Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

There Be Dragons, Harry	By : Scioneeris Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Slash - Male/Male Views: 58493 -:- Recommendations : 9 -:- Currently Reading : 28
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of its characters. I make no money by writing this story..

Chapter List
- 52
- 53
- 54
See first chapter for disclaimers/warnings/summaries.

RECAP: Septimus calls in Regulus Black-a botched Torvak hybird and his Dragel wife, Jun. JUN gives Bill a wolfish inheritance, then Percy a Torvak one. Theo and Severus find themselves dealing with some very out of character submissives when Harry's mental connection to Voldemort begins acting up again. George has met with Jun and now it is Fred's turn to meet with her

WEASLEY MANOR : UNPLOTTABLE : TUESDAY EVENING

When George stumbled out and free from the neon yellow flames, a collective gasp of relief came from the mismatched audience.

"George!" Arthur moved forward. He surveyed his younger son with a look of worry and mild concern. "What happened? Are you alright?" He cast a look over his shoulder where Fleur was currently glued to Bill's side and Percy was conversing with Felix in quiet tones.

"Gred?" Fred slipped between his twin and his father, searching George's pale hazel eyes for any hint of what had happened and what would happen. "You alright?" His voice was pitched low, for George's ears alone and no one else's. His face didn't show the worry, but the faint twitch of one eyebrow, let George know that Fred was worried.

"She's waiting for you." George heard himself say. "It doesn't hurt—much."

Fred stared at him, oddly. "What doesn't—where's your wings?" He craned his neck to see around George's shoulder. Percy had been able to produce a smattering of black feathers up and down his arms and neck—with the proper persuasion of course. He was now beginning to worry about his twin that seemed to be mentally and emotionally retreating as a new weight shone in those clear hazel eyes.

A cold chill stabbed through Fred as he realized for once, he could not read George.

Could not read him.

At all.

"George?"

"I haven't all day," the flames dimmed to show Jun's exasperated face. "Can we please hurry up with it? I was planning on pasta for dinner."

"Pasta?" Regulus perked up. "With cream sauce?"

"No cream sauce." Jun wrinkled her nose. "You know it makes your stomach feel like a-"

"Never mind. Pasta is fine." Regulus interrupted. "Pasta and whatever you want to do to it." He added, to himself.

Cedrella frowned at him, but did not comment. She turned to the older twin and patted his shoulder in encouragement. "Fred, go on up dear." She reached for George and froze when the twin visibly recoiled. "George?" There was a hint of steel in her voice. "Septimus?"

Septimus appeared at her elbow, wiping his forehead. "What, love?" His wife gestured to the younger redheaded twin. "What about him?"

"Ask him what he is."

Septimus perked a brow. "He has to be a Torvak." He half-rolled his eyes. "There couldn't possibly be enough Dragel blood for anything to happen." He frowned. "Arthur?"

"Father?" Arthur made his way towards the trio. "What is it?"

"This Molly of yours, which line did she hail from?" A look of consternation had now settled over Lord Weasley's features.

Arthur blinked. He thought long and hard for a good moment. Molly didn't speak of her family much at all—very much in the same vein as he never mentioned his. But he did know the answer to that, knew it because of her twin brothers by the names of Gideon and Fabian. "Prewett?" He said, at last. "I believe it was the Prewetts, she always referred to a Gideon and Fabian Prewett. Said they died in the first wizarding war, but that the twins always reminded her of them." They were her brothers, I think. He added, silently to him. Her favorite brothers, I saw them together once, they were very close…oh, Molly-!

"Prewett, Prewett, Prewett…" Septimus frowned. "I do not like that."

"Seppy?"

"Shush." Septimus remained buried in thought for several long moments and then his frown deepened. "Arthur, come with me."

"Seppy?"

"Do not worry that pretty little head of yours." Septimus paused to drop a kiss on his wife's head. "I simply wish to speak to Arthur alone." He paused and then leaned over to pat George's shoulder. He took note of the young man's stiff, defensive posture and then inclined his head, before shifting his hand to settle on the back of Arthur's neck. "This way." He murmured.

"A round of brandy then?" Regulus suggested. The air had grown tense the moment Lord Weasley and his middle son had disappeared. That could not bode well. He immediately reached for the automatic response. "You are all far too tense for this to end well, myself included. I wouldn't mind a touch of something."

Felix chuckled. "I can't say I would object. No firewhisky?"

"Can't stomach it." Regulus gave a regretful smile. "It was fantastic stuff, as I recall."

"Hasn't changed at all." Bill murmured. He rubbed one hand up and down Fleur's arm. Her warmth beside him was encouraging and desperately welcome. "Still tastes the same."

"Ah, that's good to know." Regulus grinned. "It was nice when I had the steel for it."

"I keep forgetting." Felix murmured, but there was the faintest glint in his eyes that suggested he really hadn't forgotten at all. He snapped his fingers for a house elf and ordered drinks for all who still remained. Thankfully, most the lords and ladies had eventually taken off, but Felix knew this was only because they had duties to their houses. His own concerns had shifted towards the newest recruit from Jun's prison circle.

"George, was it?" Regulus beckoned. "You're welcome to join us." He'd been studying the lad since he'd stepped out from Jun's clutches and George hadn't even made an attempt to hide that something was rather wrong. Regulus had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what was wrong. He sighed. Sometimes his darling wife wasn't quite the darling she ought to be.

"I shouldn't." George swallowed. His gaze flickered over his shoulder and towards Fred who now approached the flaming yellow barrier.

"Shouldn't?" Bilius snagged a glass from the tray the house elf held perfectly upright. "Why not? Tell you what, as your uncle, I say it's perfectly fine." He winked. "Not like you haven't stolen a few tastes yourself, eh?" He caught a glass and handed it over to Regulus. "Here's the brandy. Keep your feathers out of the rest, it should refill itself."

