Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

There Be Dragons, Harry	By : Scioneeris Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Slash - Male/Male Views: 58383 -:- Recommendations : 8 -:- Currently Reading : 27
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of its characters. I make no money by writing this story..

Chapter List
- 61
- 62
- 63
RECAP: At the clinic, in the examination room, Quinn spells the trio to sleep while urging Kyle to prepare for what lies ahead. He starts with Theodore, worried about the young alpha's lack of response and phantom pains. To better understand the situation, Quinn decides to use a SOUL CAST, he summons Ilsa and Bharin to come and help with the procedure. The results show that Theo has been suffering from mental and psychological issues relating to stability and security, as well as his ability to be a good alpha. Harry had a nightmare and Kyle went to tend to him.

Character Note: Blaise and Shadow turn up at the house where Dahlia's military circle resides. He is looking to be trained as GHEYO (fighter).

NEVARAH : HEALTH CLINIC

By the time Quinn had finished with Theo, Ilsa had indeed returned.

Kyle and Bharin were busy at the opposite end of the room, tending to Charlie and Harry.

Quinn returned to Theo's side, waking the napping dragel to meet his stern-faced mentor.

Golden eyes met golden eyes and Theo swallowed hard.

Quinn noted this development with interest. He hadn't wanted to pry too much, as Theo seemed to be a locked box full of prickled corners and rough edges. He was surprised to see this equally prickly and touchy Gheyo having such an effect on his patient. She returned without the three floating spirit forms beside her and instead, her golden eyes seemed fixed on Theo alone.

"…Oretta." The brunet acknowledged. He cast his gaze downward in a show of deference and respect.

"Theodore." She returned. Her golden gaze flickered away from Quinn, then about the room before it settled on Theo once more. "How are you feeling?"

His smile was bittersweet. "Chained. Trapped…drowning."

A pained expression flickered across her face. Ilsa drew in a breath and softly released it. She understood what he did not outright say. "Are those restraints necessary?" She inquired, at last.

Quinn frowned. "Absolutely. The slightest movement can undo everything that I have already done." He waved a hand to show the rewoven Soul Cast shimmering as it hovered above Theo's chest.

"And if I hold him down?" Ilsa met the teal-eyed glare steadily. "Would that help?"

Quinn blinked. He looked from her to Theo. It wasn't something that he was entirely sure he ought to allow. But then again, this circle had been different from the moment they had entered the clinic. As a Healer, it was his responsibility to adjust to them and now appeared to be one of those times. Still, he had to be sure. "You would—restrain him of your own accord—and he would submit?"

"He will not move." Ilsa murmured without the slightest hesitation.

Quinn was momentarily shocked speechless.

She studied the resting figure, then shucked off the metal gauntlet on her right hand. "You may judge me by what has taken place, but I do not expect you to understand." She smiled, thinly. "We have an understanding between us."

And here, for one eerie moment, both pairs of golden eyes darkened to the exact same hue of honey-brown.

The Healer hesitated—one last time.

Then Ilsa spoke. Two single words. "Be still." Standing beside the center of the bed, she stretched a hand and curled it gently around Theo's exposed throat. She squeezed, lightly and then gave a single nod to Quinn, her eyes never leaving Theo's. "He will be fine. He fought the bonds since they were engaged, did he not? I give you my word that he will not undo what you have done."

Theo had indeed fought the protective bindings, but Quinn wasn't about to answer that outright. He was more impressed and interested in the interplay between mentor and mentee. This incident was yet another one of those variables he had counted and dismissed, knowing they would work themselves out later. He studied the pair for a long, silent moment, then clicked his fingers. The bonds of energy dissolved, but the thread of blue-green fire lingered at his fingertips, just in case.

But it wasn't necessary.

The tension drained out of Theo at once. His body went lax, the agitation slowly fading away. His gaze remained locked on that of his mentor's. He did not fight her grip on his throat, simply lying still and relaxed.

A position of vulnerability and trust, in the face of a show of dominance and strength.

Quinn tucked that moment away for later. This was a pair that was, perhaps, deeper intertwined than his own relationship with Bharin. His lips quirked, faintly and he waited a moment longer, before he began to coax the newly rewoven ball to mesh together. The Soul Cast hummed to life beneath his fingertips and Quinn kept an eye on Theo, noting that his patient was awake this time.

He was pleasantly surprised to note that neither mentor nor mentee had broken their locked stare.

That was good.

Quinn began to submerge the Cast when he realized what was missing. He frowned. He had wondered if she would call him on it, but it appeared that she would not. Theo certainly wouldn't be able to say anything on the subject, as no individual ever saw their own Soul Cast. "Lady Ilsa?"

She grunted, not bothering to correct him.

"The anchoring threads…?" He teased the Cast, lightly, keeping it momentarily suspended. It was not good to recall it multiple times in the same casting.

"You will not need them."

His fingers twitched. He had guessed this might happen. It was why he'd woven the cast together—after the lady had left. But he had to sure, just the same, "…pardon?"

"The Caspers are not required to anchor him. They are no longer contracted to do so. If Theo still wishes it, he will make a new pact and contract on his own terms, not mine." She did not look at the Healer.

Quinn frowned. His throat itched and he suppressed the urge to rub it. The speaking spell would be wearing off shortly. He hadn't said all he'd wanted to yet. How unfortunate. His body would not be able to handle recasting it so close together. A few hours lag was an absolute necessity. He tried not to sigh. "You made this choice for him?"

"No." Ilsa said, lightly. "It can only be terminated by him, but I do not think a healing clinic is the best of places to seal a contract with potentially destructive caspers."

