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Chapter Text

Haesel Potter wished she were anywhere other than her current location. She was sprawled along the settee in the lounge, in a most unladylike manner, and hadn’t received a single reprimand yet. Her day robes were wrinkled. Her long black wavy hair wasn’t even properly “up” for the day. 

She should have stayed in bed.

Her mother had requested her presence but neither Isadore Potter nor her grandmother, Dorea Potter, were paying her the slightest bit of attention.

She stared out the window at the grounds of Potter Manor as she listened to her mother and grandmother banter ideas back and forth for her coming of age gala.

“Draco should sit at her left hand for supper. His mother is Narcissa Black. His table manners and dinner conversation will be faultless,” Dorea said.

Haesel’s lips twitched as she imagined her grandmother putting a blue ribbon on Draco’s chest as if he were a purebred Crup who won best in show. The spoiled git would probably like that.

“Neville is her godbrother; I trust him that close to her. He’s a good boy,” Isadore replied.

Haesel blinked in frustration, barely biting back the words that wanted to spill from her tongue. 

They weren’t normally like this, and Haesel hated that one stupid event had set them at odds. As the planning had progressed, they had started politely disagreeing with each other so often that it drove her mental. Every conversation felt like weaving through a field of duelists.

“Draco will keep her entertained, at least, Isadore, and he won’t fail at drawing attention away from her if she needs a respite from the scrutiny. He’s unattached, so it’s not like supping at her left hand will break some poor witch’s heart,” Dorea replied as she browsed through a catalog.

Haesel had it on good authority, that authority being Draco himself, that he was head-over-heels for Astoria Greengrass. But seeing as the absolute git told her that in confidence, it didn’t feel right to spit out that information to tell her grandmother she was wasting her time.

“What about—?”

Gritting her teeth, Haesel stood and left the room without either her mother or grandmother noticing and calling her back. Later in the day, one of them would likely ask her worriedly why she had left. She didn’t care. 

She was so sick of this! 

She was tired of the bickering inside the manor. Everyone in the family usually got along perfectly well. She didn’t want to hear any more debates about who might offer for her (they suspected most single bachelors of any means in Magical Britain would) and who would be allowed to court her. 

One wizard. Just one. If she could bloody well find him.

Haesel briefly placed her hand over the mark on her body that revealed she was destined for a particular Fate. If she dwelled on it any harder she was going to lose her sanity.

“Turning seventeen should be a joy, not a curse,” Haesel grumbled as she traipsed up to her chambers. 

She wanted to scream and throw things, anything to vent her frustration at all of the hassle and formalities that went into a coming of age gala. She knew they meant well, all of them, but she couldn’t take being trapped in the manor another minute. 

“This can’t be over fast enough.” 

These past few weeks it felt like her family was living under the pall of a Contentious Curse. How else could love and understanding so quickly turn into petty (though always polite) quarrelsomeness?

Haesel stalked into her room, slammed the door behind her, and then stripped to her shift. She dropped her robes on the floor and kicked them with one slipper-shod foot. 

“Stupid, stupid.”

Why couldn’t they just get along? Why couldn’t they agree on something—anything? Why did her coming of age gala have to be the cause of all of the recent disputes? It made Haesel feel like everything was her fault and that was emotionally exhausting.

“Morgana, get them to stop!” 

In nothing but her shift (and bracelet wand-holster), she stormed over to the full-length mirror in her dressing room and scowled. It was a thunderous expression to be sure. There were few things members of pureblood society feared more than a riled Potter.

Haesel was roughly five and a half feet tall. She was slightly more athletically built than was considered classically beautiful, but she had never let that bother her; nothing was going to stand between her and her love of Quidditch and dueling.

Her pale blue eyes, which she inherited from her mother, were particularly icy at the moment. Paired with the dark wavy hair she received from her father, she was pretty to be sure. Yet, she definitely wasn’t a raving beauty. There were too many Black and Greengrass daughters in her age group for her to be considered anything better than pretty.

It’s not like her appearance was the reason they expected so many offers, anyway. It was the strength of her magic.

“You look fierce, dear,” the mirror assured her.

“Good!”

After toeing off her slippers, she donned a pair of leaf-patterned tights and then slid a long tunic that was embroidered with a magnificent hazel tree over her head. The fabric clung to her and stopped just above her knees. She stepped into ankle-high boots as she accentuated her waist with a thin dragonhide belt.

Her younger brother Henry had given her the tunic for her sixteenth birthday as a joke. It was technically casual-wear for teenage wizards, and certainly not suitable garb for pureblood witches. Haesel didn’t care. It was her favorite item in her wardrobe. 

Playing by the rules was for witches who didn’t have a Marauder as a father.

“That’s a mite improper for society, dear. Are you sure you want to wear it?” the mirror asked, sounding scandalized at the thought of a Potter maiden showing not only ankle but also calf and knee as well.

“Yes,” Haesel replied, lips curled in a fierce grin. 

She dared a single member of pureblood society to call her out on her wardrobe choices. A brisk duel would certainly help ease her irritation. Hexing people who thought they had the right to tell her how to act and dress always put her in a better mood.

She twisted her knee-length hair up in a messy bun and secured it with magic and a cream ribbon that complemented her tunic.

“I see you’re feeling feisty today,” the mirror stated, its metal lips twitching.

“Maybe I am,” Haesel retorted before turning to leave.

“You forgot your parasol and gloves, dear!” the mirror called.

Haesel wrinkled her nose. “No, I didn’t!” she answered and kept walking.

She had just stepped out of her suite when a loud whistle echoed through the hallway. Haesel glanced to the left to see her fifteen-year-old brother, Henry Potter, waggling his eyebrows playfully. 

He wore a similar tunic over a pair of black trousers, though his tunic was crimson—the main family heraldry color. His hair was a pale blond mess. He received their mother’s hair color and their father’s untamable mane. He was already as tall as their father and Haesel suspected he might have another growth spurt in him yet. He wasn’t clumsy, but he had that look of someone still growing into their limbs. He had their father’s hazel eyes, though they shone like gold in direct sunlight.

He was a cheeky brat and Haesel loved him to bits.

Henry put a hand to his heart and grinned. “Lady Haesel Potter has decided to grace this lowly peasant with her presence. I beg you, my lady, let me grovel at your feet!”

Haesel chuckled and playfully darted another step away from him. “No! Henry, I don’t want lip-shaped smudges on my boots!”

He pretended to dive for her feet. Haesel squealed and dodged, almost tripping in the process. Strong hands caught her as she had known they would. Her brother was as protective of her as she was of him; their sibling bond was unshakable in her mind.

Henry kissed her forehead before righting her. His hands settled on her shoulders as she stared up at him. They were a comforting warmth and weight.

“How bad is it today?” he asked.

She wordlessly gestured to the tunic he had given her. “I’m going out.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “In public?” 

“Yes.”

“Well, okay then. And what are they not-fighting about today?” Henry asked as he rubbed her shoulders.

Her lips quivered with a bitter smile and said, “Who gets to eat supper at my left hand side. Mama thinks Neville should. Grandmama says Draco is the best choice.” 

Haesel shrugged, causing her brother’s hands to fall away, and then crossed her arms over her chest. If she could give them a name, this wouldn’t even be an issue for them to discuss. But ... Haesel couldn’t give them a name that she didn’t have.

A half-formed memory from when she was fifteen came back to her; she had felt overwhelmingly protective masculine magic engulf her when she needed it the most. Haesel hadn’t felt a hint of it since and couldn’t help but hope that the wizard was waiting for her to come of age to reveal himself.

It would make her life so much simpler if she didn’t have to hunt down the wizard whose mark matched hers.

“Hmm. Not Zach despite your obvious preference?” Henry teased.  

Haesel was not going to dignify that with a response. He knew she did not have romantic feelings for Zacharias Smith, despite their closeness. The Hufflepuff was an absolute prat and one of her dearest friends. She might want to punch him in the face occasionally, but that was just the normal state of being for anyone within ten feet of him.

“I wish I was old enough that it wouldn’t be an issue. Last I heard, Grandpa forbade me because I’m not sixteen. I would’ve saved you from all of this if I could have, sis. On the bright side, at least they aren’t bandying about people you don’t know. I know how much you hate it when people you don’t know well are that close to you,” Henry said.

Haesel had a very good reason for that dislike, but she didn’t want to dwell on it. She hadn’t had the nightmare in weeks. She would do nothing to encourage its return.

“It’s not your fault. I just ... I don’t want to give anyone false hope, you know? It’s stupid that it can’t be you, even if you are underage.” 

Haesel glared at the wall. That would have made her life much easier, and she would have felt more secure about the upcoming gala. She always felt safe with the men in her family; they would never willingly let something bad happen to her. If her mother or grandmother decided that branching out would be politic … well, hopefully they wouldn’t.

“Neville wouldn’t be so bad. He wouldn’t be as annoying as Draco, at least. Neville would probably last till the end of the dessert course. Depending on your mood, Draco might not live past the starters,” Henry said.

“I know!” Haesel laughed. 

Neville was sweet, honorable, and very dear to her heart; there was no question about that. He came from a good family and would never treat her ill. She knew almost everything about him because they had been good friends since they were little—a result of the godsibling bond they shared.

“I know he would be an excellent supper companion, but—”

“But?”

Haesel sighed, squeezed her eyes shut, and leaned against her brother’s chest. The amount of secrets she had swallowed today to keep them from spilling out was ridiculous. It was barely noon!

Neville was one of her favorite godbrothers, possibly her most favorite, but she knew that he was planning to send out a courtship offer on his seventeenth birthday (the day before hers) and didn’t want to accidentally create any confusion or drama in his romantic life. 

“I can’t tell you, Henry,” she whispered.

“Can’t?” Henry asked, stressing the word with glee. 

Haesel winced. She leaned back, almost breaking the comforting hug. “Can’t.”  

Henry’s eyes flared with magic as delight rippled down their sibling bond. Her brother was many things; stupid wasn’t one of them.

“He swore you to secrecy! Which he’d only do if he needed your advice about courting someone! You gave him your word!” Henry sing-songed with a grin.

Haesel huffed, not bothering to deny the conclusion he’d reached. What was the point? He knew the signs of a Potter Vow as well as she did. A Potter’s word, once given, could never be broken. They were the Honorable and Most Ancient House of Potter, after all. 

“Henry!” she admonished, even though there wasn’t anyone around to overhear her brother’s conclusion. It was the principle of the matter.

“Don’t let me forget to place a bet on when Neville will start courting, Haesel,” Henry said seriously. “The odds should be good.”

“Henry, no!”

“Henry, yes!”

“If you try to place a bet on this, I’ll tell Grandmama!” Haesel threatened because the names of those who won official bets were published and there was no doubt that Henry would win if he placed a wager. She didn’t even want to imagine the look that would be on Neville’s face if that happened.

Henry gasped and gaped at her, arms falling to his sides. “Merlin! Are you serious?” 

“Deadly,” Haesel said, staring right into her brother’s eyes so that he could see her resolve.

“Fine. I concede,” Henry sighed theatrically.

“Good,” Haesel replied smugly. She adored winning, even when it was something as silly or simple as wordplay.

Henry playfully tugged on the ribbon holding her hair in its messy bun. “Let’s head to the lounge. You can scandalize them with your daring and improper outfit, and then we’ll get away from all of this drama.”

Haesel chuckled, anticipating her mother’s and grandmother’s horror at the thought of Haesel wearing the tunic in public and not just as loungewear at home. He was right. Getting out of the manor could only help, and she had already planned to do that when she’d chosen to wear the tunic. Taking him with her, so that he could avoid the chaos too, only seemed fair. 

“I suppose you can tag along,” she teased.

“I knew there was a reason you were my favorite sister.”

“I’m your only sister,” she answered, rolling her eyes.

Her mother had gotten ill while she was pregnant with Henry and almost lost him. It was only by the grace of Morgana’s Secret Arts that he survived. Isadore never conceived again after he was born, but Haesel never wondered about what any other brothers or sisters might have been like. She just thanked Morgana for saving Henry.

“I wouldn’t want any other,” Henry replied, voice soft and sincere as their sibling bond overflowed with affection.

“Good, because you’re stuck with me.”

When she stepped through the doorway into the lounge, Haesel had to resist the urge to throw a Blasting Curse at the windows. Her mother and grandmother were still debating candidates for her supper partner, and she had been absent from the room for at least half an hour.

“What about Heir Flint? He’s a strapping fellow.”

“He just got engaged to that Italian heiress. Mister McLaggen—”

“Is a womanizing tosser who won’t be near enough to lay a hand on my sister unless he wishes to lose it. I’ll happily sever it from his wrist if he’s stupid enough to make an attempt,” Henry snapped.

“Language, young man!” Dorea scolded, not looking away from some fabric samples in her hands. 

“I taught you better than that, Henry,” Isadore said as she flipped pages in a book of designs for floral arrangements.

Henry snorted and folded his arms across his chest. “You also said that being honest is more important than being politic.”

“I—” Isadore glanced up from the book, nearly dropping it in horror. “Haesel, what in the name of Morgana are you wearing?” 

“Clothes.”

Dorea’s lips twitched at the response, but then she glanced over and said, “Don’t be cheeky with your mother, young lady.”

Haesel smiled and said, “I’m my father’s daughter. You should know that better than anyone. After all, he got it from you.”

Henry swung an arm around Haesel’s shoulders before Dorea could respond and said, “We’re going out now.”

“Not dressed like that, you’re not,” Isadore said, her eyes locked on Haesel’s knees. 

It was habitual for Haesel to cave to her mother’s soft admonitions about public appropriate attire. She couldn’t even begin to count how many times in her life she had sent a house-elf to fetch her gloves or a parasol because of a single, weighted glance from her mother’s eyes. Today, Haesel stood firm.

“We’re not coming back until you both stop quarreling over my stupid gala,” Haesel said, wanting to end the pointless contention.

“It’s not stupid! We love you, Haesel, and want you to have the best of everything!” Dorea protested.

At the same time, Isadore whispered, “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I won’t sleep under this roof another night if you two keep acting like this. I’ll skip the supper portion of the gala entirely if you don’t stop bickering,” Haesel retorted. 

Haesel hooked an arm around her brother’s waist and made sure she had a tight grasp on him. The last thing she wanted to do was lose or Splinch him whilst she Side-Along Apparated him to their destination; he would never let her forget it. 

She wouldn’t be able to thank her godfather, Sirius Black, enough for pulling some strings at the Ministry of Magic earlier in the year so that she could get her Apparition License early. Anything was better than traveling by Floo.

“Before we return, fix this,” Haesel commanded. 

“Or I’ll find Haesel somewhere else to stay until the gala. I might even join her,” Henry said seriously.

Before either woman could reply, Haesel Disapparated with Henry.

Chapter Text

Haesel and Henry reappeared in a chamber that was floor-to-ceiling yellow marble—the Apparition Chamber in The Golden Fleece. 

The Golden Fleece was the most elite pureblood club. It forbade the use of offensive magic and was only open to those aged fourteen and older. A variety of entertainment options were available for those worthy (and lucky) enough to be allowed entrance. The Potters were invited and written down in the books when it first opened centuries ago. 

“Yes!” Henry said, pumping one fist in the air as he squeezed Haesel against his side. “I love it here!”

Haesel smirked and said, “I know.” 

Her brother had been banned (by their grandfather) from coming alone after the time he rigged several of the games in the Gambling Hall so that people he didn’t like would lose. Though her father had been proud of Henry, especially for not getting caught, her grandfather hadn’t been amused in the least. As a result, Henry could only come when someone had the time and inclination to chaperone him.

Henry picked Haesel up and spun her in a circle, laughing gleefully. “Thank you! Thank you!” 

“All right, you’re welcome. Put me down now! We’re keeping the chamber occupied. That’s rude,” she chided as he set her back on her feet. 

Haesel smoothed the tunic down as far as it would go and then took a fortifying breath. Here she was, days from her coming of age gala, about to enter a premier club in wizard’s clothing. She dared anyone to comment.

“Let’s go, then!” Henry said as he offered her his arm, a gallant smile on his face. His eyes twinkled at her, daring her to take it and let him act as escort. He bowed dramatically. “My lady.” 

“How gallant you are, Master Potter,” she teased. Haesel laid her right arm atop his left, her open palm resting over the back of his hand. 

Henry tilted his chin and stuck his nose in the air. “I daresay, Lady Haesel, that the peerage will be quite jealous that I’ve been gifted with your company. Why, they shall simply faint with envy.”

A soft snort escaped Haesel, though she would deny it to her dying day. “That’s enough, git. Let’s go do something. I didn’t escape the manor to stare at yellow marble or your face all day.”

Henry pouted as he led her toward the lobby. “I’ll have you know that many people find me quite attractive.”

Her laughter was vivacious, drawing attention as they stepped into the club proper. “Don’t worry, Henry. I’m sure plenty of people are dying to bond with you for more than your fortune. If only fortune-hunters were my only worry,” she said, biting her lip. 

Sighing, Henry flipped his arm over and rubbed his thumb across her palm. “We’ll keep you safe,” he promised.

That was a Potter Vow—one she had heard many times in her life. Whenever a daughter was born into the family, three of her male relatives were required to offer a Vow of Protection. Though she was unable to remember the vow on her own, she had seen it in her father’s Pensieve. Because a Potter’s word could not be broken by any means except death, Potter maidens had unparalleled protection. If such a situation were imminent, all Potter males bound to the witch in danger would be forcibly Apparated to her side by the family magic; it was their ultimate protection, and one of the Potter family’s greatest secrets.

“I know.” 

Haesel felt safest around purebloods. They had their own money and power; they valued bloodlines and honor above all else. A pureblood was nothing without honor. Unlike the Muggle-born students who refused to learn magical customs—Mudbloods, the lot of them—they would never be so crass as to ask her out on a date, like that revolting stalker Colin Creevey had. 

Luckily for Haesel, her mother’s youngest brother—Uncle Valerius—had been present at the time, being only a year older than herself. He thoroughly educated Creevey on the matter. 

“Little lady! It’s good to see you!” a much loved voice called.

Haesel startled as she realized she hadn’t been paying attention to her surroundings. Her father would be disappointed if he found out. One of the reasons he trusted her to leave the manor without telling him where she was going was because she was usually observant and prepared to defend herself if necessary.

Haesel grinned up at her favorite uncle. “Uncle Valerius, how are you?” 

Valerius Vaisey was the spitting image of her mother, though he was taller and male, of course. He had the same ice-blue eyes and the same blond hair that was so fair it could be mistaken for white in certain lighting.

She tilted her head out of habit, and he leaned down to kiss both of her cheeks. She returned the loving gesture. 

“Better now that you’re here. I didn’t think you’d ever escape my sister’s clutches,” Valerius replied. “I’ve barely seen you all summer.”

“Not by choice, I assure you.”

His eyes swept down her figure. “You’re actually wearing it. I can’t believe it,” Valerius said as he gestured to her tunic. 

“Neither can Mama or Grandmama,” she whispered, grinning cheekily as her brother and uncle laughed with her. 

“Isadore must have had fits,” he said with a chuckle.

“She wasn’t pleased, that’s for sure,” Haesel said. 

“And how’s the little king today?” Valerius asked Henry. 

It was a Potter family tradition to name the eldest male son after a member of Avalon’s royal family, seeing as the Potters were the last remnants of the Pendragon line. Grandpapa Charlus’s own father was seen as something of a rebel for using an alternate spelling of Charles. 

Henry claimed he would name his firstborn son Arthur, much to their father’s amusement and grandfather’s consternation. Given the mark that Chaos had placed on her skin on her eleventh birthday, Haesel couldn’t help but wonder if Henry’s claim was prophetic.

“Grateful to be here,” Henry said. He bounced on the balls of his feet as he asked, “What are you doing here, Uncle Valerius? Are you looking for a fencing opponent?” 

“I’m afraid Valerius has already engaged me for his next match, Master Potter.”