"My thanks." Regulus murmured, accepting the drink for the liquid peace offering that it was. Felix was the more understanding of the older Weasley clan, but Bilius had always kept an innate sense of how to diffuse a fight, unless his temper desperately wanted out. Felix had a habit of poking things until they bit back. "Cheers."

"Cheers." Bilius returned, his smile became a grimace as he downed half the glass and waited for the everfill charm to work its magic. "Come on now, the rest of you. We ought to have a toast to these young men."

"It will relax you some." Felix handed off a glass to Percy. "Drink." He ordered, noting his older nephew's imminent refusal. "I don't know what you've been through, but I do know a thing or two about seals. They're nasty, dark and wretched business. It'll take a toll on your magic, your mind and your body. Best to drown your sorrows before they crop up." He nudged the glass in Percy's hand upwards. "Drink, you'll feel better."

"Not you." Bilius caught Ron's hand before it could reach the tray. "Not until you've been in and out of there anyway." He frowned. "And I don't think quite so. Mum will have my head."

"But I'm sixteen!" Ron protested, incredulously. "and what about my nerves?"

"What about them?" George groused. "Can't have been any worse than mine." He curled his hand into a fist, refusing the glass. Alcohol was the least of anything that could ease the turmoil in his mind.

"This way." Regulus' soft voice was in his ear. He guided George away while the young man tried to figure out how the Torvak had managed to come so close without his notice. Regulus steered him to a quieter corner in the darkened hallway near a shuttered window. He set his glass of brandy down on the window sill and shifted so that he could stretch his arms—and therefore, by default his wings—up to shield them both from some of the dreary light spilling through the frosted panes.

George stood, staring at him, uncomprehending.

"Sit." Regulus said, patiently. He nodded towards the clean floor. "And don't think. Sometimes it's easier to handle that way."

George didn't have the presence of mind to argue. He sat and after a time, he found himself leaning against the nearby leg, soaking up the warmth from the older man.

Regulus shifted, barely, enough for his wing to angle downwards and rest, lightly, on George's head. Grey-black feathers mingled with orange-red hair.

Fred let himself be nudged forward by his grandmother. He was more concerned about his newly silent twin than whose turn it was to go. "Why can't Ron be next?" He murmured. But his father had already left the room and Fred wasn't very surprised to see his youngest brother trying to wheedle his way into the slowly forming drinking circle.

"George?" Fred turned in time to see George standing on the edge of the drinking circle. "Fred, hurry up." Cedrella murmured. "Do not keep her waiting, the sooner she is-"

"Mum, did you…?" Felix glided over, suspending a fluted glass of amber liquid into her open hand.

"Not now, Felix." She accepted the glass and took a sip. Then frowned and handed it back.

Felix sighed. He took the glass back and gave a slight tip of his head. He looked from Fred to the wall of neon flames and the blurred figure inside. "Aren't you going?"

"And miss the party?" Fred shot back.

"I'll save you a drink." Felix winked. "With your father's permission of course."

"That isn't stopping Ron." Fred shot back.

"No, your uncle Bilius is." Felix downed his mother's drink and handed the emptied glass to her. He moved forward, slinging an arm around Fred's shoulders. "Come on, you don't need liquid courage to walk through a harmless wall of flame."

"It's harmless?" Fred tried to stall. He couldn't help sneaking a glance over his shoulder where he'd seen George and Regulus disappear. "I don't mind being last, in fact, it's probably a good thing if-"

"Twins belong together, don't they?" Felix interrupted. His hand settled rather meaningfully on Fred's shoulders. "You shouldn't keep George waiting."

"I won't." Fred tries to twist free from the hand. He was suddenly aware that his Uncle Felix's hand resting on his shoulder is more feathered claw than actual hand. "I'll just see if he's-"

"When you return." Felix murmured.

"George!" Fred called. His twin turned and perked a brow in silent question. Fred tried not to frown, his automatic response to being ignored for no reason. "Everything alright?" He tried to move forward, but the claw on his shoulder tightened a fraction more.

George shrugged. He stiffened when Heron came up to stand beside him, offering a small glass of sparkling drink.

Fred could not keep his frown from showing this time. Why aren't you saying anything? He silently demanded, all but willing his twin to somehow feel what he didn't dare voice aloud. What happened in there? What's wrong? Did something happen? Say something!

Regulus stepped in between Heron and the others. He studiously avoided Fred's gaze as he reached in and 'rescued' George from the center of attention. A moment later, the botched Torvak simply herding the quiet twin out of the 'waiting room' and out into the hallway.

George! And suddenly, Fred didn't have any patience any more. He'd lost all connection with his twin when George had entered the flaming neon ring of fire and the barriers had sprung to life. It had been the most painful experience of his life to date.

He'd never felt something like this. He'd always thought that perhaps they shared a mutual magical connection, but losing everything like that—George had literally left him cold the moment he'd stepped inside the fiery ring.

There was no warm whisper in the back of his mind, no answering call to his magical probe and definitely no comforting weight of a nearly shared consciousness. Instead, Fred found himself very alone, very unbalanced and very, very confused.

George's return had been welcome, but lacking.

The whisper that had always let him know that George was ready and willing to prank or talk, was muted. The usual shared dance their magic often engaged in was reduced to a sealed wall. Fred had reached out to him, just as he always did, instead, the magic remained staunchly together, like a solid block. Not at all like the spirals and tendrils of spontaneous energy that Fred was so used to. The silent language that was theirs alone, seemed to have vanished when Fred stared into identical hazel eyes and read absolutely nothing from their depths.

Fred felt his temper flicker and flare.

His mind produced two images with conflicting memories.

George, before the yellow-fire-ring-thingy, normal, familiar and just so George.

George, after the yellow-fire-ring-thingy, not normal, not quite unfamiliar, but somehow, not quite George.

In that moment, Fred didn't care.