"Thank you for your consideration." Quinn could barely keep the sarcasm from his voice as the Soul Cast begins to sink into Theo's exposed chest, the life energies in the body, flickering to life and stretching up to hold and accept it back.

"Some things are best left unexplained." Ilsa said, softly. "You have been professional and compassionate in your work. I thank you for it, but please, do not interfere with this."

When the lady Gheyo turned to look at him, Quinn felt the weight of Theo's gaze as well. He pursed his lips together and gave the faintest of nods as the Soul Cast completed itself. He saw it evidenced as the wheezing, gasping breath that made Theo's hands snap up to his throat to claw at the restraining hand. He watched, interested, when Ilsa did not release her grip, but rather, smoothed the chocolate-colored waves off of his sweaty forehead, in a soothing motion. Theo's hands wrapped around her wrist and he tugged, but she did not release him yet.

"Is there anything else?"

"Pardon?"

"If you do not require him for any further treatments, I shall be taking charge of him."

Quinn did allow his frown to show through; this time, but he directed it to Theo. "You need rest and quiet." He said, meaningfully. "And some sugar and blood would help significantly, though I would recommend that it is not from your Charlie or your Harry, in their present states. You may find yourself exhausted while your magic rescripts itself, so it is to your best interests that you seek a relaxing place and stay there."

"Thank you kindly." Ilsa returned.

"One moment," Quinn cautioned. "Before you leave…"

"Handle it. Just handle it. Of course, he wants me to handle it." Kyle muttered to himself, as he hurriedly approached the thrashing form of one Harry Potter. Worry creased his young forehead when he saw the skinny limbs flailing about, half-tangled in the standard issue clinic sheets. "Harry? Harry, wake up, please!" With a twitch of his fingers, he shifted and reworked the wards around the beds and the barriers that were soundproofed, allowing him to interact soundlessly with Harry.

He threw out his magic in the trademark wisps of white-gold strips that caught hold of Harry's ankles and wrists, moving with them in controlled jerks and twists. Kyle snatched the sheet out of the way and called up the current readings on the patient's vitals. He frowned at the readings and then at the fact that Harry wasn't reacting to the magic that should have prompted him awake. He did not want to sedate the brunet.

"…not good, not good…not good at all…come on, Harry. Wake up." Kyle lurched forward and caught the shoulders of the thrashing Harry. His eyes widened as he found himself exerting a tad more pressure than he'd expected. That was definitely not good. His head snapped around to see Charlie's resting form. Kyle muttered softly to himself and then raised his voice. "Wikhn? You out there? I could use a hand."

There was a pause, as Kyle continued to carefully wrestle with the desperately fighting Harry. He couldn't let the smaller brunet tumble off the bed and the sticking charm he'd tried was immediately repelled. It was a scarce-half second before the requested Gheyo materialized by the Medic's left elbow. "Help me wake him." Kyle ducked one flailing hand. "My magic is rolling off of him. I'm not sure why—but he'll hurt himself if he keeps this up." He tried to keep the lightest of pressures on Harry's thin shoulders and slender limbs. For someone of his size, Harry fought viciously against whatever plagued him on the dreamscape, the actions translating in the erratic swipes of his arms and kicks of his legs.

Wikhn looked from him to the sleeping Charlie. He made the connection faster than the worried Medic. "He'll be fine. Wake that one. He's part of his circle, isn't he?"

"The Beta." Kyle returned. "Quinn spelled them to sleep. I'll have to wake him with something else. There's a vial on the counter." Kyle gave a jerk of his head. "It should work, though I hadn't planned to use it until about an hour from now."

"Can you adjust it?"

"If you wouldn't care to hold this?" Kyle leaned away from the still fighting Harry.

They traded.

Wikhn ducking in as Kyle ducked out, his hands sure and quick. He caught Harry in a spare sheet and wrapped it carefully around the flailing figure. A moment later, Medic Kyle busied himself at Charlie's side, rousing the sleeping Beta from the magic-induced sleep. He coaxed the waking redhead to sit up and teased out his wings, while keeping up a soothing stream of murmured explanations.

"…Harry?" A sleep-fogged Charlie managed to mumble.

An awkward handful of minutes trickled by as Kyle woke Charlie enough from the sleep, twisting Quinn's spell to release the redhead enough so that they could unite both Beta and Sub.

Harry's struggles eased when Charlie's broad arms circled around him, awkwardly, to hold, his wings curving around to give warmth and privacy. He still pressed against the hold, he still shifted, restlessly and his shoulders shuddered as if his wings would emerge at any given moment.

"Has he done this before?" Medic Kyle moved about the duo in slow, carefully tracked movements. Wikhn had backtracked to holding a relaxed stance by the door, his pink-red eyes ever watchful and his sword missing from his ensemble. Kyle helped Charlie to settle comfortably on the merged examination beds in a cross-legged position with the tormented Harry cradled in his arms. "At all? Ever?"

Charlie grimaced. He could feel the sleep spell fading the longer he fought to stay awake and succeeded. "Once." He allowed. "No, twice, I think. Once before, this—us-" and here he gave a slight nod to himself. "Before we were—bonded—one night he had a nightmare and I couldn't wake him. I tried everything. A water charm, shaking him, Ennervate." He tried to shrug and half-winced instead when one of Harry's half-hearted flails clocked him in the jaw. The sheet trick had been a good one, it helped him to keep a better hold on Harry, though it seemed as if the moment, Harry had actively caught his scent, his panic had receded by half. "Nothing worked, until Shadow came, then he just kind of relaxed and kept on sleeping."

"Shadow?" Kyle perked a brow.

"A—our," Charlie amended. "Nytura—at least, that's what Harry told me it was. I've never seen or known of one before and I have more than witnessed my fair share of oddities in Romania." He frowned. "It stopped the nightmare, but Harry didn't wake."

