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Chapter 4

Harry walked around the edge of the ritual circle with bare feet. Hermione and Neville had done their part the night before and sealed the circle. It had been a very good decision to ask, he decided, as he brushed his toes against one shining rune. A check of his watch revealed it to be just four in the morning, and their agreed upon working hours didn’t begin until six am. The ritual room was divided into two work spaces—the circle and a potions lab. Fortunately, Draco was a master of the art they wouldn’t have to farm that out.

“You’re up early.”

Harry glanced toward the open door and found Lucas standing there. “You moved out of the work suite.”

“Ito and I were given a flat to share just a hall over, so they’d have room to rearrange and expand the space for the team,” Lucas said. “I reviewed the oath contracts—everything is in order there.”

“Yeah,” Harry said and focused his attention back on the rune work on the floor. “How are the politics?”

“Weird,” Lucas admitted and stepped into the room then pulled the door shut behind him. “The isolationism in this country makes it hard to get a good read on people because it’s created a deep well of irrational thought and behavior. Dumbledore might be the source, or it might be rooted in the pure-blood bigotry that has lingered here for generations. They all seem to exist in a state of denial that borders on absurd.”

Harry nodded. “Is Ito up?”

“We had breakfast together,” Lucas said. “He’s currently in the midst of plotting some casual revenge. I didn’t to get the specifics.”

“At his age, he probably has a long and varied list of enemies,” Harry muttered and returned his attention to the circle. He certainly planned to.

“Will it serve?”

“The circle? Yes, the work is superior as always.”

“You’re wearing your glasses.”

“Yeah, I forgot to order my corrective potion,” Harry said. “I’ve commissioned some from a potion’s master in the bank.”

“You forgot?”

Harry winced. “I didn’t want to come here at all so I just sort of ignored it until I had no choice but to pack then packed in a rush. At any rate, I’ll pick up the potions later in the day. I’ve ordered enough for six months—which is the maximum shelf-life. It’s fine. My glasses have my current prescription.”

“Normally, this wouldn’t be a big deal,” Lucas murmured. “I mean, if it were anyone else but I know you think the glasses are an immense liability in the field, Harry. But you didn’t stop in Rome to get some brewed before coming here?”

“I didn’t know that I was completely out until I unpacked my potions kit when I got here so I could take a cleansing draught,” Harry said roughly. “Which means I used my last vision corrective a month ago and didn’t notice. I recognize it for what it is, Lucas. Clearly, the stress of this situation has been building for a while and I’ve been avoiding it.” He paused. “In my defense, I got assigned an American partner and said partner managed to get himself half-sacrificed by some dumb bastards in Bulgaria.”

“One day you’re going to have to forgive Bulgaria for producing Viktor Krum,” Lucas said.

Harry huffed. “He cheated at the Quidditch World Cup, got caught, and I lost 500 galleons in what should’ve been a sure bet. I’m going to hold a grudge for ages, and I take great comfort in the fact that I’m not alone. That arsehole ruined my whole weekend, Lucas.”

Lucas grinned.

“Shut up,” Harry muttered.

“Did you want me to go find you a corrective to take now?” Lucas questioned.

“No, I’ve already commissioned the work, and it would be insulting not to wait when I already agreed to the timeframe,” Harry said. “But thanks.” He paused. “I have a spell I can use, if required.”

“That shit hurts,” Lucas muttered. “A lot.”

“Only slightly worse than contact implants which I’ve had once and never will again. They hurt on application and removal, which is just sadism. The person who invented them should be put on trial for it.” He paused. “International charges.”

“Or we could let each country file their own criminal case,” Lucas said and Harry laughed. “And they could be on trial for the next century.” He checked his watch. “I’m observing a Wizengamot session this morning. Anything you want me to keep an eye on? Ito is attending with me.”

“Well, you should probably make sure he doesn’t curse anyone when you aren’t looking because he’s intolerant of stupid and this country is full of dumb motherfuckers.” He waved a hand. “Or, stay out of his way. Either way would be a valid choice.”

“Joining him isn’t an option?”

“No,” Harry said and shot him a look. “I’d rather not have to bail you out of Azkaban and yes the DMLE is that dumb. They regularly assume that the rules regarding war mages don’t actually apply to them.”

“Eh,” Lucas said. “Otto would come get me.”

Harry just shook his head and his partner left with a wave. If his American got put in Azkaban, he’d never live that shite down. Disgruntled, he refocused his attention on the runes he was testing and didn’t look up when the door opened again.