This had all been so confusing, so twisted and so wrong that he couldn't keep it in his head any longer. And then, that was it.

Without ceremony, Fred wrenched free from Felix's grip and stalked forward until he was nose to nose with the searing neon yellow flames. He didn't hesitate to reach out and grab the flickering fiery wall and pull it apart with his bare hands.

Pain erupted and seared through him, but then, suddenly, he stood inside the ring instead of outside.

"You blockheaded cretin!" The redhead woman practically snarled. "Patience is a virtue by which you have lost." She stalked forward, now nose to nose with him. She had reached through the flames and pulled him in when he'd attacked the fiery ring. "Do you hate your hands that much?" Jun glared at him and then whirled around and stomped back to the center of the circle, where she'd been rubbing out glowing runes. "I wasn't ready for you!"

Fred started forward a few steps before the sharp pain in his hands stabbed through him. It stopped him in his tracks. Jun's words registered. It hit him that he had just used his hands.

His hands.

His precious hands.

The ones that crafted pranks, spells and grabbed George before he could wander into harm's way.

His hands.

Oh Merlin.

Jun skittered across the runed floor, pausing just barely at certain spots to smudge out the marks with her bare feet. She threw a glance towards the fidgeting redhead and took note of his red hands. They were nearly as red as his hair and she knew the pain hadn't set in just yet.

She muttered to herself as she interrupted the settling magic from George's ritual. When she heard his hiss between gritted teeth, she all but flew to his side. Expert eyes took in the abused skin, red and white.

The fire burned.

It continued to burn.

It was far more than mere flame.

"You foolish, foolish boy!" The words were filled with fear. Jun cast a look over her shoulder, an expression of conflict as her emerald eyes flickered between Fred's hands and the still glowing runes scattered across the floor. "I hope you can dance." She grumbled.

Raising one hand to her mouth, she pricked it on the customary fang and quickly painted a series of dots, lines and circles across one palm and a rune in the other. "Don't do that." She caught his gaze, squarely. "You'll make it worse." She shook her hands as if to dry them, then raised them to her mouth and bit—in quick succession.

Her deadly fangs made quick work of her hands and within seconds, they bled profusely. "Cagaran naulith emika." Jun hissed. She clasped the hands and then released them, reaching towards Fred. "Brindus naulith. Brindus. Shakshi."

Fred stared in horror as her pale hands became bloody. The pain in his own hands was no longer distracting when he couldn't tear his gaze away from the crimson dribbled hands. He started when she drew near and grabbed both his hands, holding them tight.

The blood was cool against his burning skin and he found himself holding tighter, even as his brain tried to process the illogical reality. Everywhere she touched, calmed and cooled.

"Stop that." Her grip tightened over his hand. "Don't move your hands. The blood has to work on its own. That is the beauty of this particular spell." Emerald eyes narrowed. "And it would serve you right for running headfirst into something like this." She looked down at his bare feet and her lip curled.

Fred resisted the urge to shuffle. The burning pain slowly shifted to a dull, throbbing ache. Several long minutes later, a distinct coolness sank into his skin, until it became a rather obvious chill traveling up the length of his arms to settle at his shoulders. He tried to pull away, but her grip did not slacken.

"Not yet." Emerald eyes locked onto his soft hazel ones. "This is a parasitic fire, it may have burned your hands, but in the time it took to heal the outside, the inside would've sustained far more damage than you can recall."

He shivered, violently.

A flicker of compassion showed in the glimmering green eyes. "I am sorry for that. The fire reacts to the emotions of the caster." She sighed. "You were not supposed to enter until I called for you. The kind of fire—this one in particular—it is meant to kill."

Fred stared at her. "What?" He sputtered. "How could you-?"

"Your kind doesn't take kindly to mine." Jun shot back. "Call it a smidgen of self-preservation." Her emerald eyes glittered. "Why do you think all of those idiots are standing out in the hallway? It isn't like I could lose control of this." She gave a nod of her head to the flickering flames of yellow that shielded them from outside view. "It is as much a part of me as it is not a part of you. What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that you'd better tell me what you did to, George."

"Lovely sentiment. Now, what were you thinking?"

"What did you do to him?"

"Nothing that he did not want. You are avoiding my question."

"You're avoiding mine!" Fred tugged on her hands again. "Let go of-"

"Gladly, if you do not wish to use your hands beyond decorative limbs at your side for the rest of your life." She sniped. "Now, answer me. What exactly did you mean to accomplish by this unnecessary display of idiocy?"

"How do I know you're healing me?" He countered.

"Oh by Arielle's-" Jun snorted. "Very well then, if you wish to be difficult, then I have no reason to be nice." A slender auburn eyebrow elegantly arched upward. She shifted to stand closer, this time, with her feet atop his cold toes.

Hazel eyes grew wide. The warmth of her feet on his was as different as the temperature of her icy hands. Her feet were warm to almost scorching as they rested lightly atop the frozen toes. She was careful to keep her weight shifted and on her heels, the pressure barely there. The chills in his shoulder began to move until Fred stood, chattering, his hands frozen in hers.

"I am healing you, because if I were doing anything else, you would be writhing on the ground and begging for death." She hummed. "Almost through, a few more minutes should do the trick."

He opened his mouth.

She glared at him.

He remained silent.

"Did no one ever teach you of parasitic fires?"

What could have been a blush dusted across Fred's face. It quickly faded into his pale skin. "Must've skipped that day." He quipped.

"You will wish you hadn't, if you knew." Jun scolded. "Parasitic fire is a magical thing that burns away at your magical core. It will extract it from you in the most painful manner and after it has gorged itself on your magic, it will then burn your corpse—living or dead—to a crisp. It is traceable to the caster, but only if you know them. It is identifiable by magical talent, in this case, my fire is this lovely, blinding shade of yellow. I shall leave you to guess what talent that suggests."