Kyle blinked. "A Nytura…?" He repeated. "How…lucky." He exchanged a glance with Wikhn. "And the second time?"

"The second time was this morning, I suppose." Charlie twisted to look around him. "Where's Theo?"

"With Quinn. He's fine." Kyle reassured. "There's wards and barriers between us and him, however, so please do not develop any sudden, inexplicable urges to begin shattering them. What happened the second time?"

"He started to toss and turn and then he woke up and said he wanted Theo." Charlie's frown deepened. "And that's when he stopped acting like himself. Can Theo come and-?"

"I'll ask Quinn," Kyle interrupted. "What do you mean, he stopped acting like himself?"

Charlie let out a huff. "I meant just that. He started acting like-"

"Did you try biting him?"

"-pardon?" Blue eyes blinked incredulously.

Kyle rolled his eyes in response. "Did you try calming him by biting over your claim mark? You have claimed him, he bears two marks, unless that one is not yours, though I doubt it, because your scent is all over it."

Charlie hesitated. "I can't."

"…because?"

"Theo." The redhead shrugged. "Something about blood purity and the ritual that I had to—well," the Dragon Tamer rubbed the back of his neck, sheepishly. "I know the technical terms, but it doesn't make it any easier to explain-"

"Oh." Kyle cocked his head to the side. "That's easy. No worries there. You don't have to actually use your fangs, just put your mouth to the mark and try to manipulate it, with the intent to calm and bring peace to your mate." He shrugged. "Usually, only the Alpha would have such control over the Sub, in this case, your Theo, but Betas have it to some extent as well, and so do the Royals, if you should ever take a Royal as a mate. It puts you all on an even keel."

Charlie hesitated.

"Would you prefer some privacy?" Kyle asked, courteously. "I am sure I can busy myself for a moment," he turned his back to the couple, without waiting for an answer. "Wik, lend me a hand here for a moment."

Charlie stared after the pair for a moment, before Harry's struggles began to renew themselves. He reacted, instinctively, to restrain, even when he tore the tangled sheet, in an effort to catch Harry's arm before the younger man could injure himself. "I wish you would wake, Harry." He murmured. It took him a few moments to wrap his fingers around the right arm and then to rip the robes and shirt away. He'd have to repair them later, he thought, when the tattooed marks were suddenly visible.

Theo's Alpha crest showed plainly on Harry's pale neck, with Charlie's own mark several inches lower. Here, Charlie rubbed his thumb over the black swirls and lines, watching anxiously for some response from Harry. It pained him to restrain the smaller figure so forcefully, but the fighting was worse than he'd ever seen it, granted, he'd only witnessed two instances.

"You have to bite him." Kyle's voice drifted over from the far end of the room, a slightly disapproving tone in his voice. "Any time now would be helpful. I do not wish to further sedate him, as Quinn's spell is rather complex one and I would have to wake him before I could administer anything else."

Charlie squeezed his eyes shut and bent his head. Lips, tongue and teeth closed over the tattooed mark in short order.

A second later, Harry's body went blissfully limp in the tangle of sheet and Charlie's arms.

Surprised, Charlie straightened, staring—when Harry began to twist again—and then quickly bent his head back to the mark. He held his teeth gently in the skin and as an afterthought, administered a few testing swipes of his tongue. When he withdrew the second time, Harry did not resume his thrashing, but rather turned and cuddled closer, still mostly asleep.

"Thank heavens." Kyle appeared at his side, Wikhn returning to his post at the door. He held a glowing jar of pale green goop in one hand, his fingers of the other, coated in the substance. He allowed Charlie to examine the ointment, then began to smooth it over Harry's newly exposed chest. "This should help with waking him up—and with helping him breathe. I was worried something would happen." He frowned. "And I do not like that I could not wake him. Fae magic is strong in the healing arts, especially for those of us closer to the earthen clans. I should have had some effect on him, but never mind, I shall mention it to Quinn. Perhaps there is something neither of us know. Now then, I believe you were telling me of how he was not quite himself this morning?"

Kyle listened to the entire story of the morning's events, the possession, the return and subsequent loss of Harry's wizarding magic. The twisted, tangled tale that didn't make much sense at all to him. He silently relayed the relevant portions to Quinn, hoping that his Healer friend was able to process the extra information in addition to Theo's Soul Cast.

Harry had not wakened yet, but the counter to Quinn's spell was working. He had fallen into a relaxed slumber, content to be cradled in Charlie's arms alone. When they had tried to move him, he had begun to fuss and the magical energy in the room, swelled to a nearly unbearable pressure. Kyle had managed a small smile, before suggesting that Charlie keep his arms securely around his Sub.

The Medic then set about the preparations to test Charlie for any remaining residue from the Blood Purification Ritual. He explained the necessity of bloodsharing and especially how He worked with quiet efficiency, handing over a blood-filled pipette at one point, for Harry. "Quinn says Theo can't quite join you two, yet, but that this might help. Did you try blood for any of the other times?"

"Er, no. I—it wasn't—no."

"Then let's have a check of it. Just put the tip at the side of his mouth and squeeze. See if he relaxes even more afterward." Kyle motioned to the sheet-cocooned Harry, snuggled up to Charlie's stomach. "On a primitive, subconscious level, he should recognize it and in the future, if you cannot actually approach him, as it seems this was a rather mild episode, then the scent of your blood in the air, will usually do the trick."

Charlie did as instructed, glad that it wasn't too hard to actually do. Harry had buried his face in the warmth of his midsection, his face nuzzling against Charlie's firm figure. Charlie took advantage of the position to wedge the tip past the pink lips. He was rewarded when Kyle's prediction turned out to be true. Hazy emerald eyes fluttered open, confusion, panic and uncertainty written in their lovely depths.

