boot.
"Bit late, then, was I?"

The dark Alpha’s face twisted as she watched the other wolves, tongue slipping over fangs to
gather the blood and gore there, before she spat the remnants of what must have been
Greyback's mauled lip into the soil by her feet. Slowly, she aimed those dark eyes down at
George.

“Who do you listen to in future when they tell you to stay back, brat?”

George felt his throat clench. He glanced at the Omega behind him that Tonks had clearly
bound as she had appeared, his chest heaving as he bared his neck in much the same fashion.

“You, Alpha.”

Angelina tsked, suddenly stalking close enough to bend her knees and clasp his chin gently
between her fingers.

“Good boy.”

She kept a hand in his hair as she straightened, George’s own fingers numb with the amount
of blood that was trailing steadily down his wrist. He pressed his forehead to her thigh where
he knelt, groaning at the idea of the absolute bollocking he was going to get from Fred when
his brother saw the state of him.

“I will take him back, Auror, if that is alright? I will be sure to send another in my stead.”

Tonks was holding her wand up high, red sparks fading fast against the night sky as she
glanced over, before aiming a smile in their direction.

“No need! Most of our lads are gathered at the border waiting for the signal. Besides, from
the looks of it you’ve gone and taken down the whole eighteen of the beasties that we’ve
been tracking for the past three months! Including the Big Bad himself!” Her hair flashed
bright pink in the semi-darkness, boots stamping in the dirt, before she turned a sudden look
on them.

“You both need to head back and fill in the Council. And stay put, this time. Draco will find
Harry, George, I’m sure of it. And if he doesn’t, well… There’s something about that young
lad that has me oddly at ease. I’ll take who I need to sort out this lot, and tell the other
Auror’s to follow the trail through from here. We'll catch 'em.”

George had a moment to nod, his brain hardly taking in the words before Angelina was
hoisting him up to a stand and pressing the softest of kisses to the top of his head.

“Scare me again like that, George Weasley, and I will use those shadows on you.”

George was sure the laugh she startled out of him with her hissed whisper lingered behind in
the ash-scented clearing long after the crack of disapparition faded to silence.

###
“Your scent is astoundingly unbecoming, do you realise that?”

Draco registered the words enough to offer the man beside him a curt glance, his eyebrow
arching in its familiar pattern as the Sayre descendant stared back up at him.

Alniyat was quite obviously a relative of Altair Peverell.

As his twin had obviously been, as most of the descendants of the Peverell lines tended to be.
Beautiful, timeless even in a society that aged gracefully, gifted with magic and in the
magical arts. There was a likeness to their kind that proceeded them an individuals.

But that did not mean that Draco could not judge him as an individual, and, as an individual,
Alniyat Sayre was vibrantly annoying.

The stark difference between the twins had been one of the first things to break Draco’s
anxious strain of thought as he had first ventured towards the castle with the pair in tow.
Where Antares had been silent, observant and passive as a means to take in his surroundings;
his brother seemed altogether his opposite. Clumsy and brash in curiosity if nothing else, his
tone was not dissimilar to the whine of a well-fed child. Petulant and earnest, a glutton for
inconsequential information in as much as he absorbed all that Draco had been, thus far,
willing to share with him.

Which, given the state of the situation Draco had found himself, was a paltry amount.

“So says the snake who hardly smells of anything more than his mother’s milk.”

The insult hit as it should have done, the ageless blonde looking all the more like a ruffled
dove as he glowered up at the Alpha, his near green eyes looking almost familiar for a stark
second. “That was rude.”

Draco shook his head, his face settling back to its staple mask as he moved forward. The path
he had chosen took both he and Alniyat along the East wall of the castle’s main part, or what
had once been. Though the wall stood strong still, the wells beyond had rotted to nothing, a
crumbling face of a vacant room long since lost. He had walked through that arched hallway
so many times in the past, face set in a scowl as he batted hands against the ghosts that had
liked to linger there.

Too impatient.

Too busy.

His fingers skimmed the old stone, and even now after so much time had passed, she clung
still to her magic. It was warm beneath his touch despite the night air. Alive.

The memories of Hogwarts, once proud and strong, seemed all the more bitter for such a
small fact.

“I’m older than your mother, I imagine.”

Draco felt his brow lift again, his face tipping back towards the sky as the barest sheet of rain
began to fall. It was cool, a balm to the rush of blood beneath his skin and the aggravated
flicker of his wings.

”Hes alive, Draco. Harry, he’s alive”

His hands twitched by his sides, blood pooling fast inside his mouth as his fang nicked the
corner of his lip.

”I… I told him to run…

“Besides, I was not attempting to insult you, you welp.”

Draco snorted, his strain of thought breaking before his nerves could begin to climb once
more.

If there was one thing that could be said for Alniyat Sayre, it was that the man was relentless
in his attempts to allow a dire situation impact upon the almost careless slump of his
shoulders. His hands were buried in the pockets of his blue, outer robe; lips turned down
petulantly as he kicked a nearby stone and launched it across the weathered old rock face that
had once been a well-kept path.

“No?” Draco mused, wings catching a sudden rush of a breeze, before he folded them back
against his spine once more. The scent of the castle ruins was prominent, and he could
depend little on his nose each time he turned it towards the wind.

“No.” Alniyat hurried his steps to catch up, his blonde head shorter even then where Harry’s
usually rested beside Draco. “I meant only that the scent of your panic takes from a rather
comforting connection my senses are attempting to align with, well, with family. With home.
I can smell Harry on you, and you sour it by imagining the worst possible outcome.”

Draco frowned, his steps never stalling as he glanced down again at the small… Beta?
Omega? Alpha? It was impossible to tell. He had not been outwardly mean when he had said
that the Sayre twins held a scent that was almost indistinguishable to the unpresented scent of
children. Whether it was what they had come to hold naturally, or the result of a condition he
knew nothing about; Draco had thought it not his business to care.

“Harry smells like Home to you? He is not even from here…”

Alniyat scowled, and those green-blue eyes again made Draco stall for a moment; the
stubborn twist of unfamiliar lips forming a swooping curiosity in his own stomach.

“You cannot seriously believe he is of the Sayre line… He is a Potter.”

“You and Antares, Altair, even Uncle Marvolo, you are all so horribly alike.”

Alniyat growled, frustration evident enough in his feet slipping as he tried to march ahead,
across a patch of broken stone and scorched marble. “You are all so intent on believing the
facts. Facts, facts, facts. Logic is a compass you cling to lest you lose your sense of what is
real and what could be real. But your logic is misguided, and your facts have holes, decades
of information lost to story and chance and unforeseen circumstance.”

Alniyat paused a moment, and Draco watched him tilt his head back to stare up a patch of
sky, stars suddenly illuminated through a gap in the clusters of cloud and rain that misted the
land. With his face smooth, those green eyes open wide… Draco could understand for just a
brief moment that the man was, in fact, far older than he had been so sure of. There was a
certainty to the graceful tilt of his chin as he suddenly smiled.

“We focus so much on what is written down, on what once made our parents, our
grandparents so sure… That we forget that we hold the intuition of our Ancestors. Eyes that
see the difference between the people we have learned to love, and the people we could
embrace, ears that hear the ring of camaraderie, and yet understand the bell of untruth. A
sense of scent, of home, of person amid a thousand other scents that could guide us back to
safety, even blind…”

He turned back towards Draco, and those petulant, scowling eyes were altogether sad.

“We lose so much of ourselves to learn the new things the world insists we have to learn. I
understand that… I know it is a necessary need.”

Alniyat suddenly pointed, and Draco felt himself draw up short as he neared the other man,
his eyebrows lifting at the sudden glare aimed down at him.

“But that does not mean that I did not accept Harry as blood the second I scented him in that
room. However small a portion, however distant, however inconceivable it might be to a
logical brain; he is family, and has done more to earn the Peverell’s respect than that
insufferable child, Tom. I will not let that boy lose to my cousin’s irreparable bad temper. So,
desist your frantic fluttering and fix your scent Draco Malfoy.”

Draco felt his brow lift higher as he watched the small, slip of a man whirl around and start
making his way down a sudden turn, feet sure against the lose stones once more and hands
determined by his sides. He felt his lips twitch, not quite a smile but something, something
lighter than the pain that had been pulling fragments of his heart to pieces with the stress of
not knowing.

Alniyat may have been strange, mad in a way of thinking that Draco was not accustomed to.
That did not mean the man did not have a point in one regard.

Harry was Home to Draco.

Regardless of lineage, or of what blood ran through his veins. Regardless of ability or scent
or who he might have been in the life leading up to the one he had begun here, in Draco’s
reality…

Harry was Home.

And Draco would never again find peace if he lost him.

 35

“Stupefy!”

James hissed, his wand stabbing uselessly in the direction of the dark figure that strode
towards him, as the woman between them dropped like a dead weight to the forest floor. The
growl that snuck from beneath his huff of exasperation was winded.

“I had it.”

“Sure you did.”

Sirius ran his tongue across the front of his teeth, a ‘tsk’ of sound clicking against the roof of
his mouth as he gave the unconscious body a little kick for good measure.

“Meridina Hagget, if I don’t see you get a life sentence in Azkaban after this, I’ll go there
myself to make sure you damn well stay put. Nasty bat.”

James snorted, brandishing his wand towards the sky to signal the need for others, before
snapping a quick body-bind towards the young, Beta woman, whose face seemed fixed in a
sneer even with her body slumped as it was in the weeds around her.

“You wouldn’t last twelve days in that place, who are you trying to fool?”

Sirius snapped his teeth together, his hands scraping through his loose hair to pull the serum-
soft strands into a ponytail at the base of his skull. “I would last a fine stint longer than you,
you bloody fool. How in Merlin’s name did you not hear her coming up on us? Go on, ahead
with you, you’re no good at the rear when you're distracted!”

James flounced ahead with a withering glare, sure-footed and quick as he led the way
forward this time, with Sirius trailing behind him like a well-earned shadow. He took the
criticism for the genuine moment of concern he knew was never far from any barb his friend
had ever thrown his way.

He could hardly blame him.

The pair of them had been wound tighter than carriage springs since the moment the had set
off on this mission, one that James never would have had the horrifying foresight to imagine.
His mind was clouded, that was true, but he had little doubt that Sirius’ thoughts were just as
muddied.

How could he have ever come to a point in his life where the skills he had honed over the
years to stalk and subdue the nastiest of criminals, would be put the test in some desperate,
half-blind attempt to find his son.

He felt his teeth clench down on a silent snarl, the foliage thinning as they neared the border
of what had once been a sleek and well-built pathway, the back entrance for the main
boundary of an old courtyard. There was a part of James, small and fragile as it was, that saw
the fragments of stilted recollections his mind tried to fling at him. The memories of his time
at Hogwarts were there, young and far from his reaching touch.

Buried.

Half-blurred shattered pieces of happiness discarded beneath the horrors of a war hard-won,
and battles so often lost.

He had been here, for the battle when they had lost so many, and so much.

He had held his wand aloft in these forests before, steps more frantic and jaded then, mind
less certain of an outcome where he would once again drag his mate into his arms and fall
into a home filled with the bittersweet scent of just the two of them.

He had been here before.

But none of it, none of the remembered nightmares or the sting of tears, of the roars of
anguish and pain, none of the flashes of magical flames flickering on the corners of his
conscious mind…

None of it compared to the dread that tried to sink his heart into his stomach at the thought of
his son being here too.

Powerful as the boy seemed to be, and as proud and certain as James was in the task force of
Aurors set and ready to put an end to this nightmare once and for; he could not still the
tremor that he tried to squeeze away with each clench around the handle of his wand.
Whatever fears he may have had for Lily, for the love of his life, as his hot-headed and
capable wife made her way passed where they had had to branch off to cover more space…

It was nothing compared to fear he held for Harry.

His child, in every way that mattered, his child.

That bewildered face, thin and pale and confused and frightened, was the memory that
haunted him most as he stalked further in, hazel eyes narrowed.

He was not about to lose another son.

He was not.

It was Sirius that dragged him from his inner turmoil, the man drawing up behind him with
an alarmed little gasp that had James’ head snapping back. His gaze followed the line of his
partner’s dark, suddenly tormented eyes, until they landed on her.

“Bella?”

The whisper was devastated, James wincing as he grabbed Sirius’ arm to stop the other Alpha
from sprinting across the space of broken twigs and compacted earth between them. Still,
Sirius tensed beneath his hold, fangs flashing as his eyes raked over the slip of a girl who
watched him like a child might watch a bird.

Curious, uncertain… Something lost behind those saucer-wide eyes.

She was thin, uncomfortably so since the last time James and Sirius had been to visit her. The
dress she wore was filthy, ragged with rain water and mud and heavy enough to look as
though it might have weighed her down. The necklace Narcissa had gifted her for her
birthday only three months ago hung limp around her neck still, the pewter a sliver of shine
in an overall dim picture.

“What the fuck…”

James breathed the sentiment loud enough for Sirius to snap out of his daze, his head shaking
in disbelief.

“What are you… What is she?... James… She…”

James winced, his own confusion evident in the furrow of his brow as he watched the Omega
glance away from them to look at the sky, her hands limp by her sides.

“I don’t know.”

Bellatrix Black was an Omega who well and truly broke James’ heart.

Practically family, he had befriended her and her wild, carefree way just as easily as he had
taken to Sirius, and to Regulus. The eldest of the trio of sisters that had slowly wormed their
way into the life Lily and James had carved for themselves had been nothing short of
incredible.

She had been careless, extravagant almost in her desire to devour the world and everything in
it that she could experience with her own two hands. Quicker to laughter and mischief, than
her youngest sister Narcissa, and even quicker to flash her fangs when anyone so much as
glanced sideways at Andromeda. Bellatrix was intelligent, sharp-witted, and lived with a
thirst for knowledge and a boundless energy... She held a compelling attraction in all that she
did, that had inevitably been the poor girl’s downfall.

When James had seen her last so many months ago, he had hardly contained his wince at the
deteriorating shape of her pressed so gently into the worn, green armchair of St. Mungo's
long-term care facility. The woman had reached a point that she did not even recognise her
sisters, nor her brother-in-law, when Lucius Malfoy had threaded past her with the help of his
devoted wife, and several healers.

Fuck, but he hated having to visit them there...

James felt bile build in the back of his throat as he watched Bella sway suddenly, her scent
distressed despite the easy cast to her face.

Suddenly… Suddenly, though, it did not seem so bad a place.

Here, in the wilderness, out of place and hungry and tired, the woman looked so much worse.

Sirius whined, and it was a sound that rounded Bella’s shoulders, though she did not turn
again in their direction.

“Bella, love, what are you doing here?” Sirius’ voice trembled, a gruff edge to it as he shifted
slowly towards the woman, his wand away and his hands held out before him. James watched
him place one gentle boot in front of the other, careful not to rustle the land too much as he
moved towards the twitching Omega.

“You’re going to get your dress all wet, little flower. What made you want to go running in
the rain again… Come here with me, Bella, we can go somewhere warm, yeah?”
The tone was a rumble, an almost purr as Sirius edged ever closer, until Bella’s head tilted to
watch him, no recognition in those black eyes that looked so remarkably like Sirius’ own.

“Come on, beautiful girl, this is no place for you. Cissy and Andy will be so worried when
they hear you’ve gone missing… Come here, love.”

He reached a hand out just as James caught the scent, his own panic flaring as he tried to
turn, to attack.