Fred didn't answer. A moment later, he shifted, uneasily. He had never heard of a magical fire causing that sort of a reaction before and he knew more odd bits of lore than the entire restricted section in the Hogwarts library. Sort of. He scowled. It was the strangest feeling to endure the conflicting temperatures in such an odd way—her warm feet and icy hands. His warm hands and cold feet. A great shudder ran through him.

Jun frowned. She took note of his flinch and did not like what it suggested. "Can you dance, love?" Her voice gentled.

"…depends." He eyed her, wearily. "I am-"

"Good. Shall we?" She stepped off of his feet. She stood on her own for a moment and then rolled them with expert fluidity. She had certainly done this before. "Copy me, if you can." She nodded downwards. "You'll need to work the feeling back into them."

Fred found himself shaking his head. "I can't-"

"Then just follow. I will lead. Do not step on anything that feels—wrong." She did not release his hands, but she did step back enough to give the slightest of bows. It allowed him to remain in her line of vision, but it also allowed the customary courtesy of one dancing partner to another.

He returned it with a short nod of his head.

"You know runes?" She gave a jerk of her head over her shoulder. "You know what they can do?"

He nodded.

"Good. I need to erase them." She studied his face. "Follow."

"There's no music."

"Really?"

"Can't dance without music." Fred stalled.

Jun licked her lips, then pursed them in thought.

A moment later, she began to whistle.

Emerald eyes locked with hazel—again.

Fred swallowed. "Don't know this…tune."

Her eyes laughed at him and she began to dance.

Fred willed his cool feet to move. He stumbled through the first awkward measure as Jun moved easily around him. She drew him close, then gently pushed back. She circled once, twice and ducked over, then under and led forward.

It took him twice to pick up the pattern in her steps and then he followed along as best as he could. Sharp stabs of warmth began in his feet and her cold hands warmed in his. He found himself settling into a rhythm.

It wasn't a traditional wizarding dance, he knew that much, but it wasn't one he was familiar with either. She managed to make it complicated even though their hands never once separated, there was nothing lacking from it, in all the proper necessities of a dance.

He realized, as they moved, that Jun led them forward, smearing out the runed marks on the floor with her bare feet, while he followed along. The glowing marks would fizzle out with a barely audible hiss, becoming chalk-like dust on the floor, swept away by the hem of her trailing skirt. He caught glimpses of pale skin as slender legs showed through the generously slit sides, her movements were graceful and elegant.

She didn't seem to lose her breath either, as her whistled tune never seemed to repeat itself, while the dance itself, did.

When the last rune had been rubbed out, Fred breathed a sigh of relief. He now had all feeling back in his feet and his legs moved as they should. His hands—arms and shoulders included—were painless and he was surprised to find himself feeling lighter.

"Very well done." Jun commented. She released his hands, at last. "Check the fingers and joints. See if it feels as it ought to."

He did.

It did.

"…thank you."

A wry smile stole over her face. "You're quite welcome." She tilted her head it acknowledgment. "You are a very good dancer."

Fred blushed. "Hardly. You're a very good—whistler."

She returned the compliment with a toss of her head. "You learn quick."

"Not quick enough." Fred wiggled his toes, meaningfully. George had always been more graceful than him in things like this. He would have two left feet if his twin hadn't insisted on teaching him a few of the finer points of etiquette among the higher wizarding society.

Of course, how George had known them in the first place was still one secret he'd never been able to wheedle from his twin. Yet, somehow, he'd never forced the issue. If George wanted to have his secrets, as long as they did no harm—he could keep them.

"So tell me. Why did you do that? It only earned you unnecessary pain, drama and embarrassment."

Fred shrugged. "And a dance lesson."

Jun gave a half-smile. "Indeed, but that is not the answer to the question. I did not send for you."

"Luck of the draw?" Fred suggested.

"It may or may not have been your actual turn, as you put it. Try again."

"What did you do to him?" The question was a slightly more tempered this time, and a calculating look settled in and faded from Fred's charming features.

"As I said before, nothing that he did not desire." Jun's eyes narrowed. "What would you prefer that I said?"

"You did something."

"Oh. That." Jun sniffed.

Hazel eyes hardened. "Yes. That."

"Well, that was inevitable. You do not really think I could have done otherwise, do you?"

"It would depend." Fred returned. "Was that your only option?"

"That was all that was left to be done."

"Stop that."

"Stop what? That?" Jun's lips twitched, faintly.

Fred's hands curled halfway and then slackened. He shrugged. "Fine then. He'd better be alright."

"I would never harm a child." Jun snapped. "However, we all have our limits. I would wager you are trying to find mine." She wrinkled her nose. "You will not find it."

"Really?" Fred perked a brow. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Really." Jun said, mildly.

They stared at each other for far longer than was strictly polite.

Neither willing to look away.

Jun finally tipped her head. "Shall we?" She dropped a curtsy. "I daresay there are a few steps I am sure you do not know."

Fred snorted. "Are you going to whistle this one too?"

"Scared?" Jun smirked. "I'll try to spare your precious ears."

"Wouldn't want you to lose something important." Fred retorted, smoothly.

"Then perhaps a little bit of magic should help, yes?"

"Magic is unpredictable."

"Only to the predictable." Jun smirked. "You think better when you are on your feet and moving about. Come. Another round will be good for you." She waggled her fingers. "You can even put your hand on my shoulder and I will not hex you for it."

"Small comfort."

"Small victory." Jun corrected. "I promise it is nothing dangerous. Nothing too dangerous, anyway."

Jun did not whistle.

True to her word, a glimmer of magic came to their silent rescue.

The first strains of music hummed to life, barely audible, if at all. It grew to an admirable whisper and then settled.

He took her hand in his and placed the other on his shoulder.

Emerald met hazel.

One smirked, the other grinned.

They danced.