He lapped weakly at the final mouthful of blood, before Kyle snatched away the emptied container and banished it to the sink, where others washed themselves by aid of magic.

"Pureblood." Kyle explained. "We try not to let it linger. The taste of it can be addictive and while it is not distinctive, the magic of the individual who has gifted it, is. This way, Harry will only remember that it tasted very good and not much else." He turned to look at Harry, who had now shrunk back into the cotton nest, his head nestled against Charlie's neck for warmth.

"Ch'rly?" Harry slurred.

"Hey." Charlie found himself half-smiling down at the teen, his grip tightening instinctively. "You alright?"

The emerald eyes blinked slowly a few times, while Harry processed the question. "M'fine." He managed, after a while.

"You weren't fine a minute ago." Charlie retorted. "You were thrashing around in your sleep. Kinda scary for a bit there…nightmare?"

The thin shoulders gave the faintest approximation of something that could have been a shrug. "…Theo?"

"Theo is with Quinn." Kyle appeared beside them, careful to stay in both Charlie and Harry's line of vision, when Charlie gave a low growl from deep in his throat. "Theo wasn't feeling well and Quinn is helping him."

"Like me?" Harry struggled to wake himself further from.

"Something like that," Kyle allowed, cautiously. "Were you having a nightmare? We were worried. Couldn't wake you up."

Harry twisted in the sheets. He fisted a hand in Charlie's shirt, feeling like a child. "Is it bad?"

"Theo? No. Quinn will take good care of him." Kyle smiled. "He is good at what he does, never mind what anyone else will tell you." He chuckled. "Because he's busy though, that means it is my turn to help you two." He began to lay out a series of colorful wands beside them.

Harry shifted with interest. Emerald eyes locked onto the colorful lengths of wood. "What are those for?"

"Soul Cast preparation." Kyle smiled, warmly. "You two are going to have quite an afternoon arranged for you."

Dark brows knitted together and Harry studied Kyle for a long, silent moment. "What's a Soul Cast?" He asked, at last.

The forest green-haired fae broke into a wide grin. "It is actually a very interesting procedure. Let me tell you about it…"

Theo felt the familiar pull of his surroundings being forcefully yanked away from him as everything faded away, save for the very earth beneath his feet. There was blackness and emptiness and nothing. Then the light and color came rushing back as the 'portal of Ergen closed and he crumpled to his knees, at Ilsa's feet. He felt rough grass beneath his hands, dampness from the dew, seeping through his trousers and pale warmth from light.

"Theodore." Ilsa murmured and then, she was beside him in an instant.

He closed his eyes, feeling her alter her shape and he didn't protest when she scooped him up in her arms, this form taller and better able to handle his awkward body of long limbs of youth. When he dared to open his eyes again, they were seated under a tree, the fading sun in the distance, the light playing across his mentor's face. "…Oretta." He whispered.

She sat, braced against the thick tree trunk, holding him close to her, his head pillowed on her shoulder. She did not speak right away, but her hands combed through the chocolate curls of his hair in soothing, soft motions.

He leaned into the touch, seeking the comfort she offered and relishing in the fact that the weight on his shoulders had lifted. Quinn was better than he credited himself, for the Soul Cast had yet to show any immediate negative reactions. Theo stiffened, barely noticeable, the weight on his chest remaining. He may have survived the brisk Healer's efficiency, but he would not escape Ilsa's sharp tongue.

He knew that reality all too well.

"Breathe, child." Ilsa's voice, husky and low, coaxed him. "I will not kill you."

He closed his eyes, hiding his face into the flexible leather armor guards on her shoulder. He hummed miserably in answer.

Her hand shifted from tangled in his hair to resting on the back of his neck, squeezing softly and rubbing small circles on the achy spots at the sides. Her free arm curved up around his side to hold him securely. "I am sorry I did not notice, little one."

"I did not want you to notice."

"Even when you know you cannot hide everything from me?"

"…wanted to do it on my own."

"I would not have stopped you."

"…on my own."

"Do you still desire them?"

He lifted his head to look at her. How could he answer that? As far as he could remember, since the first day that she had come for him, she'd brought the mismatched trio. At first he thought he would hate them, it would be like having three separate people living in his head and telling him what to do.

Except that it wasn't. It never had been. They were silent, uncompromising pillars. They held his magic, controlling and soothing it, so it would not tear him apart until he was ready to fully bear it. They protected him when he could not protect himself—and even when he did not dare call for Ilsa. A steady, unwavering influence, a shadow at his back to remind him that he did not walk alone.

They never spoke, if at all. He'd found himself coaxing them into speech, learning of their lives, their histories and how they kept him safe. Ilsa had meant them to be guardians for him, when she herself could not come. They had performed their duties admirably. Which was why he'd chosen them when Ilsa had finally granted him the admission that he could freely govern his own element and powers. That crucial moment where the mentor moved from teacher, to guardian, as the student now stepped onto the same plane of knowledge.

She had smiled when he had asked for the same bindings that she wore so proudly. He had relished in the reality that he had not one, but three caspers, all of them willing to oversee his element and bind their gifts to his fragile thread of life. They had accepted the proposal Ilsa had outlined. They had all sworn oaths.

To live without them, Theo didn't know if he could. They were always there, lingering somewhere in the background, never quite visible and always only for him. His hands clenched into fists. The fight with his father—the moment in the Dark Lord's mansion—he'd never thought that he would make it alive out of that one. He had his magic. He had his gifts. And the Dark Lord was paranoid enough to have certain measures in place.