His wrist was caught before he could, his body stilled with one vicious point against the
column of his throat, before the person behind him tore his wand from his fingers and aimed
at Sirius.

“No!”

The stunner hit the Alpha square in the back, Sirius’ unguarded, defenceless shape dropping
in much the same fashion as the degenerate he had taken down a quarter of a mile back.
James watched Bella’s eyes follow him down, something pained and flickering in those orbs,
before the sudden command spoken from behind him, had her fragile body going rigid.

“Walk back, Omega.”

The order was harsh enough in James’ ear that he hissed, his neck straining back when that
wand shoved deeper into the tissue of his throat.

“How the fuck did you get her out.”

The Alpha behind him purred, taller than James to the point where the man felt when a
pointed, bearded chin dug into his scalp, as the man glanced down at him.

“I called for her. She is mine, she answered. There are plenty of healers who would never
dare interfere with a Bonded pair.”

“She is not yours.” James spat the sentence, growling when fingers clenched hard enough
around his wrist to squeeze the bones there, his wand dropped to the forest floor as though it
was nothing more than the twigs that lay there. The scent of him was of precious metals, soft
enough on the senses to provide a horrible, haunting façade to the twisted person beneath the
surface. James would have recognised it had he gone a hundred years never smelling it again.
The man who had nearly torn apart a family, who had taken and bonded their Bella before
they could save her.

James felt his throat tighten on a frightened gasp as Bella disappeared from sight, the Alpha
command holding her rigid still as she stumbled over rock and earth, back into the darkness
of the forest. He felt the pinch of wordless magic strangle whatever cry he tried to cough out
after the tiny Omega, before bucking back against the stronghold he had been forced into.

“She is not yours, you had no right to force her to leave that hospital. You should still be in
Azkaban, rotting away for what you did to her, Rodolphus.”

The eldest Lestrange brother hummed, and the sound was nothing short of mocking as he
tapped his wand twice, sparks lighting against James’ skin and drawing a sharp hiss of pain
from between his clenched teeth.

“What I did?” The Alpha chuckled, the sound threatening in the eerie silence as James’s eyes
darted towards where Sirius lay still, unmoving.

“I promised her freedom from a family suffocating her with their will to marry and breed… I
promised her a love that would consume all of her troubles… I promised her everything. And
you took her from me. You all took her from me.”

“You forced her!” James snarled, his body going rigid when fangs pressed against the skin of
his throat instead, a low, dissatisfied growl dissolving what words he tried to snap.

“She needed me to. She would have never been free beneath the thumbs of those pathetic
sisters of hers… Under the lecherous gaze of her own Sire... Our bond would have never
taken her mind had I had a chance to enforce it. Yet, she was left to rot, mad and trapped in
some forsaken infirmary. I have had her for days. Days, James, and not a single healer there
has seen fit to let her desperately faithful family know… Even they understand the beauty of
our bond.”

James felt his jaw clench, his breath heaving to work passed that heavy, whispering scent that
he had once welcomed as a potential friend.

“She would rather have died… Than willingly taken your obsessed arse as a Mate. Whatever
you once were to her meant nothing in the wake of your obsession. She despised you. You
broke her the moment you tried to own her.”

The slashing hex was expected, James felt it lance across his neck and jaw, skin splitting
beneath the force of it and pain almost blinding him, as he was flung forward onto the grass.
What he had not expected, was for Rodolphus’ boot to come down on the small of his back,
pressing him into the debris. For a man who had once depended solely on his magic, it
seemed the Alpha had learned a trick or two in Azkaban.

James had just a second to grab for his wand, before the stunner hit him hard enough to send
his arms sprawling back out, and the world faded fast to black.

###
“Be safe, Lily, don’t do anything stupid. Don’t get caught.”

Her own not-so-delicate snort interrupted her mocking voice, as she continued.

“Yeah, well, you would think after nearly two decades of being an Auror, I wouldn’t have to
return the damn sentiment, Jamie. Good man.”

Severus felt his lips press down over the smile that threatened there, as he watched Lily
Potter glare from where she sat crouched behind the ruins of a courtyard wall, her green eyes
a petulant glare on the slumped forms that had just been dragged to the centre of the clearing.

The unconscious bodies of both James Potter and Sirius Black did not bode entirely well for
the outcome they had been striving for.

Severus felt his wings twitch where they lay, half in shadow against the length of his spine.
He was crouched himself, black trousers tight around his thighs as he held his wand in one
hand, the tip brandished idly against his bottom lip. His hair was clasped away from his face,
as his eyes ran across the situation before them.

There were at least two dozen, if not more dotted somewhere along the edges of the castle
ruins, and the trees beyond. Alphas, Betas, Men, Women… All manner of person and beast in
groups huddled in whisper, or watching over the prone forms of those they had managed to
capture. What had once obviously been a beautiful tended sprawl of wild plants draped across
stone benches and circular paths the villains now prowled through, had grown a fraction too
feral. Burned to ash and cinder in some part, with scorch marks that streaked black across the
pale grey stone. Severus took it all in, eager to have the information if nothing else in his
arsenal.

He was not a fighter, but any help that he might have been able to provide was enough to
have him leaning forward, as Lily bound her hair up high in a single tail. The woman’s eyes
were fiercely angry, her lips turned down in a scowl as she scanned the faces just as he did.
Her wand sat in one hand, the holster on her bare arm empty and the edges of her gilded robe
spelled short enough not to trip her should she need to run.

“This is going to be difficult.”

That was a potential understatement.

Severus arched a brow in her direction, before he felt the stubborn set of his own jaw as he
followed the path to where she was staring intently. Some of the faces were unknown to him.
He had never played any particular role nor part in the English Wizarding war, until he felt as
though he might have been able to offer some fragment of help… In the form of that blasted
potion.

Though he had maintained his contacts, and he had never once failed to know when any new
development had occurred that might have changed the course in their direction, he had done
his best to set himself aside from it all…
But the specifics of the Battle of Hogwarts were vague and laden heavy with the trauma of
those who had been through the worst of it, and struggled to claw back their happiness and
comfort in the aftermath of some of the devastation. The names meant nothing to faces
unfamiliar, and loyalty of family lineage and blood meant little when so many of those stood
around the courtyard look frightened, panicked enough to have been brought there under
duress.

He could understand, now, why it had been such a hardship on both the Ministry and the
Council to sort those who had been genuine victims of this Dark Lord, from those who were
insipid and crafty with a tearful eye.

But of all the unfamiliar faces, and despite his ignorance in certain aspects, there were two
that he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt.

He knew the face of Tiberius Nott, as the Alpha tracked a curious circle around the two
aurors slowly beginning to shift against the course flagstone. The sight of the man alone was
enough to have his stomach rolling, Severus’ eyes narrowing to a focus to take in that glint in
those blue eyes even from a distance. As devote as the man had been in adamance that he had
done nothing, nothing, for the Dark Lord under his own free will; it was sickeningly easy to
see the lie now for what it was.

Tiberius Nott was a cruel man.

It lined who he was, in every self-assured stalk of his legs, in the proud tilt of his chin; and in
the casual way his boot collided with James Potter’s bleeding chin as the smaller Alpha
suddenly snarled up at him. The press of leather had James falling back to the ground, Nott's
boot grinding him into the stone there and those pained cries earning nothing more than a soft
upturn of his classically handsome face.

Severus felt his throat constrict, as he reached an elbow out to tap against where Lily
crouched, her teeth bared to the point of what must have been pain, as she stared into the
courtyard.

For her, and the torment that struck them both with each howl of pain that left James’ mouth;
Severus might have braved taking Nott on there and then. He was not a fighter, but he knew
well how to fight, and he was not afraid to harm a creature as pitiful as Tiberius Nott.

Were it not for the other one.

Severus could smell him even from where they stayed hidden.

It was a scent that bore down on the very walls around them. Powerful, manically twisted
with malice and the rich, copper hue of spilled blood. A scent intent to overwhelm, to
suppress… His scent would have been overbearing to a room filled with other Alpha’s. To
the likes of Severus, it near enough wrapped around his throat and tried to squash whatever
hope for breath he might have had.

Tommy Pettigrew’s may have been the body that stood in the centre of the courtyard.
But the boy was gone.

The creature inside was not the sweet boy he had once welcomed as one of Draco’s
playmates.

Dark eyes had flooded crimson, stark and alarming in a face paler than the touch of death.
The scales that wrapped around the body’s neck and bare arms were telling, silver soft
beneath the moonlight and the gentle cast of a nearby lumos. His blonde hair was pulled
back, waves tame against his skull as the base brushed the collar of his shirt. Neat, charming,
the epitome of calm and collected. Leaning as he was, against one oversized birdbath, the
guise could have almost been mocking.

Tom Riddle.

The self-proclaimed Heir of Salazar Slytherin.

His gaze was bored, almost lazy as he watched Sirius Black try to struggle to his feet, the
Alpha unleashing a roar of rage at the sight of a man lurking just within eyesight. There was
another crouched on the floor by his feet, her tiny body tucked tight into itself, as if to shield
herself from the sounds that tore through the otherwise quiet night above her.

The sounds were incoherent, voices too far to make any distinct pattern of conversation. Still,
it was easy enough to see the slashing hex aimed in Sirius’ direction as he stumbled to his
feet, James’ arm on his wrist yanking him back at the last moment. The spell flew by them,
sinking into the dark forest to cackles and snarls of alarm and delight from the crowd that had
gathered.

They had obviously been stripped of their wands, Sirius sinking fast into a protective stance
in front of James as the smaller Alpha clutched at his own neck. Even with the distance, the
sluggish slip of blood against pale fingers was obvious and Severus felt the moment Lily
Potter finally snapped.

She was moving before he could grab her back, his body lurching after her despite his own
fear, hands half-thrown in her direction in a desperate attempt to hide them both again, to
think on a plan, to go back for help. Anything…

Anything…

It was not him who stopped her, though. It was not him who froze her frantic steps and forced
him almost into the back of her rigid form. No…

Severus felt his fingers grip the back of the woman’s cloak as the aggressive, jolting sound of
hissing registered to his ears. It was pitched low, enough of a rumble that he had not heard it
until it was too late, his sigh one of utter frustration as a scaled body bound around the back
of his calves, wrapping himself and Lily tighter, and tighter together.

The weight of her was cold, rough against his bare skin as she wrapped them in her coils,
before that flat, black head was canting an intelligent eye in their direction.
Smug.

Caught you.

Severus could see her triumph despite not understanding a word of her language.

This had to be none other than Nagini.

###

“Let go!”

“Wait!”

Luna shook his hand from her wrist, her eyes wild and half-blind to the forest around her.
The marks across her arms were blinding, a scattering of shimmering, enchanting symbols
dancing across pale limbs, as the girl clenched her fists together, her breathing harsh in his
ears.

“I have to go in! I have to!”

Altair paled, his gaze drifting from his bonded for one horrifically long moment, to stare at
the battered shape of another incarcerated werewolf as they appeared on the periphery of the
boundary line. The Aurors tasked with capturing, and carrying them out, darted past in
sporadic bursts of apparition, their prisoners subdued in body-binds and magically crafted
hand-restraints, but no less violent in their attempts to escape.

Some were manic, howling their discontent as they were dragged from one point of
apparition to the next, their attempts near feral as they passed over the spill of wandless
magic that seemed to pour from Luna’s very person.

His mate was strong, she was so strong…

But, this…

“This forest is battling with you. The magic here is warring with your attempts to keep the
boundary open for our people and those captured alone. I can only imagine the pressure you
would feel if we venture further in, Luna…”

She was whimpering, her lips a tremble as she clutched her fingers tighter, the honey-sweet
scent of Fae blood trickling through the dense air, as she dug her nails into the soft flesh of
her palms.

“You don’t understand… You don’t understand…”

He leaned in so close as she whispered, her cheeks already stained with tears he had not
witnessed fall. He clasped her jawline with delicate fingers, so soft against skin fragile and
warm. She gasped up at him, her sounds so subtle amidst the chaos of the Aurors and
creatures behind them, and the villagers that had begun to swarm from Hogsmeade with the
commotion. Another burst of red light lit up the skyline, and pulsed against Luna’s strangled
aura; another careless rock thrown into a pool already rippling.

Altair scowled.

“What do I not understand?” His whisper was meant for only the two of them, pressed almost
against the strained line of her mouth, as she began to pant. “Tell me, my Lady, tell me, and I
will help you. Whatever you ask of me, body, soul and mind, so long as you do not ask it of
your own self, then it will be yours…”

She gazed up at him, her eyes seeing beyond where his physical body stood, piercing through
him in a manner only her sight truly ever could.

“I need to go further in.”

“Tell me why,” he breathed, the distinct crackle of Fae magic building in his ears, as he
caught the appearance of another quickly approaching that had his shoulders falling in relief.
“Tell me why.”

The evident ease of someone else taking over her work was more than apparent in Luna’s
sudden gasp, her body snapping upright, before her eyes seemed to sharpen. That blue gaze
snapped from his, to a familiar set of bright blue, before she was breathing a gentle sigh of
relief. She relinquished her hold to him absolutely, her trust in the other impenetrable.

“They have gone too far towards the castle, I cannot feel the pull of them anymore.”

Luna placed a pale hand on top of the golden marks of her father’s outstretched palm, lifting
the limb from where it hung to press those slender fingers against her chin in thanks.
Xenophilius Lovegood merely offered his daughter the softest smile, before the man’s gaze
was shifting back to the treeline to open the fractured wards of the Forbidden Forest once
more.

“We need to go to the castle, I need to be able to open the wards around them. Without my
help, they are trapped in there.”

Altair merely nodded, unclasping the decorative robe that hung across his shoulders and
dropping the expensive cut of fabric to the forest floor. He did not cast it a second glance as
he kneeled, and offered his back to his tired mate with a sharp smile.

“Hop on then.”

Luna’s anxious furrow abated just enough for her to glance down at him, something of a
smile curving the edge of her pale pink lips as she settled into the piggy-back hold and
clutched his shoulders.

“Do not drop me, Warrior.”

Altair crouched, fangs flashing as he hoisted his mate higher and dug his fingers into thighs
hidden beneath layers of expensive chiffon.
“I would never, my Lady.”

###

It had occurred to him after the passing of the frigid rainfall, that he should have been far
more alarmed that he was walking towards his potential demise for the second time in his
life.

Well… Harry supposed the actual figure pertaining to him rushing toward danger was a
fraction higher than that; but he hardly thought to count all his many, many mistakes and his
misguided attempts at heroics, when compared to the genuine dread of traipsing through a
forest at night, directly towards the enemy, and with the odds stacked against him.

That had only happened twice.

Harry toyed with the edge of the fine silver coat he had slung over his shoulders, the weight
of his precious and greatly unwanted treasures seemed to add a weight to the flexible
material, dragging it down to sweep the ash from the forest floor as he strode onward.

The scattering of clearings he had passed in his time wondering the dark wood had all been
abandoned, and long since so. No footsteps barr his own had ruffled the dust that had settled
there, his eyes quick to scan the tree-line each time he ventured forward once more.

The forest was silent.

Unreasonably so, after the fall of rain. The damp weight of the water seemed to form a hush,
a barrier to soften the harsh crackle of splintered wood and fragile leaves. He ran his fingers
across the bough of a broken tree, testing the soft touch of sodden wood, before he hopped
over the low-hanging slope of it. His muscles were tight, tense with anticipation the further
he ventured away from the opening of the old castle.