Haesel glanced to her left and locked gazes with Marcus Flint. He had plain brown eyes and hair, and thin lips. She had heard more than one person speculating on whether or not the Flints had troll blood. Though, Haesel didn’t think he was that ugly.

Then again, all she really cared about was that he was a challenging Quidditch opponent. Though he was annoyingly prone to cheating.

Marcus bowed to her, his face locked in an almost-sneer, as it had been every time she had ever seen it. His monotone voice neither confirmed nor denied the validity of his words as he said, “Lady Haesel. My apologies for interrupting.” 

“Apology accepted, Heir Flint,” Haesel replied. The short curtsy she gave should have looked ridiculous, given the length of the tunic, but she made it look elegant instead of awkward. She also didn’t miss the many eyes that were drawn to her legs; she ignored them, though, when said gazes didn’t reveal anything but admiration.

“Our fencing hall is ready, Valerius,” Marcus said, revealing the reason he had intruded upon their conversation.

Valerius nodded and then turned his attention back to Henry. “Another time, all right?”

“Soon?” Henry pleaded. 

As expected, it made their uncle cave instantly. It was almost impossible to resist giving Henry whatever he wanted when he used that wheedling tone of voice.

“Yes, soon.” Before Henry could open his mouth again, Valerius said, “I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” 

Chuckling, Valerius patted Henry on the shoulder and said, “I know you will.” 

“Valerius,” Marcus prompted.

Valerius waved a hand in acknowledgement and turned his attention to Haesel. “Will you two be able to join me for dinner? It feels like it’s been forever since we last caught up.”

“Oh, please! Can we, Haesel?” Henry asked.

She rolled her eyes at her brother and then nodded to her uncle. “We’d be delighted, Uncle Valerius. Where would you like to meet?” 

Did he want to use one of the dining rooms here? Or was he thinking of a family dinner with the Vaiseys? Perhaps he had a new restaurant in mind? Knowing Uncle Valerius, it was the latter; he was obsessed with frequenting the newest premier eateries.

Valerius twirled his finger, indicating the lobby. It resembled the inside of an ash tree with rings on the floor and grained walls. Each exit seemed to be a branch growing off a massive tree. Technically, the lobby was the Yggdrasil room; each room in the club had its own name, based on décor or purpose. 

“Does eight o’clock work for you?” he asked.

Haesel cocked an eyebrow and smirked at her brother. “Do you think we can entertain ourselves for seven hours?” When Henry grinned wickedly, she clarified, “Without rigging games in the Gambing Hall, causing mayhem, or starting a Blood Feud?”

“Eight o’clock will be fine,” Henry said to Valerius, while pouting at Haesel for the list of restrictions.

“See you then,” Valerius said before leaving with Marcus.

“Mentioning all of the fun things that I’m not allowed to do is just mean,” Henry said. 

She wouldn’t have been surprised if he stuck out his tongue at her; in fact, she was impressed he didn’t since they were in public. He definitely would have in the manor.

Haesel rested her hand on his arm in consolation. “I just need you to focus on all of the fun things that you can do.”

“Fine.” Henry gestured at the various corridors branching off of the lobby. “This is your escape attempt. What do you want to do?” 

The serious tone of his voice gave her pause and reminded her that her brother was growing up. Just a year ago, Henry would’ve dragged her off to do whatever had caught his fancy. Now, he was trying to get her mind off of her coming of age gala (nightmare). It was very sweet of him.

Haesel saw the other wizards and witches in the room observing them and whispering to one another. It was to be expected, but it was irritating all the same. 

I’ve never seen so many people absolutely salivating for gossip, she thought snidely. 

She wasn’t in the mood to answer countless questions from strangers and acquaintances—not that she ever was. Haesel prized her privacy above most things in life. Very few people were trusted with her secrets and true thoughts.

“I wish the Jasmine Room wasn’t booked to the minute this time of year,” she said. “The occupancy limit is divine.” 

The Jasmine Room was a tearoom with an attached oriental garden that was restricted to four occupants maximum. Her parents had met there on their first courtship date, and she adored it for its history. It was especially dear to her mother, because that was where James Potter truly saw her for the first time. It was the start of her parents’ romance.

However, the Jasmine Room was so popular that it was booked months in advance.

“It is,” Henry agreed. 

Haesel’s second favorite room wouldn’t guarantee them privacy at all. The Gallery allowed fifty occupants. She and Henry liked to stand before the newest exhibits and whisper about how awful they were.

“The Gallery?” 

“Brilliant idea, Haesel. Let’s go!” 

Their fellow purebloods left the lobby as quickly as was polite; almost all of them heading down the hallway that led to the Gallery. Haesel wondered if it would already be full to capacity before they even reached it. 

They had taken all of two steps and she already wanted to stamp her foot at the whispering that had started, catching her name more than once. 

“Did you see what Lady Haesel is wearing?”

“I can’t believe her mother let her out of the manor!”

“Lady Haesel has always been a cheeky scamp.”

Unfortunately, with her coming of age gala only days away, she was a hot topic of conversation and speculation and would remain so for a while.

Once the lobby was almost empty, Henry leaned down and whispered, “Did you still want to mock paintings, or was that a decoy plan to make them all go away so we could sneak off to a different room?”

Haesel laughed. “I did want to mock paintings, but now that so many people will be there, likely waiting to interrogate me—”

“Very politely and properly, of course,” Henry interjected.

“Oh, of course!” Haesel agreed. “Any other activity and room suddenly holds a greater appeal.” 

It was a pity, because she really did miss mocking ugly paintings. However, the last thing she wanted was to listen to endless demanding questions about her coming of age gala, suitors, dancing, etc., etc., etc., ad nauseam. She had no doubt, whatsoever, that such things would be the primary topic of conversation. Haesel had fled the manor to avoid all of that; toppling into a pool of similar questions and suggestions defeated the whole point of coming here.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Henry said. 

The few people who were still in the lobby smirked in their direction at the assertion, which was louder than normal. Henry had a habit of getting more boisterous when he was excited about something, such as accidentally tricking a mass of people into leaving them alone.

“Why don’t we go—?”

“Haesel!” a familiar voice hollered, cutting her off and causing her to spin around in shock. He never yelled at her in public! “Please, for the love of Merlin and Morgana, I need to trade favors this instant!”

Chapter Text

“Zach, what’s the matter?” Haesel asked. 

She was stunned by the horror, helpless disgust, and anger in his magic. It took her a moment to realize she had addressed him casually in public, but she didn’t care what anyone thought of the situation. Zacharias Smith was her best friend. He was a smarmy git with enough arrogance for an entire room full of purebloods. She adored him for it. 

As it was, having each dueled for the other’s honor more than once, they shared something of a symbiotic sibling bond. He was one of a very limited number of people that she trusted implicitly.

Zach’s magic lashed out as he strode across the room. Everyone’s attention was centered on him (which he usually adored), but he wasn’t grinning. His handsome face was twisted in a tight frown. His blond hair seemed to defy gravity, and his brown eyes spat hatred. With every step closer he took, she could see how much he had grown during his magical maturity a month earlier. 

“I’m serious, Haesel. I need to trade favors. Right now would be brilliant,” Zach snapped as he stopped before her, chest rising and falling. He raised one hand and shoved it through his short hair agitatedly.

Haesel placed one hand on his chest and bit her lip as she felt nothing beating inside it. It always felt disconcerting to touch someone who had given away their heart and not received one in return.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” she ordered. 

Zach was a lot, but he wasn’t careless with his reputation in society. So this much of an overblown and dramatic reaction meant that something had greatly upset him. And whatever it was wouldn’t be frivolous. What had caused him to so utterly lose his composure in such a public venue?

It wasn’t like him to air legitimate concerns in public, only paltry ones.

Zach leaned down until his face was obscenely close to hers; she could feel his breath on her lips when he said, “Mother wants to arrange a betrothal contract with Chang.”

“What?”  

What had he just said? She couldn’t possibly have heard that right. Lady Ophelia Smith wanted to arrange a betrothal contract for her son, a descendant of Helga Hufflepuff (from the secondary line), with the vicious, little witch who strung Cedric Diggory along only to break his heart?

Shaking head to toe, Zach dropped his forehead onto her shoulder and whispered, “Don’t make me beg, Haesel. Just agree to trade favors with me.”

“I get that you’re in an unideal situation, Smith,” Henry said, voice dark with emotion, “but I’m going to punch you in the face if you don’t get your head away from my sister’s chest.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Henry. The blood spray would ruin the tunic you gave me,” Haesel said absently as she drafted and discarded potential favors to trade one after the other. 

At the same time, Zach snarled, “I would never impose on her like that!” 

“Then prove it,” Henry ordered. 

His jaw was locked and, for just a moment, the resemblance to their father was uncanny. She last saw that look on her father’s face when a wizard in Diagon Alley had dared to proposition her mother in front of her father. The wizard’s suffering for doing so was still whispered about in drawing rooms.

Zach grumbled but stood straight, kissing Haesel’s cheek apologetically. “Haesel, may I request your good will in exchanging favors? Please.” 

The shadow on his countenance tugged at her heart. How could his mother do something like this to him?

“You didn’t tell her?” Haesel guessed, even as she tried to come up with a favor she could request that would hold equal magical significance. There had to be something.  

Zach was deeply, irrevocably in love already. He was so in love that he had lost his heart. To be told that he had to accept a betrothal contract with someone else—and Chang, of all people—must feel like a terrible betrayal.

“She wouldn’t listen to me. She’s always worse when Father’s out of the country on business. You know that,” Zach gritted out.

Indeed, she did. 

Lady Smith had been born into a pureblood family of low standing and little wealth. Bonding with Zach’s father was her greatest achievement in life. Unfortunately, the wealth and power of being Lady of a high-ranking family had gone to her head. She was of the opinion that she knew everything about everyone and was incapable of believing otherwise. 

Since it was a mother’s duty to organize courtship dates and betrothal contracts, Zach would be subjected to whatever Lady Smith wished to arrange.

“But why Chang?” Haesel asked in disbelief. 

Why would Lady Smith even consider Chang, especially after the witch infamously broke Cedric Diggory’s heart by refusing his bonding offer on account of wanting a better title for herself.

“She got nine N.E.W.T.s. It was announced in the Daily Prophet yesterday. Mother was most impressed,” Zach gritted out.

Lady Smith had picked Chang because of her exam scores? Was she mad? “Chang is—!”

Henry cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him. “I’m afraid I couldn’t help but overhear. Your mother wants to betroth you to Miss Cho Chang, correct?”

Zach nodded sharply, eyes haunted.

Haesel felt terrible for him. If it were courtship dates, at least he could stop seeing her after three. If it were an engagement, he would be able to break it. There were very few ways to break a betrothal contract, and all of them were ugly. Lady Smith’s obsessive, petty need to feel important was infuriating!

Dusky red colored Henry’s cheeks as he glanced down at the floor. “In that case, I am honor-bound to inform you that the female in question is without virtue. As such, a betrothal contract is impossible.”

Haesel blinked and barely kept her jaw from dropping in shock. Her opinion of Chang was very poor, but she would never have guessed that the title-seeking girl would ruin her chances for a bonding! 

Was this … was this the real reason why she turned down Cedric Diggory? So that the entirety of society would think her catty and not reach the ruinous conclusion that she couldn’t bond with him because she had engaged in a tryst?

“You’re absolutely positive?” Zach asked, eyes narrowed and voice harsh.

Henry nodded, gaze averted. “I ... chanced upon her and a pureblood wizard in flagrante delicto last year at Hogwarts.”

Haesel knew that some magicals didn’t remain pure because they didn’t desire a magical bonding, but it wasn’t something she could understand. Why would anyone willingly choose a marriage, something that could be so easily sundered as if it held no value? 

Then again, she knew she was biased. Potters always bonded magically and always for love. As far as she was concerned, physical intimacy was only to occur in privacy between bonded spouses.

“At Hogwarts?” Zach inquired, aghast.

Henry nodded sharply.

How dare they subject her little brother to something like that? What if one of the young witches had walked in on them? The girls would have been traumatized for life! Just thinking of stumbling across something like that made Haesel feel ill.

“I’m sorry, Haesel, for having to speak of such things in your presence,” Henry whispered, mortified. 

“It’s fine. You did it to help Zach,” Haesel said, even though she felt repulsed. She didn’t want such pictures in her mind; they had no place there.

“Then I won’t need to exchange favors, Haesel,” Zach said. His shoulders sagged with relief, muscles unknotting. He finally smiled and then kissed Haesel’s cheeks. 

The people still present in the room eyed Zach as if he were mad.

“Right. I know you don’t like tattling, but your father needs to know what his wife is doing. You’re his only son, and you deserve better than Chang. If your mother insists on being difficult, then we’ll gladly give you Sanctuary,” Haesel said. 

“I will,” Zach agreed. “I...” He swallowed and stared into her eyes, his hand clenching at his empty chest as he whispered, “I couldn’t bear to lose Rose before I’ve even received a chance to earn her affections.” 

“Well, you haven’t lost her yet. I can’t imagine you losing her at all,” Haesel said as she turned and placed one arm atop his and her other atop her brother’s. 

Zach had fallen hopelessly in love with Rose Zeller, a Hufflepuff three years younger than they were. Rose was a sweet girl with scarlet hair and aureate eyes from her mother’s line. She was sassy and vivacious and would make an ideal wife for Zach. They were such a close match magically that Haesel knew Rose would never settle for anyone but Zach, unless he was stolen from her by Lady Smith’s asinine machinations.

Haesel had never offered Sanctuary to anyone before, but she meant it whole-heartedly. She would not allow Lady Smith to ruin her best friend’s future.

“So, what do we have planned?” Zach asked, neatly insinuating himself into their afternoon. 

“Well, we said we were headed for the Gallery....” Henry’s voice trailed off as he stared down at her and cocked an eyebrow.

“What would you like to do now, Haesel?” Zach inquired, purposely leaving off her title and smirking at two old wizards who frowned at him in blatant disapproval.

“Treating her, of all people, that way.”

“Some of this younger generation are mannerless brats.”

“What’s her brother thinking, letting that ingrate anywhere near her?”

“Did you see where he put his head?”

Haesel rolled her eyes at them before pondering Zach’s question. “We said we’d go to the Gallery. I’ll not be called a liar.” Even if they didn’t stay for long, honor demanded that she and her brother make an appearance.

“Now, there’s a proper lady. If only I were younger,” one ancient wizard muttered. 

Haesel decided to be flattered, instead of horrified. However, she felt the arms underneath hers shaking with amusement. Her escorts were such children, she thought fondly. Though, to be fair, Lord Wallace’s comment had been absurdly entertaining.

“What do you want to bet that Lord Prewett returned for a chance at winning your hand?” Zach asked, something he had mentioned countless times since the Daily Prophet declared the Magizoologist’s return to Magical Britain.

“I hadn’t thought of that, but I really should have. People say he’s a Fire Mage; maybe he finally found someone hot enough to tempt him back,” Henry said with a smirk, teasingly waggling his eyebrows.

Haesel groaned.

“Why, the very few who have seen him since his return say that he’s dashing. Perhaps the esteemed Lady Haesel Potter has caught his attention,” Zach teased. 

She bore the teasing with good grace. Zach was ever fond of picking on her, as friends often did. She had years’ worth of experience on the matter and was particularly fond of repaying such taunts at the most opportune moments.

Haesel was, after all, her father’s daughter. Pranking was in her blood.

“Who could dare resist the great Lord Prewett? You would have even more power, wealth, and prestige than you already do,” Henry said with a grin. 

Haesel huffed at their ludicrous assertions. Zach and Henry adored tag-teaming her with teasing about potential suitors. It usually ended faster if she didn’t entertain them with responses, but she couldn’t always hold her tongue.

Haesel rolled her eyes. “He’s just as likely to be back here to bail Fred and George out of a spot of trouble.”

“Well, he certainly won’t have come to see his mother. She had no place hiding his future lordship from him because he was ‘just a boy’ and ‘didn’t need to be burdened with adult things’. Molly Weasley is more controlling than my mother, and that’s saying something! Sorting Slytherin was quite possibly the best revenge he could have gotten against her, unless he officially disinherited her,” Zach said, snickering.

“I still can’t believe she let him think his name was Charlie Weasley for the first eleven years of his life. What would be more shocking at age eleven than to receive a Hogwarts letter addressed to your true magical name and learn that your parents have lied to you for years? She put the Prewett family magic at jeopardy. He will never be able to forgive that,” Henry added.

The scandal was over a decade old. Due to the outrageousness of it, it would never be forgotten. Things like that grew into legends over time.

“And he shouldn’t,” Haesel said. 

Nothing was worth risking losing the magic a family had built and nurtured for generations. A family line had to exist and perform specific rituals for five hundred years old to develop family magic. For Missus Weasley to put that at risk to spare her son early responsibility was unconscionable.

A trickle of murmuring voices sounded down the corridor. They were almost to the Gallery now. 

Haesel sighed and said, “Let’s get this over with. Then we can go to a different room.”

Before either Zach or Henry could reply, she straightened her shoulders and reigned in her patience. Haesel stepped through the archway into the Gallery. 

Several people turned to face them, including Draco Malfoy, whom she hadn’t expected to see today. Astoria Greengrass was on his arm, a faint blush on her cheeks as her jade eyes shone with pleasure. 

The genuine happiness she felt at seeing Draco escorting Astoria was overshadowed by the calculating glint in several other purebloods’ eyes. She was not in the mood to deal with acquaintances’ incessant curiosity today.

Haesel hadn’t even had her coming of age gala yet, and she was already tired of society.

Chapter Text

Several hours later, Haesel and her companions were out in the rose garden, lingering over a very late afternoon tea that was served nearly two hours past.

Haesel’s teacup leaned precariously in her grasp. She hadn’t taken a sip since someone, she wasn’t sure who, had handed it to her. Her palm cradled the bottom of the porcelain cup and her fingers curled around it like claws; it was how she held her teacups in private, not public. She was in public. She knew that, but it couldn’t quite seem to register.

“And then I swooped down and caught the Snitch before Lacerta could!” Draco said, finishing his story about the previous afternoon and gloating about beating the elder of his two younger sisters to the Snitch.

“And how many hedges did she burn as a result?” Zach inquired, referencing Lacerta’s hidden temper. 

The eldest Malfoy daughter was a beauty, to be sure, but she loathed losing at anything. It rarely happened in public, but Haesel had seen the exquisite composure her mother, Narcissa Black, taught her crack on more than one occasion. 

She was nothing at all like Draco’s youngest sister. Iolanthe Malfoy was lovely and sweet and—

“None,” Draco replied with a frown.

“Liar!” Henry coughed into his fist.

“I am not! She didn’t set any of the hedges on fire!” Draco retorted.

“Lacerta does seem to struggle with elemental spells,” Astoria said with twitching lips from behind her teacup. “Or so I’ve been told.”

“Then how many vases did she—”

A tendril of magic brushed against Haesel. The tea in her cup sloshed close to the rim, but didn’t spill over, as a tremble wracked down her spine.

That magic. Lady Morgana, that magic begged for her attention. 

It was heady, immense, and teased along her own like a lover’s caress. It felt dangerous and utterly safe at the same time, a juxtaposition that excited her. How long had it been since she last felt magic like that outside of her own family? Magic that was unrepentantly steadfast? 

It wasn’t necessarily the strength of the magic in question, though it was strong, but the qualities it displayed. Magic radiated emotions if people didn’t keep it folded away inside them, and most of the people Haesel met unwittingly broadcasted their insecurities. 

As someone who knew what and who she was (and the immense responsibility her personal future held), Haesel knew exactly what she wanted for herself. This magic ticked all the boxes.

Unable to help herself, Haesel let her magic brush against it ever so slightly in return. She blindly reached back for it. It was only present for a moment, but the magic clung to her lovingly. 

Then it was snatched from her reach with all due haste.

What was I thinking? What in Morgana’s name was I thinking? Haesel demanded of herself. There was a fine line between daring and foolishness; she had just crossed it. 