“Something wrong?”

He looked up and found Draco standing in the doorway of the ritual room, dressed in a pair of black silk pajamas. Harry stared for a moment, unaccountably even more attracted to the man. He looked soft, approachable, and perhaps even a little decadent as he stood there, bare toes curling against the magic-warmed stone floor.

“No. My sleep schedule is a little off due to some case work I was doing before I came to Britian,” Harry said and returned his attention to the ritual circle. “Hermione and Neville created a good seal. Do you….” He trailed off with a frown.

“What?”

“Sometimes the magic of Britain appears to be searching for something—or maybe someone. I don’t know who is missing that should be here,” Harry paused. “I can’t even be certain if the missing influence is good or bad. There were a lot of losses before and after Riddle was disembodied, and the death magic around us was impacted by it.”

“What does it mean for you to be the Master of Death?” Draco questioned. “Why did Sirius Black’s actions cause it?”

“It was part of the pact he made,” Harry said. “To protect me because he worried that I wouldn’t be safe where I was. He wasn’t wrong to have been worried. If my Muggle relatives had been free to act as they wish, I’d died of neglect or abuse before I was old enough to attend Hogwarts.”

“I don’t understand how Dumbledore could is the way he is,” Draco confessed. “He clearly sees something of value in you—something he’s always wanted to control and, yet, he made no effort to protect you during the years when it would’ve endeared him to you.”

“He doesn’t understand love,” Harry said quietly and glanced just briefly toward Draco as he spoke. “He doesn’t even genuinely believe in it, no matter what he might say. Albus Dumbledore is callous beyond the telling of it—perhaps his own upbringing is the reason, or he was just born a heartless bastard. I don’t know and I can’t often make myself care enough to ponder it.”

“How many lives have I lived?” Draco questioned.

Harry stopped moving and turned to face him as Draco pulled the door to the room shut and the privacy protocols automatically engaged. “What?”

“You know, right?”

Harry sighed. “Yeah, I know. I pretty much always know when I speak with someone. Thus, I often avoid speaking to people at all.”

“So, how many times?”

“This is your third life,” Harry said quietly.

“Yours, too,” Draco speculated.

“What makes you say that?” Because it was an intuitive leap he’d wished that Draco hadn’t made.

“It seems like that’s how it works,” Draco said and took a deep breath. “Between us.”

“Draco.”

He shook his head and cleared his throat. “Since the day I saw you for the first time, there’s been this missing thing that I couldn’t figure out. I was content as a child, despite my father’s crimes, and I didn’t expect it to be any different at Hogwarts. My mother had feathered my nest, as it were, to ensure that I would have loyal friends at school.

“Then you happened.” Draco exhaled slowly. “And I’ve not content since. I’m not blaming you exactly. It’s just some thing is missing and I figure you know exactly what it is. I don’t know if I have the right to know. It’s probably Dumbledore’s fault you haven’t already told me. Maybe you don’t want to ever tell me, and that is the strangest most hurtful part of it. I feel like there was a time when you told me everything.” He rubbed his head in frustration and motioned toward him. “You’re wearing your glasses. Do you need a corrective potion?”

“I commissioned some from the guild here in the bank—you’ll have enough work to do keeping the team relatively clean magically.” Harry backed up a little and leaned on the wall. “Ask me.”

“What was my name the first time we met?” Draco asked.

“Merlinus Ambrosius,” Harry said.

“And you were Arthur Pendragon.”

Harry winced and nodded even as he averted his gaze. “Yeah, though I’d never want anyone else to know it.”

“Then you were Godric Gryffindor,” Draco speculated and Harry sighed. “I wasn’t Salazar Slytherin.”

“No, you weren’t,” Harry admitted.

“Rowena Ravenclaw then,” Draco said. “I’ve had dreams about things that were clearly and distinctly female experiences. I told my mother about them, and she asked me if I thought I was transgender. I spent two months with a mind healer before she was convinced I told the truth when I denied it.”

“What would she have done if you’d said yes?”

“She would’ve paid for the best possible options regarding a full transition,” Draco said dryly. “My mother supports the fuck out of me, Harry.” He waved both hands in frustration. “And now here we are again.”

“Here we are,” Harry agreed. “Again.”

“Soulmate magic is dead,” Draco said.

“Yeah, it is.” He looked up and focused on him. “But it wasn’t dead…in our before.”