He followed nothing more than his own intuition, as he had done the first time.

Much like the first time, the weight of the resurrection stone sat heavy in the palm of the
hand he held in one oversized pocket, flat and cold against his skin as he turned it thrice in
his fingers.

There were no faces to guide him this time.

No gaunt reminder of deaths he had born witness to, as well as shouldered the vicious guilt
of.

Every soul he had once mourned during a lifetime of loss and loneliness and self-deprecation
was beyond even the touch of the magical, little rock clasped in the crook of his fingers.

Every life once lost…

Found in this world.

Every life lost in this world…

An unknown blessing to his misplaced and misaligned self.

Harry clutched the stone tighter, something inexplicitly tight in the centre of his chest as he
turned his face up towards a sudden sliver of moonlight.

It was waning, high enough in the sky that he could see it clearly through the gaps in the
trees, a spot of light amidst dark clouds and darker skies.

For the first time in a long, long while… Harry felt a question prickle at the back of his tired
mind.

Why him?

Why here?

Why… Why… Why…

Why had he been dragged from one world to another, to finish something left unfinished by
someone else. Again. Why had the rules that had made up the world around him not
burrowed deep enough across the universal lines that divided the realities, to touch his own,
miserable world? Why had his world taken so much from him…

And this world had given it back to a stranger?

Why would magic, as complex and as ruthless, as brilliant and as comprehensibly beautiful
as it was… Why would magic pluck him from a moment shrouded in shadows and spite and
bitter, selfish burden?

And why would it reward him with so much love…

Only to threaten it all.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Harry felt the shimmer of his own magic in the confines of the pockets of his stolen robe, his
eyes alight in the dark wood as he stalled, a violent wind wrapping around him for one,
brutal, unexpected moment.

“What are you trying to teach me here…”

He whispered the words into the dark, as if some voice might answer.

As if any answer would even feel welcome, when his mind sat addled in his head, and his
stomach wrapped in knots in the confines of a body vibrating with the energy that bounced
through it.

“What are trying to show me?”

His whisper went unanswered.

Unheard, in the great confines of a forest long since dead and of ruins long since sunken into
earth still alive and vibrant with the plush flow of…

Magic.

Harry felt the endless question of it all like a pounding in the base of his skull. His head
shook slowly, jaw clenching, as he lifted a hand out. His eyes for once stayed captivated on
the gentle twine of physical power that wrapped like a coiled snake around fingers pale and
slender.

Still alive.

Despite it all.

“You make it seem as if I’m someone important, but you do know, right?” He tucked his
hand back into the fold of the pocket, his sigh carrying across the empty span of air around
him.

“I’m just Harry.”

He paused, eyes peering into the darkness to his left as a familiar scent crept across his
senses. His mouth twisted in a genuine smile, head shaking in a gentle laugh as he watched
the bloom of two, yellow eyes glow from the foliage.

“How is it you got here, I wonder... Are you hiding Tom? Afraid?”

Those yellow eyes seemed to fixate, before a massive head was breaching the treeline, rising
up, and up, and higher still, until the suddenly massive snake peered down at Harry from a
height of near seven foot, the fan of plume across the beast’s skull thick and vibrant.

The giant snake shook its dark head, body tense and coiling still from where it disappeared
into the shadows behind it, the grey all but lost against the colour of ash and burned bracken
and bramble.

'Never afraid… little Master'

The coaxing hiss was borderline teasing, Tom’s gentle familiarity enough to have Harry
reaching out a hand to place it slowly atop the beast’s searching maw. His tongue flecked
between rows of pristine teeth, a rumbling growl enough to scatter the remaining ash and
vibrate the earth beneath Harry’s feet.

Harry hummed, his fingers digging in gently to scratch.

“Some garden snake you turned out to be…”

Tom’s body burbled with something of a laughing hiss, amusement so vividly clear in those
yellow eyes.

'You assumed, little master…'

Harry turned a dry look on the beast. “So I did. Go on then, tell me. What are you, exactly?
Where did you come from, Tom?”

The snake gazed around almost longingly, his yellow eyes sweeping across trees that his
great body could have very well blended into, scale and ash as one despite his bulk. His
mouth parted on his words, as he dipped low to find Harry in the sight of one large, clever
eye once more.

'Ashwinder… I am of Ashwinder blood… And I was born… Here…'

“Here…” Harry whispered as he glanced around, casting his mind back for any bit of
knowledge he might have known, have read, of the breed of snake coiling around him like
some giant housecat.

Ashwinder...

A flicker of a voice came to him, a fragment of a memory, of a Hermione young and

scowling as she flipped through the pages of their creature textbook. Her curious gaze
stalling, peering down into the red and yellow gaze of a snake that tried desperately to burrow
away from her gaze, back into the pages of her book...

Harry felt his lips part on a little sigh of understanding, his fingers sliding over the grey
scales and the yellow plume that flowed like molten, yellow heat down the snake’s shifting
body.

“Ah,” he shook his head, eyes wide with wonder. “An Ashwinder... You were born here, from
the flames of the Fiendfyre… Someone must have taken you while you were still an infant…
And you had no room or power to grow.”

'Until you.'

Yeah, Harry agreed silently with a huff of disbelief, staring up at the powerful snake once
more.

Until him.
 36

“The tides do not entirely seem to be in our favour, do they?”

Of all the fanciful notions Draco had had to listen through in his near traipse through the once
Forbidden Forest, the one spoke by Alniyat now seemed the most… Grossly understated.

Draco felt his wings catch the cold sweep of frantic magic that spread like the crackle of
lightning across the stone court, his shoulder shrugging off the weight of the limbs.

“It would seem not.”

Despite the eyes falling on them now from the gathered faces; there had been little point in
hiding.

With the scent of the serpent that had been focused on them from the moment they had
cleared the front step of the courtyard so prominent in his nose, even with the wide span of
sky and open air above them; it had been more than obvious that she had had them in her
gaze long before they had approached.

Nagini kept them within her poisonous stare as she slunk, body rapid despite the rough trail
of her scales against the dry rock beneath her. She paved a path as they walked, almost
humoured by their casual step, if the snarling bite of her hiss as she turned away could be any
indication.

And if she was here, then Tom Riddle… Voldemort… could not have been too far away…

In Tommy’s… body.

Draco’s heart would have broken, had he an ounce of himself to spare as his gaze flitted fast
across the gathering. Alniyat stayed close by his side, the older man looking for all the world
as if he had been out for nothing more than a moonlit walk, as he threaded across the
flagstone that clacked with each determined step of Draco’s boots.

There were dozens of them.

Hushed, their dark voices a breath beneath the heavy tension that followed their every move;
a whisper of sound in a clearing damp still since the fall of soft rain. The crowd littering the
paved paths and stone walls around them was larger than Draco had anticipated, at least for a
following of a once ‘dead’ madman. Far too familiar faces of witches and wizards who
skimmed the foreground of his memory, caught his stare now.

Polite.

Charming.

Wealthy.
He could hardly even count the number among them he had once grasped the hand of in
greeting, as he and the man beside him were ushered forward. Despite their whispers, he
could hear nothing above the disgust that clutched at his throat.

How could they?

His body stiffened, boots rooting fast to the once immaculate stonework now dusted with a
layer of fine cinder.

What he could hear though…

What he could hear was the abrupt snarl of pain that sounded as they neared the centre.

Severus.

Draco felt the hum of his own anger, fading fast to the blur of his concern. His eyes sought
the man out, face a mask as they landed on the sleek shape of the Omega clutched in the
desperately greedy hands of Tiberius Nott. His teeth drew back on a snarl.

Pale as his Sire had always been, there was a grey cast to Severus’ face now that turned
Draco’s stomach. The Omega was heaving, his chest lifting fast beneath the thin shirt he
wore as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Nott's hand was clasped tight around his
throat, thick fingers bearing down enough that the skin was already beginning to bruise.

Draco felt his composure slip, just a fraction.

Whatever he might have howled out, however, died on his bared teeth as Alniyat hummed a
soft sound beside him. The blonde had stopped, pale head tilting softly as he glanced around
to take in the faces that sneered and snapped their teeth.

“A rather pathetic following this time round… You are losing your touch, cousin.”

Tiberius snarled, offering a solid shake to the Omega in his grasp that had Severus snapping
his teeth on a wounded whine of a sound. His throat was mottled, raw with the force of his
own voice as Nott’s eyes flashed a rapid shade of…

Red.

The twist of the Alpha's body was wickedly cruel as he tossed the crumpling Omega down to
land beside another already strewn out across the dirty floor beside him.

“Watch your fucking mouth, Mudblood.”

Draco felt his eyes widen, his gaze flitting frantically to take in the desperately still shape of
Sirius Black. There was a boot, planted firmly on the small of his back that he could hardly
take his eyes from, until it lifted one imperceptible inch.

Draco could practically taste the jaded relief in his own throat as his eyes traced that boot
upwards to its owner.
Alniyat sighed beside him, the noise almost truly offended, as he lifted a hand to tap his soft
fingers against his chin.

“Are we still attempting to bring back that archaic insult, hmm? Desperately overdone, do try
better.” Alniyat fluttered a pale hand out towards the two unmoving on the ground, his lips
pursing in a pout. “That is entirely uncalled for. Adding more violence to your long list will
not help you plead your case with Death… You understand this?”

Draco felt his heart hammer a beat inside his chest, his wings shuffling once more.

He could hardly rip his gaze from the man that cast him a sharp, little smile. His handsome
face had the young Alpha baring back wicked fangs in a quiet hiss as he lifted his hand to
offer Draco a slow wave.

“Hello nephew.”

Draco felt his throat close with the weight of his growl, the sound rolling from deep within
his chest as Rodolphus Lestrange dug the heel of his boot further into Sirius’ unconscious
back.

Whatever the older Alpha had been inclined to bite back in retort to Draco’s silence was met
only with a hand lifted for quiet, as Tiberius scowled at the blonde swaying in the soft breeze
by the Vampire’s side. His eyes flickered, fading fast to that murky, unearthly red once more
as Nott’s head cocked to one side, predatory intent behind that unnerving stare.

“Why involve the family now… When you were all so good at running away in the past?”

It was not, Draco realised, Tiberius Nott’s voice that fell from the man’s lips.

Cruel, chaotically curious and insatiably delighted if the twitch in the possessed Alpha’s jaw
held even a fraction of that humour. It rolled beneath the silence of his followers, a flicker of
someone far… Far, more powerful. The recent conversation with his Sire seemed so much
more important, as Draco's lips parted on a quiet breath.

Theo’s father… He was possessed? During the war?

He was… and being that we had little reason to believe the man had ever conspired with Tom
Riddle willingly… We offered him Severus’ potion…

Draco felt his brow lift as he watched Nott take a step forward, something already feral in the
man’s gait that seemed… Entirely not his own.

“You’re connected…” Draco’s voice was a growl, raspy from his own fear as he watched
those red eyes slide to him. “You and… Voldemort… That potion, Severus’ potion that
you’ve been so determined to find, it connected you."

Nott regarded him as the red faded slowly from his eyes, though Draco felt no satisfaction in
not knowing where the Dark Lord had suddenly gone to.
“Inadvertently,” The word was humoured, the Alpha’s own voice full of spite and smug
satisfaction. “Your Sire’s miraculous cure was exactly that. It forged a bond between my Lord
and I that allowed full control, without withering my body to a maddened husk like all the
others. Pettigrew rotting in his cell was nothing more than a diversion. A clever hiding spot
that my Lord utilised… Perfectly… The potion will be remade, whether by the Omega’s own
two hands or by the memories Lord Voldemort will physically tear from Severus Snape’s
head. It was…”

“Ingenious.”

Alniyat’s gentle face had dropped, his eyes scanning the edges as the crowd began to shuffle,
voices lifting and magic crackling across the open space. “It was ingenious; but it is no bond.
It is a perversion of your own desperate obsession. It would never work the same way with
the unwilling.”

Rodolphus barked a sudden laugh, and Draco felt his spine snap straighter as he turned to
take in the slick curve of the man’s smile. “The Dark Lord holds none of your uncertainties,
Filth.”

“He knows only arrogance.” Alniyat suddenly sneered, his hands slipping from the pockets
of his cloak. “And fear.”

The sudden snarl from Tiberius Nott was cut across by a sudden commotion… By the sounds
of tearing skin and pained shrieking.

“Periculum!”

His head snapped to one side, eyes snapping wide as he watched a frantic few scatter back.
The steady barricade of followers fell short as some gaped upwards at the thunderous shower
of red sparks that lit the sky above them, a gap widening just enough for Draco to watch as
Lily Potter's hand was wrenched back behind her, her fangs sinking again into the bleeding
arm that tried to wrap around her mouth. Her green eyes were flashing, one side of her face a
mottled mesh of bruised skin as she reared up against the body-bind that had her on her
knees. James Potter beside her tossed desperately in the hold of another, his mouth bound
shut and his leg definitely broken where it lay bent beneath his own weight.

Lily lurched forward, landing on her chest with a sharp snarl of pain.

“Run! He hasn’t got him, Draco! He’s not here, he-“

Draco hissed as he watched a boot come down on the woman’s back, her cry choked as
James’ bucked harder against both the magic and the man that held him. The Auror’s eyes
were wild, incensed, as he moved, uncaring of the open wound spilling blood from his temple
and the pain that must have been near blinding him from the weight on his twisted knee.

Alniyat was tutting beside him, low and unamused, as the sudden scent of magic whispered
like a breath of ice against the hair on Draco’s skin. His nerves were alight, aware, beneath
that dark scent, and still he swung one foot forward, his eyes narrowed.
“Where is he?”

The snarl that came from Draco was low, threatening, as he bared his teeth at those red eyes
that swung so very slowly to meet his own. The sudden scent of another Alpha, so often a
thing he could be so quick to disregard, was overwhelming.

It plucked like droplets of frigid rain digging into the trace of his spine, dragging a shiver
from him that was purely instinctual.

Run.

Run.

Run…

“Little Malfoy…” Draco felt his brow crease, his heart pacing a frantic beat in his chest as he
realised that that voice did not come from the mouth of Tiberius Nott. It clung to the air
around them, a cajoling croon that worked its way through his followers and sent some
plunging to their knees to avert their eyes. The sound of footfall, soft, unhurried footfall…
Was like the ticking of a dying clock against the sudden silence.

“Are you so eager to join your useless father in his madness?”

Draco’s feral hiss hardly registered to the… Creature walking slowly into the open courtyard
from the hulking form of Hogwarts behind them.

Though it was a face, and a body, he had known his whole life that sauntered towards him…
It was anything but familiar.

Long limbs were almost lupine in their grace as Voldemort made his way across the stone
floor. Graceful, but unnaturally so, like a monster in a human puppet… He stayed his steps to
tilt his scaled chin back to peer into the endless sky above. With his unnaturally red eyes
sliding shut, the smile that slipped across his face was almost…

Serene.

“Though perhaps, I should offer you a reward instead… You brought something exquisite to
my attention. I had intentions of stealing away Altair’s pretty fae… But… The scent of that
fragile, little Breeder…”

His vision seemed to darken, his throat tearing on an enraged growl.

Draco’s step forward was halted only by Nagini rearing her flat head, the snake’s maw
parting in a warning hiss as she bore down on him with her knowing gaze. Alniyat spat where
she crawled, his lip curling in a sneer as foreign, lisping, haunting words slipped from
between his lips, the mere sound enough to make the hair on the nape of Draco’s neck stand
on end.