He was to take the mark or die.

And he'd nearly died.

Without Sukey, Makindor and Alomath, Theo knew he surely would have perished before any of Dumbledore's cronies arrived to grant him the moment's breath it took to escape. That was when he knew it was time to take charge of his complicated, delightfully abnormal life. He had learned all that he would need to take the Nott inheritances and politics. Everything that was necessary for him to make something of the family name that nearly been run to the ground.

Nearly.

Not quite.

The name had still garnered some pull and he had done his best to restore it. Yet, there was no suitable place for him in the Light Side, and certainly none for him on the Dark Side and that had left him tangled somewhere in the middle, before things had begun to happen. Blaise had come to him, mentioning that his Inheritance had been forced out of him before its time—when his birthday was not that far away.

Draco had disappeared shortly after his own important day of birth and then, subsequently, the Malfoy name and lot in life, had seemed to have vanished overnight, swallowed by the secretkeepers in the stalemate of a wizarding war.

Theo had returned to an empty home that year.

A soft pang stabbed through his chest. He swallowed a breath and choked on it. His fingers reached up, half-morphed into blunted claws as he half-heartedly scrabbled at his throat. He remembered so much. He squeezed his eyes shut—tighter. The weight on his chest had grown, it seemed. Words gave name to them.

Guilt. Shame. Wounded Pride. Wistfulness.

Guilt for what could have been prevented. Shame that he had not the strength nor courage to face his own demons—alone. Wounded pride, for pride was certainly no longer whole after his recent ordeals. Wistfulness, as Ilsa's hands shifted to rub across his shoulders and then scratch lightly up and down his back. Surely he did not deserve such kindness.

He had all but nearly sacrificed his new circle and given himself over to Death on an ornamented platter. He bit his lip—hard. He didn't want to know what Ilsa would have bargained to have those three release him. He didn't want to know what it would cost her, cost him—cost them. A hiccup lodged in his throat. He remembered embarking on the Hogwarts Express and discovering that first wisp of scent that had shook him to the core.

A suffering Dragel Submissive—by the name of Harry Potter.

He still didn't know why he'd entered the compartment—or why he'd chosen to enter and lock it afterwards, to allow them some privacy. Fate had tempted his tongue, it seemed and while it had pained him to speak lightly and pleasantly, at first, the same haunted look he'd felt, was reflected back in a pair of bottomless emerald eyes.

And so he'd decided that perhaps everything wasn't as dreary as he'd first thought, so he gave into it, a little at a time. Surprised to find that befriending Harry Potter was an experience all on its own—as was falling in love with him. The ache in his chest burned. His eyes watered, fiercely.

"Breathe," Ilsa whispered, again. "Memories are not made to haunt us, but to remind us of what we have lived through."

"…even when we want to forget?" He moved from her lap to the cold ground, on his knees. The images flickered through his mind. Things he remembered. Things that were fuzzy. Things that scrabbled at the corners of his mind where he wanted to forget. Faces, people, magic. His breath came in short, shallow pants. The ground shuddered and rumbled, uneasily beneath them both.

He could feel its anger, he could feel its sympathy, and yet, still, its acceptance of him.

Acceptance that he surely did not deserve.

He had known the moment that he had given Harry his password, that he ought to stay his own bindings. But then Dumbledore had stuck his overly meddlesome fingers into his newly burgeoning financials and Theo had let himself become distracted. His claw-hands clenched tight. The caspers had reminded him—bluntly—to tell Ilsa and he'd insisted that nothing would happen. He'd bound them for silence then and hurried along to keep his affairs in order.

Then Charlie had happened and Theo wasn't even sure how that had all come about. Everything had changed in a heartbeat. All the carefully laid plans he'd once crafted for his lovely life, all the things he had looked forward to. Tthe hopes, dreams and wishes that had never included a redheaded Dragon Tamer or petite brunet with soulful green eyes. The things he had given up, before he'd realized that they would never be his—not anymore.

The ache in his chest wavered, burning even fiercer, then sensations growing more intense.

Ilsa had shifted with him, moving away from the tree to hold him tight from behind.

He sagged in her arms, as he felt the ground quiver and shake. This was all his fault. He'd been selfish. He'd wanted more time. He hadn't expected to find himself mated and bound before his twenties. He hadn't expected that the ranked role appointed to him would come into play so quickly. He hadn't been prepared to be Alpha. He had wanted more time and more-ow!

Ilsa smacked him lightly over the head. "Not selfish." She murmured. "Not selfish at all, but things never turn out the way we want them to."

Theo swallowed the words threatening to continue spilling out. He'd spoken without even realizing, it seemed. Ah. He hadn't wanted to be a burden, but yet it seemed as if he had managed to make an inconvenience of himself afterward.

"…I am sorry I did not notice sooner."

Theo blinked. No, that couldn't be right. Ilsa—his Oretta—had no need to apologize to him, much less to clean up the lovely mess he'd made of everything.

"…And if you don't stop thinking that empty head of yours in circles, I will bite you." The older woman said, severely. Her grip around him tightened. "We are all young and foolish, once, Theodore. Some of us for longer than others and some of us for times that are so fleeting, we think it never happened. What is done is done and cannot be undone, but you are not mine by name nor guise if you cannot pick yourself up and forge onward."

"But-!"

His head was suddenly seized by her two hands and turned to her grim face. "Perhaps I have spoiled you somehow. My own hands are tainted enough that everything I touch, crumbles away." She leaned forward and kissed his brow. "But I thought that I had managed to make you understand what you mean to me." She shook him. "You are my world, Theodore! How can I make you understand this?"