With the unknown wizard’s intoxicating magic beyond her reach, she felt an ache in her chest. It was as if there was a phantom heartbeat there. It wasn’t an actual heart, a heart someone lost to her by loving her desperately, but … perhaps, it was the prelude to such an event.

The wizard’s magic was so resolutely honorable that Haesel could have almost mistaken him for a Potter. It felt like he could match her magically, and that was a dangerous conclusion to reach. Because as much as she wanted to find the wizard who bore the same mark Chaos had placed on her skin, she couldn’t afford to be wrong.

That phantom heartbeat skipped in her chest. 

It took all of her self-control to not get up and go looking for him.

If he wanted to meet her now, he wouldn’t have folded his magic securely away when she reached for it. Haesel was still underage for a few more days. With how compatible their magic had felt in that single moment of contact, his restraint impressed her.

Haesel kicked off her boots and curled her legs up on the sofa. She leaned against her brother’s side, allowing his magic to hide her from the haunting call that longed for her attention. Helping the wizard retain control was the least she could do. Especially if he was the wizard she sought.

Henry wrapped an arm around her shoulders and asked, “What’s wrong, Haesel?”

“What?”

Her head jerked upward and her arm moved with her. Before the tea could spill and scald them, her brother removed the cup from her hand and set it on the table.

Henry grasped her chin and stared into her eyes. His magic stretched out even more and sealed around her, completely muffling her magical signature. It was like being wrapped in the softest, fluffiest, warmest blanket in the world. His love for her was immeasurable.

“What’s the matter? Is something wrong with the tea?” Henry inquired.

Haesel felt heat rushing to her cheeks as she realized that she had been so lost in the brief encounter with the mystery wizard’s magic that she had completely forgotten decorum. She was snuggled against her brother in public with her feet on the furniture. If her companions had been anyone else, she would’ve been horribly embarrassed.

“Malfoy probably spiked it with an attraction potion,” Zach said with a smirk.

“I did not!” Draco declared at the same time as Astoria burst into tinkling laughter.

Haesel cocked a mocking eyebrow at Zach for the ludicrous comment, though she was grateful for the distraction, and asked, “And you just let him without saying anything to me?” 

“Absolutely,” Zach teased.

A quick glance showed that Astoria and Draco were now staring at Zach in disbelief. Her odd behavior was forgotten for the moment. Thank Morgana. She really loved her best friend.

Haesel shook her head and smiled smugly, finally able to relax due to the silly banter and the protective feeling of her brother’s magic. “Zach. Zach. Zach. I’m not the one—”

“Now, now, are you really going to deny the truth? I dosed her with a cuddle potion because I give the best hugs on the planet, thank you very much,” Henry interrupted. 

“Well, Master Henry certainly doesn’t have self-esteem issues,” Astoria said as she adjusted one of the pins holding up her strawberry-blonde curls. 

“Who would with Haesel snuggled against them?” Zach asked. “I know people who would pay to breathe the same air she does.”

“That’s an interesting business venture. Warn me ahead of time and we can split the profits,” Haesel said before winking showily at her friend. 

Astoria laughed gaily, the sun making her hair shine like rose gold. Draco stared at her with awe-struck eyes, his chuckles abruptly silent.

While they were all distracted, Haesel put her boots back onto her feet and returned them to the ground. While none of her dear friends would care, the rest of the purebloods who could stumble across them would. The last thing Haesel needed right now was an article in a gossip column saying that she had been caught partially undressed in public.

Now, if only the feel of his magic could be so easily erased from her mind. Her coming of age gala was only days away; she suddenly wanted it to arrive more quickly for much different reasons than she had before. 

“So, do tell. Who, exactly, is being honored with your first waltz?” Astoria asked as she turned jade eyes on Haesel.

Haesel had long since trained her magic not to lash out at others every time she was upset. She was thankful for that now. She would never want to harm Astoria, and especially not for such innocent curiosity.  

It didn’t help that Draco had leaned forward in his seat and gone as still as if someone had Petrified him. He was, hands down, the worst gossip at Hogwarts. It was something he had learned at his mother’s knee. While Haesel had benefited from his obsessive need to know every rumor multiple times in the past, it was annoying right now.

“Not me,” Henry said with a pout. 

He was always coming to her rescue when he could, helping her avoid situations she found awkward or uncomfortable. However, the curiosity on Astoria’s face said she wouldn’t let Henry save Haesel this time.

“You’re fifteen. It can’t be you,” Astoria said, not unkindly.

“Well, I don’t want it. I like being the positive center of attention. Whoever gets your first waltz is going to be hated by the majority of bachelors in Magical Britain. So don’t pick me, Haesel, because I’ll leave you standing alone on the dance floor in your revoltingly expensive gown,” Zach said as he grabbed a biscuit off the silver tray on the table, before leaning back in the armchair. 

“Gee, Zach, thanks for that,” Haesel said dryly. She knew it was an empty threat. Zach would absolutely waltz with her if she chose him. But he also knew that she knew how he felt about Rose and that she would never put him in that position.

He nodded and bit into the biscuit. “You’re welcome.”

“You don’t want her first waltz?” Draco and Astoria asked in unison, both staring at him with unhidden shock.

Zach didn’t even bother swallowing before saying, “Not in the least.”

Draco looked at Zach as if he thought Zach should be locked up in the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo’s Hospital—a place reserved for long-lasting damage and incurable diseases.

“But everyone thinks—”

“Everyone is wrong,” Zach interrupted, a few crumbs falling from his lips in the process.

It seemed, though, that Astoria was determined to not be distracted from receiving an answer to her original question, despite the wonderful tangents her brother and best friend had offered. 

“So, who is it? He’s surely been chosen by now. The gala is only days away!” Astoria said, eyes bright.

Regardless that it was true, Astoria would never believe that her partner hadn’t been decided upon yet. If Haesel said as much, it would be considered a blatant lie. Astoria was right; the gala was only days away. Yet … Haesel hadn’t chosen anyone yet.

The one decision in the entire gala that was left solely with her to decide and she didn’t have a name to offer her parents.

Before that magic had brushed against her a little bit ago, she had thought she might give it to her Uncle Valerius. Because he was trustworthy and family. Any other wizard would have taken it, rightfully, as a sign of deep regard.

And given that she didn’t know the name of the wizard who bore the same mark on his body as she did on hers, she couldn’t provide it. 

“I’m afraid that information is classified,” Henry said when Haesel couldn’t force any words from her lips. 

“Longbottom, then?” Draco blurted as if he were physically unable to restrain himself from guessing.

“He is her only godbrother that’ll be of age. Her eldest Black godbrothers, Heir Antares and Master Aries, are both fourteen, though they will be fifteen before the new school year. But I would be quite surprised if she chose Heir Longbottom,” Astoria said as she tried to hide a secretive smile behind her manicured fingernails. 

Haesel’s mind reeled as she stared at Astoria. Did … did Astoria know? Because that secretive little smile certainly implied that she had a more than fair idea of where Neville’s heart was headed.

Her godbrother was utterly besotted with Astoria’s older sister, Daphne Greengrass, who was considered one of the great beauties of their generation by everyone who was anyone. He had confided in her that he intended to send a courtship offer on his seventeenth birthday.

After he did, and it became known, no one would ever question his Gryffindor Sorting again.

A rumbling laugh echoed through the rose garden from behind her. 

Haesel twisted around quickly, annoyed that anyone would be able to sneak up on them. Her own magic couldn’t sense as well when it was being sheltered; it was a small price to pay for being barricaded from the outside world, though. 

Thankfully, it was only Uncle Valerius.

“The little Blacks will not be graced with Haesel’s first waltz,” Valerius said as he sauntered over. He leaned down and kissed Haesel’s forehead, eyes narrowing at how she was almost huddled against Henry’s side.

“Uncle Valerius,” Haesel said, voice warm with welcome at the interruption.

“It seems you’ve lost track of time. It’s almost eight o’clock and this is most definitely not the Yggdrasil room. If I’d known I would need to hunt you down, I would’ve made our reservations for later,” Valerius chided them.

Haesel almost leaped to her feet with excitement at being able to escape the terribly awkward conversation. Henry rose just as quickly, his arm falling from her shoulders to extend beside her; she placed hers atop it and smiled at their companions. 

“You’ll have to excuse us. We have a prior engagement. Draco, Astoria, until later,” Haesel said.

“I will see you at your gala,” Astoria said.

Haesel turned toward Zach but then looked back at Draco when she remembered something that she forgot to verify during their conversation so far today. “Draco, did you remember to purchase tickets to the Quidditch World Cup when they became available yesterday?”

“Of course!” Draco said, affronted. “I wasn't going to sit in the stands with the plebeians! I bought out the other half of the private box we agreed to split.”

Draco sounded like such a prat when he said stuff like that, but Haesel understood. The stadium was always crammed with people during the Quidditch World Cup. She much preferred a private box as well, hence their plan to buy out an entire one this year and then invite friends to watch it with them.

Ireland was in it for the first time since 1994. They were scheduled to play against Spain this year, who narrowly defeated Egypt in the final qualifying round.

She was really looking forward to it.

“I might attend just for the entertainment value of watching you two bicker the whole time,” Zach said.

Haesel laughed and turned toward her best friend. “I haven't even invited you yet, Zach!” 

He snorted at her. 

“I expect I’ll see you quite soon. If you have any issues, my offer is eternally open-ended,” Haesel assured him, referring to her promise for Sanctuary with the Honorable and Most Ancient House of Potter.

“I’ll let you know if I decide to take you up on that,” Zach promised, giving her peace of mind that he wouldn’t let his mother bully him into a betrothal while Haesel was distracted with other things.

Astoria and Draco’s gazes sharpened at that, but neither would be crass enough to ask for clarification. Leaving them even more curious was just a subtle punishment for asking her about the blasted gala that loomed over her head.

“Come along now. Being fashionably late and inappropriately late are unbearably close. Let it never be said that a Vaisey or Potter were inappropriately late,” Valerius said, turned, and gestured for them to follow as he stalked from the garden.

“What’s wrong?” Henry asked as soon as they were out of sight. 

She had known that he would react like this once others weren’t around; he was always willing to cover for her, but he wanted to know why. It wasn’t often that she hid inside others’ magical signatures.

Haesel tightly gripped his wrist. “His magic.”

Henry stopped abruptly. There was a ferocious tone to his voice, as if he wanted to impale someone on the end of his favorite sword, when he asked, “Whose magic? What happened, Haesel?” 

She snuck a single tendril of magic free from her brother’s encompassing cloud and then yanked it back. He was still here. For that one moment, without protection, Haesel had known exactly where he was—up in the Menagerie. It was barely longer than an instant, but she had felt the pull; she had wanted to go to his side. 

Haesel would not allow that. She wasn’t weak. Her body and magic didn’t rule her mind. And he had made it clear, by withdrawing his magic from her, that he was not prepared to meet her at this time.

“I swear I’ll tell you later.”

“All right, just tell me if you’re okay,” Henry said. 

Haesel glanced up at her brother and confessed, “I’m not sure I am.”

Henry’s face hardened. She had seen her grandfather’s face exactly like this once. Some brainless twit of a witch had whispered rather loudly at one of the Potter family Yule Balls that a real pureblood witch would have been able to give Lord Charlus Potter more than one child. Hadn’t it taken precious Dorea Black over a decade and a half to get pregnant?

What the bint hadn’t known, and no one outside the family did, was that a jealous witch had poisoned Dorea when she was carrying her first child. She had lost three children before successfully carrying James to term. 

There was a reason, after all, why the House of Thorne had mysteriously been slaughtered with no evidence left behind.

“We’re leaving,” Henry stated. 

It was a command and she wasn’t going to argue with it. It was his right as her brother to guarantee her safety however he saw fit.

Henry wrapped a protective arm around Haesel’s waist and urged her forward, guiding her through the rooms and hallways that kept them from the exit. They passed everyone, ignoring all greetings offered. The glare on Henry’s face had people shuffling out of their way, allowing them passage. 

Tomorrow, there would surely be gossip in every drawing room about their speedy departure from The Golden Fleece. Being at the center of such tales would normally irritate her, but right now she didn’t care. Haesel had to leave before she did something ridiculous, like stalk the magical signature to try and figure out to whom it belonged. She refused to disrespect the unknown wizard’s wishes in such an uncouth manner.

The smile on Valerius’s face transformed into a worried frown as they hustled into the Apparition Chamber. His wand slid into his hand and he stared over their shoulders as if he expected someone to follow them threateningly.

“What happened?” Valerius asked.

“We’re leaving. Now. Take us to the restaurant, please,” Henry requested sharply. 

Valerius stared at Henry and nodded acquiescently. “Let me give Haesel the coordinates, and then—”

“No,” Henry interrupted. “Please Side-Along Apparate both of us as soon as you can, Uncle Valerius.”

Valerius’s gaze snapped to her questioningly, and then his eyes closed to slits. It seemed her uncle had finally realized that her brother’s magic blocked hers from being detected. 

She would have to use her magic to encase her brother’s to Side-Along Apparate them anywhere; that was not going to happen. After the allure she felt from sneaking a single tendril of her magic from Henry’s protection, she didn’t even want to consider how tempting it would be if she freed it all.

Valerius opened his mouth, but then closed it again without asking them any questions. “Let’s go then. The reservations won’t wait forever.” 

That was a lie. No restaurant would dare give away the table of Valerius Vaisey, Henry Potter, and Haesel Potter to anyone else. 

Valerius clapped a firm hand on each of their shoulders and said, “You’ll love it. I’ve heard great reviews.”

Haesel sighed, relief settling in. She really needed to put her head in order, and that wasn’t going to happen as long as she was anywhere near that haunting magic. “Oh? Where are we going?”

Valerius covered them in his magic and said, “The Pied Piper.”

Chapter Text

Haesel relaxed when they reappeared in a darkened foyer with several Apparition runic circles carved into the ebony floor. The floorboards gleamed as if they had just been waxed and polished moments ago; that was a sign of industrious house-elves, something she appreciated. 

“Will you be all right now?” Henry asked.

“Yes, thank you,” Haesel replied as Henry withdrew his magic. 

The freedom of her magical senses sent a rush to her head, making her dizzy for a moment. She wasn’t going to complain about it, though. Henry’s magic hovered close by, ready to shelter hers again if she showed the slightest sign of needing his protection.

“Can I help with anything?” Valerius asked solicitously.

Haesel shook her head. “Thank you, Uncle Valerius, but I’m well enough now.”

Thank Morgana, the distance helped. 

She couldn’t feel the mystery wizard anymore. The silent pleading for her attention had vanished when they did. For the moment, at least, she felt free of its beguiling ways. Now that Haesel wasn’t in his immediate proximity, she realized precisely how intense the urge to hunt him down had been. 

It felt remarkably similar to how she had been told Veela affected those who were attracted to them. It was definitely alluring.

She could think of several spells that would cause a similar effect, but she didn’t think her captivation with his magic was the result of a spell. Or, perhaps, it was more that she hoped she had finally made contact with the wizard who bore the same mark that she did. The wizard who was Fated to be her lord-husband.

There was a nagging thought in the back of her head that said his magic was entirely too familiar and that she had felt it before today. But how could that be? Surely, she would remember it!

“This coming of age thing is messing with my head,” Haesel sighed. 

She had better control of her magic than this; she knew she did. The odd phantom heartbeat was gone as well. It almost reminded her of old tales of predestined soul-deep bonds, which was another mark in his favor of possibly being the wizard she sought.

“Did someone hurt you with his magic?” Henry inquired, bent over so that no one else would be able to hear him.

“No. It’s not that. It’s— I’ll explain later. I promise. A proper explanation would take too long right now,” Haesel said, wanting to twine a lock of her hair around her index finger. Unfortunately, she was still in public and couldn’t indulge in the fidget. 

“Very well,” Henry agreed, though he stayed close to her side.

“Are we ready, then?” Valerius asked, standing a polite couple of steps away, allowing them their privacy to speak.

“Yes, of course. I apologize for the delay, Uncle Valerius. Dinner sounds fabulous. Now, tell me all about the restaurant that was brilliant enough to catch your illustrious attention,” Haesel said. 

So far, she could understand the appeal. It was definitely upper-class, but wasn’t overly gaudy. She liked the ambiance immediately.

“Well, it’s a newly opened place in Wimbourne. I heard about it when I attended a preliminary tryout for the Wasps last week. Of course, it only serves purebloods.”

“Of course,” Henry agreed solemnly, lips twitching with amusement as they walked toward a massive desk at the front of the foyer.

“It’s near the stadium. I had planned to take us there and then stroll over, since neither of you make it to Wimbourne often. However, with everything, Apparating seemed like the best idea.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Haesel said. 

Haesel was quite grateful that Uncle Valerius had brought them straight to the restaurant. Most magical villages were almost unbearably crowded on the weekends. People brushed up against each other in the street all the time. Dealing with something like that tonight would have pushed Haesel over the edge. Her magic likely would have bristled unpleasantly at contact with strangers after the way his magic had felt against her own (firm and trustworthy).

“We appreciate the thought, but that wouldn’t have been the best idea tonight. Another time, Uncle Valerius,” Henry said. 

He pulled her a little closer to his side as they finally reached the immense desk. It was five feet tall, but the man standing behind it was even taller. He had to be at least seven feet tall and was painfully thin.

“Good evening Lady Haesel, Lord Valerius, Master Potter. Your table is ready. If you will follow me, please,” he said and stepped out from behind the desk, satin black robes swirling around him. 

There was a threshold, and then the wood flooring became stone of some kind. Haesel wasn’t sure if it was onyx, obsidian, or another type that had been charmed to look like either of those. She wasn’t a great lover of gems, and thus hadn’t spent as much time memorizing each individual type as most purebloods did. 

She and Henry had constantly snuck away from their tutors to play Quidditch, visit the kitchens for a snack, or craft a grand prank to play on their godsiblings. To her father’s great joy and Sirius’s immense annoyance, she and Henry were still leading on the prank scoreboard.

“How were tryouts?” Haesel asked, hoping it wouldn’t be a sensitive subject.

Valerius grinned at her. “I think they went well. I’ll hear if I’m invited back for the next round in a week. The front office informed everyone that it would take ten days to get through everyone who applied and then several days for them to sort the reports and make the first round of cuts.”

“I hope you get it,” she said, knowing her uncle loved Quidditch even more than she did. He was such a good Chaser that he was made the Captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team when he was a fifth-year student.

“They’d be mad to pass you up!” Henry said.

“Thank you,” Valerius replied with a wide grin.

They entered a cavernous room that gave the illusion of being intimate. She was sure the ingenious use of lighting and shadows were the cause. Crystal sculptures Levitated in the air, one over each table. The insides were a misty pewter, reminding her of a failed Patronus Charm. The glowing, silver fog illuminated the room in patches. 

The maître d’ led them to a table not far from the entrance, nestled against a sleek, stone wall. The sculpture over it was of a griffin rampant, much to her private amusement. Perhaps the majority were based on pureblood crests?

An eerie, haunting flute melody resounded through the room, echoing off the ceiling and making itself sound even darker. 

Haesel shook her head when she realized she was focusing on it too closely. She had already allowed magic to mesmerize her today; she would not grant this magical flute music the same power over her. Losing control again would be unacceptable.

“My lady,” Henry said teasingly as he pulled out her chair.

“Thank you, kind sir,” Haesel said as she sat and let him scoot her closer to the table. 

The silver was set for twelve courses; she could only pray Uncle Valerius didn’t want to stay for that many. She had sought an adventure that morning and got more than expected. Now, all she wanted was to lie on her bed and try to sort out the feelings roused within her.

“You’re welcome.”

Once they were all seated, the maître d’ indicated gems embedded in the tabletop. “All you need to do is tap your wand against the gems and request whatever you desire. It will be served instantaneously. Please enjoy your meal.” 

He bowed and left.

Haesel summoned her wand from its holster-bracelet—white gold with rubies—and then tapped it against the gem closest to her. She knew that her brother and uncle would wait until she had ordered so that they were not all defenseless at the same time. 