Parseltongue.
Alniyat was speaking parseltongue… Draco watched as Nagini’s intelligent eyes widened,
her fangs snapping in a violent huff towards the blonde, as he spat again at the dirt beneath
her. There was little need for translation for Draco to understand that their conversation was
not a polite one.

Draco felt the moment she snapped, her dark head pulling back just one, sharp second, before
she was diving towards them with her mouth open wide. Her fangs glinted in what little time
he had reared back to face her fully, his wand between his fingers just too… Slow…

Too slow.

No…

He hissed, fingers barely catching the sleeve of Alniyat’s cloak to drag the smaller man
behind him… Just seconds before the air around him shifted, and a beast the size of a giant
was launching forward from the treeline.

It was large enough to drive the still standing followers back, unexpected enough in size and
fierce fury that many screamed, their cries shocked and furious and frightened as a… Snake
the colour of darkened ash wrapped once around Nagini’s much, much smaller body.

It was like a thing summoned from shadows, nightmarish as it clenched its body, tighter and
tighter and tighter… Until the nauseating crack of flesh and blood and scale sounded from
between its crushing coils and ripping teeth.

Draco felt even Alniyat take a cautious step back, as Nagini dropped dead to the courtyard
floor. Destroyed.

“Sorry, I’m late.”

For one, bewildered, confused moment, Draco thought it was the beast of a snake that was
speaking to him.

He stared up at it, at the bright sheen of its eyes, as it swung its substantial head close to the
ground, just as a pale hand slipped from beneath… nothing… to rest on its pointed nose.

Cloth, sheer, dark invisibility cloth slipped over a pale arm, wrapped in a silver coat a size too
big, before it fell like a ripple of water over a slender torso and black boots, and finally, over
a head of impossibly dark curls.

Draco felt his heart clench at the sight of him.

Harry watched them as he bundled the cloak slowly in his hands, stuffing it carelessly into
one of the pockets on his oversized cloak as he caught Draco’s eye…

And fucking smiled.

It seemed that was all the other side needed for the tension to snap like broken wire between
them.
There was a roar, a genuine howl of fury that tried to claw its way into his very bones, before
Voldemort’s followers were surging forward and the first spell of what he knew would be
fucking hundreds flew over Draco’s head in a collision that almost set the dried bark behind
him ablaze in sparks.

There was a rush of wind, his wings snapping closed fast behind him to ensure his balance, as
that monster of a snake beneath his Mate’s hand surged forward. It was immense enough to
stall the furious movement on one side, its massive head knocking into a charging wizard
with a sickening crunch that foretold the break in his ribs far more accurately than his screech
of pain did.

It had to have been comparable to a Basilisk in size… A thing of immense strength and
alarming accuracy, as it mowed through the lines of screaming, shrieking, rushing witches
and wizards. Alniyat himself whistled low, one hand in the pocket of his robes as he nodded
towards the beast.

“I have never in all my years seen an Ashwinder of such a size… Now that there is about as
interesting as it gets, right?” His pale eyes snapped towards Draco’s with a wry smile as he
side-stepped another spell, eyes finding the prone forms of Sirius Black and Severus, where
they had been all but abandoned on the courtyard floor. “Tell me again how that magnificent
creature is not of Slytherin’s very blood.”

He was nodding towards Harry as he took off with Draco in tow, because of course he was.

Harry Potter…

Merlin and all that had come before him… His Harry.

Draco felt his throat tighten, his mouth slack as he watched the boy dart between wayward
spells. Harry held one hand aloft, his wand still happily holstered to his thin arm as he held
the flickering, magical shield by his side with not an ounce of extra concentration. His steps
were swift, soft and altogether certain, as he padded towards where his parents were trying to
find their way up, lest they be trampled in the mayhem.

Draco had to shake his head, his heart high in his throat as he jolted forward himself to catch
the tail end of a nasty hex with a deft flick of his wand. The sound of it hissed, scent crude
and sharp as he watched Alniyat dip forward beneath the coiling tail of the Ashwinder and
pull a bleary eyed Severus into his arms. The witch that had been reaching for the Omega
was sent hurtling towards the castle walls with one swift flick of the snake's dark tail, her
scream sharp until it was abruptly silenced.

The blonde lifted the taller man as though the extra weight was no more than a few precious
books, cradling him close as Draco pointed his wand at the unconscious Alpha still sprawled
across the pavement. Grey eyes scanned the diagnostic charms he whispered, before snapping
up as that massive beast darted before them once more, the spark of Harry’s familiar green
magic seeming to glow beneath the dark hue of its scales.

He almost had to stop in his search for both Rodolphus and Tiberius Nott, wherever the
cowards had scattered to in the chaos; as realisation dawned.
“Tom?”

Alniyat’s head snapped up, his scowl deepening as he turned his agitated stare to Draco when
there was no sign of the real Tom Riddle in their midst.

“No,” Draco growled in confusion, snapping his wand out to cast a featherlight charm on
Sirius Black’s impressive shape before he hauled the rousing man to his feet. “Not Tom,
Tom. For Merlin’s sake, Sirius Black there is no force on Earth that could take you out with
Remus waiting for you so wake and move your damn feet.”

He staggered forward, one wing snapping out to catch the taller Alpha under his arms as the
man groaned, his chest heaving with a sudden, pained breath.

“Harry named the snake I got him… He named him Tom. I could’ve sworn… But that thing
is… It’s…”

Alniyat hissed as a burst of shadow magic swept suddenly across the courtyard, the aftermath
feeling for all the world as though the temperature of the very sky had cooled by several
degrees. There was the slow crawl of black magic seconds before a figure in a familiar cloak
was rushing passed them with just the barest glance in their direction.

The Guard. Draco sent up a silent whisper of thanks.

“Ah… The little snake from before! My, he does sharpen up with all that magic to feed off
of, doesn’t he?”

Draco had opened his mouth to respond, before Nymphadora suddenly whirled passed him
with her teeth flashing and her wand aimed high. A cursory glance had him rolling his eyes at
the dramatic flare of red robes in his periphery.

The Aurors had, evidently, also arrived.

He bared his teeth in a snarl as he felt the heavy weight of Sirius slacken on one side, only for
his eyes to settle on the sharp gold of a familiar Omega.

Remus Lupin had never once been a man that might have instilled in him a modicum of
fear… But watching the quiet brunette peer with those eerily still, bright eyes into the face of
his Mate as he bore the Alpha’s weight across his slender shoulder… Draco felt grateful that
he and Remus were on the same side.

Severus hissed in Alniyat’s hold, breath a coarse whimper as the group hurried quickly
towards the treeline nearest where they stood. He felt his stomach clench as he helped Remus
heave Sirius’ twitching body down beside a panting James Potter, before reaching out his
arms to take his Sire.

The man was crying, his tears silent and his teeth chattering with a cold that Draco could not
feel as the Alpha bent his knees to pass the slender Omega into Lily Potter’s reaching arms.
Her sobs were heartbroken enough that Draco’s eyes stayed dry and steady despite his own
fear.
He almost jumped out of his skin when pale hands came into view to wrap an old, familiar
cloak around Severus’ trembling form. His wand clattered to the stone, ignored; and
something dark, bundled like thick, brown cloth fell from the inner pocket of the makeshift
blanket, but none of them paid it any mind as Draco stood slowly, his chest heaving.

He turned.

Harry watched him, and Draco thought he had never in his life seen a thing more beautiful
than the Omega in this moment.

Sublime… Like the spark of lightning in a valley dark as sin. Like the roll of thunder in
clouds low enough to touch should he reach his hand high to the sky…

Harry was… Sublime…

Ethereal… Almost… In the green dress robes Draco had picked for him, and with two wands
holstered on his arm. Magic wound its way like green vinery between fingers pale and over
arms scarred and slender. It crackled, alive with the glow of something provocative and
pulsating, and with the scent of rain and storms and…

Draco felt his pulse quicken.

Those green eyes looked unnaturally bright beneath those dark, careless curls as he lifted his
hands out towards Draco and tilted his lips in that familiar, little smile that seemed reserved
just for him.

Draco…

The bond between them, strained as it had been, had never felt more accessible. It clicked
into place like the clasp of a necklace between skilled fingers, until Harry’s genuine delight in
the fleeting moment made his stomach swoop. He was crossing the space that separated them
so quickly, his boot almost got caught on one cracked flagstone.

Harry’s laugh whispered like syrup through his mind as Draco engulfed the small Omega in a
hold, arms tight around a tiny frame and nose dragging fast against a neck pale and sweet
with the scent of his Mate.

His mate… Safe and sound and perfect.

Had it not been for the battle ongoing around them, Draco would have kept his hold. As it
was, his arms were more than reluctant as he pulled back, his breath a rasp even to his own
ears as he felt a hex land just far too close to their huddled group.

“Draco…”

Draco’s gaze snapped down to the Omega as Harry called him, his lips slipping back down
over where his teeth were bared in a silent hiss. That green gaze was fond as he slipped back
a fraction.
Harry’s fingers were quick when they suddenly moved, still lit up as they were with green
magic that seemed cold enough, it might sear the skin from Draco’s hand had Harry any such
inclination. They dug into the holster on his inner arm, ignoring his own wand to pull another
instead, that he handed to Draco with a grin.

“I hate to pass it on, but I need you to get this back to Altair for me.”

Draco frowned, staring down at the wand now in his grasp as Harry spoke.

That was, until he registered what wand it was that thrummed with an unbidden energy in the
centre of his palm. The Elder wand had never looked so innocuous, dark and foreboding, as
he lifted the stick up and stared at it in horror.

“Harry… Where…”

"…Did you get that? We thought it was destroyed with Albus…”

Alniyat let loose a low whistle as he stared up at his cousin’s wand, his hands wrapped
behind his back as if he had no intention of so much as poking the ancient piece of dark
wood.

“Oh, I am not getting into that story right now.”

Harry’s humour battled fast with his exasperation across their shared bond, his mouth ticking
in a smile as he pulled a roll of sheer, weightless material from where he had stuffed it
beneath his other arm, unrolling it enough that it seemed to vanish in the shifting winds.
Draco felt his brow draw down as Alniyat stilled, before Harry dipped his free hand into his
trousers and tossed a smooth, dark stone into the air before him, that he caught with a grin.

“I’ve got a better question, though.”

Harry tossed the stone again, and Draco’s brain seemed to slow the scene around them to take
in the three objects that Harry had been carrying so carelessly on his person. Some old, half-
forgotten fairy tale played in his memories, his mother’s voice a shadow on the edge of his
subconscious as he watched that cloak shimmer, and the movement of that small, black stone
catch in the reflective polish of the Peverell wand.

“Do you suppose this old stone could be used for something a bit more useful than just
bringing back the dead? In theory…” Harry hummed, his eyes glowing for just the briefest
moment as his gaze slid across the battlefield of ear-splitting chaos, dangerous spells, and
spilled blood that was fast encroaching on the temporary shield the Omega had obviously
thrown up…

Around them all.

Harry’s gaze narrowed as he watched the mayhem, and had Draco any doubt as to whether or
not some creature might have been simmering beneath the Omega’s blood, all of it was cast
aside. Whether he was of their world or not. Those luminous, doe-like eyes were narrowed in
thought, the shimmer of magic across his pale cheeks like the deft fleck of shimmering scales
for one brief moment.

The Peverell’s have Basilisk venom in their very blood…

And Harry Potter was... Had to be... A Peverell.

Harry’s lips curled back in a near silent hiss that had Draco’s cheeks flushing fast with…

Want.

Attraction…

Blood thirsty anticipation.

“If it can be used for anything, it would be in your hands, little lion."

Harry came back to himself enough to cast Draco a soft smile, before tossing the Alpha his
cloak. Draco clutched at the fantastic, weightless sprawl of it, watching his hands disappear
beneath it as Alniyat barked a giddy sound beside him, the older blonde practically
simmering where he stood.

“Take care of that, Draco, it’s the only family heirloom I have. Keep my parents safe, will
you?”

Heirloom?

Wait…

Wait.

Draco felt his eyes widen as he clutched the fabric close, his mouth parting on the smallest
gasp as Harry suddenly took off through the fraying edges of his own shield. His slender
body slipped fast beneath the passing flares of magic, sliding between clashing bodies and
over the tail of his snake as the serpent turned to guard his back. The threat of its snarl alone
sent several men stumbling back as it snapped its massive jaw.

“Well… If ever you needed proof that he is of blood,” Alniyat was whispering as Draco
glanced down at him, bile in the back of his throat as he tried to still the urge to flee after
Harry. His back crawled at James’ roar after his son, the Alpha struggling where Remus held
him down with one firm hand. His mind spun as Alniyat smoothed a pale finger across the
material that was unlike anything Draco had ever felt.

“He found the Invisibility Cloak…”

Draco clenched the wand in his hand tighter, his sight of Harry lost to the fracas, as he spun
to face the others. “He did not find the invisibility cloak. He owns it. It came to him, despite
not being from this world, despite it being lost with the third brother… Because it is his.
He…”
Draco shook his head.

“He is of Ignotus,” Alniyat snapped his teeth on a feral smile, his weary eyes suddenly wide
with giddy excitement.

There was a spark of magic, the flare wild and unchecked and carrying with it the scent of
rose blossoms, as Altair Peverell suddenly broke through the treeline. The Alpha looked
fierce as he scanned the clearing, his eyes finding Draco’s as Luna fell fast from his back.
The fae’s bare feet had hardly touched the old flagstones, before the runes stamped across her
skin were glowing white-hot, as she lifted her hands to force the barrier of Hogwarts’ old
anti-apparition wards apart.

The sudden weightlessness of it was like a breath to his constricted lungs.

Alniyat laughed suddenly, the man bending down to look Lily Potter in the eye as she
frowned up at him, dazed and hurt and confused.

“Your son is glorious.”

Lily arched a brow despite her exhausted demeanour, her arms clutching tighter around the
sleeping Omega against her chest. “I know.”

Alniyat purred, and the sound seemed to reverberate through the stone beneath Draco’s feet
as he rubbed the pads of his fingers together sharply. His eyes grew pale, magic white and
wild about the palms of his hands as he turned to Draco with a pretty smile on his lips.

“What are you waiting for, young Alpha? I will get them back safe, so go and help him.
Healing may not be my speciality, but travelling most certainly is.” He had hardly clicked his
fingers to the sound of James Potter’s furious protests, and the group had vanished, the
imprint of their apparition so swift it had almost seared to the inside of Draco’s eyelids as he
clenched them closed.

He stared, eyes blinking at the space where Alniyat had just vanished with not just one, but
five passengers. In less than a second.

There was a reason Peverell magic was unmatched.

“Draco?”

The Vampire shook his head, his lips pursed as he held the wand in his hand out, and felt
Altair’s fingers close around the wood with a stilted gasp.

“How did-“

“Harry.”

Draco bundled the invisibility cloak gently in the pocket of his own robes, hidden away as he
cast an aggravated glance around for his own wand, lost in the chaos. His body froze as a
familiar roar resounded off the cobbled pathway, the aggravated scent of Tiberius Nott just
familiar enough to have Draco crouching down to search for his weapon.
Any weapon.

He felt Harry flinch across their bond, something sharp tugging against his mind that had him
tearing up the tattered, old bundle of cloth that Lily had left behind her. It unfurled in his
grasp, until the clatter of something metallic clanged against the rough rock and his senses,
and a blade as bright as moonlight dropped from the brown folds of the…

The Sorting Hat.