The tears prickled at the corners of his eyes and Theo opened and shut his mouth. He felt the burn spreading through his chest, writhing and fighting as if it were alive.

"I would give you anything you desired, so as long as it was within my power to do so." She held him at arms' length, one hand freed to reach over and tip his chin up, forcing his pale, golden eyes to stare at her own, nearly black ones. "I am always here for you. Always. I have even demanded of Ergen, himself, to 'port me to your side, regardless of any occasion and situation, so as long as you are the one calling me." She cupped his cool cheek with one warm hand. "What else must I do to prove this to you? There are centuries ahead of you, love." She bit her lips. "Centuries upon centuries, if you can keep yourself out of trouble without growing bored of your existence. There is no rush to grow up and stand alone, when you can take the time to find your strength and stand strong, instead. Have I not told you this, over and over?"

Theo felt the first traitorous tears slip out of his eyes. They burned down his cheeks and the ground beneath them, trembled once more. "…yes…" He wanted to curl in on himself and hide away from the honesty in her eyes. She had never lied to him. Never. This he knew like the reality of the sun rising in its designated horizon and the moon reigning over night.

"Then listen to me say it again." She pulled him into her arms and hugged his head to her chest. "You are my life." The grip tightened, bordering on painful. "And you know I would do anything for you, you need only ask it."

She made him repeat it.

He did.

"If you are my life, Theo, then what do you think would happen, if you were no longer here?" Her voice was deceptively light.

Theo felt his stomach clench. He knew that tone. He knew what came with it, too. Things that he never wanted to hear. Things that he did not want to acknowledge.

"Surely you know I would not rest if your death was linked to chance?"

The ache throbbed again and he sucked in a gasping breath, trying hold himself together, even as the cracks began and he felt himself falling apart.

"…You know what I can never say aloud, little one. Yet you tempt me still."

His arms curved up around her, holding as tight as her own around him. "…No…I didn't mean…I didn't-"

"Your life has value." The ground shook. "Even the earth, our element, agrees with me." She rested her chin atop his head. "You nearly died, you foolish, idiotic, child. Do you think so little of yourself?"

Theo hiccupped.

She shifted, enough to bend and nip his ear with razor-sharp fangs. He held himself still, even when he felt the warm trickle of blood slither down his neck, before the wound healed. "Do not ever throw it away like that again. Ever. Do you understand me? You know this, Theodore. I know you do. If you really think yourself selfish, then you are right. For to choose death over facing your problems is a coward's way out. Then yes, you are being unreasonably selfish and I will call you on it. I do not care why. Swear to me that you will never do this again."

"Oretta-"

"No, Theodore. I want your sworn oath that you will not seek to sacrifice yourself as an answer when there are a thousand options before you."

"I didn't-!"

"You did. There was a choice to be made. There were other options. You chose, Theodore. And the choice you made nearly cost you a price that you are still unprepared to pay."

"I-!"

"At the expense of your life? Your own, life, Theodore?"

His breath hitched, softly.

She squeezed the back of his neck, lightly. "Your life is no longer your own, you know. There are two others now that depend on you for direction, support and care." She squeezed a little harder. "Two that are the first of others, for there will be others. Swear it to me, that you will think of them and reconsider should you ever find yourself in such dire straits again."

His hands fell to her sides and silence filled between them.

"…I will swear."

"Then seal it in blood." She drew her clawed hand swiftly across her neck and a line of thick crimson welled up at once.

Theo's golden eyes flickered brown, then black. He shifted. Seconds later, he sank his fangs into her neck, drinking greedily. He didn't even feel when her own fangs pierced his wrist and their elemental magic sang between them. He slid his fangs free when she did the same and with the bloodied mess on her neck, she took a fingerful of red and painted it across his face.

He closed his eyes and held out his wrist. He waited, patiently while she took his own blood to add to the shapes she traced across his features. She whispered the words of the spell that would accept, receive and acknowledge his oath.

"Swear it."

And he did.

The weight lifted enough for coherence to return. Theo shuddered as the headrush of magic nearly made him giddy. He'd almost forgotten what Ilsa's blood tasted like. Pure, rich and clean. As a Gheyo, she adhered to a strict diet and exercise regimen, as a dragel of considerable power and influence, the inherent magic in her blood always hit him hard.

He struggled to pull himself together as she inquired after the caspers and his choice. He turned to her with confusion written over his newly cleaned face. The blood markings had faded beneath the skin, showing nothing.

"They wait for your answer." Ilsa inclined her head.

Theo turned, following the line of sight to see the three, wispy, white figures, hovering in their corporeal forms, several yards away. He wondered why they didn't approach until he realized the tree they sat under, held the caspers back. He blinked. Large, complex branches snaking out into the sky, speckles of lingering light flickering through the shadows to the ground. "I…I…"

"When you first took them, I bound them on your behalf. You were not old enough to handle the entirety of such official things." Ilsa gently disengaged herself from him and rose to her feet. She extended a hand, her expression softening. "If you still wish to keep them, then you may. It will be solely your decision and you will be the one to cast and secure the bindings."

Theo swallowed. "…even if I choose…?" He couldn't voice it aloud.

"No matter what you choose, the choice is yours. I only ask that you be absolutely certain why you chose what you will. I cannot ask for anything more."

Theo let himself be pulled to his feet. The ache in his chest began to hum, the pain easing as his mind clicked together the necessary pieces of the puzzle. His grip on her hand tightened.

"You will have to make three contracts and you will seal them with a single binding." Ilsa instructed. "They will be of more use to you in this way and with individual contracts, you need never place yourself in the situation that you did." The black eyes glittered. "You need never sell your soul as payment to appease them."

Theo hung his head. His hands twitched at his sides, the claws having receded.