"So, will you change me into a screeching bird or a scaly little dragon?" Fred prompted. He twirled her around him with a growing air of confidence. "Or am I allowed to choose?"

"I have not decided which suits you best." Jun shot back. "Neither seem horrible enough."

Fred chuckled. "So I can't choose?"

"Do you want to?"

He shrugged, then grimaced. A shrug did not really fit in with their current dance. "Guess it doesn't matter."

Ah. But it does, to you at least, it does. Why? Jun mused. "Which do you prefer? You are welcome to state a preference."

Fred snorted. "Neither. I'd rather just be me." He grinned, cockily. "Nothing wrong with me. Don't need any kind of creature enhancements."

"I see." Jun twirled around him and stilled. "No dragon scales or little black feathers?"

"I doubt it would match my hair."

Jun laughed.

"I bet you didn't dance with Percy."

"My, taking on airs already?" Jun shook her head in mock disapproval. "Really, that's quite unbecoming of you, Fred."

"You didn't." Fred repeated. "He's pants at dancing. Two left feet worse than mine."

"And yet your two left feet are matching mine quite perfectly." Jun noted. "I would like to mention that I believe my feet are one of each kind. A right and a left."

Fred winked. "I'd say you're lucky."

"And I might agree." Jun half-smiled. "You still haven't answered me yet." The music hummed around them as they swayed. "Which would you prefer?"

Fred shook his head. "Now there's a trick question." He countered.

"Really?"

"There isn't a safe answer to it." Fred spun her away from him and then followed afterward. The fluid movements slowly settled him into his skin. The anger had faded, the indignation had melted away and now a cautious interest remained. He silently gave the redheaded dragon-witch credit. She was very good at what she did. He'd much rather preferred snapping her head off for messing with George. He frowned.

She still hadn't said what she'd done or what she'd turned him into and he hadn't been able to grab a read on George. It fairly rankled. Fred resisted the urge to roll his shoulders, he worked at keeping them in line with his arms and keeping the tension from spreading. His mind was brilliant, but sometimes that was more of a curse than a gift.

"Then perhaps there is no answer?" Jun suggested.

Fred quickly shook his head. "There's always an answer, sometimes it isn't the one we want though." He frowned.

"Think out loud." Jun prompted. "I shall weed out all the pointless drivel and you may find an answer among the remains."

He almost laughed. He would have to sacrifice a touch of his pride for that, but the more he pondered it, the idea didn't seem so bad. "If," he began. "If I was a Torvak, then I might end up like Percy." He stage-whispered. "The poor bloke has it bad. Almost as if he was born to be a prat." He sighed. "Ickle Ronniekins isn't much better. But then there's Dad and the others. Dad's different now. A little—different."

"What kind of different?"

"Different like—darker. I don't know. I've never seen him like this before."

"It worries you?"

"Sort of, but not really. It's more like, it's like this is what he's supposed to be and he's been hiding it all this time. It just feels—strange."

"Many things feel strange because they are."

"But this is Dad." Fred shook his head. "This is Dad. He's obsessed with muggle things, experiments with stuff he shouldn't, is content with the lowest rung in the Ministry, scolds us when Mum tells him to and always smiles no matter what the situation." His grip on her waist tightened.

Jun eyed him carefully. "That's what he's let you think?"

"Obviously," Fred snorted. "Because all of a sudden, he knows how to a use a wooden staff like some traveling gypsy out of a wizarding tale. He sprouts feathers out of nowhere like an enraged owl and screams blue bolts of—ice—out of his mouth—like some creature, again, from a wizarding tale. He's not real."

"Ah, denial." Jun nodded. "Typical first stage." She pulled him closer and squeezed their joined hands. "Slide with your feet and point your toes. It will allow you better focus."

"Denial?"

"Stages of grief." Jun hummed. "You are mourning all that has been lost."

"What?" Fred jerked to a halt.

"Anger. Second stage. Lovely." Jun's emerald eyes sparkled with pure mischief. "This might not take so long after all."

"I-I don't know what you're harping on."

"Things will never return to the way they were, Fred." Her voice was more serious now. "Time has changed, your family has changed—your parents especially—and that's how it has to be. There was nothing you could have done. Nothing that could have been done. It was bound to come out sooner or later, it just so happens it came out sooner rather than later."

"You don't understand!"

"Then make me understand!"

"There had to have been something—anything! It didn't have to end like this and—and even, we're all split up. All of us. That's not—right. It's not supposed to be like this. Mum, Ginny—and Charlie. I don't even know if I'll see them again and Dad won't say a word about them. This is all wrong! It's not—I should've been able to do something. I should've seen that—this is all, it's-" he sputtered and stopped.

"Can't find a suitable scapegoat?" Jun interrupted, quietly. "That is usually because there was nothing you could've done and because all parties were innocent. There is no one person who can shoulder the blame."

"Mum wouldn't have—unless, she wouldn't have!" Fred protested. "And Dad, he should've—but he—and now!" He abruptly jerked away from Jun. The music stopped at once. He stood a few feet away, hugging his arms to himself. "I should have…" he muttered. "There had to have been something that I could've-"

"Why you?" Jun prompted. "Shouldn't that have been Bill's job?"

"Bill wasn't there. He's never there. Been that way for a long time."

"What about Percy?"

"That prat? He thinks of no one but himself ever since he earned that Head Boy."

"Ah, so it fell to you?"

"If I'd managed to-"

"If you'd managed to do what?" Jun demanded, viciously. "Throw yourself between a husband and wife squabble? Endangered your life by interrupting a confrontation between a Dragel and Torvak? Endangered your siblings by interfering in old truths, new lies and ancient magic? I think not!" She advanced on him. "Sit. Now!"

He opened his mouth to protest.