“Mermaid tears soup,” she stated. She returned her wand to its bracelet-holster just as a bowl appeared before her. After retrieving the correct spoon, she tried it; it was scrumptious. After swallowing, Haesel declared, “Uncle Valerius, you’ll have to bring us here again. You can count this place a success.” 

Valerius chuckled. “When have I ever taken you somewhere that served bad food?”

“Does the time you decided to try your hand at cooking count?” Haesel teased mercilessly. 

Henry ordered grilled truffles. He was bloody well addicted to the things. Haesel couldn’t stand them.

Valerius huffed, affronted. “And how long do you plan to hold that over my head, Haesel?”

“Forever, of course,” she replied with a smirk. 

Groaning, Valerius hung his head. “Someone has been spending too much time with her godfather.”

“Aww, don’t worry. You’re still my favorite uncle in this restaurant,” Haesel assured him with a wide smile. 

She adored teasing Uncle Valerius and Uncle Sirius. The two men were constantly competing to determine which of them was the best uncle ever. She and Henry had taken shameless advantage of that on occasion. However, the countless gifts and outings had nothing to do with her love for each man. If they had been poor and never taken her on holiday, she still would have cherished them.

“I’m your only uncle in the restaurant,” Valerius sighed before promptly ordering a French dish that looked entirely too fussy.

There were several minutes of silence as they focused on eating instead of talking. The croissants were delicious, the braised lamb delectable, and the treacle tarts divine. Haesel ate more of them than she should have, but she refused to feel guilty about it. A few tarts were not going to ruin the fit of her disgustingly expensive gala gown. 

“So, how are you handling the pressure?” Valerius asked once the plates were taken away and they had cups of peppermint tea.

“Not too badly,” Haesel said. That was a safe answer. Safe was good right now. Too much was changing all at once, and it was somewhat overwhelming. 

“Lady Potter and Isadore just want the best for you. I know that doesn’t excuse all the bickering, but it’s the truth. Lady Potter never had a daughter, so this is the first time she’s been able to plan a coming of age gala,” Valerius said.

Haesel almost winced at the reminder that her father should have had two older sisters and an older brother. During the past few months, with all of the mayhem, she had never once thought that might be why Grandmama Dorea kept pushing and proffering ideas. It made complete sense; Haesel felt stupid for missing it. What pureblood witch didn’t dream of the perfect debut for her own daughter? Morgana knew that Haesel had done so more than once. 

And with Haesel being who she was, though society at large would not learn her true magical title until it was safe to share the information, the pressure on her mother and grandmother must be horrific. 

“I just don’t like seeing them at odds with each other. I hate it when the family fights,” she whispered, pangs in her chest. 

“If it lasts much longer, I reckon Charlus or James will set it to rights. They can’t enjoy the bickering between their wives either, no matter how polite it is. Discord in a usually harmonious household jangles the nerves. It might even start wreaking havoc with the family magics,” Valerius said as if from personal experience. 

“It would be brilliant if they stopped,” Henry interjected, before sipping his tea. 

His gaze had rarely left Haesel the whole time they had been eating dinner. He was still watchful and she truly appreciated it. Haesel had managed to push most thoughts of the mystery wizard from her mind during dinner, but they were steadily resurfacing now that her stomach was satisfied.

Then, like déjà vu, she felt magic. Improbably, it felt identical to the warmest, most loving feeling she could remember—a magical hug, of sorts, that came to her when she was fifteen. 

The previous year (at fourteen) she had been, much to her annoyance, Viktor Krum’s hostage in the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament. Krum had attempted to hug her after removing her from the Black Lake in order to ‘varm her up’. His offer repulsed her. 

With his magic all around her, Haesel knew he wasn’t her Fated lord-husband.

Krum had relentlessly pursued her following that cold February morning, seeming to think his status as an International Quidditch Star meant that she should accept his very premature offer of courtship. He had sent several gifts, and was seen threatening more than one wizard to stay away from her.

It had all come to a head shortly after her fifteenth birthday. 

Haesel had been shopping with her family in Diagon Alley, unaware that Krum was even in the country, when a rough hand suddenly grabbed hold of her and dragged her into Knockturn Alley. Another hand quickly covered her mouth. 

“You vill bond vith me, for I am vanting to keep you,” Krum had purred in her ear.

Haesel’s magic had blasted him backward into the front window of a shop, propelling him right through the glass. She had stumbled back wildly and collided with her father, her grandfather and grand-uncle right behind him. The three men, forcibly Apparated to her side by their Vow of Protection to keep her safe, were livid. Their magic roiled so viciously that multiple people fainted.

Her father returned her to Potter Manor so that she would be within the safety of the family wards and left her grandfather and grand-uncle to deal with the aftermath.

But that night, as Haesel huddled beneath her bedding, reliving the near-abduction yet again, unable to stop her mind from playing out how it might have ended differently, the tiniest tendril of magic had touched her own. It made her feel comforted, protected, and cherished.

It made the mark Chaos had engraved in her skin burn.

Whatever nightmares might have been in her future for the evening were banished. If only it had been there to fight them off every other time after that. She had not slept so well since.

The memory niggled at her, but Haesel wasn’t quite sure why. Why now? Why that memory? She did her best to not dwell on it, because the nightmares were awful when her mind spun what-ifs. Every night she went without reliving the entire experience was a blessing.

“Oh.” 

That hint of magic that Haesel had been blessed by when she was fifteen was coming toward her again—in massive quantities. This time it wouldn’t be a raindrop; it was a tidal wave. Whatever the change was, likely the distance between them, she felt it most keenly. It felt warm and loving and loyal and—

Haesel swallowed roughly and abruptly stood up, sending her chair skidding backwards. 

Could it really be?

Footsteps sounded unnaturally loud in the silence that overcame the restaurant’s patrons following the sound of her chair crashing against the stone flooring.

“Haesel, what’s wrong?” Henry demanded. 

He shoved his chair away from the table with alacrity and rushed to her side, Uncle Valerius right behind him.

How had Haesel not realized it earlier?

Slowly, torturously slowly, she turned to face the entrance to the dining room. Thaddeus Nott—irrelevant. Marius Avery—immaterial. Reginald Davies—inconsequential.

And him.

Her Fated lord-husband.

His piercing blue eyes snapped to her face the second he passed the threshold. They flared with acknowledgement as if he had just read her mind and agreed with the conclusion she had reached. 

He was here. He was finally here. 

Then his magic was locked down so tightly that she couldn’t feel it at all. She swayed at the abrupt loss of its presence. Her mark throbbed.

“Haesel, tell me what’s wrong this instant!” Henry demanded, his wand in one hand and his eyes darting around the room. 

“We have to leave. Now. Right now, Henry,” Haesel gasped. 

She felt light-headed. In that moment, if she had stood in front of the Mirror of Erised, she would have seen herself standing at his side, wrapped in his arms. She didn’t doubt that for a second. 

He was....

But this was the second time in the same day that he had tucked his magic away from her, sheltering it inside of him. No matter how much it caused her heart to ache, she wouldn’t be worthy of the blood in her veins if she didn’t respect that. 

“Okay. Okay. Let’s go,” Henry said as he blanketed her magic with his own as quickly as he could. 

“Thank you for dinner, Uncle Valerius. Sorry to run,” Haesel said, scarcely remembering the barest of manners in the face of such a monumental discovery. It felt like she had been trying to find him her entire life. And now he was right here in front of her.

“Go!” Valerius insisted, face taut with worry as he watched Haesel. 

Then Henry was hustling her through the room. Her hair almost came loose. Her tunic fluttered a little higher than she was comfortable with, but nothing could have gotten her to stop and smooth it back down. 

Haesel’s body and magic rejoiced with each step she took toward him. Haesel knew that if she didn’t escape his reach within the next minute, she wouldn’t want to at all. She would desire nothing more than to wallow in his magic.

And he had silently indicated with his magic alone that such behavior was unacceptable before she came of age.

The Lords and Heirs in his dinner party hastily stepped aside so that she and Henry would have unfettered access to the exit. Their visages were masks of concern as they observed her and her brother. Haesel could only imagine how pale she must look. Surely, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington—the Gryffindor House ghost—currently had more color than she did.

Right when she pulled level with Lord Charles Prewett, their eyes met. Time seemed to halt completely as if it moved at a different rate than time outside their magical bubble did. The gossip was wrong. It was completely and utterly wrong. He wasn’t a Fire Mage. Charles Prewett—his deep auburn hair and sky-blue eyes were unmistakable—was a Chaos Mage.

The mark on the skin over her hip-bone burned.

Charles’s lips curled in a devious and delighted smile. They caressed a single word, “Soon.” 

The breath whooshed from her lungs and time restarted as Henry hauled her into the foyer of the restaurant. 

“Haesel, Apparate us back to Potter Manor immediately,” Henry said. He put the weight of the family magic behind his order.

Her magic cried its denial as she spun on her heel and yanked them through space. They landed in the manor, not far from the informal dining room. The distance from Charles felt not unlike taking a Bludger to the gut.

The clinking of glasses ceased, and then her father was standing in the doorway, saying, “Haesel, you’re back! They’ve finally reached an agreement. Your supper companion—” 

James fell silent, and she couldn’t imagine what she must look like for her father to get that tick in his jaw.

“I don’t care!” Haesel cried. 

“What happened?” James asked, a wealth of protective, unspoken threats in his voice.

She ripped herself away from her brother and raced down the hallway and up the stairs, ignoring all of the voices that called after her. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t—

It hurt to be away from him now that she had found him and learned his identity. Had he felt this same pain, all of these years?

Haesel opened her bedroom door and then slammed it behind her, activating the wards that would keep everyone—even the Lord of the House himself—from intruding on her privacy. Pausing only to kick off her boots, Haesel threw herself on her bed and then promptly burst into tears.

There was less than a week until her coming of age gala, and she already dreaded the short wait, knowing it would feel interminable. Until her seventeenth birthday, she was still underage. His honor as Lord of the Proficient and Most Ancient House of Prewett would never allow him to take advantage of that. Her magical upheaval must have been monumental following the near-kidnapping for him to have even sent the sliver of magic that he did.

And due to the mark on her hip, her family had announced she was unavailable for betrothal contracts before she even started attending Hogwarts.

Frustrated and pained, Haesel hiccup-sobbed herself to sleep and right into a nightmare.

Chapter Text

Haesel trembled as Krum’s face loomed over her. His features were twisted in a mask of hatred and desire. 

“You’re mine. You vere alvays meant to be mine,” he said, voice grating along her nerves. 

“No,” Haesel snapped as she shook her head. That wasn’t true. She wasn’t his, had never been his, and would never be his.

Krum grabbed her shoulders so tightly that she felt bruises forming. It was ruthless, unlike the tenderness to which she was accustomed. He shook her like a rag doll, making her neck ache and her hair start to unravel.

Horror washed through Haesel as he stared at it covetously. The only wizard not related to her by blood who should ever see her hair down in all of its glory was her lord-husband. Krum had no right to see it! How dare he?  

She struggled harder. “I’ll kill you for this!”

“Ve’re meant to be together, Haesel. Vhy can’t you see that?” Krum asked.

“We’re not!” she protested, reaching for her magic and terrified when it wouldn’t respond. What had he done? Why couldn’t she access it? Her magic had never failed to answer her call before!

Krum thrust a hand into her hair and fisted it, knotting it around his hand and pulling until her scalp burned. It was such an awful sight and feeling that she almost wished she had a blade with her so that she could cut it off.

She was a pureblood lady. Her hair was sacred. How dare he defile it with his filthy touch?

Spittle flecked Krum’s lips as he snapped, “You’ff let his magic touch yours, haffn’t you? You’ff let him feel it? Vhy? Only I haff the right to touch it. Ve are engaged, Haesel!”

“We are not!” she screamed and clawed at him with her nails. It didn’t force him to release her. He ignored the wounds entirely as if he couldn’t even feel them. 

Why was he doing this? He couldn’t possibly think that she would agree to bond with him after this! Not even a Black with a broken heart was that insane. 

She reached for her magic again, so that she could Blast him away, but it didn’t answer her call. Why couldn’t she access her magic? Why? Had he … had he found a way to steal her magic or lock it away so that she couldn’t fight him magically? 

“I haff the only right!” Krum bellowed, eyes crazed and voice positively unhinged as he yanked her hair.

Why weren’t her grandfather and father and grand-uncle appearing to save her like they had in Knockturn Alley? Wait … “the only right”? Had Krum—? By Mordred the Betrayer, had Krum murdered them to keep them from coming for her?

“It’s Charles’s right!” Haesel spat, refusing to dwell on the hellacious thought a moment longer. 

Given the mark on her hip and Charles’s status as a Chaos Mage, Lord Charles Prewett had the only right to touch her magic intimately. It also declared his sole right, outside of her blood family, to see and caress and tend her hair, helping her grow and store her excess magic within it.

“It’s my right!” 

“It is not!” Haesel yelled as she kicked him as hard as she could from the position she was trapped in. A yelp escaped her as he yanked her hair in retaliation, forcing her neck to crane at an awkward angle. 

“Vhy do you let him touch your magic, Haesel? Vhy do you giff in to his dark desires? Vhy do you surrender to that lying, deceitful philanderer?”

“He’s nothing like that!” 

Why did Haesel let Charles’s magic touch her? She wanted his touch. He had never abused that privilege, had never sought to take from her. In fact, he was doing everything he possibly could to honor and respect her.

“Lord Bloody Prewett deigns to return to England and you pant after him like Crup in heat. Vhere’s he been all your life? Off shagging anyvone, anyvhere, I’ll bet. How many ladies do you think he’s bedded? I bet he can’t effen remember the number. I von’t let you join their ranks, Haesel. I von’t,” Krum growled in her ear.

“Liar!” she shrieked. 

Haesel felt like she was going to throw up. Charles wouldn’t have dared to bed anyone. He was a Chaos Mage; that meant he would have a matching mark on his hip-bone: The Mark of Merlin. He would never betray her.

“The truth hurts, doesn’t it?” Krum spat. 

He carded a hand through her hair in a mockery of tenderness. Haesel turned her head to bite his hand, but he yanked it away before she could. 

“You’re lying!” Haesel yelled, clinging to that one truth. 

Charles would never, ever, ever bed any witch but her. Their joint magic was meant to bring Myrddin Emrys back into the world. Whatever Charles had done during his travels, romance hadn’t played a part in it.

“Of course, the magnificent Lord Prewett is going to be accustomed to vomen vho know how to serffice him. You don’t. I figure it vill take him less than a year to get bored vith you. And then vhat vill you be left vith?” Krum asked mockingly, his voice a slow stab at her heart.

“That won’t happen!” Haesel screamed at him. She kicked him so hard her foot ached; it was entirely possible that she broke a toe in the process.

Krum smirked at her in a patronizing manner as if she were a young child who knew nothing of the world, and said, “Yes, it vill. But I vould neffer do that to you, Haesel. I vould be gentle. I vould forsake all others for you, and I vould certainly neffer tire of you. I vill luff you foreffer, Haesel. Nothing vill change that.”

Haesel struggled, trying to escape the dark feeling of his presence. He was tainted—wrong. This wasn’t right! She had an ICW Ratified Restraining Order; Krum was magically forbidden from entering a country if she was in it!

He couldn’t be here! It wasn’t magically possible!

Krum’s hold tightened even more as she fought against it. He gritted his teeth and said, “If you bond vith him, vhat do you think he’ll do vhen he’s bored vith you, vhen he’s done? He’s been traffeling for years, Haesel. You can’t deny that. People like him lose interest quickly. Seducing you and making you luff him is nothing more than a passing fancy of his, a game. How fast could he make you vant him? Much too fast, it seems.”

“I will never choose you!” Haesel screamed. 

She threw her head back, hoping to break his nose. Her bid for freedom failed, resulting in nothing more than a wave of pain that almost made her faint. Haesel stilled, loose strands of hair falling forward to partially block her eyes. 

His visage was macabre, as if a demon had possessed him, when he snarled, “I luff you! Vhy von’t you accept that? Vhy? I luff you more than he effer could, more than he effer vill. Choose me!”

Krum shook her again, making her bite her tongue. Thankfully, it didn’t start bleeding.

Haesel stared at him with all of the hatred in her soul and sneered, “If you really loved me, I’d have your heart in my chest. And I would sacrifice it in a ritual to get it out of me! I’ve made my choice, Krum. I chose him.”

“Then change it!”

“I can’t!” 

To fail Chaos in such a way, to fail at bringing Merlin back into the world when he would obviously be needed…. The thought alone was intolerable. Nothing would change her mind. Her chest throbbed, her heart beating so rapidly that she wondered if it would burst.

Krum’s voice was deceptively soft as he breathed against her ear, “You mean you von’t.” 

“I can’t,” Haesel disagreed. “But even if I could, I wouldn’t.”

Black spots danced before her eyes. The last time she had been this terrified, Charles’s magic had come for her. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? Charles would come. Of course, he would come. Her magic might not be able to fight for some reason, she might not be able to feel it, but nothing could silence it.

Haesel’s magic screamed his name so loudly that she felt it hum in her bones, Charles!

“Vhat’s so special about him? Is it because he’s already a lord? Is it because he knows how to please vomen? Is that vhat you vant?” 

Krum’s voice was toneless now, which frightened her more than the earlier outward showing of anger. He was never quiet when raging. 

She glared and refused to answer. 

“Is it because he’s vealthy? Are you that shallow now, Haesel? Has he brought you so low?” 

The implication that she would sell her future and body for wealth was obscene. Haesel was a proper pureblood lady and she wasn’t for sale for any price.

When she didn’t speak, Krum fisted her hair, stretched her neck back even more, and snarled, “Answer me!”

Haesel’s neck trembled from the strain. Would it break soon? Was Krum going to snap her neck? For all her struggling, she could not get free. He was too tall and too strong and her magic wasn’t defending her. For some unknown reason, neither were her family. 

Was she going to die without ever getting to bond with her lord? Was Krum going to murder her before she ever got the chance to fulfill her divine duty and birth Myrddin Emrys, Prince of The Abyss, back into Avalon?

“You will die for this,” Haesel swore, more enraged than she had ever been in her entire life. 

Charles!

“Is it his looks, then? Does Lord Prewett’s handsome face set your heart fluttering? Does he make you burn vith longing, Haesel? Do you ache for him to complete you, to fill you vith his heirs?” Krum asked, lips curled in a vindictive leer.

It wasn’t like that! Krum made her and Charles’s destined soul-bond sound like something filthy and base, instead of the enormous blessing it would be. How dare he? How dare he describe intimate matters that were private and sacred using her name and her future lord-husband’s?

Haesel snarled, “It’s not like that! Let me go, you—!” 

“So that you can crawl into his bed and giff him vhat’s rightfully mine? I don’t think so, Haesel.” 

She didn’t know how to describe the look on his face, only knowing that it frightened her and made her want to hide where no one could find her. 

Charles, hurry!

“Vhy do you refuse to understand that I’m the good guy? I luff you, Haesel. If I let Prewett haff you, he’d ruin you. He’d take efferything you haff to offer and giff you nothing but lies and empty platitudes. He’ll tire of you. And do you know what he’ll do then, Haesel? Do you?” 

Krum’s left hand grabbed her face, bruising her cheeks as he forced her to meet his gaze. Haesel’s teeth cut the inside of her cheek and the taste of blood pooled on her tongue. She spat it in his face, but he didn’t even flinch.

An insane, victorious light lit his eyes as he whispered, “He’s going to leaff you.”

Those five words pummeled her heart harder than everything else he had said combined. He’s going to leave you. He’s going to leave you.  

“That’s not true,” she said numbly, pulse racing. 

Krum chuckled. “Oh, but it is. You’re still so naïff, Haesel. I know men like him. He’ll leaff you, probably return to whateffer exotic location catches his attention, and forget that he effer had a vife or children. You’ll be nothing more than a passing memory of a game he von on a brief jaunt back to England.”

“Liar!” 

She gagged, bile rising in her throat. Charles was Lord Prewett; he would never do that! He had broken ties with his own parents for betraying him. He would never betray his lady-wife in such a way.