“You….” Draco rubbed his sternum with trembling fingers. “Is this how it is for others? I don’t know how something that should be wonderful hurts so much.”

“I’m so sorry,” Harry murmured. “Do you want to forget that you know?”

“No, and fuck you for asking,” Draco snapped and Harry laughed but the sound felt hollow in his chest.

“And it hurts emotionally because soulmate magic might be dead, but our magic recognizes that something is missing and it tries to correct it.” He paused. “And no, it doesn’t hurt like this for others. It hurts you, Draco, because Merlin deeply influenced the ebb and flow of soulmate magic all across the world for over a thousand years. It spread through him, was nurtured by him like a child, and became a unique force of love in the magic of world that cannot be replaced.”

“How do I fix it?”

“In this life? I don’t know,” Harry admitted. “I don’t even know why it’s broken, but it happened sometime between your death as Merlin and your rebirth as Rowena.”

Draco walked across the room, slow and deliberate, like he was approaching a wild animal until they were mere inches apart. “Does it hurt you, too?”

“I can’t say it doesn’t,” Harry admitted. “But I’ve learned to mitigate it—mostly by avoiding you.”

“Very pragmatic,” Draco said flatly. “Fuck you for that, too.” He took a deep breath. “Thank you for not answering this question in front of the others. Does anyone else know?”

“No one human,” he said and Draco’s eyes widened briefly. “I understand how stressful and cruel the expectations of others can be, Draco. I’d never create a circumstance that would put you in that position.”

“Whatever happened, it wasn’t natural,” Draco said and Harry nodded his agreement. “You’ve not asked…someone not human?”

“The information is obscured,” Harry said. “Nothing and no one knows every single thing and there are deep pockets of magic all over this world that are beyond the view of all but one.”

“Hekate.”

“Yes,” Harry agreed and cleared his throat. “I don’t have one.”

“What do you mean?” Draco questioned.

“I don’t have a soft, sweet place,” Harry murmured. “I never have. There is comfort in my life, of course, in ways that might be difficult for you to understand or accept.”

Draco stared at him with dark, damp eyes for a long moment then he just moved right into Harry’s space like he belonged there. Hands slid into his hair even as their mouths met. He responded because he denied himself all the time, but he wasn’t going to deny Draco. He let his hands fall to the other man’s hips and rested on the wall as they settled there—chest to chest. His fingers slipped against silk, and he shuddered against the want snaking down his back.

Desire had rarely felt like a luxury, but no other word properly described the way he felt to finally have Draco so close. He never wanted it to end because there would be a price paid. Harry pulled Draco closer, as the air heated between them. The other man’s magic was pressing against his body in a way that was familiar and so amazing that he could barely breathe for it.

Elemental. Draco was an elemental mage, and Harry didn’t know he’d never noticed before. Hands curled into his shirt, and he couldn’t help but respond, warm silk slid through his fingers as he slid one hand under Draco’s pajama top and touched his skin for the first time.

“You want me,” Draco murmured as they parted just enough to do little more than share air.

“For years,” Harry admitted as he opened his eyes and exhaled slowly when a flash of hurt drifted over Draco’s face.

“You don’t hesitate to put down your enemies, Harry,” Draco said. “It’s clear to the whole fucking world so why don’t you act against Dumbledore? What power does he have over you, even now?”

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted. “I’ve certainly done all I can to remove every single method he has of controlling me.” He cleared his throat and slipped away. “My life is hard and my job is vicious.”

“Don’t try it,” Draco warned.

“It’s true,” Harry said huffily.

Draco caught his hand and pulled him in. “I said, don’t.” He glared. “Stop rejecting me, Harry. It’s ruining my self-esteem.”

“A tactical nuke couldn’t put a dent in your self-esteem,” Harry retorted. “You don’t know enough about my life to make a choice like this, Draco.”

“What could worse than what you’ve already revealed?” Draco questioned. “And none of what you’ve told us is really all that bad.”

“You don’t think being the Master of Death is a problem?”

“It’s certainly a unique…job. Hobby? Do you even get paid?”

Harry laughed. “Shut up.”

“And the prophecy is basically a footnote. Riddle can’t resurrect himself because of the destroyed horcruxes and even if he could—every genuine follower he had is dead. The ones running around right now thinking they want a dark lord to follow are just fucking idiots.”

“A footnote?”

“What else could it possibly be?” Draco questioned. “Who the fuck stands a chance against Death’s Hand? So, what am I missing?”