Her hands clamped down on his shoulders and pushed until his legs buckled beneath him. "Bargaining." She murmured. "Third stage. Now listen to me and listen well, child. There was nothing you could've done, you foolish, misguided child. You are too young to bear the burdens of your elder's follies, least of all, that of your bearer." She sighed. "There is no shame in taking on only what you can handle. Guilt is a powerful thing. Sadly it is employed by those who have no business using it for the things they demand. We are all individual beings, no matter how many things may bring us together, bind us together or tear us apart, we will always remain that which we are. Just as some circumstances are the same. This is one of those times. There was nothing you could have done."

"But-!"

"Trust me on this." One hand shifted from his shoulder to wrap around the back of his neck. It squeezed, lightly. "There was nothing you could have done. This would have come about one way or another. Be thankful that it has happened at a time where I am can still help you."

"Help me?" He spat. "I don't need-"

She dropped to her knees and hugged him hard from behind.

Fred froze. His breathing hitched for a moment, then, a single, solitary tear crept out of the corner from one eye. It slithered down his cheek, dropped onto his neck and disappeared into his shirt.

He stared straight ahead.

Jun made no comment.

He cried.

She held him.

He couldn't make the tears stop.

Why oh why couldn't he make those blasted tears stop!

His shoulders shuddered with the effort of trying to hold them back.

Something warm thumped him solidly on the back.

"There is no shame in tears, child." Jun thumped him again, hard enough to almost hurt.

It jarred him into thought.

He made a sound of protest, but she merely thumped him again.

"Tears are proof that you are alive. That you breathe, that you have a heart in this shell we call a body." She thumped him again. "It means the heart beats, the soul lives and as such, we have license to feel. We live, we lose, we hurt, we hope."

"Then why does it hurt?" He demanded. She thumped him again. He winced, but did not pull away from the next one that came. It was heavy enough to draw his attention, but her hand settled into a rhythm and he could only find soothing.

"It wouldn't help if it didn't." Jun countered. "Tears take away the brute force of everything that hurts us, it allows us to process the hurt and move on. Holding it only makes it worse."

Fred snorted.

She withdrew her hand and waited.

He turned to look at her almost at once.

She waited a moment, then tilted her head in invitation.

"I've been told that things are never simple." Jun murmured. She kissed the head of ginger-colored hair. Fred turned his head to the side, seeking the comfort offered. "And that they are never as easy as they seem."

"It's true."

"Perhaps. Sometimes the right thing is the simplest choice, the narrow path, if you would."

"And which path would I be on now?"

"Remains to be seen." Jun hummed. "Most people would be thrilled to think of all the power and prestige that would come of these two creature kinds. They are each magnificent in their own right."

Fred gave a short bark of laughter. "I don't give a rat's arse about power and prestige."

She tweaked his ear, meaningfully. "Very well then, it shouldn't be hard to choose then. Dragel or Torvak?"

He trembled. "Neither."

Her arms tightened around him. "Did you know your mother was a Dragel?"

The tears came again.

Fred didn't care that he stayed all but curled up in her lap as she finished the story. He didn't care that he'd cried a damp spot into the fabric draped over her left thigh, and left shoulder. Didn't care that he really was crying—since that wasn't something he could remember doing much of at all—and particularly didn't care that he still wanted to somehow be closer to her.

This strangely odd, mothering dragon-witch woman whose dry wit and sarcasm still hadn't crippled him. Her tongue was certainly sharp enough, but yet, she didn't carve him up with it, rather, she cut in careful, deliberate lines, smoothing bandages over each verbal wound afterward.

"Is it wrong of me to want to be different?"

"Never child." She soothed. "Never. We were all meant to be individual beings."

"…sometimes it feels wrong."

"Yes, sometimes new things do feel that way."

"It feels bad."

"Mm, perhaps."

"What does that make me?"

"Only what you want to be."

"I don't want to be like her." Fred swallowed, pained. "She is my mother and I—I am indebted to her, but I don't want to—I can't."

"Then be different."

Fred drew in a shaky breath. He swore softly beneath his breath. Stupid tears. They wouldn't stop coming.

"Shh." Jun gathered him up in her arms, cradling his upper half. She tucked his face in her neck and pulled sharply on her empathic magic.

Fred felt it as if the air was sucked out of him. He felt the spots of dampness on his own shirt fade to dryness as her magic rippled over him both. His spirits lifted, the ache in his chest dimmed a few faint beats.

"I don't want to be like her." He admitted. "I don't want to."

"Because she lied to your father and in doing so, practically betrayed him?" Jun mused. "That was very bad, was it not?"

"Even if she did what she thought was best, surely she could've done it—differently." Fred whispered. "Couldn't she?"

"There are always choices we make that sometimes hurt more than others."

"This is one of them, isn't it?"

"…yes."

"There isn't a painless option, is there?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Which one would hurt less?"

"You already know the answer, love."

"No I don't."

The hand stroking through his hair turned to knuckled fist, pressing gently against his scalp. "Shall I help you to remember?"

He squirmed as her free arm rearranged itself to lock tightly around his neck. "It's a bit fuzzy and—ow!" He fought against her grip, but it was fruitless. "I remember!"

"Good." She released him. "Because we've been at this long enough. I am sorry that you have to choose and that nature could not run its course. However, alternatives are not as horrible as you would make them out to be. Now then, have you made up your mind?"

"What did George choose?"

"Why don't you ask him?"

"I can't."

"Ah, well then, choose and then you can ask him."

Fred scowled. "Why won't you tell me?"

"Why do you keep asking? Would you choose as he did, just for the sake of your blood bond? You are twins, yes, but there is no crime in showing a bit of distinct difference."

"I don't want him to be alone!"

"He is among family that I believe, love and care for him." Jun perked a brow. "How could he possibly be alone?"

"Because we always have!" Fred shot back. "We've always been one from the very beginning! It's always Fred or George, it's never a specific one." He glowered at her. "And I know him! I know him better than you or anyone else. Better than Mum and Dad!"