Draco cast the relic an astounded look, aware for the first time of the scowl that watched him
back as he handed that too to Altair. His fingers locked quick around the hilt of the gilded
sword as he felt a flicker of Harry’s panic skate up his spine.

It would do.
 37

Draco felt his teeth bare down on a grimace as he ducked, dark wings flaring flat behind his
back as he tried to stay on path.

The scene had devolved into chaos.

Whether the favour had turned towards the Aurors and the members of the Guard that
streaked past him in blurs of inconsistent red and furious black, or whether it lay with the
other side… He could not be sure.

The Ashwinder that had fought back so many seemed to be cornered, body coiled tight
towards the trees in his defence, of the several wizards determined to drive it back to the
edges of the fray, if not stop the beast entirely. Had he had even a moment to free the snarling
creature, Draco would have taken it.

He cursed, leaning back just enough that the hex streaking towards his chest caught instead
on his shoulder and smouldered at the material of his robe with just the barest lick of pain
against skin.

But he did not.

He brought a wing forward to deflect the next curse spat in his direction, clenching down on
the streak of pain that burst against the appendage like a mirror shattering against stone. Still,
better his wing than his body take the brunt of the nasty spells Rodolphus Lestrange seemed
intent on hurling at him.

“Give up, little Nephew,” Rodolphus’ voice was familiar despite the years it had been since
Draco had had the misfortune of hearing him last, grating to his nerves only for the soft
sophistication of it that spoke of who his upbringing should have moulded him into.
Charming, rough only from the exertion of having to follow Draco as the Vampire led him
astray from the group he had been first a part of.

“That old sword might make you look the part of the hero, but it is as useless as you are.”

Draco felt his brow arch, he could hardly argue with the man there.

Beautiful and sleek as the sword of Gryffindor was, and as unearthly vicious as it felt in his
hand as he drew it up sharply to deflect another well-aimed hex, there was something in his
limbs that forbade the use of it. The blade glinted as if it had not been idle since its last
historical appearance, sharp and deathly and… Final.

And Draco had never been less sure whether he could find it in himself to brandish such a
thing against another person.

Harry’s mind had stilled, patient and waiting against his own wherever the boy had vanished
into the mayhem; but the lack of panic was enough to have Draco stall his wielding of such a
deadly relic.

Rodolphus cast him a darkly amused look, the man straightening the lapel of his cloak as he
twisted up from his crouch. He lifted a finger in reprimand as he took one step forward, voice
tutting his reproach.

“Come now, boy, you are no killer…”

Draco felt his spine stiffen, the sword pointed to the ground in his grasp as he narrowed his
gaze. “Not one that could amount to the likes of your personal experience, one can assume,
Lestrange.”

Rolphus growled, and the sound travelled across the ear-splitting chaos of screams and snarls
and howls of pain. “You dare speak to me like that? I am your-“

“Nothing,” Draco hissed back at him, cutting off the tirade before it could even begin. Anger
fanned the rush of his heated blood beneath his skin, and his lips drew back over his fangs.
“You are nothing. Not to me, not to my family.”

“Nothing?” Lestrange’s voice was suddenly hushed, his lips twisting as though he possessed
some great secret. Draco scowled as he watched that cruel, little smile purse, until the sound
that followed the shape of them had his hand tightening on the gold hilt of the sword. His
stomach rolled.

A Calling croon.

Draco whirled, trying to find in the fracas the one person who would be obliged to answer
such a call.

“No…” He whispered, his heart suddenly frantic in his chest as he tired to see through the
mess of clashing lights and colliding bodies. No, no, no… She couldn’t be… She was…

His breath caught in his throat, as he saw her.

A tiny, insignificant slip of a thing darting through the bloodshed around her, her pale face
grey with unease and fear as her body moved without care for the spells or the slash of
weapons that might have caught her as she ran.

Draco felt a strangled noise leave his own mouth, as he watched her streak towards them, off
balance and bleeding from a laceration on her cheek, eyes wild and confused and lost, until
Rodolphus’ hand was reaching out and snatching around the column of her throat.

Bellatrix froze in that hold, body going limp as that calling cry was cut off, and she could
rest.

And bile rose fast to the back of Draco’s throat.

There was a fucking reason use of an Alpha’s cry was prohibited unless deemed the only
option for their bonded Omega.
“Auntie…”

Draco felt the whine slip passed his lips despite himself, his eyes horrified as he watched the
bloom of several patches of dark blood bleed into the cloth of Bellatrix’s tattered dress. An
Omega would walk through fire to respond to that call. He felt his wings flare fast behind
him, his shoulders rounding towards the other Alpha. “You’re a monster.”

His voice was soft with his anger, as Lestrange nuzzled his nose into the crown of Bellatrix
Black’s dark head. Like an overgrown, spoiled housecat, he watched Draco with a glint in his
eye as he wrapped those fingers tighter and forced a pleading, rasping mewl of pain from the
woman.

“So says the little Alpha who would run another man through with a blade… Had he the
spine to actually force his own hand. You are as weak as the men before you who let your
bloodline dissipate.”

Whatever response Draco might have had to such an insult was cut off as a streak of orange
sparked suddenly against the corner of his eye, snapping bright for a moment, until it surged
forward and caught in the centre of Lestrange’s heaving chest.

The Alpha let loose a hoarse strangle of a sound, his hand flying back off of the crumpling
Omega in front of him who fell fast to her knees. Lestrange groaned, tearing at the centre of
his chest as that orange magic flickered darkly before smouldering out.

“You’ve always been so full of shit, Lestrange.”

Draco glanced to the side as his Godfather strode into view, the man decked in the same dark,
tight pants and knee-high boots he had been wearing for the ball, though his flowing robe had
been exchanged for a fitting black tunic that showcased the dark marking across his slender
wrists, as he aimed his wand.

Rodolphus snarled, and the sound was beyond furious, as he lurched to one side to reach for
he wand that had fallen from his grasp with the heat of Regulus Black’s unexpected spell.

“Oh no, I don’t think so, friend,” Regulus shook his head, his own fingers deft as they sent
the other wand flying back into the darkness of the woods beyond. Dark eyes flickered once
to Draco, darting subtly to the still form of Bellatrix as Regulus took a step in front of the
young Alpha.

“By the stars, am I delighted to have found you here…” Draco moved slowly, as his
Godfather garnered every ounce of Rodolphus Lestrange’s heated attention, the Omega slow
in his movements as he dragged the man’s gaze away with the croon in his own voice.

“The Council sentenced you so quickly to your punishment that I did not even get to give you
a parting gift. What was it, eight years ago now? Merlin, I have only you to thank for the path
of study your actions forced me down.”

Lestrange was unmoving, his eyes wild as he watched the dark markings that twined like tri-
spirals across the inner path of Regulus’ wrists, effortlessly moving against the skin. The
Omega took a step closer, his dark eyes suddenly alight as he snapped another hex of bright
orange towards the Alpha half-crouched on the courtyard floor.

Lestrange snarled, trying to flee before that magic collided with his cheek this time and dug a
slash of vibrant purple into the skin of the man’s face.

“Did you know, Rodolphus, that Alchemy has proven to be an adept study for those who are
content with taking the personal ramifications of inflicting pain on another, were you aware
of that?” Regulus hummed, and Draco could hardly draw his eyes away as his steps carried
him quietly over to the shaking body of his aunt. The skin of her shoulder was so cold
beneath his touch, as he leaned over her.

“I will break it down easy for you, friend,” Regulus tutted at the man’s growl, as Lestrange
clasped at his own cheek and tried to scatter back, away.

Afraid.

“Your actions shaped the course of my studies when you pulled that stunt with Bella after I
left the country. My studies shaped the end of your future when the Council gave you such a
brazenly lenient sentence for destroying my cousin.” Regulus spun his wand once in his
fingers, his expression almost bored as he suddenly holstered the weapon back by his side.

“What I am saying is, that the bonds of alchemist magic that I have spent nearly a decade
learning, have offered me enough insight into the push and pull and certain spells that I know
what limit of pain my mind can bare… To end your hold over her, and your miserable life
once and for all.”

Draco felt his own breath catch in his throat as Regulus suddenly reached out to snatch at
Rodolphus’ cheeks with both hands, his smile cruel and wicked.

“And you’ve gone and stepped right into my hands.”

The wild pulse of old magic was like a throb to his lower jaw, and Draco felt his stomach turn
as he leaned more over his aunt where she lay curled in a tight ball. Still, he could not bring
himself to look away as Rodolphus went suddenly still, frozen…

Before he started to scream.

“I trusted you.”

Draco grit his teeth as he placed a hand over his aunt’s eyes, his own head dropping down to
stare at the stone as the scuffled, haunting sound of Rodolphus Lestrange fighting for his life
seemed to fade to nothing under the simmering anger of Regulus’ dark voice.

“I trusted you with her, with my family, my friends.... And you betrayed me.”

The scent of his Godfather’s magic, of the alchemy the Omega had been studying for so long
under the guise of it being his newfound interest, was wickedly sharp. It clung to the air
around them, desperately thick and cloyingly sweet.
“Never. Again.”

There was a sudden husk of air, a rattling gasp... Then the snarled hiss of an enraged Omega
followed the heavy drop of something… Someone… to the cold stone floor, and Draco tried
to still his own heart as he glanced up.

Regulus was before him before his eyes could land on where the Alpha had fallen, blocking
out the view as he crouched down to drag a shaking hand through Draco’s hair.
And despite having just watched those hands take the life of another, the Alpha leaned into
the touch, as Bellatrix crooned softly, wetly against the ground.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Draco,” Regulus whispered, and Draco felt a horrified gasp
catch in his throat as he glanced up at the man’s face and found himself beneath the stare of
one familiar black eye, and one milky white one.

Blind…

He reached up, eyes wide, as a trickle of blood leaked from the Omega’s nose. Still, Regulus
grinned at him, that same, familiar, lopsided smirk that had once graced his features as he
whispered something scandalous about some posh family or other in the young Alpha’s ear.
As he teased James across the dining room table with some indecent newfound information...
As he wrapped his arms around Draco in a hug that smelled of everything good.

“Reg…”

The Omega batted his hand away with a soft smile, Regulus' own trembling fingers finding
Belltrix’s hair and glancing down at the suddenly slack shape of the woman between them.

“I knew I would pay a price for taking the brunt of Bella’s broken bond, and I would have
paid more if it meant I could bring back a portion of what that monster stole away from her.
But at least, for now, I can offer her just a fraction of peace for the rest of her life.”

His lips parted on his sigh, Draco’s eyes blurring as he watched those mismatched eyes slid
upwards, searching the dissipating crowds. “Go, Draco, help put a stop to this madness. I will
find someone to take us back.”

“But I can’t just…”

Regulus growled, pushing the taller Alpha up from his crouch. “You can and you will. I am
half blind, not half dead. I have Bella. Go, now, and be done with it.”

Draco’s legs still shook as he stood, his eyes on his family as Regulus gathered Bellatrix’s
tiny form to his own insubstantial chest. His instinct battled hard with the pull of Harry’s
mind suddenly ghosting against his own, his Mate somewhere... Close... As the battle around
them seemed to grow suddenly hushed, an almost-quiet taking over from the centre that held
with it an air of almost... Finality.

With a snarl, he turned, Gryffindor’s sword still clasped in his hand.

###
It was almost bizarre…

The courtyard Harry made his way across could have been the same as the one he had once
sat in with Ron and Hermione. In another world, in a different lifetime, he had once eaten
sandwiches from a napkin as the three of them lounged on stone benches. The air had once
been sweet with the scent of lavender and soft with the unhurried pace of a free period as
they worried over the lengths of their charms essays, and rolled their eyes when Hermione's
proved to be the longest.

In another world.

In this one… In this one, the courtyard was in ruins.

The benches looked cracked, as though they might split beneath the weight of a discarded
apple core, cold and uninviting as the dusty stone floor as he padded along the edges of the
treeline. The scnet of the place was... Stangnant. Still despite the chaos, as though it would
take another decade to shift the heavy settling of ash and dust from the ground beneath his
feet.

The battle itself was winding down, he could see it.

He had lived through enough to know when the tides were turning. Tom Riddle’s followers,
once confident and overeager, were falling back, some vanishing into the trees he passed
through without so much as a cautious glance in his direction; nothing in their sights but the
potential of escaping whatever trial would await them in the aftermath.

Harry saw their chances of freedom whisk away with each member of the Guard that snuck
after them like weighted smoke, bodies silent in their pursuit until the tell-tale shriek of
surprise and pain sounded from somewhere not too far in the distance.

He watched it, side-stepping some wizard’s attempt to barrel through him, and not even
bothering to lift his hands in defence at the terror that clouded the man’s face.

Whatever gross intent to harm existed in the fair few of Voldemort’s loyal following that had
commandeered the whole orchestration, was so obviously missing in the dozens of men and
women now desperately fighting for a cause their faces looked bleakly unsure of. There was
no desperation in their actions, like the desperation that had once led to the deaths of so many
in his own world.

Tom had acted far too soon for this battle to have ever been in his favour.

Which was... Unsettling. Mad.

But then, madness seemed to be a not-so-redeeming feature of every version of Tom Riddle
that Harry had had the misfortune to encounter in his far too busy life.

Harry scrubbed a hand across his face as he stepped through the stone archway ahead of him,
careful to avoid the eyes of the two wizards locked in combat to one side of the crumbling
opening. It was a connecting corridor, one that would have once led them down towards the
back of the Potions classroom; that is, had one been brave enough to scamper past the two
knights that so often engaged in duels throughout the day.

The walls loomed on either side of him, high enough to block out the dwindling sounds of
battle and the acrid smell of magic, despite the void that existed where a ceiling had once
been. Moonlight filtered down gently, a faint trickle between the clouds that caught on the
discarded armour of those once enchanted knights. Pieces of them lay scattered, and Harry
toed one aside gently as he moved forward, his skin prickling with unease.

The scent of him was overwhelming. Dark. Powerful. Wild...

“You won’t trap me in here again. I know this castle better than you.”

Harry hardly had to glance up to know that Tom Riddle was watching him.

The Alpha stood with his back to one wall, the eyes he had pinned on Harry unnerving and
focused despite the casual lean of the body he inhabited.

“So it would seem.”

His voice was unearthly, still.

Whether from the years of abusing dark magic, or from the strain of forcing Tommy’s vocal
chords to give under the weight of his compulsion, Harry was not sure. He felt his magic
flicker, unchecked and agitated around his fingertips, as he stared back at those red eyes that
had once haunted his darkest nightmares.

He darted his gaze towards the dark shadow of the yawning corridor beyond where a wooden
door had once stood, searching for movement in the blackness. Nagini might have been dead,
but Harry had heard enough of the conversation Draco has coaxed from Tiberius Nott to
know that the other Alpha was no less a threat. Whatever connection had been forged,
clumsily and unfinished, between the pair could have worked like any other horcrux.

And Harry would rather they all be destroyed, before he tried anything.

“Who are you?”

The question was deathly hushed, as though his anger at not having all the information fed
that distorted voice as Tom watched him. Harry took another step forward, his stomach
turning as those serpentine eyes followed the movement, unyielding.

“I’m… I’m Harry.”

Tom regarded him, head tilting like a bird of prey watching the approach of some tiny,
insignificant mouse. When he smiled, it was with a mouth ground down hard over a growl.

“I did not ask for your name, Harry Potter.”