Harry’s gaze dropped to their hands and he swallowed hard. “I’m not just Death’s Hand, Draco.” He paused and took a deep breath. “I’m his son.”

Draco’s fingers tightened against his, and his eyes widened in shock. “Son.”

“Adopted in blood and magic before I stated Hogwarts,” Harry said and took a deep breath. “I’ve not physically aged naturally since I was adopted.”

“You’re a demigod,” Draco said and his eyes dampened with unshed tears. “Why is Albus Dumbledore still alive?”

“Because Thanatos has a code and Dumbledore has been skirting the edge of his judgment for decades,” Harry said.

Draco nodded. “Merlin made the first bloodstone in Europe.”

“What?”

“The philosopher’s stone that Hiro Ito carries—it came from South America, right? But there are others. Flamel used Merlin’s work to make his own.” Draco frowned and glanced toward the potions’ bench in the back of the room. “I keep my private lab in a dimensional trunk space. I brought it with me and set it up in my room for private brewing. I’ll start researching tonight.”

“Researching what exactly?”

“A bloodstone made with my own hands and magic will be tailored specifically to me and will work best,” Draco said quietly. “Because I’m certainly not going to let you fuck about having an immortal life on this planet without me. It’s not…it’s not what we agreed to!”

Harry stared, for a moment, as a very old oath buried deep in his magic shifted in side of him for the first time several thousand years. “I don’t remember what we agreed to.”

“I don’t either,” Draco said hotly. “I just know I didn’t agree to anything that idiotic.”

“We aren’t bound by oaths we made in previous lives,” Harry said and got glared at for his trouble. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Draco muttered and released his hand. “You are so infuriating. I bet you always have been.” He pointed at him then threw up both hands as he started to pace. “I wonder what I did to deserve this.”

Harry laughed a little before he could help himself. “I’m sure I’ve always had…some decent qualities to fall back on.”

“I soulmated with the king of Avalon,” Draco retorted. “You’re a downgrade, Potter. That’s what you are.”

“Wow.” Harry shook his head even as he smiled. “Why are you like this?”

“Why are you? Do I blame Dumbledore?”

Harry shrugged. “I always do. It’s my only consistent hobby.” He paused. “Wait. You think a demigod is a downgrade from a king? Are you being fucking serious right now?”

“I don’t even get head jewelry out of your current situation,” Draco muttered then he grabbed Harry’s hand and all but dragged out of the ritual room, across the common space in the suite and straight into his bedroom.

Harry let himself be backed up all the way to the bed, grateful he’d remembered to straighten up after he’d gotten up then weirdly offended with himself for being concerned about it. Draco settled on his lap like he belonged and cupped the back of his head with one hand, gaze so intent and serious that silence seemed the only safe response.

“I need you to stop sacrificing what you need so the rest of the world can be comfortable with the fact that you exist,” Draco said quietly and Harry inhaled sharply. “I mean it. I don’t know if you’ve done this every single fucking time we’ve lived, but it’s going to stop this time around.”

“Maybe I don’t know how to stop.”

“Maybe you’ve never even tried,” Draco responded evenly. “You deserve to live, Harry. The sacrifices that were made for you were done out of an immense amount of love and faith. You need to trust them and stop questioning their choices.”

“They were so young,” Harry said. “They barely had time to be adults before they were dying for me. It’s disgusting and unfair that they were all driven to it by a society that deserves nothing from me but expects everything. I don’t hate the people here in Britain, but I loathe their small-minded and narrow lives. They let their fear lead them and it is as corruptive as the actual stain that is rotting the magic they depend on to live.”

“I think Dumbledore should know exactly who you are,” Draco said quietly. “Maybe not the adoption part definitely the master of death part.”

“Why?”

“Because it will make him so fucking furious that he’ll act against you then your father can kill the shite out of him.”

“I told you he’d have a refreshing point of view,” Thanatos dryly and Harry sighed as Draco squeaked a little then scrambled off his lap.

“Your timing is obscene.”

Thanatos grinned and shrugged as he leaned on the wall near the door.

Draco exhaled slowly as he stared at Thanatos. “That explains so much.”

“What do you mean?” Harry questioned.

“It’s him—his magic makes everything around you heavy when you’re…worked up.”

“It’s the shroud,” Thanatos said. “Which we’ve shared since I adopted him. He carries the cloak of invisibility, of course, but it’s just the physical manifestation of death’s shroud that I’ve worn since I accepted my role as the god of death.” He stared for a moment then slowly nodded. “I put a little gift on the work table in your private potions lab, because you’re right.”