"In that case, shouldn't you know what he would've chosen then?" Jun said, mildly.

A touch of red settled on Fred's flushed face. "I do!"

"Then why in Arielle's name, are you stalling? I do not have all day to spend here-"

"George never would've chosen to be a Dragel!" Fred hissed. "He's smart. He'd know that even if it seemed interesting on the surface, it wouldn't stick. It wouldn't be good. He'd pick Torvak, because he could fit in, because it wouldn't cause trouble. Because it's the right choice."

"The right choice?" Jun repeated. "There is no right and wrong choice."

"Yes there is." Fred retorted. "There always is." He pinned her with his hazel-eyed stare. "I'm right, aren't I? He would've weighed both sides and decided on the right answer. The practical choice."

"And so you will do the same?"

"Of course." Fred leapt to his feet. The sudden stabbing pain in his chest, made him grimace. He forced himself to ignore it. There were more important things to deal with now. Important things that would forever rule the rest of his life.

"You understand that once you choose, there is no recourse. No return, no second chance, correct?" Jun murmured.

Fred met her gaze steadily.

"So, Dragel or Torvak?"

"You're asking questions you already know answers to." Fred couldn't help saying.

To his surprise, emerald eyes merely gave a spectacular roll. "Arielle save me from witless children." She muttered. "Indeed. I know, however, for the ritual, I must ask and you must answer."

Fred's cheeks pinked. "Oh. Sorry." He looked away. "Torvak."

"You are sure?" Jun rubbed her hands together, flexing the fingers.

"I am."

"Good boy."

"Am I?"

"You are making your own choice, are you not?" Her sharp gaze drilled into him. "This is what you want, not what others expect of you, yes?"

He swallowed. "Yes."

"Then you have done well."

He snorted.

"and as such, I commend you." She reached over with one hand and patted his head. "Good boy."

His heart nearly tore in two.

There was no smile on her face as she stared down at him. Her words echoed hollowly in his head and he could not piece it together, not that he really wanted to. He just wanted this to be over and done with. To put it behind him. To go back to his life and to find George. To make sure George was alright.

That pain in his chest dug a little deeper. He stifled a sound.

Jun's emerald eyes had become jewel-hard. She'd instructed him to lie on the floor and empty his mind in preparation for the ritual. She had neither commented on his choice nor tried to dissuade him from it.

It left him feeling uneasy.

"Will it hurt?"

"Most likely. Few things in life are painless."

"Name one."

"As soon as I know what it is, I shall gladly tell you."

"…very funny."

"I know. I thought it was quite amusing myself."

"You're using longer sentences now."

"As are you."

"Am not."

"That is not how you clear your mind, child."

"I'm not a child."

"I am at least decades over you in more ways than one." Jun sniffed. "You are a mere child."

She stood over him, as she'd done with Bill, her back to the blurred audience, one foot on each side of his chest. "I have cast the runes, they will sing as I activate them." She explained. "You might want to hold your breath, I am told that helps."

Fred nodded, wearily.

She waited while he sucked in a deep breath.

"Ready?"

He nodded.

Jun offered him a gentle smile, then raised her right hand to her mouth. She pricked her thumb on one fang and traced the rune for Torvak in the palm of her other hand. She held it downward, facing Fred so he could see it. It flared and glowed to life, the red burning black and the black burning into a rich, bright green. "I will call out your creature sides and bring them to surface." She explained. "Once I bring forth your Torvak, I will have to banish your Dragel side, this will be perhaps, more painful than your actual 'birth' as it is. Just keep your mind empty and do not fight me. I will be as quick as I possibly can. Do you understand?"

Fred closed his eyes. He could not bear to look into those bright emerald orbs, eyes that were so similar to Harry's and yet, were not his own. It hurt. It hurt much more than he'd expected. Much more than something like that ought to have hurt. It burned almost. It ached, certainly.

"Fred?" Jun's fingers caressed his cheek, gently. "Speak to me, love. Are you alright? I cannot go through with this if you are not settled and-"

Fred blew out the breath he'd held and took another. He gave a short, tight nod. He had to do this. Had to. Once it was over, then he'd deal with everything else. He just had to hold on until it was all over.

"Do you trust me?" Jun asked.

Have I any other choice? Fred couldn't stifle the shudder that rippled over him. His magic sparked and the ache in his chest burrowed deeper—again. "Yes" he answered, softly. "I do."

He did not see the sorrowful smile on her beautiful face as she straightened to her full height. He did not see how the rune in her hand glowed to life or how the magic enveloped them both. He did not hear the words of the spell she cast, as a loud, anguished screech seemed to echo in his ears.

Fire licked at him, bursting to life from the cold, hard rock of the charmed ground beneath him. They raged and burned.

Fred swallowed his scream.

The fire continued to burn and Fred exhausted himself in a somewhat dizzy haze. He could not make sense of it all, but somehow, the warmth was strangely comforting.

It danced about him as if it were a thick, fat ribbon, playing with the numb limbs of his body. He heard Jun's chants above him. He felt her hands, occasionally on his face and neck, cool in their touches while the fire swarmed around him.

At first, he'd thought it would burn him alive, but then, as quickly as it had burned through him, it stopped.

Just like that.

Fred didn't know how to react to that.

He was on fire and yet he lived.

It felt good.

So good.

How very, very strange.

Fred stared as George all but melted into their Mum's arms. He could see his twin's exhausted face from the vantage point beside the tall kitchen cabinet, the shadowed corner where he'd be safely hidden from sight.

He didn't know what had possessed him to follow George, but he hadn't been able to help himself. So he'd followed and he'd come in time to hear the tail end of a conversation that he hadn't expected.

It made him burn with shame, embarrassment and guilt. He'd almost turned away, when he'd heard her last words. Everything had felt so strange now that they were the only ones home. He'd been so surprised when Mum hadn't sent them straight back to Hogwarts after Operation Revenge The Toad.