Harry let his tongue slip out to wet his lips, dry despite the bravado he was trying to keep in
place as he moved forward again. He dipped his fingers into the pocket of his robe, all too
aware of those unnatural red eyes as they followed his hand, until he lifted out the heavy
stone now sat in the centre of his palm.

“I know... I, eh... I think this belongs to you.”

The realisation of what it was that he was holding came to Riddle fast, if the strong pulse of
magic that resounded in Harry’s ear was any indication. Before he could so much as blink,
the Alpha was in front of him. He was… Wrong, staring down at him as he was in Tommy’s
body…

Twisted and rigid in a way that belied the graceful tilt of his head as he peered down at the
resurrection stone.

He asked no question of how Harry might have come across the Hallow, his mouth still as he
cupped a cold, frigid hand beneath Harry’s that seemed to suck the warmth from his very
blood. The clash of their magic sparked, familiar despite never having truly met, as Tom
narrowed his gaze.

Again, he spoke nothing, as he moved his palm around to hover over the smooth, dark
surface.

When he spoke, it was in a whisper of Parseltongue that slipped, soft and resigned, beneath
the unbridled anger of the man’s growl.

”Ah… That is who you are.”

Harry did not take the time to ponder those words, before his other hand lifted to clasp Tom’s
over the stone, his own magic wrapping around their hands like the streaks of an Unbreakable
Vow. He felt his breath catch in his throat, whatever part of him tied still to that inexplicable
golden bond he shared with Draco thrumming.

He could only hope that the man would find Nott… Would find Harry himself…

As he and what had once been Tommy’s body crumbled to the floor like two puppets whose
strings had been forever severed.
 38

The moon was full.

Bright.

Unnaturally large…

It painted everything, everything, with streaks of silken white. Black stone and twisted trees
once decayed and dying were bursting with the life of shadowed, impassable leaves; all of it,
all that darkness seemed so soft under that gentle light.

Beneath the glow of it… Harry could almost believe that anything could become clean again.

Even him.

Stained as his hands may have been with his irredeemable guilt, with the battle he had fought,
and the blood he had spilled… They looked pale beneath that ethereal glow as he held them
up to the light of the moon. His skin, scarred and calloused still, was soft beneath the layer of
it.

As if every nightmare that had first forced him to this point, in this Forest… Could be washed
away.

Harry tilted his face back to breathe in, chest lifting as if he could almost taste the silver
moonlight on the back of his tongue, fragile as blossomed flowers, and cold as running river
water. He wore his robes still, the green stark as he watched the trim flutter with some non-
existent breeze where he stood on the edge of those familiar trees.

“When my cousin advised me to plead my case with Death… I had not thought the insipid
man had actually brought him along.”

Harry felt his lips pull up in a smile despite himself, his hands dipping back into the folds of
his cloak as he turned to take in the shape of the man beside him.

Tom Riddle, as this world had known him, was unfathomably handsome.

Tall, and with broad shoulders that sank back as he placed his own pale hands on his trouser-
clad hips to survey the surroundings. His waist was trim, adding length to legs already far
longer than Harry’s own. His hair, devoid of product or effort, was impossibly black and lay
pleated in a single braid down the length of his spine.

Though his face was familiar, there was a sharpness to it that belied the soft curve of his
bottom lip and the sulking gaze of his narrowed lashes.

His voice sounded a fraction more human.

“You’re too dramatic. I’m no more the bearer of Death than you are.”
Tom scowled, and there was again that flash of almost humanity as he leaned back against the
trunk of one of the larger Yew trees that surrounded them. In this space full of moonlight and
silence, there was no scent between them. No sound unaccounted for, no trickle of Alpha or
Omega or anything other than two minds colliding in a manner almost peaceful.

Just Harry.

And just Tom.

“I have heralded death in my lifetime… Killing does not dissuade me when what can be
gained is the infinite gift of immortality.”

Harry hummed, and the sound vibrated through the leaves above him, as his fingers found the
smooth touch of stone in his pocket.

“Spoken like a true psychopath, Tom, well done.”

Tom cast him a glance, bloodlust abated for a moment in those red eyes as he peered down at
the smaller man. “Why do you speak to me as though we have met?”

“Because we have,” Harry answered with a shrug. “I know you. Not you, but you.”

The older man scowled, and the petulance across his face was no unnervingly animated that
Harry thought for a moment he could understand why the man had chosen to wear the masks
of his followers instead. This Tom was unguardedly expressive.

“Harry Potter, it may have escaped your notice, however I was well into my fifties by the
time of your generation’s birth. We have not met.”

Funny, Harry grinned, tilting his face up again to the light of the moon, as if he could feel the
calm trace of it. Though there was no heat here… And no cold to explain the ache in his
fingertips or the creeping chill in his heart.

“A minor detail, that.”

Tom stared at him.

“Quite.”

The reply was dry, his confusion evident in the coarse tone of his voice as he stared down at
the blades of black grass beneath his boots.

“Where have you brought me?”

Harry opened his eyes, choosing to glance ahead at a point where the copes of trees around
them seemed to dip into a valley below.

“Where I died…”
The words hung heavy, as Harry’s eyes skimmed the silent trees, the boughs of the Yews
above stretching so high into the sky, it was madness that some did not obscure the stunning
round shape of the full moon.

“You know, I had no idea why I kept being dragged back to this spot. Again, and again, and
again, and again… I would wake up here, in the dead of night. Freezing or soaking, freaking
out because no form of alarm on my bed or in the castle seemed enough to be able to stop
from me getting right back… Here.”

Harry took a breath, tapping an incessant rhythm on the stone in his grasp.

“And I never got an answer why… Why I kept coming back here. Why there was something
in this horrible, dark valley that called out to me. It was just... A compulsion. A need brought
on by desperate loneliness. I might never get an answer in the way I really want it, Magic is
funny that way…

“But,” Harry paused, his eyes slipping to where Tom was watching the dark dip in the valley,
those handsome features twisted with some primal sort of…

Fear.

“But, I did learn something, you know? Eventually, I learned that it was okay.”

Tom Riddle looked at him, confusion blatant on his brow as he assessed the unwavering stare
Harry had aimed up at him, his lip curling at that soft smile as the smaller boy nodded him
forward.

The step the man took was… Tentative.

“You learned... What, exactly, was okay?”

The question had an answer already, and Harry was sure that Tom knew the tremble in his
tone gave him away in an instant. Still, he smiled, as he watched a shadow flit from between
the oppressive Yews.

Insubstantial, the flickering of a thought on the forefront of an agitated mind… Before the
moon lit the space between nothing and everything, and a figure began to take form.

It took shape with each slow step forward, first small and young in its stumbling stalk, before
limbs lengthened with a flicker of green magic and the fully grown apparition stepped from
the gloom with a smile akin to stardust.

“That it was okay… To die.”

He sighed as he watched Tom freeze, closer now to those unending trees than to where Harry
stood by the edge.

The figure, figment… Ghost… Gestured forward with a bow, arm across his front and one
bent behind his back as though he might have begun a dance. His outfit was a pale imitation
of Tom’s own black trousers and half-buttoned shirt. Beneath the darkness, his skin was pale
and littered with a scattering of sun-etched freckles across arms strong and capable.

The spirit stood again to his full height, just a scant inch above where Tom was wavering, the
older man’s face slack with understanding.

“Is this some trick?”

There was fury, the violent edge of Tom's unaccountable rage, as the imperceptible rasp of it
against Harry's skin made him shudder; before the oppressive weight of the void washed it
away like ash dissipating beneath rain. Harry watched as the phantom presence of himself
held out a pale hand.

The Harry Potter of this reality had died a child, sick in his bed as Tom Marvolo Riddle lost
himself to a madness he seemed eternally damned to. Whether it was the curse his Mother
had gifted upon his head with her selfish actions, or whether it was born from the fear of
death that haunted him from birth…

Harry would never know.

There would forever be pieces of the man unknown to him, just as there were pieces of this
other Harry that he could never be privy too. Secrets had a way of getting lost to the ages,
and the secrets shared between what might have been and why things were as they were...
Was solace enough to stay the vengeful twist in his own core as a Harry Potter, familiar and
decidedly not, offered the fearful shape of Tom Riddle his hand.

"There's no trick here, Tom."

The older man watched the spectre, his throat working over the panic in his emotional eyes,
as he stood rooted to the spot of fraying, dissipating grass.

“Why…” his voice was bewildered, brow coming down in a desperate plea as he glanced
back at Harry. “Why would you offer me this?”

Harry hummed, and again that sound seemed to vibrate through the Yew trees. They held the
tone of it, soft and lingering in that barely there breeze as Tom lifted his hand above that of
the ghost’s. The spirit made of what might have been smiled, his dark hair wild with ringlets
over a set of green eyes curiously gentle.

Harry shrugged.

“Because Death was never meant to be a battle you had to fight, or some secret the passed
could whisper in your ear. It was never even meant to be something to hide from… It’s
just…” Harry felt his lips slip into a smile, almost rueful as he glanced down at his own
boots. “The next great adventure.”

He waited, as Tom cast those unnerving eyes back over the ethereal form of a Harry Potter
made from shadow and death and everything unknown. Again, that spectre wiggled the
fingers of his hand, his smile exceptionally soft as Tom Riddle’s fingers entwined with his
own.

And they were gone.

In the deafening silence that followed the sudden spill of moonlight across the shadows of
where he had once stood, Harry heaved a sigh… Before pointing to where a crouching figure
trembled behind the nearest cusp of shadows.

“C’mon then! Draco's probably waiting for us."

###

The corridor was so deathly quiet at first, that Draco thought it to truly be empty.

Were it not for the silken thrum of Harry’s scent on his tongue, he would have passed the
open awning of the arched entryway himself.

But the scent of his Mate was incomparable to him, and the flicker of Harry’s wild magic was
like a leash that pulled at his own. He trailed down the hallways strewn with discarded,
tarnished fragments of old armour and metal plating.

The frantic tremor of a battle more or less won vibrated through the opening behind him,
voices shouting across the grunt of body-bind jinxes and aggravated ‘silencios’ were a near
musical treat in the aftermath of the pained screaming and vicious slurs thrown from
vindictive throats.

Tom, the massive snake that Harry had left trawl carelessly through the people loyal to
Voldemort, had settled somewhere in the centre of a baffled looking Guard the last Draco had
glimpsed of the serpent.

Almost docile.

How in the name of Merlin were they going to get him back through the Floo home?

His thoughts were aimless, the soft, steady thrum of Harry’s conscious mind so gentle and
peacefully placid where it rested against his senses; that he was almost in a trance. He
followed it carelessly, crooning low in his throat when he came to a stop by the rather
uncomfortable looking heap of his beloved.

There was a flicker of something sharp, almost fear, that skated across his tense nerves…
Before Draco was searching that bond again and finding nothing amiss.

The Omega was so very easy to lift, as Draco’s arms came under his small body and pulled
the boy in close. The scent of him was alive with power, restlessly pouring off of his pale
skin as the Alpha moved him to one of the broad, stone plinths that had once been the stage
for some statue or ornament.

The Omega curled into himself, face serene as he breathed slow, his magic a fantastic scatter
of detailed, intricate colour across his slender arms and thin neck. Draco
watched him for a moment, his own smile soft, before he dug the weightless material from
his own pocket and let it slip between his fingers.

He shook his head, as the boy vanished beneath the sprawl of the cloth as he laid it over him.
Not even a flicker of Harry’s magic could be seen through the impossible silk, as though
there existed nothing more than dust on the knee-high pillar before him.

Safe.

Hidden...

“What have you done?”

Draco’s head snapped up, his eyes wide as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.

His body stayed resolutely in front of that hidden form, as he whirled to watch Tiberius Nott
streak into the corridor behind him. The Alpha was panting, his eyes wild as he glanced
around.

They caught on the crumpled heap of Tommy’s body with a feral snarl, his chest heaving as
he sank to his knees before his supposed Master.

“What have… How did…”

The Alpha was incensed, spit flying from the open tear of his mouth as he pulled on dead
limbs once coated in fantastic scales… And now pale and human once more. Though
Tommy’s eyes would likely never open again, and Draco had no idea how Harry had done
it…

He doubted if those lids could be lifted that there would be the malevolent shine of red
beneath.

Gone.

He was… Gone…

Tiberius roared as if Draco had spoken the words aloud, devastation curling his tone and
roiling the torment in the younger Alpha’s stomach until he widened his stance.

“What have you done, beast? Monster!”

The words were a hiss, as Nott suddenly catapulted to his feet and launched himself at Draco.

The first swipe of Draco’s wing sent the older man careening back, his body heaving as he
twisted through the metal remains beneath his feet and raced forward again. There was a
crack, unexpected and with a violent flick of the Alpha's wand, as the sudden snap of magic
against Draco's jaw that had him blinking back stars. He buckled back, flinching when Nott
dug nails as sharp as talons into the skin of his upper arms.
“You will never kill him…” Tiberius was snarling, his teeth snapping on the words as Draco
battled to get to the weapon tucked into the waistband of his trousers. The Vampire felt his
wing creak beneath him as he was pushed back into another pillar, flesh tearing enough that
the scent of his own blood was in his nose.

“So long as I am alive, my Master can remain free! The Dark Lord will rise again, through
my will and my body! His aim to rid this world of the filth within it will rule every traitorous,
pathetic corner of the Ministry and the Council.”

Fanatic zealot…

Draco growled low, his own teeth grinding as his wings bore the brunt of his weight beneath
Tiberius Nott’s substantial bulk.

But he was right…

Draco felt that gentle thrum of Harry like a sudden realisation, scarred arms and haunted eyes
flitting fast to the forefront of his mind.

He was right.

So long as Tiberius Nott was alive… That connection would remain intact, and no effort on
Harry’s part would ever be enough to take Tom Riddle out of this world.

His Mate would never be able to rest…

Draco stilled, bearing the weight of that man almost to the point of the delicate bone of his
wing snapping in two, the muscles creaking with the overextension that had him almost
breathless. He bore it. He held his tongue against the filth Nott spewed down at him, the vile
slur of his family’s name nothing more than the incessant buzzing of a fly…

As he reached…

And reached…

Until his fingers finally wrapped around the hilt by his side.

In one smooth motion, he cast the man to one side, the pillar scraping at the skin of his own
arm as Nott growled with the unexpected momentum. Draco, hissed, teeth bared as he kicked
fast with one leg to keep the man on his knees. With a snarl, he drew his elbow back fast
enough to gain speed, as he drove forward and buried the blade to the hilt in Tiberius Nott’s
chest.

The Alpha froze, a surprised gurgle snatching in his throat that spluttered with the sudden
spray of speckled blood and spit. Draco felt his gaze narrow as he watched that angry stare
meet his own, before pulling back just as quickly and stepping back away from the man.

The scent of blood that poured from the devastating wound was… Unmercifully rich.
Draco purred with it, senses alight with suggestions he paid little attention to, as his gums
ached with the want in his fangs.

But it was nothing compared to the scent of Harry’s blood.

To the scent of Harry... Happy and content.

“Then die,” Draco felt his throat tighten, his eyes whipping away from the hunched over,
rasping form of the other Alpha. “And take whatever fragment of Voldemort you are bound
to, with you.”

There would be no recovering from such a blow, Draco grimaced as he turned away from
where they had landed during their desperately short brawl. The sword in his grasp clattered
to the ground with a noise that grated on his senses, sharp and too loud in the hollow of the
corridor. Splatters of rich blood freckled the old stone like paint, dark and foreboding as the
Alpha cast one last glance at the dying man by his feet.