“Right about what?”

“A bloodstone made with your own hands will work better for you,” Thanatos said. “You’ll find the creation process will be very easy and the method will make itself available when you’re ready.”

“Dad.”

Thanatos merely raised an eyebrow at him, shrugged, then disappeared with a smokey sweep of curling magic.

“You call him dad,” Draco said. “You call the God of Death dad?”

Harry stared for a moment then shrugged. “What else should I call him? He raised me, taught me, and sheltered me with his magic just as James Potter or Sirius Black would’ve done, if they could’ve.” He cleared his throat and stood up. “You should go think about all of this before you make any choices or decisions that would be difficult to walk back.”

Draco made a face at him. “I’m going to go get dressed and stare at all the toxic materials that your father just gave me.”

“I’m serious. You really need to think about it.”

“What I’m going to do is start making a research plan for the bloodstone and brood about your dragonshite behavior in private like a proper Englishman,” Draco said and pointed at him. “You have twenty-four hours to get your head out of your arse, Potter. I mean it.”

Harry huffed a little as Draco left his room. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, caught the lingering taste of Draco on his skin and groaned in frustration.

“Fuck my life,” he muttered.

* * * * *

Harry shared a look with Razel as they were led into the conference room. High Priestess Lenore Feyborn was standing by the fire, her husband was seated at the table. The rest of the research team followed him into the room.

Lenore raised an eyebrow at him, eyes assessing then she slowly nodded. “How is Hedwig?”

“Nesting at home,” Harry said. “She flew off a few months ago and came back with a mate. I’m tolerating him the best I can since he’s certainly made himself at home in my owlery like he was invited.”

Lenore’s green eyes sparkled with amusement and magic. “His name?”

Harry made a face. “Baxter.”

“Then he’s most certainly at home then,” she said in amusement. “You’ll be sure to bring her chicks to the Rome branch for warding and training when the time comes.” She inclined her head at the tea. “Introduce me, Master Potter, and go find some work to do.”

“Of course, Master Feyborn.” He turned to Hermione. “This is Hermione Granger, she has masteries in transfiguration and magical theory. And Pansy Parkinson who has a mastery in magical theory and is pursuing another in spell craft. They are eager to be at your mercy. Hermione, Pansy this is High Priestess Lenore Feyborn, queen of the Horde. She will evaluate you both for ritual work and if the magic between the three of you won’t serve our ritual needs, she’ll pick another dverger dam for the practical work.”

Lenore stared for a moment and nodded. “Come, ladies, we’ve a full schedule today and I’ve prepared a reading list that I’ll want you both to invest yourselves in over the next week.”

Harry exchanged a look with Neville as they were motioned toward the table where Ragnok was seated with Hiro Ito and Lucas. He pulled out his journal as he sat and exhaled slowly when Draco tucked right into the chair on his left, like it was just the place he intended to claim permanently.

“Has something happened?” Harry questioned.

“Dumbledore showed his ass in the Wizengamot session this morning,” Lucas said dryly then winced with the appalled looks he earned for himself.

“He means he acted very inappropriately,” Harry said and Neville sighed with what looked like a life changing amount of relief. “Speculation on the purpose?”

“He’s made it clear that he should have a supervisory role in your project,” Ito said. “And at the bare minimum, observation with full access to all research and rituals conducted. He was told by the WCM and the ICW that we would not expect you to accept his authority before you came here, Master Potter. He seems to think he can bully you into allowing expanded access to both you and the project if you puts on the spot in the Wizengamot.”

Harry frowned. “Is that so?”

“Yes, and while it would be amusing beyond the telling of it, for me, Chief Justice Bertrand would prefer that you not personally start an International Brouhaha.” He paused. “But if you intend to, he wants to know so he can come here immediately and watch it happen in person as no pensieve memory would be satisfying.”

“When it happens, be assured, that I had no desire to start an International Brouhaha,” Harry said and made a face with everyone laughed. “No matter the setting or location, I’m never going to give Dumbledore the power or influence he wants over me. If he thinks I won’t tell him off in public then he’s simply delusional.”

“That’s good because he contacted Director Banner and requested that you both attend the afternoon Wizengamot session so he could explain in public how important he is to your success,” Lucas said dryly and Draco laughed a little.

Harry took out his herbal case and tapped it gently on the table before he focused on Ito. “You want to let Chief Justice Bertrand know things might get unfortunate in this country sooner rather later.”