“It’s true. He’ll leaff you vith nothing more than an heir to ensure the surfiffal of his bloodline. And you’ll spend the rest of your life vith the child, a small bit of him, knowing all his vords vere lies. He never luffed you.”

Haesel started hyperventilating. She knew it wasn’t true, but the mere thought of Merlin’s father abandoning him scared her witless. She couldn’t imagine what horrific vengeance Chaos and Mother Magic would wreak for such a crime. It would be catastrophic. 

“You’re lying,” she gasped as she struggled to regain control of her breathing. Her lungs and ribs burned.

“No, I’m not. You know I’m telling the truth,” Krum said, sounding scarily reasonable now as if he really believed his own words. He loosened the tight hold on her hair and stroked it as if she were a well-loved pet. “But I can saff you from that ineffitable pain, Haesel. I can make efferything better. I can giff you a future full of luff, laughter, fidelity, and as many children as you desire.” 

Haesel felt helpless, even as revulsion swamped through her at the thought of Krum fathering her future children. For all of her magical strength and power, she couldn’t escape him. Why couldn’t she escape? It didn’t make any sense! How was he suppressing her magic?

Krum’s laughter was haunting as it echoed around them. He stopped laughing just long enough to say, “I’m going to kill your precious Lord Prewett. And then you vill be mine.”

“No!” Haesel screamed as she shot up in bed, hands clawing out at a specter that wasn’t there, at a nightmare more malevolent than any Krum had ever before inspired. 

“Mistress?” a voice squeaked through the door. 

A knock came again; it must have been what woke her. Thank Morgana.

Haesel’s chest rose and fell rapidly, straining against her sweat-soaked tunic. Her hair lay tangled in a mess that would take ages to properly brush out. Her hands rose to her scalp, which hurt. She must have rolled over on her hair while thrashing about, pulling on it with her full body weight in the process. 

The bedclothes were all over the place and several of the pillows were on the floor. It looked like a particularly vicious pillow fight had taken place.

“It wasn’t real,” she whispered. 

Krum hadn’t— It wasn’t real. 

The realization sent her into another bout of tears, which she let flow without any attempt at restraint. She wrapped her arms around herself and curled her knees against her chest. The hateful glares and words returned to her, and Haesel barely made it to the edge of the bed in time to be sick. 

“Mistress?” the voice asked, even more worried.

The taste only reminded her of the acidic bitterness in Krum’s eyes as she continually refuted his demands. When there was nothing left in her stomach, she cast a cleaning charm on the floor and then a refreshing charm on herself, wanting the taste out of her mouth.

“I-it felt s-so real,” she sobbed. Haesel wiped her arm across her eyes, but it did little to stem the flood of tears. She felt so alone. 

Where are you?

It was then that she realized she had forced her magic to encase her in a protective layer against her skin, likely an unconscious shield she had created during the nightmare as she fought against Krum’s vitriolic abuse.

She bit her tongue when she noticed that she couldn’t feel any magic at all. Not even the family magic was entwined with hers as it always was. She felt abandoned. 

“Mistress! Please lower the wards!”

Haesel focused through her panic and tore the shield apart, which took longer than she would have liked. The second it shattered, she felt it: a well of ferocious power and emotions. 

“Charles.” 

She threw the covers back and clambered off of the bed, almost tumbling to the floor as her legs fought to support her. Her fingers spasmed as she clutched the nearest bedpost and waited for her legs to work properly. 

Any delay was dangerous at this point.

She remembered, now, screaming for Charles in the nightmare. Haesel could only imagine how terrified she must have sounded for him to storm Potter Manor to come to her. The feral quality to Charles’s magic informed her that he wasn’t in his right mind. He felt lethal through the wards.

The feel of his magic was steadily darkening. If she didn’t hurry, he would likely use Blood Arts to assault their wards, shredding them, if necessary, since he thought he was protecting her. She couldn’t let it come to that.

“Mistress, please! It’s an emergency!”

Haesel’s whole body trembled as she stumbled toward the bedroom door. She kept a hand on the closest wall, praying it would support her. She fumbled with the lock for what felt like ages before it finally turned in her grasp, unlocking her chamber and the wards she had activated. Haesel didn’t even get the door open before her personal house-elf was at her side.

“Mistress, Lord Prewett is being at the wards. He says something awful be happening to Mistress Haesel. He’s being very angry,” Lotsy said, wringing her hands, her wide eyes wet with tears.

Haesel couldn’t believe he hadn’t set the wards off yet with how much violent, chaotic magic he was putting out. The wards were used to Chaos Magic because of her, of course, but his magic had a definite masculinity to it.

“I’ll handle it. Don’t wake anyone else,” Haesel said.

She cast a quick charm to clear her face of tears, one to clean and neaten her tunic, and another to braid her hair out of the way. Then Haesel grabbed her Firebolt, opened the nearest window, and flew out of her room. It wasn’t as fast as the Solar Flare she got her Uncle Valerius for his last birthday, but it did the job in a commendably short time.

It didn’t take long at all to reach the edge of the wards.

Charles spun to face her. His auburn hair floated in the air from the strength of his aura, resembling flames. His magic lashed out wildly and his eyes were an eerie shade of blue. If he had been anyone else, she would have drawn her wand out of reflex. But this was Charles—her Fated Lord chosen by Chaos, one of Avalon’s Deities—and she trusted that he would never harm her.

“I’m so sorry. I was having a nightmare about Krum. My magic wouldn’t answer me. I couldn’t w-wake up,” Haesel whispered, voice hoarse from crying and screaming. Her body still shuddered as if she had been Cruciated. 

His hands opened and closed at his sides as he gruffly said, “Your magic screamed so loudly for me that I heard it in Scotland. I thought— Merlin, I thought you were being— I didn’t think I’d make it in time.”

She could all too easily imagine what horrors had played through his mind when he had heard her magic scream for him while he was all the way up in Scotland. And then he had seemingly dropped everything to race to her side.

“I’m so sorry. Thank you for coming. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Haesel rasped. 

Charles shoved his hands behind his back and said, “I’ll always come when you need me. I’d have come if I was still at the Dragon Preserve in Romania.”

Haesel swallowed; it hurt. She took a small step forward. 

“Can I—? I swear that I’ll keep my magic to myself, so that I don’t tempt your honor.” She could do it; she could lock it down for this, even though it felt like she had just gotten it back. “May I please have a hug? Please?”

Charles reached her just as she collapsed, arms curling around her and pressing her safely against his chest. Her hands scrabbled at the back of his robes as she clung to him, her magic buried deep inside herself. 

“I’ve waited years to hold you in my arms,” Charles confessed, his magic just as suppressed as hers.

“Was it worth the wait?” she asked. 

Haesel’s cheek was against his chest; his heart had an odd rhythm. It wouldn’t surprise her in the least if he was holding onto it by sheer force of will, refusing to release it until her seventeenth birthday.

“Every second,” Charles swore fervently. 

“Thank you,” she breathed. “I desperately needed that.”

Eyes newly wet with more tears, though these were tears of joy and not pain, Haesel leaned up and kissed his freckled cheek. Charles’s eyes were wide with awe as he lifted a hand to touch it.

“Soon,” she whispered, repeating his promise from earlier.

And then Haesel mounted her broom and flew back to her room while she could still talk herself out of burying her hands into his auburn hair and guiding his lips down to hers.

Chapter Text

That first night and day after her discovery of their connection was rough. She barely slept; what little sleep she gained was riddled with nightmares of Krum. She ordered Lotsy to wake her whenever a nightmare started, which, while helpful, ended up leaving her even more tired than she was before. 

Haesel had already pressed on Charles’s boundaries enough, though, asking for the hug. She could wait until her birthday before asking for more. 

Her nerves were jittery all the next day, growing worse as evening approached. She knew the renewed nightmares awaited her. She picked unenthusiastically at the food Lotsy brought, even though her house-elf kept bringing her favorites. 

“Please, Mistress, just one more bite,” Lotsy urged.

“All right, one more,” Haesel conceded.

She refused to leave her room, regardless of her family’s demands and requests, needing the time to process everything that had happened. It was … a lot.

Haesel lay in her bed the second night, staring at the ceiling, thoughts racing faster than a Firebolt. The fragile skin under her eyes grew dark and bruised. 

Just when Haesel thought she couldn’t handle another second of the nightmares, a crystal clear memory of how Charles’s magic felt, unbridled at the restaurant, soothed her. 

“Soon,” he promised in her memory.

If she pretended hard enough, Haesel could almost convince herself that his magic was really with her again. Almost. The fantasy dispelled when Haesel fell asleep. 

“Please, darling, won’t you come out and tell us what’s wrong? We love you, Haesel. We just want to help,” Isadore said through the door.

“I love you, too, Mama,” Haesel replied. Her emotions and mind might be a mess at the moment because of the nightmares and sudden changes in her life, but she would always have time to tell her mother she loved her. 

“Will you please come out, Haesel? Or let one of us in?” Isadore pleaded, her worry radiating down the familial bond they shared.

“I’ll come out tomorrow, Mama,” Haesel said as she mindlessly brushed her hair, even though her arms ached. “I promise.”

“Okay, darling. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Isadore replied before her footsteps retreated down the hallway.

Haesel spent another day in her chambers. 

Lotsy brought her every copy of the Daily Prophet that mentioned Charles, even in passing, so that she could learn more about him. He clearly already knew a lot about her. Charles had apparently apprenticed under the famous Newton Scamander and was an acknowledged Magizoologist worldwide. There was even an advertisement saying his book The Dragon Compendium would be released in October.

She was soaking in her bathtub the third evening, the water scented with chamomile to calm her, wishing her birthday would arrive sooner. Haesel was impatient now. She might not know the small things, like Charles’s favorite Quidditch team or preferred foods, but she knew the newsworthy things. 

She had scoured foreign newspapers after finishing with the Daily Prophet. His charitable work, his studies, his courage—it was all there to see between the lines. Few men measured up to the example her father and grandfather set, but Charles had already proven himself their equal in several ways. 

Haesel exited the bath and dried off with a warm towel before dressing for sleep, hopeful that her rest would be undisturbed for the night, as unlikely as that was. 

“Like this,” Haesel whispered, remembering how Charles’s hands were positioned on her body when he hugged her. 

Haesel stood before her enchanted mirror in her nightgown, its white lace and close cut flattering her figure. Her small hands pressed against her waist, twisted around at an awkward angle. 

Days later, she still lamented the loss of his touch.

“So warm,” Haesel murmured, her hands pressing more firmly against her ribs. It felt different, because his hands were larger than her own, but it still felt intrinsically right.

Haesel’s fingers folded inward, wrinkling the nightgown. She could still feel the heat of his palms, the firm yet gentle grip of his hands, as if he had imprinted their texture into her skin in the exact spot he had placed them. He had been very careful to not set his hands too low on her hips or too high on her waist, even in the midst of fear and worry. She appreciated the courtesy. 

Some men would have accidentally attempted to touch what was beyond their purview. Charles was different, honorable, something she greatly valued, being a Potter maiden.

“Some wizard has finally caught your fancy, has he? It’s about time!” her mirror declared. 

“There’s nothing wrong with being discerning,” Haesel huffed. Especially when she was waiting all this time for one specific wizard.

Her mirror was often much too opinionated on the topic of relationships. It could fit right into a room full of gossiping pureblood witches and wouldn’t be distinguishable by tone or topic. 

If the mirror were a person, it would be peering down its nose at her as it said, “So you’ve told me before, dear. Well, what’s he like, then? Don’t keep the good news all to yourself! We’ve been waiting years for the wizard who shares your mark.”

The Mark of Merlin on her hip-bone was a depiction of the magic staff Merlin carried in the few surviving official portraits, piercing through the Olde Rune that stood for The Abyss, Chaos’s Realm, of which Merlin was the Crown Prince.

She rubbed her thumb over it, through her nightgown, as she thought. Haesel searched her mind for appropriate adjectives, but they didn’t come as easily as one might expect. Charles was so ... much. He was hard to describe. 

“He’s honorable, intelligent, courteous—”

The mirror made a yawning sound and said, “Boring! That bit is obvious, isn’t it, dear? If he weren’t those things then he wouldn’t be worthy of a Potter maiden. Tell me what he looks like! I bet he’s fit, isn’t he? Strong? Handsome? Someone who will have no trouble getting your blood pumping, right? You, dear girl, need some of that in your life. I expect he’ll get lovely babies off you, too.”

Haesel spluttered and pressed her hands to her flaming cheeks. Was her mirror suggesting that—that— that?

“Of course, the nightgown you’re wearing might tempt him more than a negligee on your bonding night. You look very, very pure, my dear. And powerful wizards seem to enjoy that thing quite a lot.”

Haesel crossed her arms over her chest as if Charles were in her wardrobe and staring right at her. Then she dropped them back down moments later. She inhaled deeply and pointed at the mirror in a threatening gesture. 

“This nightgown is perfectly modest. And, and— He doesn’t think of me like that. He’s a gentleman!” Haesel snapped, temper riled. 

The mirror chortled. “My dear, you say that as if you believe it.”

She stamped her foot and said, “I do!” 

“Well, your father is a gentleman, too. Are you saying he never had designs on your mother? Just where do you think you came from, my dear?” the mirror teased. 

Haesel’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly. She refused to let her mind go there, but she couldn’t discount the mirror’s point. Her father was a gentleman, and she and Henry did exist. So, it was entirely plausible that Charles— She flushed scarlet.

She contemplated Blasting the mirror to pieces, but knew it wouldn’t work. All sentient magical items were protected by the family magic. 

“I’m not an idiot! I know where babies come from! And who said anything about bonding?” she snapped defensively, trying to corral her wild thoughts before she ended up an even brighter shade of red.

The mirror’s voice was surprisingly solemn as it said, “My dear, in all of the years that I’ve known you, you’ve never once showed real interest in a wizard. Understandably, of course. Tonight you’re standing before me in your nightgown, touching your waist and babbling about how warm and safe you feel. Can you honestly tell me that you haven’t already chosen him as your future lord-husband?”

She had, hadn’t she? She had already, consciously or not, made her final decision—the future Chaos and Mother Magic wanted for her. 

Haesel leaned back against a rack of day dresses and tried to picture her future. Where would she be a year from now? Two? Five? Ten? Fifty? One hundred? Each image that came to her mind revolved around her and Charles. And in each one he was touching her in some way. 

Her hands returned to her waist and then slid downward to cover her womb. She could not picture Myrddin Emrys being reborn into Avalon without Charles as his father. The briefest thought of any other wizard claiming her body sent her magic into a vicious spike.

It seemed she had chosen on a soul-deep level, after all. And that choice was Chaos and Mother Magic’s Will—Lord Charles Prewett.

“Well, my dear. Which is it?” the mirror inquired.

For the first time, Haesel allowed the words to spill from her lips outside of nightmares. She opened her mouth and said, “I’ve chosen. You’re right. I’ve already chosen.”

“That’s what I thought. And if you know that, consciously or not, then your magic does. If your magic does, then his magic does. And if his magic does, then he does, my dear,” the mirror said.

That made all too much sense for Haesel’s settling realization.

“And when a wizard knows a maiden has chosen him as her lord—gentleman or not—every fiber of his being will be desperate to claim her as his own,” the mirror said.

Haesel knew what being physically intimate involved. Her mother had spoken to her when she was fourteen years old and explained, a rosy blush on her fair cheeks the whole time. 

She knew that she and her future lord-husband would share the same bed and that he would ‘worship her’. Haesel knew that her husband would be knowledgeable in the necessary Sacred Arts of Merlin, so that she wouldn’t feel any pain. She knew that her husband would be gentle and loving with her; Mama had promised.

And Haesel would never forget how Mama had said, “Only your lord-husband may worship you, darling.” 

(Her father had walked in at this part and said, “Cruciate anyone else who tries. I’ll make sure you don’t go to Azkaban.”)

Haesel licked her dry lips, hands clasped over her womb. She swallowed and took a deep breath. “If it’s Charles, I could trust him not to hurt me, like Mama said. If it’s Charles ... bearing his children would be—creating children would be all right.” 

She pictured a little boy with curly black hair and Charles’s enchanting eyes. She blushed again and ducked her head, a portion of ebony hair falling forward to shield her face. 

“But only if it’s Charles.”

Before the mirror could reply, Haesel snatched a dressing gown off of a nearby rack and belted it at her waist. It wasn’t proper to leave her suite in just a nightgown.

She grabbed the hairbrush that her father had created for her with Blood Magic as her fifth birthday present. It was black gold with blue topaz gemstones to match her hair and eyes. Olde Runes that were engraved around the sides told the story of Creation.

In the beginning, there was an Abyss of endless nothingness that stretched to the edge of forever. From The Abyss, Chaos sprouted. And from Chaos, came everything else in existence.

She strode out of her bedchamber and into the hallway. She owed her brother an explanation now, while the truth of such an important realization was still fresh in her mind.

Haesel only knocked once on the door to Henry’s suite before pushing it open and striding inside. Henry looked up from where he sat on the plush sofa before the roaring fireplace. The summer nights had been unseasonably chilly this past week. 

His question sounded unnaturally loud in the silence of the room. “Are you ready to talk about it?” 

“Yes,” Haesel answered, before closing the distance between them. 

She dropped onto the sofa beside him and snuggled against his side, relishing the weight of his arm as it surrounded her. A hand hooked under her chin and tilted her head back until their gazes met. A lock of hair obscured her vision, and Henry tenderly tucked it behind her ear. 

“I’ve never seen you panic like that in public before. Whose magic were you talking about and what did it do to you, sis? Why did it bother you so much?” Henry inquired, before placing a reassuring kiss on her brow.

“His name is Charles,” she confessed as if offering up the given name of a Djinn and three wishes to her brother.

“Charles? He told you to call him ‘Charles’?” Henry queried, voice squeaking the barest bit as he stared at her in shock. 

“We haven’t been formally introduced,” Haesel admitted. She briefly considered mentioning that no one else had been around to offer a formal introduction, but she knew how well her brother would take that—very poorly. 

Haesel felt her earlier blush return with a vengeance as she reminisced on how it felt to be wrapped in Charles’s strong arms. She recalled the way his heartbeat almost stuttered when she put her ear to his chest. She remembered how he smelt like ozone and petrichor, an aftereffect of the powerful emotions that raged in his magic from when he came to rescue her.

“And?”

“He’s a Magizoologist!” she blurted out, when the silence lengthened.

Henry stilled; not even his chest moved, as if his very real need to breathe had mysteriously vanished. His voice was monotone as he repeated, “A Magizoologist?”

“Yes, a Magizoologist.”

Henry’s jaw clenched dangerously as he said, “Lord Prewett is a Magizoologist. His name also happens to be Charles. Haesel, are you suggesting that Lord Prewett met with you in secret?”

“No?” 

“No? No, you aren’t referring to Lord Prewett, or no, he didn’t meet you in secret?” Henry asked.

“I met him in not-secret, thank you very much. He was outside the wards. I was perfectly safe, Henry.” Haesel conveniently didn’t mention that she had left the wards to hug him, and cocked an eyebrow in challenge. 

“Merlin, Haesel, that’s not much better. What’s he like? Is he a total git like Lord Shafiq?” Henry asked before glancing around swiftly as if worried their mother would appear and tell him to be polite.

Haesel lifted a hand and pretended to hold a monocle to her left eye, before drawling, “Lord Potter, are you quite sure your granddaughter won’t be Fostered? It’s completely against tradition!”

“Why, I shall just give away all the family secrets to you, shall I? Would that please your lordship?” Henry said in a brilliant imitation of Grandpapa Charlus’s voice.

They erupted into laughter, shoulders and arms bumping together as they shook with mirth. 

“Charles is not like that,” she gasped. Haesel snickered a few more times before adding, “He’s very caring.”

Henry glanced down at her and said, “Rumor has it that Lord Prewett doesn’t look a day over twenty-five.”