He moved without saying another word, hesitating for just the barest moment to kneel down
and straighten his… Friend.

His shoulders rounded.

Tommy’s pulse was gone beneath the pads of his fingers, just as he assumed it would have
been. The boy’s pale face was stark beneath what light filtered through the missing ceiling,
but thankfully devoid of the serpentine scales that had once made him seem so inhumanely
gone. Draco’s touch was swift, gentle, his hands altogether slow as he set the boy on his back
and crossed Tommy's thin arms across his chest. He touched his thumb to the space between
his brows in a silent prayer, his eyes sliding shut as the sounds of others drawing near
resounded against the empty walls.

“Ugh…”

Draco all but leapt out of his skin, his eyes wide as he turned slowly to watch where Harry
was now sitting cross-legged on the pillar. Draco stared, his mouth agape, as the Omega
scrubbed a hand through his unruly hair, his fingers trailing over the lightning shaped mark
on his forehead as if it pained him.

Green eyes focused in on Draco below him, as the length of invisibility cloak pooled around
his thighs and Harry suddenly grinned, shakey and lopsided though it seemed.

“Give him a minute, it’s hard to get your bearings at first.”

Draco’s brow furrowed, his weak legs aching as he made to shift to a stand… Seconds before
Tommy Pettigrew opened his eyes and let loose the most terrified mewl of a sound that Draco
had ever heard in his life. His hands sprung away from the boy just as those dark eyes found
his, unsure and afraid.

Tommy clutched at his own throat, his eyes blurring fast with the spill of tears as he tried to
rasp out words his body just could not form. Draco moved into action, quick to shush the
Beta with a gentle hand across his panting mouth and a second to his heaving chest.

Alive...

How was he... Alive?

The sounds of others drew closer, shouts of both his and Harry’s name as the bouncing shape
of Nymphadora Tonks suddenly started towards them, with an arsenal of Aurors behind her.

Draco ignored it all in favour of turning his wide-eyed stare back to Harry.

Alive.

The Omega was leaning on his entwined hands, elbows braced on his knees as he watched
Draco with the sweetest smile.

“I couldn’t exactly leave him there, could I?”

A hand gripped his shoulder, but Draco shrugged it off. He pressed the petrified shape of one
of his oldest friends into Nymphadora’s arms, as the lilac-haired Auror peered down at him,
before his legs were turning and he was rushing towards the boy sitting on the old stone pillar
with his sweet smile and his arms opening wide.

The hug was crushing, the smaller boy all but vanishing in Draco’s grasp as the Vampire
drew his wings around the pair of them, uncaring of the subtle flare of pain or the scent of
blood that lingered on him. He burrowed his nose into the nape of his Mate’s neck, until his
teeth found the shape of their bond-mark and he was digging into that pale skin almost to the
point of piercing through.

“Draco…”

The little mewl had him growling back, arms wrapping further around that tiny waist until
Harry was against him fully. The Omega was huffing, soft little sounds of impatience and
adoration that Draco answered with a purr that seemed to vibrate through the pair of them.

So long as Harry Potter stayed by his side...

Draco believed he would never feel fear again.

 Epilogue
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

TWELVE YEARS LATER...

...

The scent of his magic was green.

Evergreen.

Raw and wild, a flicker of yellow lightning blending seamlessly to a midnight blue sky; and
as soft as silk, fronds of plush summer grass slick with rainwater and dew.

The scent of his magic was alive, and Harry basked in the thrum of it… Just for a moment.

Lost to thoughts older and memories still bright against the wandering of his daydreaming,
Harry watched that green magic twine around his fingers. Playful, intentional, like the errant
scamper of a rabbit, before he sent it into the ruins of a window to his right with a flick of his
wrist.

It had been an enchanted window, and those were a damn sight harder to repair than the clear,
standard ones that lined the hundreds and hundreds of hallways of Hogwarts.

Harry watched the shards of lilac pulse angrily against the hold of his magic, like the grumpy
shaking of an old, stubborn creature’s head, before it relented with a sigh beneath his
wagging finger, and the sections of what had once been an immaculately sculpted piece of art
slotted slowly into place. Violets bloomed with the reconstruction, Harry almost tasting the
wild scent of the glass flowers as his magic faded into the walls around it to blend out what
few cracks remained.

He wiped the sweat from his brow with an arm devoid of cloth, the sleeve of his white shirt
twisted up above his elbow with the balmy heat both inside and out.

This room was proving to be a particularly difficult one to mend, but then, Harry knew that it
would be.

He cast his eyes up towards the incredibly high roof of the library, Hogwarts herself seeming
to give an unforgivable huff as a summer breeze battled its way passed an open window
somewhere in the section that had once housed books on gnomes and other garden creatures.
The dust of destroyed books shifted by his feet, and Harry grimaced as he bent to trace his
fingertips through it.
He wondered if he would ever fully clear the castle of the remnants that had once almost
thoroughly destroyed her.

“Tommy! Greg!”

His voice heralded a sudden grunt of affirmation from a nearby aisle, Greg’s groan as he was
hoisted to his feet drawing a smile from him as he stood to brush his hands off his black
trousers.

It was Tommy that rounded the corner first, the man’s hands still clutching the sparse few
tomes he and Greg had managed to salvage from the slowly reforming chaos. His cheeks
were streaked with the black dust that threw itself into a fury each time they entered the
restricted section, but beneath it all his smile was wide. The blonde heaved his books onto
one hip as he lifted a hand, fingers moving to sign:

You beckoned?

“I do not beckon,” Harry scowled, his own hand lifting to sign the offending word back at his
friend and his lips twitching in a smile at the huff of near-silent laughter Tommy offered in
reply. The band of scarring on his throat was on show for a fraction of a moment, where once
it had been lined with scales, before those dark eyes were looking back at him. Harry shook
his head.

“Go take a break,” He held up a hand at Tommy’s tut of annoyance, “No, the books will wait.
They’ve been waiting long enough, they’re not gonna get up and walk out now. You’ve been
at it all morning, go ask Molly for something to drink. I’m sure she’s still parked outside that
camping table she set up this morning.”

“Her and Arthur both from what I could see when I passed an hour ago.”

Gregory Goyle’s massive form looked bizarre and yet oddly in place amidst the narrow
hallways of the empty, wooden shelves. He slung an arm over Tommy’s shoulder to grab the
blonde’s hand when the Beta again tried to barter more time, bringing those tense fingers up
for a kiss that did more than enough to placate the Beta. "I'm starving, and so are you."

Tommy relented with a roll of his eyes and a flush to his pale cheeks, bright even beneath the
layer of dust.

Harry shooed them off with a grin, stopping short of where they hurried out of the main
archway to stop and survey the room behind him. Walls now stood, where there had once
been cracks and holes and nothing but sky and cindered forest. Yes, they were bare and their
texture, solid beneath his calloused fingers, was a fraction rougher than the old stone had ever
been…

But there were walls.

Ceilings.

Windows.
Harry canted his chin up towards the candles that glimmered in the high hallways as he
passed beneath them, the thrum of their magic familiar and eerily docile around him as he
walked. It had taken years for him to convince the Council and the Ministry both to allow
him this project… And that had been with both Altair and Madam Prince so heavily on his
side that they had practically been leaning on him.

And it would take years… decades still before it would ever be finished.

If it would ever be finished.

He tipped an ear to the sounds of laughter in another room, dipping his head in to find two
identical blonde heads ear to ear as they peered over the ledge of a broken window and into
the grounds below. Harry watched Antares pull a third man in to see whatever it was that had
grabbed their attention, his chin resting on dark curls as he held the other close.

“What are we looking at?”

Harry could hardly stop himself from whispering into Alniyat’s ear as he snuck in behind the
trio, delighting in the absolute bark of fright the man let loose as he swivelled to swipe at the
space where Harry had been.

“Harry, you louse!” Alniyat cast a dramatic hand to his throat, his eyes wide as he growled
down at the younger man, “what have I told you about sneaking up on an old man! Master of
Death though you might be, I mean for you not to take me before my hundredth birthday, at
the very least.”

Harry groaned at the title, his body sagging to lean far too heavily on the older blonde as
Alniyat growled under the weight of him.

“Stop calling me that, Al! It was a one-time deal, I gave the stuff back, didn’t I?” He said
nothing of the cloak stashed safely at his home, though from the smirk the older Peverell
offered him, it was nothing more than a badly kept secret between just about everyone he
considered friend or family.

“Master of Death has such a better ring to it than That Peverell Boy The Family Lost And
Then Found Again Through His Weird Descendant A Thousand Years Later Who Just So
Happened To Come From Another Reality. Don't you think?”

“Don’t you start,” Harry glowered at Antares, but the blonde only smiled, his eyes slipping
shut as he rubbed his chin over the top of the head of the Beta in his clutches. “How’s the
shop, Blaise?”

Dark eyes flitted to him, Blaise Zabini’s smile soft and sincere as he let himself be coddled,
his lanky frame looking oddly eclipsed by the older blonde. “Surprisingly, it is doing well.
Daphne runs a business as only a dictator can and Theo remains as alarmingly deft with a
needle and thread as he was when Marie was first born. It was a fantastic idea of Astoria's,
actually, to turn Daph’s side project into an actual store. Her sense of style is immensely
better than her mother’s.”
The shudder Blaise gave was imperceptible, if only for the gentle tightening of Antares’ hold
over the Incubus. Harry glanced out the window as he spoke, his eyes catching on what it
was that had caused their laughter in the first place. He felt his lips twitch despite himself at
the sight of his mother chasing what appeared to be a black dog and a giant stag bearing the
small shape of two very happy children.

“How is Marie?”

Blaise’ entire face lit up and Antares crooned a soft little sound that drew a chuckle from his
brother beside him.

“As beautiful as her Mum, and as proud as her Sire. I am loathe to see her grow up as quickly
as she is… And desperate to know who she might become. She’s wonderful, Harry… But her
classes get longer every year and I just… I miss holding her when she was tiny.”

The sound was wistful and Harry arched a brow just as Alniyat did, the blonde peering down
at the Incubus.

“You heard him, Antares, hurry up with that Heat and give your brood another babe to dote
on.”

Harry left the room snickering still at the sound of Alniyat being suddenly tackled by his
brother, the smaller blonde’s shrill laughter following him as Blaise heaved a sigh and moved
back to the work they had been doing. He was grateful for the Beta’s volunteering to help if
nothing else, because Harry doubted a lick of work got done when Antares and Alniyat were
put in a room together.

As elusive as the two Omegas were in regard to their age, Harry was doubtful in thinking
they would ever be old enough to actually act their age.

Then again, that seemed to be a running theme with most twins.

He patted the pocket of his pants, feeling the edges of a letter he had received only that
morning from a set of other twins that nestled just as close to his heart as his long-lost
cousins. Fred and George had written the letter together, the ink overlapping and splotching
in so many places that Harry had been near breathless with laughter as he read of their
escapades as they travelled across Europe with their Alphas.

He had envisioned them one atop the other, fighting both for parchment space and ink as they
told him of their journeys, of the time together with Angelina and Lee in ways that had had
his cheeks heating, as he skimmed over the parts written just because one of the idiots had
known he would blush to the roots of his hair while reading it.

A strange and formidable magic… Was the magic between twins.

Harry stretched his arms as he sauntered down a flight of stairs, dodging a step that leaned
oddly to one side. It was a stubborn protrusion, one that had yet to relent under even his
magic but he would not be bested by it and Harry gave it a sour look as it shifted beneath his
careful step, regardless, and sent him teetering down the final few steps.
“Ooft!”

Harry felt arms wrap around him as his knee buckled, the familiar scent drawing a smile from
him despite the pain.

“Reg! I didn’t know you were coming to help out this week!”

Regulus Black straightened him with a smile that was far too pretty. His handsome face
seemed as timeless in Harry’s eyes as Sirius’ own had been that morning. Black hair was
pulled back into a high knot as the older man dragged Harry in for a sidelong hug.

“We weren’t, but Sev is doing battle with a rejuvenating potion for a witch who, I'm positive,
predates the trials of Salem and I managed to convince him to take a break before he burned
our house to the ground in a temper.”

The Omega’s voice was as soft as Sirius’ was loud, sure and charming as he grinned down at
Harry with one black eye and one a milky white.

“This is a break?” Harry grimaced, waving a hand about a giant crack still visible in the
nearby wall, as Regulus chuckled and steered them towards the Great Hall.

“It absolutely is. This is its own work, don’t get me wrong; but at least here I can shove Sev
into the forest if he’s about to have a meltdown.”

Harry felt his smile soften. “Not sure how Tom would feel about something else setting his
forest ablaze.”

The Ashwinder was a near unmistakably presence in the Forbidden Forest now; or as Remus
had begun to call it: The Fire Forest. Whatever power the creature seemed to be thriving off
of from both the bond he had with Harry and being brought back to the place of his birth had
had a rather remarkable outcome in regards to the withered trees and husk of nature.

Where once there had been decay and cinders now thrived a sanctuary of flora.

The soil was blackened still, thick with ash and dusted with old bark, but it was plush and
fertile enough to give birth to thousands upon thousands of volcanic plants. Remus had even
begun a catalogue of them, safe beneath a canopy of blackened trees now littered with leaves
a smouldering shade of orange and red along the edges of a frayed and up and coming
ecosystem. It was often that the werewolf could be found sitting between rows of mountain
orchids a rich and vibrant purple, of lilies a mind-fracturing shade of yellow, and of
passionflowers an immaculate white that snapped beneath his reaching fingers and grew as
tall as house elves.

It had been an unexpected occurrence, in the years that trailed their repair of the castle, but
one that Harry had rubbed Tom proudly on the head for nonetheless.

“I hear Molly has set up camp again, perhaps she can tempt him to calm down with a
homemade stew.” Harry whispered in Regulus’ ear and grinned with the older Omega paused
in thought as the massive stone doors of the Great Hall slid open to grant them entrance.
“Now that is an idea,” Regulus hummed, glancing up at the ceiling that perfectly mirrored the
blue sky outside, fluffy white clouds soft and delicate against the edges. “If nothing else, at
least, it will give me an opportunity to ask about Hermione.”

Harry perked, flicking a hand towards one of the many scattered benches to drag it over and
sit down. His knee crunched with the bend and Harry ignored it as he clapped his hands
together. “Oh, I can tell you that! She’s about ready to pop, her words, not mine,” Harry
grinned as he held his hands up. “Gabriel is running around like a headless chicken, Rory and
Viktor are patiently waiting on her hand and foot and Charlie is doing everything else in his
power to keep the home calm and clean and make sure they all just... Take a breath. Honestly,
if the floo call we had this morning was even a slight indication of the mayhem that is about
to unfold in that house, Merlin help them.”

Harry grinned as Regulus barked a laugh, the Omega shaking his head. “And Ron and
Pansy?”

“Ugh, don’t mention the war,” Harry dragged a hand down his face despite the bubble of
warmth in his stomach. “Molly just about pitched a fit when the two of them pushed off their
Bonding Ceremony to go help ‘Mione. I’ve never seen her so proud and infuriated with a son
in all the time I’ve known her. Personally, I think she’s secretly chuffed. I mean, this is her
first grandson on the way and she is... Well... Molly, so her holding off on going over there
herself and berating the lot of them is a win.”

Regulus hummed, his eyes softening. “I will be sure to let Narcissa know, she will delight in
the mayhem as she so often does.”