Ilsa's hands rested lightly on his shoulders. She gently nudged him forward. "You know they cannot approach you. You must be the one to make the first move."

He stumbled forward the first few steps and then stopped, turning back to look at her.

The smile on her face was bittersweet. "We are many things in our lives, little one." The endearment was tender coming from her lips. "But we must always be ourselves. Change is always difficult and some of us always fight it." Her smile was wry, now. "I suppose I should set a better example for you, but sometimes, we cannot help what we are. You have come into wonderful things, do not throw them away, because you wish to hold onto the past. You have a Submissive who is strong and beautiful, who will stand beside you even to the end of the world, I should think. That is a wonderful thing. You have rescued and protected a Beta, ensuring his loyalty, life and love to you for the years ahead. That is a wonderful thing. This may not have been the life you thought you wanted, but Theodore, when you're holding this right here in your hands—can you honestly tell me that you desire anything else? Anything more than this?"

The tears trickled down his face in slow, solitary trails and Theo shook his head—once.

"If you truly believe you have been cheated in some way and you wish to leave this all behind—then come with me now." She took a step forward, hand extended. "We will leave. We will run. No one will ever find us."

Theo sucked in a quick breath.

"But be sure. You decide."

He swallowed hard.

Her hand remained steady.

He turned, halfway, looking to where the three caspers hovered. "…and if I won't run?" He asked, hoarsely.

"Then stand up and act like a man." Ilsa's voice was strong and hard. "Walk over there and accept the consequences for what you have done and reclaim the rights that are yours."

Theo looked from her hand to the caspers. The ache in his chest fairly seared, blazing as if he would burst into fire. He squared his shoulders, lifted his chin and brushed away her hand. He turned and walked steadily to the edge of the shadow cast by the tree. He did not hesitate to step over the shadow's rim. The three caspers slammed into him the moment he cleared it.

He did not fight them.

They wrestled above him, then plunged into his chest without warning.

A half-second later, he screamed.

Harry sat calmly on the examination bed beside Charlie, wide-awake and curious. He leaned against the taller dragel, taking comfort in Charlie's unusually warm skin—a trait of Fire Dragels, Kyle had informed them—and watching the Medic's every move. "What does it say? What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing's wrong with you." Charlie and Kyle chorused in the same breath.

The two stared at each other for a moment and then Kyle chuckled. "I see what you have to put up with." He teased, lightly. "Harry, there is nothing wrong with you. Yes, there are a few issues that need to be dealt with, but you—you are you. And there is nothing wrong with you."

"I know that." Harry scowled. "I wasn't implying that-"

"Fae." Kyle reminded him, tapping his forest-green hair. "I actually do have some threads of empathy in here, you know." He turned away, examining the scroll that bore the readouts from the preliminary testing for the preparations.

Harry's brows furrowed together adorably. "What do you mean?"

"It means if you are actually meaning yourself when you're asking if there's something wrong with you, I can tell the difference." Kyle waved a hand, dismissively. "Shush. I need to sort this out."

Harry opened his mouth and shut it when he suddenly found said mouth covered by Charlie's in a warm, comforting kiss. He blinked, a moment later. "What was that for?"

"I felt like it." Charlie said, smoothly. He winked.

Harry felt himself beginning to blush. He swallowed and elbowed the taller man in the side. He waited a few minutes longer, watching as Kyle muttered to himself and scowled in alternate phases. "Well?" He burst out, when he couldn't wait a moment later. "Is it good?"

The Medic sighed. "Not quite." He released the scroll, allowing it to hover happily in the air once more. "Your—colors—are very dim."

Harry hesitated. He looked at Charlie and then back at Kyle. "That's bad?"

"Er, not necessarily. It is best if they are all bright and in near equal proportions." Kyle explained. "But sometimes, when many things are off-kilter, they can become distorted, unbalanced and also lose their color." He brightened. "You do have some color and you are very strong in one of them, of which I cannot tell you, of course, but it is nothing that cannot be tended to. Quinn will handle it as soon as he is through with Theo, I am sure."

Harry gave a sigh of relief. "Good. The sooner I can feel more," he grimaced. "More like me. The better it'll be." He twitched, uncertainly. "Do you think Hermione's okay?"

Charlie slipped an arm around his shoulders and squeezed gently. "Snape said that he'd sent for healers and he's there with Terius and Draco. I'm sure she's fine and if something were to happen, they would contact us."

"Hermione?" Kyle inquired. He settled himself on a stool, with a bowl and a slender brush. "Hand please."

"What are you doing?"

"Testing which thread Quinn needs to start on first." Kyle explained. He set the bowl on a nearby tray and dipped the brush in the dark green mixture. He began to paint a series of runed symbols across the back of Harry's left wrist, when the smaller teen suddenly jerked away.

Emerald eyes grew wide and then flared to a rich, vivid gold. His mouth opened in a soundless scream and Harry reached, wildly, for Charlie. He squeezed the redhead's arm, tears forming and spilling over out of his eyes. "Theo-!"

"Harry? Harry!" Kyle slid off the stool and immediately pushed everything away from the examination bed. "Quinn!" He shouted.

Harry released Charlie's arm only for his body to begin shaking with spasms as it had done before with Niko's possession.

"Harry!"

Quinn burst into the room, a grimace on his face and a hand at his throat. He took one look at Harry and his teal eyes fairly burned. He threw out threads of teal-colored magic, ushering Charlie to lie down, with Harry atop him. He was obviously shouting orders—mentally—to a frantic Kyle who bustled about, throwing out a few commands for Bharin and Wikhn who came forward to help.

"What's happening?" Charlie gasped out. He struggled to keep his grip on Harry.