Snorting, Haesel shook her head. “That’s a cruel thing to say. He won’t be twenty-five for a few months yet. He’s terribly attractive, though.”

“Gross!” Henry teased. 

“Oh hush, you!” Haesel said as she swatted his shoulder.

“Right, well, I’m sure you’ll get an official introduction to his lordship soon enough,” Henry said. 

Haesel grimaced. She could already hear the clamor she would cause by accepting Lord Prewett’s suit on the very day she came of age. That was a gossip and media nightmare that she wasn’t anticipating in the least.

“Don’t remind me,” she muttered. 

“His magic,” Henry said leadingly as he nudged her in the ribs with his elbow.

“Morgana, Henry, it’s intoxicating. It haunts me. His magic complements mine perfectly,” she breathed reverently. Her magic had finally stopped searching. It had no need to now. The goal of the quest had been achieved; what was missing had been found.

They sat in silence for several minutes before Henry shattered it with, “So it’s finally happened. You found him.”

Haesel laid her head on his chest and confessed, “Yes, I did. He’s a Chaos Mage, Henry.”

Henry inhaled so swiftly that he burst into a coughing fit, wheezing out, “You’re sure?”

“Without a doubt.” 

Haesel remembered the burning in her mark when their magic touched. Chaos had foreordained the wizard that would stand at her side and be her lord-husband. She could not begrudge the choice. Charles was a great man.

Still—

“It was terrifying, Henry. I think I could let his magic consume me in a rush of Fiendfyre and I wouldn’t even try to escape. It’s dangerous, oh, so very dangerous, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be used to protect as well.”

Henry swallowed loudly. “That’s...”

She tucked her head under her brother’s chin and allowed herself to ponder something she hadn’t understood until this afternoon. “I think it’s the same for him. I think he’s just as drawn to me, that he would let my magic drown him without trying to breathe.”

“How can I keep you safe from something like that?” Henry asked, hands shaking.

Haesel kissed his cheek and then pulled back so that she could look him right in the eyes. “You can’t.”

“What do you need from me, sis?” Henry asked, stunned disbelief and joy and grief and so many other emotions streaming down their sibling bond in a tangled mess.

With a gentle smile, she offered him her hairbrush. It was officially one of her father’s duties to brush her hair and help tend the magic stored in it, but she never saw any harm in letting Henry do so, even if it wasn’t traditional. 

Soon enough, she would be living in Prewett Manor. When that happened, it could be years, if ever, before Henry had this opportunity again. 

“Will you brush and tend my hair, safeguarding it and my magic?” Haesel queried, speaking the ritual words.

Henry accepted her brush with a steady hand, even as his voice shook when he said, “And honor it with every breath I take.”

The bristles touched her hair and her magic lit the room with ebony-colored light. 

Chapter Text

Everyone at the dining table in the conservatory fell silent when Haesel walked in twenty minutes after breakfast started the following morning. She had promised her mother, after all, and Haesel never broke her promises.

She was still tired, but her mental and emotional landscapes were much improved. 

“Are you feeling better, darling?” Isadore asked, eyes full of worry.

“Lotsy said you barely ate a thing,” Dorea said.

James calmly buttered a blueberry scone and asked, “Do I need to kill someone for you? I’ve no plans until your gala tomorrow, so I have plenty of room to quill in a murder on my schedule.”

“Honor Duel sounds so much nicer than ‘murder,’ James. It’s also much easier to explain to the Aurors,” Isadore said.

“Isadore’s right. The Aurors are much more amenable to Honor Duel,” Charlus agreed. 

Haesel felt awful for worrying her family to this degree. They must have been imagining her reaction was in response to horrible things. It had been so kind of Henry to not berate her the night before when she spoke with him. Her parents and grandparents had likely interrogated him repeatedly over the past few days, trying to figure out what happened. Henry hadn’t even known why she was so distraught.

“Valerius has been Fire-calling five times a day to check-in. He hadn’t the faintest idea what upset you so much; he’s quite worried, darling,” Isadore informed her.

This coming year at Hogwarts would be the first year Haesel attended without her Uncle Valerius. He had watched over her since her Sorting, even though they were in different Houses. She couldn’t even guess at how many people he had sent to the hospital wing protecting her.

“I’m fine,” Haesel said.

“Don’t you dare lie to me, young lady,” Charlus said; his usually warm and smiling face was stern and harsh.

Her grandfather was a loving and indulgent man when it came to his family. Even more so when it came to her and Henry, his only grandchildren. He was rarely harsh with them. When it happened, it was always on account of serious issues. 

Haesel felt a twinge of guilt for wallowing the past few days without even offering them the barest of explanations. She rushed to reassure them, saying, “I’m not! I swear I’m not! Something happened that reminded me of Krum, and—”

Isadore gasped. “Not that horrible boy! You finally almost stopped having nightmares about it!”

Ruefully, Haesel removed the glamour charm under her eyes. Her father went for his wand, and her grandfather turned his fork so that he could use it as a weapon. Even with the use of some of the Potter family’s beauty potions, there were still dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep.

Potions and magic could do a lot, but not everything.

“It was bad, but I’m okay now. Tired, but okay,” she insisted. 

Haesel shuddered, thoughts flitting to and away from the nightmare that first night, the one that had felt so real she had called Charles with her magic. Thankfully, none since had been anywhere near as bad. She knew a large part of that was Lotsy’s doing. Her house-elf faithfully roused her from the nightmares before they could swallow her whole, as instructed.

“Why don’t you go lay down after breakfast, darling? You don’t have to do anything all day. I’ll let Lagnok know that you can have a Dreamless Sleep Potion,” James suggested. 

“That sounds—”

Haesel startled when she felt Neville’s magic appear in the manor. Morgana, it was his birthday and she hadn’t even noticed. Nervousness rolled down their godsibling bond in waves. Undoubtedly, it was because Neville had sent a courtship offer to Daphne Greengrass at midnight and was an emotional wreck while waiting for a response.

Haesel buried her head in her hands, took a deep breath, and muttered, “Bloody hell, I did not need this today.” 

She loved her godbrother. Neville was amazing and one of her favorite people in the world. However, his riotous emotions, which hadn’t affected her at all before due to the distance between Potter Manor and Longbottom Manor, now slammed into her with force.

Given that she had spent the past few days trying to level out her mental and emotional landscapes, this was the last thing that she needed right now.

“Language, young lady!” Charlus chided.

“Haesel, what’s wrong?” James demanded.

“Are you all right, darling?” Isadore asked as she pushed maternal affection down their bond.

It helped to counterbalance the hurricane of Neville’s emotions, because, naturally, her bond with her mother was stronger than her bond with her godbrother. Neville felt things very strongly and his worry and fear about his desired courtship with Daphne was no exception.

Henry stood from his chair and cupped the back of her neck before asking, “Do you want me to get rid of him? I will if you say the word.”

“Ah, so that’s how it is,” Dorea said delicately. She patted her lips with a cloth napkin, even though she had no crumbs on her lips. “He doesn’t know that you’ve been unwell, Haesel. The dear boy never would have come if he knew that it might hurt you.”

“I know,” Haesel replied because it was the truth. 

Due to her lack of sleep over the course of several consecutive days, her control over the filters on her magical bonds was weaker than it had been in years. Normally, she would be able to prevent the emotions from feeling so overwhelming. That, unfortunately, wasn’t the case today.

“Merlin, you can’t catch a break, can you? Should I tell him to get lost, Haesel?” Henry asked. “Or do you want me to handle it? He’s my godbrother too, you know.”

Haesel appreciated the offer of assistance, but she was the one that Neville had confided in. She was the one that he chose to tell about his feelings for Daphne. Given how many times during their lives that Neville had supported her, it was only fair for her to offer him the same. 

“Thank you, but no. I know why he’s here. I’ll take care of it,” Haesel said.

She hurried from the conservatory and toward the parlor he was waiting in; it was only one corridor away, thankfully. She didn’t want to have to traverse the entirety of the manor. It took her less than a minute to reach it. 

Haesel leaned against the door frame, letting it hold some of her weight. She felt slightly shaky because of the lack of sleep. She wasn’t light-headed, not yet, but she was dearly anticipating the Dreamless Sleep Potion her father promised her. 

“Hello, Neville.”

Neville was tall and fit and tan from working in his greenhouses and the gardens at Longbottom Manor. His blond hair wasn’t smoothly combed like it normally was; he had clearly been running his hands through it. It was a ruffled mess. His brown eyes shone with so many emotions in rapid succession that it was dizzying to watch. 

“Hello, Haesel,” he replied, voice shaking. Neville paced across the Persian rug that was in front of the Floo, his boots clomping loudly with each step.

“Happy Birthday,” she said. “May Mother Magic bless you with your heart’s desire.”

“What if her dad doesn’t think I’m good enough?” Neville asked, his back to her, hands balled. 

“How could he not?” Haesel asked as his fear and nervousness ricocheted down the bond.

“She’s probably received over a hundred courtship offers already,” he rasped, sounding on the verge of tears. The godsibling bond between them writhed.

For an irrational moment, Haesel considered lying to him. But it would serve no purpose. They would both know that it was a lie and what was the point of a polite lie if it offered no comfort and was more patronizing than anything else? 

“The last I heard from Astoria, a few days ago, Daphne had received one hundred thirty-four courtship, bonding, and betrothal offers,” she whispered. 

Neville turned toward her, tears streaming down his face, desperation pouring off of him as he said, “I love her, Haesel. I’ve loved her for years.”

“I know,” Haesel said as she closed the distance between them and wrapped Neville in a tight hug. Her godbrother’s chest was silent underneath her ear. “Oh, Neville.”

“I had to prove I was serious,” he whispered, voice wet and rough. “With how many suitors she has, it’s reasonable to assume she will doubt their sincerity. Witch Weekly listed her as the Most Eligible Bachelorette in Avalon at the start of summer. A lot of suitors will seek her hand for the prestige of being the wizard she chooses. So, I—”

“You had to show Daphne you weren’t one of them,” Haesel finished, understanding his thought process even though the thought of literally offering her heart to someone who might not offer theirs in return was the stuff of tragic fairy tales.

“Exactly.”

Neville was so brave. All those people at school who called him a coward and said that he didn’t belong in Gryffindor, that he should have been a Hufflepuff (as if loyalty and diligence were something shameful, instead of to be lauded) didn’t know or understand him at all.  

“When did you gift it?” she asked.

Neville pulled away and rubbed the back of his neck as he turned to face the fireplace. The flames crackled merrily; the oak logs popped. 

“I attached it to my courtship offer with a ribbon crafted from my magic so that she would know it was mine. When she touched the scroll fifteen minutes ago, I felt it vanish from my chest,” he said as a wave of shyness and embarrassment rolled down their godsibling bond.

Haesel dropped onto the nearest sofa, stunned. That was— Merlin and Morgana, that was just— 

The highest form of favor that a pureblood witch was allowed to show any suitor was to gift them a lock of her hair, tied with a ribbon crafted from her own magic. The highest form of favor that a pureblood wizard was allowed to show any suitor was to gift them a ribbon crafted of his own magic, imbued with his sincere emotions.

What Neville had done, tying the ribbon to his own heart…. Haesel had never before heard of any wizard offering a pureblood witch such an extravagant gift as proof of his love.

“Go home, Neville,” Haesel ordered.

He spun to face her, hurt in his eyes. “Why?”

“Daphne Greengrass isn’t a fool, Neville. You offered her a courtship gift that will become legendary,” she said, grinning as he blushed. “I cannot imagine a single reason why she would ever refuse you now. Go home, Neville, so that you’re there when she shows up in all her exquisite finery to accept your courtship offer.” 

Neville grabbed a handful of Floo powder from the tin on the mantle and threw it into the flames. He almost stepped into the fireplace before they turned fully green, chancing scorching his clothes. “Longbottom Manor!” he called frantically before being whisked away.

Haesel slumped against the back of the sofa and breathed slowly as Neville’s emotions vanished with him. She was happy for him. But, Morgana, was she even more exhausted than she had been earlier.

“Mistress,” Lotsy said, appearing at Haesel’s side with a parchment missive on a silver tray, “Ivie brought this from Malfoy Manor.”

She picked up the short note and read it.

Dear Lady Haesel Potter,

I am writing to confirm that you still desire my presence as your lady-in-waiting tomorrow evening to assist with your toilette in preparation for your coming of age gala.

Please respond at your convenience.

Warmest regards,

Lady Iolanthe Malfoy

A fond smile overtook Haesel’s face as she thought of the youngest Malfoy maiden. It was impossible to not smile while thinking of her. Iolanthe was sweet and without artifice. She was genuine in a way that many people were not.

Even if Henry hadn’t been in love with her, Haesel would have liked Iolanthe anyway.

Haesel reached for the quill, ink, and single piece of parchment that Lotsy had thoughtfully included on the tray and jotted a quick note of affirmation. When she finished her signature with a flourish, she said, “Please deliver that to Ivie at Malfoy Manor.”

“At once, Mistress,” Lotsy replied before vanishing.

Her stomach gurgled loudly. Haesel laughed and poked it. “It’s not my fault that I was interrupted before I could feed you,” she said as she got off the sofa. As tired as she was, and as much as she was looking forward to that Dreamless Sleep Potion, she knew that she needed to eat a proper meal first. 

“So, who’s the lucky witch that has Neville all twisted up in knots?” James asked when she reentered the conservatory.

“I’m quite sure that I don’t know what you mean, Papa,” Haesel replied as she sat in her regular seat. There was a plate of food already served for her, containing several of her favorites. She went right for the crispy bacon.

“Henry?” James asked, leaning forward eagerly.

“I don’t know, Dad,” Henry answered after setting his glass of pumpkin juice down. “Neville hasn’t told me.”

“You’re observant, Henry,” Isadore said as she sliced a strawberry crepe. “I’m quite certain you could make an informed guess to amuse your father.”

“I confess, I’m also curious about who you think might have attracted Neville’s attention,” Dorea said as she transferred three sausages to her plate. “He’s a dear boy. I’d hate for some witch to mistreat him.”

Haesel had just stuffed an overly large bite of cinnamon and peach waffles into her mouth when the wards alerted everyone that another visitor had arrived through the Floo well before acceptable calling hours, just as Neville had. Zach’s distinctive magic unfurled through the manor.

Charlus chuckled and stared at Haesel with pointed amusement. “Someone is popular this morning.”

Huffing, Haesel ignored the comment and kept eating. Zach knew exactly where they would all be at this time of day. 

A few minutes later, Zach swanned into the conservatory with an overly bright smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He dropped into one of the empty chairs at the table and said, “I’m taking you up on that offer of Sanctuary, Haesel.”

The Potter family magic rang like a bell at the announcement. For the next one hundred eleven days, her family was required to shelter him as if he were one of their own.

Haesel swallowed her bite of waffle before responding. Her parents and grandparents might be exceptionally lenient about etiquette when they dined en famille, but none of them tolerated anyone speaking with a mouth full of food. 

“What did she do now?” Haesel asked. Her mind, ever active, started compiling a list of awful pureblood witches that his mother might have moved on to after Chang.

Zach began dishing himself a large plate of breakfast. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much I don’t want to talk about it,” Zach said, his voice carefully blank as his magic rippled across his skin. 

“Then we won’t talk about it,” Haesel said.

“But out of curiosity, Lord Potter,” Zach said while carefully looking anywhere but at her grandfather, “are you opposed to blood adopting a second son? You survived raising Heir Potter, so I figure I’m—”

“It wouldn’t be honorable to answer that question when you’re experiencing a magical and emotional upheaval, Zacharias,” Charlus interrupted as he reached for Grandmama Dorea’s hand and rubbed his thumb across the back of it soothingly.

Zach deflated in his seat, his blond hair falling forward to cover his eyes as his silverware clinked against the plate. Bowing as much as was possible in his seat, Zach said, “I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t really mean it. My sincerest apologies, Lady Potter, Lord Potter.” 

“No apology is necessary, Zacharias, but I thank you for it all the same,” Charlus said with warmth and understanding. “Being here will allow you the space and distance you need from whatever the underlying situation is until you start your seventh year at Hogwarts. If you require additional time after that, you’re welcome to spend Yule with us this year while you work things out with your family.”

“Thank you very much,” Zach rasped.

“I’m used to young men and their shenanigans. I’m not offended,” Dorea said, her magic wistful. “As you said, I did survive raising this rowdy scamp.”

“I,” James said with exaggerated gravitas, “resemble that remark.”

Laughter spilled into the room, brightening everything and cheering the atmosphere. It stayed that way through the rest of the meal. The light-heartedness of it soothed Haesel’s magic.

When she finished eating, she leaned back in her chair with a smile and watched her loved ones interact with each other, periodically joining in. Contentment welled inside her.

They lingered over the meal until a wide yawn split Haesel’s face. 

“Someone needs her beauty sleep,” Zach teased. His smile reached his eyes this time. “If you show up at your gala looking like that tomorrow, the guests will run away screaming.”

“Oh, shove off, Zach,” Haesel said around another yawn as she covered her mouth with her hand. It was so wide that her jaw popped.

“Off to bed with you, darling. We’ll see you later,” Isadore said as she came over and kissed Haesel’s forehead.

Her father swooped down and scooped Haesel up in his arms. She laughed and leaned her head against his shoulder; it had been a while since he last carried her like a princess. He did it all the time when she was a little girl. She missed it.

“Sleep well, sis!”

“You don’t have to worry about anything now, Haesel. We have everything in hand,” Dorea said.

She was grateful to hear that. All she wanted now was to sleep and not think or have nightmares. If it were up to her, Haesel would have taken Dreamless Sleep every night for the past several nights. But until one of her relatives figured out a recipe that would make it non-addictive when used more than once a week, she couldn’t. 

James carried her up to her room. He kissed her forehead and said, “I’ll tuck you in, darling. Drink your potion and let us handle anything that might come up. You don’t have to worry about anything for the rest of the day. I love you.”

Haesel drank the potion Lagnok handed her and just managed to slur out, “I love you, too, Papa—so much,” before sleep claimed her.

Chapter Text

Haesel sat on a velvet-upholstered stool, facing away from her vanity. Her eyes were closed to slits as a miniature paintbrush danced across her face. The hem of Iolanthe Malfoy’s lilac robes was all she could see. Requesting her assistance for the evening was a stroke of genius on two levels: Iolanthe was a talented artist and so Haesel would benefit from her efforts, and it would please Henry.

Rumors abounded in Hogwarts about which witch captivated the future Potter Lord. The odds seemed to be split between Romilda Vane and Lacerta Malfoy. Haesel knew that all of the speculation was wrong.

“Could you tilt your chin for me, please?” Iolanthe asked. 

Her voice was soft, like Haesel’s mother’s; it attracted attention when voiced for that very reason. She was a witch people had to listen to if they wanted to hear her.

Haesel obeyed, fighting the urge to squirm as the brush tickled across her skin. There was a short silence and then Iolanthe stilled. Haesel opened her eyes fully to see what was wrong, because she knew Iolanthe wasn’t done yet. 

“Why did you choose me as your lady-in-waiting for tonight?” Iolanthe asked.

Iolanthe’s hair wasn’t “up”; it hung free in silky golden curls to mid-thigh. It was a sign of trust and respect that warmed her heart. Haesel knew that Iolanthe had only left it down because the note Haesel sent her yesterday acted as a Portkey directly into Haesel’s suite at the specified time. If Iolanthe had arrived via Floo, it would have been elaborately styled so that none of Haesel’s male relatives could see its glory.

Refusing to reveal her brother’s secret, Haesel debated on what to say. She wasn’t fond of deceit. “I wanted it to be you.”

Iolanthe bit her lower lip, something she knew the witch would never do in public. It was another sign of trust that Haesel treasured. 

“For Master Henry?” Iolanthe asked.

Haesel blinked. Had Henry unwittingly revealed where his interest lay during one of their Quidditch outings with the Malfoys? Impossible! Lacerta would’ve thrown such a grand fit that Haesel would have learned of it by now. It was common knowledge that Lacerta had set her cap at Henry, just as Pansy Parkinson had set hers at Draco.