And yet, it seemed George was experiencing the same bereft feeling. Fred swallowed again. He couldn't help the longing that blossomed inside of him as he watched George relax into a much-needed hug.

He'd always been the more sensitive of them. Fred nibbled on his lower lip. He watched as George left and turned to leave himself, before his twin thought to check on him.

"Eavesdroppers never hear the things they want to, Fred."

Fred gulped. He froze at the sound of her voice, kind, but firm. He didn't want to turn around—really didn't want to turn around—but somehow, he was turning already. He couldn't meet her eyes, didn't want to see what he was certain was there, but she tipped up his chin anyway and smiled in that way that let him know all was forgiven.

"Mum." He whispered hoarsely. "I didn't notice that he-"

"Hush." Molly hugged him tight and tucked his face in the crook of her neck for a long minute. "It's fine. He's fine. You're fine." She kissed his cheek. "Whenever you need a hug, my Fred," she held him at arms' length, searching his face. "You come to me, you hear? You needn't linger in doorways and skulk about in the shadows. It doesn't suit you."

He nodded.

She winked. "George went out that way—so why don't you take a few of these ginger snaps and go out that way, hm?"

He laughed and accepted the cloth wrapped bundle. Merlin, but he loved her. The steady pillar of light in the midst of their crazy lives. "Thanks, Mum."

"Shh, love." Jun soothed. "It's almost over now, almost. Breathe for me, love. Come on now."

He did—barely.

It hurt.

It ached.

It burned.

But he did not cry.

The scent of cinnamon plagued his mind and he gave a broken sigh.

Jun stood over the silent twin, allowing him a chance to compose himself in as much privacy as she could grant. This had been harder on him than all the rest, she could tell in the way the ritual had taken its toll upon him.

He wasn't a young man prone to fits of temper or emotion and the accident with her fire had drawn his heart up to the surface. She smiled, sadly. He was too young to be shouldering a burden that ought not to have been shuffled to his shoulders.

She dearly wished to have a good row with his idiotic parents, but knew it was a luxury that most certainly was not hers. She'd have to content herself with knowing she had done the best for each child.

Each strangely tortured child.

Jun sighed and moved around to sit behind Fred's head. The last bit of this ritual would cause him more discomfort than she liked, but yet, it was nothing more than all the others had gone through.

Her runed hand pressed flat against his forehead. His body jerked, rigid before his mouth opened in a soundless scream.

Fred writhed beneath that cool hand. His head was tipped to the side and he felt liquid bubbling up within and trickling out of his mouth. He couldn't taste it, couldn't stop it and so desperately wanted everything to be over.

It hurt, certainly. It hurt much more than he'd expected, but he made himself bear it. He thought of George and knew that his twin would have had to endure the same. So he would too.

The scent of blood hung thickly in the air, but he did not know where it came from.

He did not care.

This had to be close to end.

He hoped.

"Thank you." Fred accepted his newly cleaned and repaired shirt from Jun's outstretched hand. He fought back the blush as her emerald eyes took in his shirtless self. "Is there anything I should be worried about?"

"Ah, now you choose to be sensible." She snorted. "Such as?"

"After effects, side effects, things like that." Fred shrugged into the shirt and began to do up the buttons.

"You speak from experience?"

"Definitely," he said, ruefully. "So?"

"Pins and needles on occasion, aches and pains, for certain—your body is reworking seventeen years of chemistry, I believe? Hot baths at night and in the morning will help. Be care of what potions you take, I do not know how you Torvak handle things, but us Dragels prefer blood potions and they are easy enough to modify from the wizarding kind." She frowned. "A massage would be ideal, but that is up to you. You will have to see if any allergies develop in regards to your eating habits, your magic will fluctuate and may dim for a while. Avoid alcohol and speak to your father or grandfather about anything you do not understand." She yawned and covered her mouth. "I think that is about it."

"Wonderful." Fred grinned, impishly. "Just an entire library to remember."

"That was the condensed version." Jun retorted. "Imagine the original lecture."

"I'd really rather not."

"That is your own prerogative." Jun wrinkled her brow and rubbed the back of her neck. "How many more of you are there?"

"There's Ron." Fred tucked his shirt into his trousers, turning his back to the lady for a moment.

Jun made no comment.

"And that's all of you?"

Fred hesitated. "No," he said, lightly. "Charlie's missing, he's after Bill and there's a sister, Ginny. She's with Mum."

Jun made a sound in her throat, but did not speak.

"Thanks again." Fred turned 'round once more. He stuck out his hand, avoiding the sharp green-eyed gaze. "For everything."

Jun looked at the hand for a moment, then gave it a firm shake and pulled him into a hug.

Fred didn't resist.

A/N: I decided to be nice and make this a monster chapter. LOL. Instead of cutting it in two, I made it one so that the next chapter returns to Harry and what's happening with Voldy's attack on his mind. Hope you enjoyed Fred's bit. Thank you for the well wishes, I am slightly more rested this weekend. :)

unneeded--well, they probably won't be okay with it, but I think they'll manage just fine. They always manage to make it out of the scrapes they get into. Glad you liked the George Chapter! Yes, George will be joining Harry's circle, eventually--as per the spoiler I posted some time back. He is one of Harry's pareya(protector). Thanks for reading and reviewing!

RoguesAngel--Harry and the others are coming back next chapter. This will be a pretty long fic, so Harry's not being ignored, there's just other things that have to happen first. (that and he's a bit out of it at the moment). Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Jan--well, I guess it could go either way. LOL. yes, George is going to be in the circle. Just like Charlie, he was affected by Harry's soulcry. Harry coming up next chapter. Quinn probably after that. :) Thanks a bunch for reading and reviewing!

~Scion
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There Be Dragons, Harry