Harry grimaced, his mouth tightening. “How’s Bella?”

With the heavy sigh, Harry knew that the news would be as it had been for the past several
months.

“She is there, but not. Fading, but… Happy, I think, in her more lucid moments. It was a
good idea, Harry, for Cissy to take her to the house in France. The sea air helps to keep her
calm from what we can see.”

Harry was nodding, his heart giving a sad little twinge in his chest, before there was a figure
beckoning to Regulus and himself suddenly from the open doorway.

“Come on, the pair of you and stop straggling! Molly says if one spoon of her lunch goes to
waste she’s going to feed the next pot to Tom!”

Harry arched a brow at his father as James grinned at him, the scar above his brow pink even
from a distance. “You say that as if she doesn’t bring him a pot of his own anyway. She does
realise she can’t sneak him food, right? I can talk to him...”

Regulus chuckled as Harry grumbled, taking off after James with a small wave back at Harry
as the younger man stretched his legs out before him.

He was not getting any younger.

The old sentiment made him smile, his face still as it once was all those years before when he
so much as glanced in a passing mirror.

“Harry?”

The unexpected voice pulled him softly from his daydreaming, and Harry glanced up at the
freckled white magic that dissipated around the woman that had, quite literally, walked
through the side of Hogwarts wall.

“Luna.”

Harry stood with a smile that stretched wide across his face, his hands dipping out to catch
the taller woman around the middle just as she wrapped her silver-runed arms around his
back and pulled him in close. He felt his heart steady as he inhaled her rose-heavy scent,
pulling back just enough to find her pale blue eyes peering down at him.

“I haven’t seen you in so long, Luna, how are you? How is Altair? And Berron?”

Luna hummed, her fingers lifting from his back to drag instead through his wild curls as she
pressed her forehead to his in a gentle greeting that seemed almost more intimate than the
hug.

“My friend… I am well. Altair, though he is weary from work, is well and happy. And our
boy is as beautiful and strong in his twelfth year of life as he was in his first. You smell sad,
Harry.”

He felt his head dip, a meagre attempt to hide the truth in her words with his own concealed
grimace. Still, when he lifted his chin, it was with a smile. He waved a hand out as he took a
step back from the Fae, casting a sad glance up at the endless sky above.

“This place… It broke my heart to see it ruined, but I’ve a terrible feeling it’s going to tear
me apart to see it as it was.”

Luna peered up with him, before her bright eyes caught on the four scarred and battered
tables still pressed against the roughened walls.

“As you knew it… But never again the same.”

“No,” Harry felt a lump lodge in his throat, “I suppose not…”

Luna hummed again, and the sound that left her throat was decidedly happier despite the tone
of conversation, her fingers flicking out absently to close the stone doors to the cavernous
room and sealing them both in for the moment.

“I came to give you a gift.”

Harry quirked a brow in her direction, his hands folding across his front as he grinned at her.
“Is that so? And what have I done to deserve a gift from the Queen of the Fae?”
Luna threw him a withering glance, and Harry snorted as she flicked enough magic at his feet
to send him careening back a step or two.

“Let’s not start with titles, Lord of Death, shall we?”

Harry held his hands up in defeat, his nose wrinkling as the Fae strolled around him, the skirt
of her pale blue robes sweeping at the layer of dust that still decorated the stone floor.

“But, to answer your question: A lot. You’ve done a lot. You know I’ve been bartering with
Hogwarts and her magic since your father first introduced us, and I have been all the more
determined to find the perfect gift in thanks for all the help you’ve given our world… And
I’ve finally found it.”

Harry felt a skitter of unease shiver down his spine. “Found what?”

Luna smiled, and the smile was as perfectly sad as the melancholy feeling of fixing Hogwarts
had made Harry in all the years he had done it. “I’ve learned a way to let you say goodbye,
Harry.”

He frowned.

“Goodbye?”

The word was a whisper, confused and unsure, as Luna’s arms began to glow with that subtle
magic that was so very precious to her and her people. She nodded gently, as she spread her
palms wide, her gaze locked on Harry where he stood in the centre of the room. “I can’t offer
you very long, and I can never offer it to you again after this moment. Whatever you say,
whoever you meet, just make sure that your words free you all a little, alright?”

Harry felt his eyes pop, his heart lodging in his throat as his hands fell to his sides. “No…
Wait, I’m not… I can’t…”

“You can.” Luna offered with a smile, and Harry felt his fingers snap out with his own nerves
as his next blink left him not with a vision of his friend, in the universe he had come to call
home, but…

He felt his sigh get caught in his throat.

His breath stuttered, one hand lifting to cup his open mouth as the scent of home clung so
viciously to his surroundings that his eyes flooded with tears.

The Great Hall was empty, and so very, very full.

Tables polished to perfection sprawled out on either side of him, decked in colours of green
and red and yellow and blue. He spun slowly, the sky above thick with cloud and sweetly
warm, as though the heat of the sun itself filtered through the layers of unthreatened magic.
Candles floated above, lit for nothing but decoration as Harry took in the dark expanse of the
professor’s table.

Calm.
Peaceful.

The air around him was still with the scent of tranquillity and ease, and Harry felt a burden he
had not even begun to realise he had been carrying, suddenly loosen the tense line of his
shoulders.

He blew out a breath with it, one hand lifting to brace shakily on his hip as he scrubbed the
other through his dark hair.

Well.

This was…

This was something.

He tilted his chin up, swiping at the tears tracking down his cheeks as he glanced around.
How long did he have? How far a distance could he go… Harry chanced a step forward,
fingers tapping on his hip as the pull of Luna’s magic tickled the nape of his neck, cautious
and curious.

“You can see this too, right?” Harry said to her as the touch of her whispered against his skin,
his own magic picking up in response. “You see what I mean? Look at what it was! Look at
what it can be…”

Luna’s discordant hum of delight echoed in his ear like a tickle and Harry laughed with it,
batting the sensation away.

“Excuse me, but how is it… You… P-Potter?”

The voice sent a jolt up Harry’s spine and he turned slowly towards the wooden door that had
opened behind the staff table. It swung shut behind the man with a bang, hardly drawing a
blink from wide, grey eyes as Draco Malfoy watched him as though he were a ghost.

Well…

He supposed he was. A bit.

And though he knew it was not his Draco… That this man could never be his Draco, Harry
felt his heart quicken in his chest. This Draco looked the thirty years he had lived, every
second of it on that handsome, perfect face. In the bags beneath his eyes and the almost
imperceptible blonde stubble that marred his cheeks and chin.

He wore it in the short cut of his hair, swept to one side as he stared down at Harry from the
platform, his black shirt and black pants well fitted over a body well formed.

Harry felt his head tilt gently to one side.

“Draco…”
It should have taken him more than a second, maybe, to understand why the man’s name on
his lips drew a jolt of surprise from the blonde. The last Draco Malfoy had seen of Harry had
been placidly amicable at best, and suddenly here he stood… Looking for all the world as if
he had not aged a day past his eighteenth birthday. He flushed.

“Sorry, it’s just… You, ah, you look good?” Harry grimaced, his eyes flitting to the wand
Draco’s fingers inched toward, those grey eyes beyond confused. “I didn’t mean it like that, I
mean, no I’m like married so… Oh Merlin. I’m sorry I’m kind of cocking this up, aren’t I?”

Draco watched him a fraction longer, before his head was suddenly shaking, and the man was
turning to glance around, as if someone was playing some monumental joke.

“What in the name of… It’s you, isn’t it?” He laughed, but there was little humour in the
bewildered bark of it. “Of course it is, of course it’s you. You always come back. You never
die, you just… Defy the laws of nature, you…”

Harry watched Draco Malfoy stop, the man holding his hands out before taking a deep breath
that he seemed to pull from his very toes. Harry grinned at him, incredibly endeared as he
leaned in closer.

“Technically, I didn’t die this time.”

“What happened to you?” Draco snapped the words, flinching when he seemed to hear the
tone for himself and stepping closer all the same, as if his eyes were drawn to Harry despite
the wary streak that lived in him. “You just… Vanished, Potter. I... They looked for you.”

He stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing suddenly pink. “They looked for you, for
years.”

Harry felt his lips clamp down tight over a whimper, his hands lifting before he could think
better of it. Luna’s magic was tugging gently on his spine, like the seconds of a clock ticking
down to oblivion. To the inevitable end.

“I had to go.” He whispered, as he cupped Draco’s face between his hands. The man went
exceptionally still in his hold, his eyes wide. “You’ll show them this memory, won’t you,
Draco? Tell them…” Harry sniffed.

“Tell them I love them, that if I could have said Goodbye a thousand times, I would have.
That if I could have brought them with me, I would have. Tell them I wish them nothing but
happiness and love and peace for the rest of their lives. Tell them I’m alright, won’t you? Tell
them they can stop looking…”

He swiped his thumb against the man’s stubble, taking in that strange, familiar-unfamiliar
parchment and ink and potion scent as Luna’s magic tugged again, swift and beckoning.

“You can stop looking.”

Draco seemed to crumple, his face uncertain and pale and Harry was saved swooping in and
kissing that terribly relieved furrow from his brow by the sound of the door slamming open
behind them.

“Dad, I know you told me to stay put, but what was- Oh! Uhm… H-Hello.”

Harry’s eyes slid over Draco’s shoulder, to the boy that was looking as though he wanted
nothing more than to melt into the wooden door that had shut closed behind him. His hair
was blindingly white in the sunlight, pale and sleek and cut to his chin in a styled bob as he
tipped a nervous chin in Harry’s direction.

“Hello s-sir… Uhm, I am sorry for intruding but my Father thought he heard a noise and,
well, I mean, he was gone a bit and so I thought I might be able to help and, uh…”

Harry watched that pointed chin tip up defiantly, that little face no more than eleven years of
age and a near carbon copy of his Sire. He watched the bob of the youth’s throat as his pale
green eyes flicked to his Father who had straightened with a flush to his cheeks. The smile
that split Harry's lips was bright as he shook his head.

“Hello Scorpius, sweetheart.”

The youth fidgeted with his fingers as Draco turned to look at Harry sharply, his eyes
narrowing as the smaller man poked him in the chest with a grin. "How did you know...?"

“Because he's your Heir and you only ever had one name for him. Who’s his Mother?”

The arch of that familiar brow was enough for Harry to ignore the near constant tug of Luna’s
magic as he watched them both.

“Astoria Greengrass… It was an… Amicable affair, while it lasted.”

Harry hummed, his grin softening when he looked back at those pale, unfamiliar eyes. The
only difference. He had met the woman only a handful of times in Daphne’s new store. “That
explains the green eyes then… What age are you now, Scorpius, eleven? Remember
something for me, love, will you? Remember that your father loves you, even when he’s
being an arse.”

Scorpius seemed to delight in that piece of sudden information, the boy’s hands stifling the
sweet sound of his chuckles as Draco tutted down at Harry.

“You come back for Merlin knows how long, after years of being gone, to call me names to
my son’s face. Potter, do bugger off back to wherever you came from.” The tone was amused
despite the bite in the words, and Harry felt his cheeks heat at that pointed grey stare as the
blonde leaned in towards him.

“It suits you.”

Whatever he might have said in return was stilted by a set of lips on his, the kiss soft and
sweet, strange and familiar and fleeting as Luna’s magic wrapped around his waist like the
woman herself had come to take him back. He felt his eyes slide shut as the scent of home
swept past him and he landed back in the room he had been in with a jolt.
Harry opened his eyes to dust and stone and… Nothing.

Luna was gone, the heady scent of her magic lingering in the air as she offered Harry a
fraction of time to come back to himself.

To them.

His chest heaved, lips still warm with the trace of another’s as he lifted a shaking hand to
them.

“Da?”

“Da! Nana Molly said get your butt-side outside!”

Harry jolted with the sound of voices, his eyes snapping up to find the doors to the Great Hall
open once more, as two figures spilled in like tiny, snapping dragons.

“She didn’t, Jamie, she didn’t! She said backside, not butt-side, you said a naughty word!”

Harry felt his lips clamp over a smile, his hands on his hips as he peered down at the tiny pair
of six year olds. Jamie growled at his brother, snapping his teeth and pushing back his curly
black hair from his scarlet eyes.

“Yes, well, if I did then so did you, Albus!”

Albus seemed to wither, his bottom lip jutting out as his sleek, straight black hair whipped
about his little face in sharp denial. Those identical blood-red eyes peered up at Harry
through a sheen of tears.

“I didn’t mean to, Da! Jamie tricked me!”

Harry crooned, the sound pouring from his chest as he pulled the twins in close, his hands
slipping into their smooth hair.

“Oh my little dragons, what has you both so upset, hmm?” Harry kissed them both, a kiss to
each forehead that had the tears vanishing from Albus’ eyes just as it had the scowl slipping
from Jamie’s furrowed little brow. Harry grinned, before gasping and staring down at them.

“Uh oh… You guys didn’t leave your food out there, did you? All by itself?” Harry clapped a
hand over his mouth as they peered up at him, red eyes widening with delight at the sudden
game as Harry leaned down to whisper…

“With Padfoot?”

The sudden shrill screaming was enough to drag a cackle from Harry as they almost fell over
one another to scamper towards the door, identical black wings flapping furiously as they
fought to save their precious food. Harry followed them slowly, watching them disappear
through the main hall as his smile grew soft.

“Are you alright, Da?”

 Harry hummed, hardly needed to turn to reach out and pull his eldest son in. He clutched the
boy close, pressing a kiss to that white-blonde head of sleek, straight hair that slid down the
eleven-year-old’s front. Little curls trailed the ends, and Harry played with one idly as
Scorpius glanced up at him with dark green eyes and a confused, little smile.

“I’m good, sweetheart. Go find your brothers before they tear apart your Uncle Sirius, will
you?”

The younger Omega nodded, his nose dipping in to snuffle at Harry’s throat in an endearing
little gesture before he was off, tall frame disappearing around a corner with a single swish of
delicate, snow-white wings.

Harry sighed, his head tipping back as arms wrapped around his waist from behind.

The silence of the hall became a hum beneath the gentle purr of his Alpha, as Draco nuzzled
a kiss into Harry’s neck. The scent of him, heady black tea and copper filled Harry’s senses as
he leaned back, his eyes sliding closed as Draco’s lips traced a pattern across his jaw. Cool
fingers tilted his chin back gently, until the Vampire went suddenly still above his lips, his
mouth huffing a confused sound.

“What have you been doing, Harry, you smell like you kissed a dozen old books… A dozen
old potions books.”

Harry felt his laugh spill out of him as Draco arched a brow down, those scarlet eyes more
amused than anything else as he rolled his eyes and slanted his mouth across his Mate’s.

Harry felt his fingers clench in that pale hair as he turned, his body blissfully relaxed against
the man he had loved, and would love, and did love so fiercely that his heart seemed to beat
for it. His magic flickered, overpowered just for the moment but the scent of him… Of love
and lust and family and a mind wrapped around his own, bound so tightly that Draco Malfoy
existed in his very blood.

If Harry's magic smelled of evergreen and wilderness...

Then Draco Malfoy's would forever smell like Home.

Harry’s mouth parted beneath the swipe of Draco’s tongue, and he whimpered.

He was Home.

Chapter End Notes

It did only take me so many years to complete... Thank you, to everyone who stuck with
this story, who enjoyed it, who commented and kudos'd and took a moment to give my
writing a chance. Thank you.
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