Not that either of those two witches were going to end up with the wizards they wanted. If the visit at The Golden Fleece was anything to go by, Draco wouldn’t be parted from Astoria for any reason. And Haesel knew that Henry would live a life of sworn celibacy before he would willingly bond with Lacerta Malfoy.

“Why do you believe that Henry had something to do with my selection?” Haesel asked, forcing her voice to remain even and not give anything away.

A rosy hue colored Iolanthe’s cheeks as she stared down at the toes of her slippers and asked, “Can you keep a secret, Lady Haesel?”

Haesel was insulted at the implied slight to her honor, even though she was sure Iolanthe didn’t mean it how it sounded. It was obviously a case of unfortunate wording. It must’ve shown on her face, though, because when Iolanthe glanced upward, she paled, which was quite a feat given the Malfoy complexion.

Iolanthe clutched the small paintbrush between her fingers. “I didn’t mean it like— I meant to ask, may I have your word that you won’t mention what I’m about to tell you to anyone? I would never doubt the Vow of a Potter. I just— If word got out before I’m bonded....” 

Haesel reached forward and placed a hand over Iolanthe’s nearest fist, uncurling the fingers gently. The half-moons on her palm, a result of her fingernails digging into her skin, were deep; she had almost drawn her own blood. 

“You have my word,” Haesel said as she removed the paintbrush from Iolanthe’s other hand and set it on the artist’s palette on her vanity.

Iolanthe folded her hands before her and confided, “I started my menses in February. They came with a bloodline gift. I’m a Matchmaker.” 

It was hard to breathe, and not because of the corset Haesel wore. There hadn’t been a true Matchmaker since Meliflua Malfoy’s time, some two hundred years past. Iolanthe’s caution was understandable; when the news got out, she would be swamped with people wanting her services. 

As a Matchmaker she could see the bonds between people, could follow the threads of magic to determine if two individuals were compatible, and, if so, how compatible. It was a gift that ran in the Malfoy line, rarely surfacing, and brought much distinction and honor.

It would be utterly overwhelming to her. Iolanthe despised being the center of attention.

The battle for her hand once her bloodline gift became known in pureblood society would be brutal. People would seek her in courtship and bonding for the prestige of being bonded to someone who could literally see magical bonds. Iolanthe deserved better than to be someone’s trophy spouse.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Haesel asked rhetorically. It was all too apparent that she was.

Iolanthe’s blue eyes focused on her; her irises sloshed like liquid. She hesitated, as if she feared her words would upset Haesel, and then said, “You’re going to soul-bond. You’ve already met your Fated Lord and he has accepted your magical claim. The world has not seen the like of your bonding since Myrrdin Emrys himself proved worthy of Morgan le Fay.”

The extra emphasis terrified Haesel. “You can’t tell anyone!”

Iolanthe placed a hand over her own hip-bone and whispered, “I would never risk my son’s protector like that.”

Haesel stilled at what that confession implied. King Arthur Pendragon.

“Why did you mention my brother?” Haesel asked.

Her thoughts flittered back to what had prompted this confession. Haesel thought she knew, but she had to be sure. Her brother’s heart wasn’t something to be trifled with, especially not after what Iolanthe had just very clearly not-said.

Tears pooled in Iolanthe’s eyes but they didn’t fall, as expected of a daughter whose mother was a Black by birth. She whispered, “I overheard my parents discussing candidates for a formal betrothal in my name.” 

The blood in Haesel’s veins felt like ice. She hadn’t considered that. Sometimes, daughters were bartered away in betrothal contracts for alliances or other purposes without ever getting a social season. 

“Does it seem likely that they will choose someone soon?” Haesel asked.

“Yes.” 

Haesel was impressed with Iolanthe’s fortitude. If she had been in the same situation, if her parents thought to choose her spouse without giving her any consideration, the agony would be immense. It would feel like the lowest type of betrayal, especially to a young lady who had been Sorted into Hufflepuff due to family loyalty.

“You haven’t told your parents,” Haesel stated.

Iolanthe clutched her robes over her hip-bone and said, “No. None of it. Father would announce it to the world. I’m not ready for that. It isn’t safe.” 

He would, too. Lucius Malfoy couldn’t help but flaunt himself. He reminded Haesel all too much of the stuffy white peacocks on the Malfoy properties. Lucius was very sure of himself. He would announce King Arthur’s pending return fearlessly, assured of his ability to keep Iolanthe safe.

It wasn’t worth the risk.

“No, it isn’t,” Haesel agreed.

Feeling her brother’s magic approach her chambers, Haesel narrowed her eyes shrewdly. Henry laughingly saying in the past that he would name his firstborn son Arthur wouldn’t leave her head. All this time, she thought it was a joke because she bore the Mark of Merlin. Now, though—

“If given the choice, would you have my brother?” Haesel asked. She could not bring herself to outright ask if Iolanthe had witnessed the soul-bond that would bring the Once and Future King back into the world between Iolanthe herself and Henry. 

“I will have no other,” Iolanthe answered, her magic ringing with all the force of a sworn vow.

Well, that answered that. Henry must feel the potential of their bond, because he had had eyes for no one but Iolanthe since he first met her. Though, given Haesel’s own mark hadn’t appeared until her eleventh birthday, it was safe to assume the same had happened to Iolanthe.

Haesel stood up and tucked a finger under Iolanthe’s chin to raise her head. Then she said, “If you will trust me, if you will believe in the Potter Honor, I will ensure that he is yours. Will you place yourself in my hands?”

Raw gratitude swamped Iolanthe’s fair features. Her blonde curls bobbed as she nodded and promised, “I will.”

Haesel hugged her tightly and then stepped backward, a smile on her face. “Then welcome to the family. Wait here for a minute, please. And remember, you have to trust me. All right?”

“Yes, Lady Haesel.”

Haesel waved a hand dismissively and said, “You no longer need to use my title while addressing me. You’re going to be my sister. You have permission to call me by my name.”

Iolanthe beamed, her eyes sparkling with happiness. “Thank you, Haesel. You may call me by my given name as well.” 

“Excellent!” Haesel said as she clapped her hands. “I’ll be back shortly.”

Then Haesel stalked out of her dressing room and through her bedchamber. She entered her private sitting room and opened the door just as Henry raised his hand to knock.

Henry’s eyes swept over her. He cocked an eyebrow at her and said, “Haesel, I was expecting you to be ready by now. Your gala starts in an hour. Why aren’t you ready yet?”

Haesel beckoned her brother into her suite and then shut the door. She leaned against it and said, “Something very important has been brought to my attention.”

That was the understatement of the century. The return of the Once and Future King was momentous. That Lucius and Narcissa were accidentally interfering with their sovereign’s return would horrify them if they knew. But Haesel couldn’t blame Iolanthe for keeping her own counsel. There was no telling how Lacerta would react if she found out. 

“Oh? What’s that? Something to do with your Charles? Have you been so busy mooning over him that your lady-in-waiting for the evening can’t finish her tasks?” Henry asked as he examined her partially painted face.

She ignored his teasing jab and said, “I need to ask you a very serious question, Henry.”

Henry halted, his hand hovering awkwardly in the air beside her face, and rasped, “I’ll do my best to answer it, Haesel.” 

He must have the Mark of Arthur on his hip-bone. It hurt that he hadn’t confided in her. It was only the knowledge that Mother Magic had likely forbidden him from mentioning it for some reason that let her overcome her injured feelings.

After all, history taught that even the great King Arthur Pendragon could be killed.

“Is my firstborn son going to be your firstborn son’s advisor and protector?” Haesel asked, staring right into his honey-hazel eyes.

“I can’t answer that,” Henry stated, jaw clenched. 

That was enough proof for her.

“I need you to trust me, Henry, and do everything that I ask of you for the next few minutes. It’s critical. Will you do that?” Haesel asked. It was a lot to ask of most people, but she knew that Henry knew she wouldn’t ask such a thing of him lightly. Especially given the topic they were not-discussing.

“I will.” 

“Then follow me.” 

She spun on her heel, the skirt of her gown flaring out before settling back against her legs. Haesel walked back to her dressing room, smirking when Henry gasped behind her. A glance over her shoulder showed that he had stopped at the threshold, staring helplessly at Iolanthe’s beautiful unbound curls.

“Master Henry?” Iolanthe asked. Her hands fluttered beneath Henry’s worshipful gaze. There wasn’t a hint of a blush on her face; she had to be wearing a glamour charm to disguise it.

Henry exclaimed, “My sincerest apologies, Lady Iolanthe! I was unaware of your presence. I never would’ve violated your privacy if—”

Haesel grabbed his arm when he went to turn around and leave, words of apology tumbling from his lips. She tugged him deeper into her dressing room, saying, “Oh, no, you don’t.”

“Haesel, what are you doing?” Henry asked, sounding truly scandalized with her for the first time that she could remember.

She finally came to a halt just feet away from where Iolanthe was slightly hidden by the vanity. She released her brother, and then lifted her chin and replied, “What needs to be done.” 

Yes, this was all more than a mite improper, but she was acting as their chaperone, so it wasn’t completely scandalous. Besides, it’s not like anyone else would ever find out where this happened anyway. 

“Henry, hold your hands behind you,” Haesel commanded.

“Why should I?”

“Just do it!” 

She nodded in satisfaction once he clasped his hands behind his back. There, he was less threatening that way; it gave the illusion that he couldn’t touch anything. Now, for the hard part.

“Haesel, what’s going on?” Iolanthe inquired, eyes flitting from Henry to Haesel and then back.

“Come here, Iolanthe,” Haesel requested, holding out her hand welcomingly. 

Iolanthe came over and leaned against Haesel, tucking against her side. Haesel stroked Iolanthe’s curls; they were wonderfully silky. 

“Haesel?” Iolanthe prompted, never once looking away from Henry.

“I can think of only one way to guarantee that your parents can’t sign a betrothal contract in your name, Iolanthe,” Haesel said.

Henry inhaled deeply and swayed as if he might faint from the shock of what he had just heard. Agony and terror gushed down their sibling bond with all the strength of a riptide. If she had had any doubts left, that would have put them to rest. 

“If I kiss Master Henry, Mother Magic will bless it and a betrothal bond will form between us. It will be a true Maiden’s Kiss,” Iolanthe said, magic rippling down her skin. 

“Yes.”

A small step was all that separated Henry from the girls. Iolanthe closed the distance and said, “You will love me.” It wasn’t a question.

Henry nodded anyway. “Yes.”

Her slender hands rose in the air and hovered near his shoulders. Iolanthe asked, voice breathy, “May I touch you, Master Henry?” 

Henry gulped. “Yes.”

Iolanthe set her hands on his shoulders for balance and leaned up on her tiptoes. Henry still had to bend down slightly to make up the difference in their heights. She closed her eyes and very gently placed her lips atop Henry’s.

Their magic flared so brightly when their lips met that Haesel had to squint.

Haesel barely restrained a snort at the awed look on her brother’s face. He had kept his eyes open the whole time as if he wanted to imprint each second in his memory so that it could never be forgotten. Perhaps she would get him a Pensieve for his upcoming birthday; then he could relive and replay it to his heart’s content in perfect detail. 

Her grin widened when Iolanthe stepped backward, eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks before rising. The strain to keep from reaching for her was visible in every line of Henry’s body. He watched Iolanthe with raw wonder and adoration.

It was, Haesel suddenly realized, similar to how Charles stared at her. It said, You are everything that I will ever want for myself. I’m honored that you allow me to worship you.

Now, she was almost desperate to see Charles again. She needed to finish getting ready or she would be late to her own coming of age gala and have to wait even longer to see him. The mere thought was intolerable.

“You may stay if you want, Henry, but please be quiet. Iolanthe will need to concentrate while she paints my face.”

He nodded dumbly and collapsed onto a nearby chair, never taking his eyes off of Iolanthe, much to Haesel’s amusement.

Haesel reclaimed her seat and tilted her head just so, silently asking Iolanthe to resume her task. The paintbrush tickled across her skin moments later, swirling down her chin before working up and around her eyes. It slid up her forehead in smooth strokes and gentle dots, drying as soon as the brush left her skin to collect more paint. 

Haesel wanted her appearance tonight to drive Charles wild.

For the first time in her life, she understood why her mother insisted everything be just so when she was going somewhere with her father. Haesel had styled and restyled her mother’s hair countless times, had helped her change elaborate robes and coordinated jewelry and masks. She had thought it was silly pampering as a young girl; now, she understood.

Haesel wanted Charles’s mouth to literally drop open when he saw her tonight, and nothing was going to deter her.

The sound of Iolanthe setting down the palette jarred Haesel out of her daydream. Clever fingers worked at her hair for several minutes, adding the finishing touches. 

Iolanthe pursed her lips, scrutinized her from head to toe, and then announced, “My work as your lady-in-waiting is complete.”

Haesel turned to face the mirror, which had been miraculously silent since Iolanthe broached such serious subjects. It was remarkably chatty with the two of them earlier in the afternoon. 

“I do believe this is the finest I’ve ever seen you look, dear,” the mirror said.

Haesel stared at herself critically, before spinning in a slow circle so that she could see the end result from every angle. Then she nodded, satisfied. Charles wouldn’t be able to keep his magic off her.

“It’s perfect,” Haesel breathed. “Thank you, Iolanthe.”

“I agree, little Malfoy. You’ve a fine eye for detail and impeccable painting skills. You did my lady justice,” the mirror said.

Iolanthe grinned and curtsied, saying, “It was my honor. Truly, it was.”

“Haesel, I’m not sure you should be left alone tonight,” Henry choked out, speaking for the first time since she asked him to be quiet so that Iolanthe could focus.

Haesel laughed gaily. “Why, thank you, Henry. That’s a lovely compliment.”

“Is there any other assistance that you require, Haesel?” Iolanthe asked.

Haesel grinned at Iolanthe and said, “No, there isn’t. I’m very grateful for your help, Iolanthe. You’re an excellent lady-in-waiting. It’s almost time for the gala to start, though. I’m sure your mother is awaiting your return before she leaves for it.”

Iolanthe nodded and grasped the necklace that lay against her chest. She glanced shyly at Henry and whispered, “Until later, Master Henry.”

“I’ll call on you soon, my lady,” Henry promised. 

“I’ll await you,” Iolanthe said.

Then Iolanthe activated the Portkey necklace and vanished from Haesel’s chambers, unaware that Henry fruitlessly lurched forward in his seat as if he could follow her.

Chapter Text

“I don’t know whether to thank you or curse you, Haesel,” Henry said.

Haesel rolled her eyes and nudged his nearest shoulder with her elbow. “You got a kiss from her because of me. I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.” 

His eyes softened as he smiled at her. Though it quickly turned into a smirk that dripped with smugness that wouldn’t look out of place on Zach’s face. “I’m going to hold that over your head forever.”

“Believe me, I’m well aware of that,” Haesel lamented before shooing her brother out of her dressing room. “Now, I believe we have a gala to attend.”

“Indeed, we do.”

Right before they left her chambers to head down to the ballroom, she said, “By the way, you cut a very dashing figure in your formal heraldry robes. Poor Iolanthe must have had a heart attack when you came in here dressed like that.”

Henry’s laughter echoed as they headed down the corridor toward the grand staircase. 

“I—”

A loud crash sounded behind them and Haesel spun around to see a vase shattered on the floor, its plinth knocked over. It was just a foot away from Zach, who wore dress robes so elaborate that she would wager they came from one of the Smith family’s heirloom vaults. 

It was expected that her family members would be richly garbed in heraldry robes at her coming of age gala. It meant a lot that Zach ensured he was just as impeccably presentable as her blood relatives. After all, even without the Sanctuary, she considered him close enough to be a surrogate second brother.

“Are you all right?” she asked. There was no doubt that it was an accident. Zach might be an absolute prat, but he wasn’t the type of person who would seek Sanctuary and then destroy things belonging to those who granted it.

“I’m fine. I’ll pay for the vase,” Zach said distractedly.

“Don’t bother. We have restoration runes on all of the heirlooms,” Haesel said as the shards of the vase merged back together.

“Merlin, Haesel”—Zach’s eyes ran over her body several times, becoming more appreciative with each glance—“you’ll cause a bloody riot.” 

Haesel threw her head back and laughed so hard that her ribs ached in the corset. “Did you walk into the vase because of me? That’s the best compliment I’ve received in a while.”

Zach’s gaze suddenly snapped to her face as he said, “Later, I would like you to explain in precise detail who, exactly, inspired you to put in this much effort.” 

He looked hurt that she hadn’t confided in him yet, but understanding as well. She had downed a Dreamless Sleep Potion that knocked her out for twenty straight hours shortly after he claimed Sanctuary yesterday. And today was hectic from the moment she woke until now. 

Other than the breakfast they took together in his guest suite, during which he informed her of his mother’s continuing attempts to arrange courtships or betrothals with witches he didn’t love—which had led to Zach storming out of Smith Castle and claiming Sanctuary with them—she hadn’t seen Zach at all.

She almost broached the topic of Charles at breakfast, but she hadn’t wanted to make the conversation about her. Not when Zach clearly needed someone who was willing to quietly listen to his rants about his horrid mother who had, apparently, informed Zach that she had decided only maidens from the Most Ancient Houses would be worthy of him.

It was the twig that broke the pegasus’s back.

Because Zach was so in love with Miss Rose Zeller that he had already lost his heart to her. And the lady’s House wasn’t even Attributed, let alone Most Ancient. It was barely three centuries old.

“After the gala,” she answered as Zach righted the plinth and set the repaired vase atop it.

“Which is starting soon, might I add,” Henry interjected. “We need to get down there.”

They descended the grand staircase and headed straight for the ballroom. 

“You had best get in there before everyone starts arriving if you don’t want to be mobbed. You’re lucky you don’t have to stand in the receiving line because you haven’t been presented yet. Make it quick, will you? They’ll be here any minute,” Zach said, gesturing lazily at the ballroom. 

“I’ll see you later, Zach,” Haesel said.

“Yes, you will.”

Haesel swept into the ballroom, somewhat dazzled by the splendor. Her family had gone all out. There were thousands of floating candles in various pearlescent shades, massive bouquets in floor vases, tables full of delicacies, and a live string quartet tuning their instruments. The string quartet seemed to be standing on air, but Haesel knew it was actually a thin sheet of unbreakable crystal that was charmed invisible.

There were several alcoves off the sides of the ballroom, curtained with flowing crimson chiffon. She entered one that was partway down the ballroom, leaving Henry by the food, and smirked at her reflection. She had chosen this particular alcove because one wall was a massive, aged mirror with veins.

The gown Haesel wore was very old-fashioned; it came from one of the Potter heirloom vaults. It had a corseted top and the barest scraps of lace served as sleeves. They kissed the outside edges of her shoulders, appearing as if they would slip and fall off at any moment. Her skirts fell to the floor, but there was a slit in the top layer of fabric that reached to her waist in the front. The material was Potter-Crimson and charmed so that embroidered griffins flew across it. The under layers of the gown were also Potter-Crimson, in varying fabric textures for contrast and effect. 

“It’s beautiful,” Haesel said as she stroked the fabric.

Her hair was piled atop her head in ebony curls, each pinned in place with ruby hair beads. The gems sparkled in the light. Her magic lit them like miniature flames.

The crowning glory, though, was Iolanthe’s artwork. Painted across Haesel’s face with magical paints, meaning it lived as portraits did, was a griffin. Its wings were spread in flight and its long tail kissed down her neck, periodically shifting to encircle it like a choker. Its talons curled and jerked as if catching and killing prey. It was traditional for a maiden from a Most Ancient House to wear the magical creature that appeared on her family’s coat of arms at her coming of age gala. And while the gown would have been sufficient, Haesel wanted something extra.  

She felt ferociously stunning.

“I could not have chosen a better lady-in-waiting for the night,” she stated.

A swelling crescendo of music shattered her reverie and Haesel realized that the dancing was about to begin. She was meant to sit out the first three dances, and then the fourth would be her first waltz, after which she would be officially introduced to pureblood society. 