"Hold him tighter." Bharin instructed. He moved to rearrange Charlie's grip on Harry. "Do it this way. It is a typical hold for a Gheyos to use on an opponent we do not wish to harm." He frowned. "Your Theo must be in great pain."

"What?"

"Pain." Kyle sighed. He exchanged a glance with Quinn. "Something is happening. Where is Theo?" He frowned at the answer that Quinn gave in return, but did not voice it aloud. Bharin stood at Charlie's head, keeping Quinn's magic off of the Beta. "Harry is deeply bonded to Theo, isn't he?"

The blond paused for a fraction of a section, before he continued with his efforts to splice himself between Harry and Theo. Kyle frowned, but moved forward again, offering his hands and his voice, where he could be of help.

AIDEN : HELLHOUND : NEVARAH

Arythmoor.

The name was boldly emblazoned across the wrought, blackened gates, the silhouette of thorned roses adorned it, while the roses themselves, a red so dark as to be black, grew heavily over the tall wall and around every available space granted to them.

Aiden gave a dismissive snort as he passed between the bars and entered his estate. It had been a very long day and a very trying set of days following the long day. He did not want to deal with them and yet, he would have to. He scowled, darkly. The shadows rose up to greet him in customary fashion. He ignored them, continuing his brisk approach to the looming, gothic mansion that sat atop the dreary hill. He brushed absently a few times at the clinging shadows, sending the more annoying ones away with a simmering, red-eyed glower. He would have to speak to the Reapers again, in regards to their harvesting treaties, it was nearing the appointed time for the prophesied Night of a Thousand Years.

Gloomily, he wished he had behaved himself enough for Mistress Death to allow him to sit it out again. It was always a time of too much fuss, too much heart and far too much sentiment. His glower increased as he continued up the solemn walkway, the darkness growing even darker still as he moved forward.

"…Lord Aiden!" A youth of about ten, stood in the door way of the massive metal slabs. Dressed as a pageboy, his eyes glittered the same familiar red as Aiden's, his skin holding a similar translucent paleness. "You have returned!" He called. "We are glad."

Melacor, his favored messenger child among the pack. Aiden studied him from afar, red eyes seeing what human eyes could not. The child was relieved and weary to see him and exhaustion radiated from his little body. Aiden frowned. He had left the boy in good health and good faith. His lips pressed tightly together. A hallowed house in disorder atop a new human consort was far more of a headache than he cared to deal with.

"Wonderful." Aiden blurred up to the entryway in a burst of blackness and dark feathers. His humanesque form twisted around him for a moment, before the angry swirls settled back into the two-legged form. "I have not left long enough for my excursion to require an immediate return." The burgundy eyes narrowed. "Did the house tend well in my absence?"

"Always, Lord Aiden." Melacor bobbed his head. Chin-length hair, pitch-black, danced along the pale jawline. Bejeweled hands clutched the edge of his ornate overtunic, the knuckles turning white.

The hellhound suppressed a sigh and paused long enough to drop one long-fingered hand atop the immaculate hair. He ruffled it—carefully—and continued on inside the mansion. The giant doors creaked shut behind him and the soft, near soundless patter of feet announced Melacor when he appeared in a burst of black shadow beside his Lord.

"I wish the consort's quarters to be cleaned and made ready." Aiden commented. He darted a glance downward to see the boy's response.

The hands clenched into knuckles, then unclenched and Melacor turned up a cheerful smile, raising his face. "For how long and of what kind, my lord?"

He earns his keep in more ways than one. Aiden mused, to himself. "For an unforeseeable future and a human female." He snorted. "Her majesty supposed that I had extra time to spare." He resisted the urge to show any outward sign of displeasure. This was his own house, his own estate and perhaps, the only place where he might show his true colors and yet—there would be eyes and spies everywhere.

Melacor sighed for him. "How unfortunate." He commiserated. "Especially when Lord Rasputin seems to have enjoyed himself while you were out."

"Oh?" Aiden said, interestedly. "And what did that blackguard do this time?"

"Nothing that you may kill him for, your lordship."

"Ah. How disappointing."

"I am sorry, your lordship."

"It is no fault of your own." Aiden turned down the twist of murky hallways. He paused before the doors to his study. "Send for Briar, Thorne and Weide." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "And continue to do your duties. I shall attend to my duties for an hour and then I shall be otherwise occupied until tomorrow morning."

"Shall I have the consort's rooms readied before or after?"

"Within the hour."

"Yes, my lord."

"Oh and Melacor?"

"Hmm?"

"I expect you to join me tonight and I expect a full report on everything that Rasputin has been up to, in my absence."

"Of course, my lord."

"Be gone." Aiden turned away and a flick of his fingers, the door to his study swung open and then shut, behind him.

A/N: Sorry for the delay with the chapter folks. This is a little longer to make up for it! (8k, instead of the usual 4k). School is keeping me busy and I have a ton of second week homework to deal with. UGH. Anyway, so, we have Theo and Ilsa moments, Charlie and Harry moments and plenty of Harry coming up in the next chapter. To explain, the issues Theo had, as discovered by Quinn from the SOUL CAST, insecurity, instability and a survival instinct that should have kept him 'fighting' are all things that he was dealing with. Ilsa chose to help him handle it in part, hence the reason for the scenes between them in this chapter. Harry is feeling the backlash more than Charlie, because Charlie isn't directly bonded to Theo, like Harry is and therefore, he isn't getting any spillover from it.

Review Responses will appear in the FF forum for TBDH, so that my A/N's do not grow monstrously out of hand. ~Scion

http://www.fanfiction.net/myforums/Scioneeris/1942068/
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There Be Dragons, Harry