She hadn’t given her parents the name of her chosen partner. After all, she was the daughter of a Marauder. Mayhem was in her blood. Henry was the only one who had any idea of who would be blessed to receive her first waltz.

Charles’s magic sprawled across the manor as if he intended to fill the entire building with his power. It rolled across the ballroom, warning her that he was coming. Haesel shivered with anticipation. They had both promised each other “soon” and that time was finally here. Today was her seventeenth birthday.

Irritation occasionally tainted Charles’s magic and she could just imagine people stopping to speak with him. He had been studying dragons in Romania for several years now and was rarely back in the country for more than a brief visit. As a result, he wasn’t often seen in society. 

The delays were annoying. They had already been kept apart much too long. Closer, closer, closer, until—

Haesel grinned and folded her hands before her like a proper lady. She turned to face the chiffon curtain just as his shadow fell against it. It was time for the moment of truth. Had she succeeded as well as everyone seemed to think?

Charles pushed aside the curtain and then halted instantly as if Petrified. His eyes darkened rapidly, like the sea during a storm, and she heard his breath hitch in his throat. His jaw dropped about an inch, but the compliment inherent in the action, coming from someone so controlled, made it seem like a league. His hand shook the slightest bit, sending ripples along the curtain. The gold rings holding it up chinked together. 

That must have broken his trance, because Charles released it and strode forward. When Charles reached her, his hands enclosed about her waist, his pinkies fitting against the flare of her hips. His magic serenaded her as his eyes sparked with a hunger that made her a little nervous. 

“My lady.”  

Her stomach fluttered in response. 

He was devilishly handsome tonight. His deep auburn hair was tied back neatly, longer than most wizards of his station wore theirs, making her wish to set it free and muss it. The formal heraldry lord’s raiment that he wore flattered his fit form. His broad shoulders and thick arms drew her gaze, as did the myriad of freckles that covered his visible skin. 

Haesel lifted one trembling hand and set it over his heart, allowing her magic to drown him as his magic scorched her. 

Lost in their mingling magic, she leaned up, her lips brushing against his earlobe. The words were pleading for freedom and she was pleased to grant it and acknowledge the truth. Her tone, throaty and husky and seductive, shocked her as she said, “My lord.”

Charles’s heart skipped beneath her palm once, twice, and then vanished. 

It nestled inside her chest, within her own heart, just as she had known it would. Each beat of his heart sang of his love for her. The song echoed in her blood and bones and she treasured the knowledge that she would get to listen to it for the rest of her life.

“You love me,” she said giddily.

“How could I not?” Charles asked as he leaned his forehead against hers.

The third dance—a cotillion—was almost at an end.

“Waltz with me,” she ordered. 

“As my lady commands.” 

Charles’s hold on her waist tightened and his eyes darkened further. He shifted his grip so that they were in the proper form and then danced her right out of the alcove on the first beat of the music.

The other guests stopped waltzing to stare at her and Charles with complete astonishment. His heart skipped a beat inside her own. 

Haesel wouldn’t allow anyone to think she was ashamed of being in his arms, not when it was the only place she ever wanted to be. Let them gawk like simpletons. If she was lucky, they would realize how serious this was by the time the waltz ended. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about receiving pointless courtship offers from anyone else. 

She took a deep breath and raised her head higher, locking gazes with him. Charles’s hand on her waist was firm, leading her from one step to the next. Their bodies moved in harmony, scandalously close. There would be a furor of gossip, but she found that she couldn’t care.

Why should Haesel pretend? Why should she lie and imply that any other man would have a chance at her heart? Surely, that would be crueler than destroying all of their hopes simultaneously. As she acknowledged that, she felt an overwhelming sense of relief. 

Haesel laid her cheek against Charles’s chest, over where his heart no longer resided. The clamor in the ballroom rose in volume to an almost deafening pitch. Charles’s thumb stroked her waist reassuringly, before he tugged her that much closer. Her breasts brushed against his chest. Every shift of their bodies bespoke a singular truth: Lady Haesel Potter and Lord Charles Prewett were off the bonding-market.

The cello thrummed with one final note, and then the string quartet stopped playing. The lack of music must have shocked the guests, because they all fell silent in unison.

Charles released her, his hand trailing daringly across her hip as he stepped backward. He bowed to her, quite deeply, and then kissed the back of the hand he still held in his own. “My lady.” 

The verbal affirmation of his claim before others sent a thrill of excitement through her. Haesel sank into a deep curtsy, eyes staring up at him from under her lashes the entire time. “My lord,” she acknowledged.

Sharp, precise footsteps echoed through the ballroom. They came from behind her. Charles stared over her shoulder, resolute determination written on his face. She knew who it was before he reached her and could only pray to Morgana that he, of all people, would understand.

“Haesel, darling, it seems your mother and I need to have a conversation with Lord Prewett after your grandfather presents you to society,” James said.

Her father’s hand curled around her arm and lifted her to her feet. She reluctantly obeyed the implied command to remove her hand from Charles’s grasp; their magic sparked painfully when they parted. 

“Yes, Papa,” she said, comforted by the amusement and reluctant approval that traveled down their familial bond which belied the sternness of his face. She didn’t have to be a Seer to foresee some not-at-all subtle threats and mandatory vows in Charles’s immediate future.

“I’ll return to your side as soon as I can, my lady,” Charles said. 

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

Henry escorted her across the ballroom, behind their father and mother, but she was too lost in thought to pay attention to where they were going. Eventually, she ended up standing in between her mother and grandmother. Thankfully, she was aware enough to smile and curtsy as her grandfather formally introduced her to pureblood society.

“It gives me great pleasure to introduce my granddaughter. Though, truly, she needs no introduction. She has been running wild through Avalon long enough that I’m sure each of you have a story about some mischief you witnessed her performing. You have my word that the punch won’t turn your hair red and gold and that if you eat the canapés, you won’t roar like a lion,” Charlus said as laughter filled the ballroom. 

Haesel grinned, unrepentantly proud of the pranks she and Henry managed to successfully pull off the last time their godfather Sirius and his wife Elara hosted a ball. 

Charlus lifted a flute of fairy wine in a toast and said, “Thank you for bravely attending her coming of age gala. I salute you, one and all. She is as mischievous as she is honorable. To Lady Haesel Isadore Potter, Baroness of Potter Fields!”

Of course, he didn’t use her true title. It wouldn’t be safe before Merlin was born. In magic, she was the Archduchess of Caerfyrddin. When they bonded, Charles would be her Archduke. And at some point in the future, Merlin would once again be lord of his own fortress in Avalon.

“To Lady Haesel!” echoed from all corners of the ballroom.

Haesel drank with them, though she had no recollection of being handed a glass. She set it on a tray one of the servers was carrying around once it was empty.

“Let the dancing continue!” Charlus declared, a wide smile on his face. The string quartet picked right back up on the set they had been playing.

“I’ll attempt to keep it brief,” her father said as he led her mother toward where Charles was waiting for them.

“I do believe,” Dorea said with a smirk, “that you’ve landed a kraken. Well done, Haesel.”

Valerius snorted and said, “You landed Lord Prewett so promptly that people are reeling across the ballroom.”

Haesel swallowed her laughter as they continued whispering puns behind her as members of society came up to congratulate her on her coming of age, wish her well, and all the other stuffy, mannered phrases that rarely sounded sincere. Though, to be fair, she knew not everyone was greeting her solely to fish for gossip.

Morgana, she needed a distrac—

Zach marched to the front of the line, ignoring all the mutters that followed in his wake, and said, “I need to gloat at Haesel. Valerius, be so good as to stand guard.” Then Zach all but dragged her into the nearest alcove. 

Grandmama Dorea smoothly greeted the next person in line. Uncle Valerius winked at her as she passed and then leaned against the entrance to the alcove as if daring anyone to bother them.

“Lord Prewett? I never thought I had any skill at Divination, but I totally called it. I totally called it! Why, just the other day I told you that I bet he had returned for you. And here you are waltzing in his arms. Called it,” Zach said, smirking like a smarmy git.

Haesel grinned as he got more theatrical by the moment. It didn’t eclipse the shadows in his eyes, but she could tell he was genuinely amused by the situation. She was grateful she could provide him a respite, however brief, from his mother’s words endlessly replaying in his mind.

“All right, I’ll say it. You were right. I was ... not entirely right,” Haesel said. It was their traditional forfeit for when one of them guessed something right and the other didn’t. Both of them refused to admit to being wrong.

“I guess you no longer need to tell me who you put in so much effort to impress after the gala is over. Does he make you happy?” Zach asked, all hints of teasing absent.

The extra weight in her chest made her smile. Charles’s heart continued to sing of his love for her, the melody pure and true. “Very much.”

“So, Lord Prewett managed to catch you in his net,” Zach said, elbowing her gently in the side. 

“Who’s to say that I didn’t catch Lord Prewett in my net?” she replied.

Zach snickered and stepped closer, so her shoulder rested against his chest. He asked, “How do you feel about that?” 

“So loved,” Haesel answered. Even as the words left her mouth, she could barely believe it. The sensation was so new and precious.

“What’s it like?” Zach asked wistfully, one hand pressed to his empty chest.

Haesel flinched, remembering Zach’s predicament, and asked, “Truth or kindness?”

“Truth.”

She spun and grinned at her best friend, saying, “Like I can do anything in the world, and I won’t even need a drop of magic to accomplish it.”

Zach’s eyes bore into her as if weighing whether or not she wanted an honest reaction to that. It was an absent gesture, she knew, because he never offered her anything but the truth. He was unfailingly honest—to the point of discourtesy, on occasion. 

“I’m as jealous as a Parkinson that you know what it is to be truly loved. But”—he hugged her—“I’m so happy for you, Haesel.”

Haesel breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She had hoped that her words wouldn’t unduly hurt him, given he still had a while to wait before Rose would even be old enough to gift him her heart in return. Assuming his horrid mother didn’t do something catastrophic to make such an event an impossibility. If Lady Smith accomplished such a deed, Haesel expected that Zach would ask her grandparents to blood adopt him with full sincerity and solemnity.

“Thank you, Zach.” 

“You’ve chosen him, haven’t you?” Zach demanded.

Haesel nodded, remembering the moment she recognized Charles’s magic. “I have.”

“You deserve happiness, Haesel,” Zach said with a smile. He trailed his fingers down her cheek, before cupping her face gently. The tenderness in his eyes changed to granite in an instant as he looked over her shoulder. “Just remember the promise I made you years ago. If your future lord-husband ever lays a hand on you in anger, I’ll murder him.”

“You’d have to get in line. I’d murder myself first,” Charles said from right behind her. 

Haesel leaned back against his chest. She believed it, too, though she couldn’t even imagine a scenario where he would so lose control of himself that he would harm her. Charles wasn’t the type of man who lashed out against the innocent. 

And that wasn’t even taking into account what Chaos would do to him. Chaos was eternally unforgiving of those who treated his gifts disrespectfully.

“Bloody hell, I think I’m going to like you. I didn’t want to like you,” Zach muttered, frowning contrarily.

Charles laughed so hard that she shook against him. It was a booming sound that made her want to laugh along with him. So, she did.

“I already like you, Heir Smith. You’ll always be welcome in my—our—home,” Charles said.

“I should tell Heir Potter that I’m against this. You’re much too likable for a Slytherin. It’s suspicious,” Zach said as he glared at Charles.

“You say that as if being courteous won’t get people to bend to your will,” Charles replied with a sly grin.

Zach huffed and stared right into Haesel’s eyes, ordering, “Keep him.”

Laughter spilled from her lips. Of all the question marks in her future, Charles wasn’t one of them. “Oh, I am. I definitely am,” Haesel assured him. 

Charles’s magic, which had been tangling with her own, fell still. “Oh? You’re keeping me, are you?”

Haesel turned to face him, put her hands on her hips, and tapped her foot. “Yes, I am. You’ll just have to deal with it.”

Charles smirked, wide and self-satisfied, and gloated, “Not if I keep you first. I already signed a contract with your father. I think that means I win this round.” 

Then, laughter spilling from his lips at the affronted look on her face, Charles danced Haesel back out into the gala.

Zach’s mocking, “Called it!” followed her.

Chapter Text

“Mistress! Mistress!” Lotsy whispered.

Haesel yawned and rolled over, rubbing at her eyes. She blinked twice but it didn’t help at all. Her room was dark.

“Wutizzit?” she mumbled, eyelids drooping.

She spent almost her entire gala the night before dancing in Charles’s arms. Other than the supper, during which he sat at her left hand—displacing whoever her mother and grandmother had finally agreed upon—they were on the ballroom floor. She even downed a muscle relaxer potion before going to bed at almost midnight, knowing that not even the comfort charms in her shoes could stand up to such prolonged physical activity.

“Lord Prewett is being at the wards,” Lotsy said.

“What?” Haesel demanded, instantly wide awake as she shot up in bed. Her duvet and sheets fell to her lap.

Lotsy bounced in place and said, “Lord Prewett is being at the wards, asking for Mistress.”

“The sun isn’t even up yet,” Haesel muttered, wondering what in the world could have brought Charles to the manor at such an early hour. It certainly hadn’t been a nightmare of hers. Between the dancing and the potion, she fell right asleep and her dreams were lovely.

“That’s being the point, Mistress,” Lotsy said.

Haesel blinked as she tried to process that. Then, it clicked. Charles was here at this criminally early time of day because he wanted to watch the sunrise with her. “Oh!”

Well, she supposed that was an acceptable reason for waking her from, “Tempus!” she winced, five hours of sleep.

Haesel got out of bed, still yawning, and went to the bathroom. When she finished, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was French-braided with ribbons that were embroidered with the Potter family crest. The braid ended at her knees. She wore a nightgown that was woven from Acromantula silk, and thus never wrinkled.

“If he’s going to interrupt my sleep, it’s only fair that I torment him a little in return,” Haesel said before wrapping herself in the dressing gown and slippers that matched her nightgown.

“You aren’t actually going to wear that outside, are you, dear?” the mirror asked, scandalized.

Haesel grinned at her reflection. She looked like she was fresh from bed, which, technically, she was. “Yes, I am,” Haesel replied.

“But your hair is down!” the mirror said, aghast. “And those are your intimate clothes!”

“He’s my lord, even if he isn’t officially my husband yet,” Haesel said. 

“It’s just not done, dear,” the mirror tutted. 

“I’m a Potter,” Haesel replied with a grin as she transferred her wand to a silver holster-bracelet that better complemented her ensemble. “We’re infamous for being reckless in the name of love.”

She headed back into her bedroom and over to the same window she had flown out of when Charles last visited. She unlocked it, mounted her Firebolt, and flew outside. There was a slight breeze, but it wasn’t so cold as to be bothersome. 

The sky to the east was only the barest hint less dark than the rest of it. They probably had at least twenty minutes or more before the sun would begin to rise.

Haesel followed the feel of Charles’s magic to the edge of the wards. His heart skipped in her chest as the distance between them shrank. The song of his love echoed louder and louder inside of her.

Finally, a globe of fairy light caught her eye. Haesel homed in on it and twisted between the boughs of a massive oak tree, landing behind him on dew wet grass moments later.

“My lady, I—” Charles stopped talking as he finished turning around. His eyes flared even brighter with hunger than they had the night before. “Bloody hell.”

Haesel threw her head back and laughed, flattered beyond belief at his response. It was even better than she could have hoped for. She leaned her Firebolt against the nearest tree so that she could wrap her arms around her ribs, which ached from the force of her mirth.

“I mean— I didn’t— That is, it wasn’t—” Charles tripped over his words, his cheeks burning red, highlighting the freckles that dotted across his skin like stars in the night sky.

Haesel kissed him on the cheek and delighted in the way his heart jumped in her chest as the song hummed in her bones. 

“Lotsy said that you requested my presence, my lord,” Haesel said, tilting her head just right so that her thick braid would sweep over her shoulder and spill down her front, settling between her breasts and brushing against him in the process.

The sound that escaped Charles was not unlike the sound of a tea kettle whistling.

Haesel had never felt more beautiful or more powerful than she did in that moment. It was heady, to be sure.

“I did?” he asked, his gaze trailing down the length of her braid.

Haesel bit her lip to keep her smirk hidden. “My lord?”

“Sorry, what?” Charles asked, jerking his gaze back to her face. 

He closed his eyes for a few seconds and when he reopened them, they were clear. It was a remarkable feat of self-control. Haesel would wager a hefty sum of money that some type of Occlumency shielding was involved.

“I was hoping that you would want to watch the sunrise with me,” Charles said, gesturing to his right.

Haesel turned her head to see a magic carpet on the grass. It was large enough to carry at least eight people. There were blankets that looked to be made of wool from the Raven-Cloven sheep the Black family owned and bred. She had a blanket in her private sitting room spun from it that was a Yule present from her godfather many years ago. There was also a small picnic basket.

“I forgive you for waking me up so early,” Haesel said as she settled in the middle of the magic carpet. The end of it slanted upward behind her so that she could recline against it like a piece of furniture.

“Thank you,” Charles said as he draped a wonderfully soft blanket over her and then settled at her side with a blanket of his own.

Haesel leaned her head on his shoulder and grinned when he curled his arm around her. It was highly likely she would need to take a nap later in the day to compensate for the lost sleep, but she couldn’t regret it. 

The magic carpet rose higher and higher in the air, smoothly taking them on a trip over the Potter estate until they ended up near the stables, which allowed an unimpeded view of the horizon.

“Would you like some hot chocolate, Lady Haesel?” Charles offered.

“This is the second time I have snuck out of the manor to see you. I think we can safely dispense with the titles, Charles. But yes, I would,” Haesel said, though she didn’t move from where she was snuggled against his side.

He kissed her temple and wordlessly Summoned two lidded flagons from the basket. He handed her the one with the figure of a griffin and kept the dragon for himself. 

Haesel sipped the beverage, which was rich and delightfully silky, as they watched the sun rise over the next three quarters of an hour. 

She understood, now, why Charles had wanted to do this on this morning of all mornings. It was Lughnasadh, a sacred holiday. With the engagement contract signed last night, this was the first sunrise of the rest of their lives together, even though they weren’t technically bonded yet.

Given the marks on their skin, a traditional bonding at dawn on one of their sacred holidays with a bonding breakfast afterwards wasn’t a possibility for them. So he gave her as similar of an experience as he could, so she would have it to remember and treasure.

“Thank you,” she said, before kissing him on the cheek once again. “I’ll never forget this.”

Charles caressed her hair and said, “Neither will I.”

Closing her bedroom door behind her later that morning, Haesel stalked the distance to her brother’s chambers and slipped inside without knocking. He was sitting on the sofa before the unlit fireplace, hands clenching the tunic he wore.

“What’s wrong, Henry? I could feel your worry and discomfort from my room,” Haesel said.

“What if Grandpa doesn’t approve of my betrothal with Iolanthe?” Henry blurted out.

Haesel snorted and walked over, setting her hands on his shoulders. She said, “He’ll approve. Compared to the drama that I caused last night, your actions barely qualify as drama. At least they already know how you feel about Iolanthe. That’s more than I offered them before waltzing onto the ballroom floor in Charles’s arms.”

“But what if—?”

“You know that Grandpapa would never dare object to a betrothal that Mother Magic blessed Herself with a Maiden’s Kiss, Henry!” Haesel said. 

Henry rarely showed vulnerability like this, but she could understand why he was right now. He had liked Iolanthe since they had met when he was nine and she was just a little blonde fairy twirling in circles on the lawn by the pond. 

Even Haesel had been enchanted by and drawn to the littlest Malfoy. Now, she finally understood why the girl was instantly captivating to her magic. 

“What if...?”

Sighing, Haesel sat beside Henry on the sofa. He clearly required her attention at the moment as he sorted things out in his head. She wrapped her arms around her brother and hugged him tightly. 

“Henry, what’s really the matter?”

“I—” 

Henry’s hands grabbed at her robes and pulled her closer. His voice was thick, tears threatening to overcome him. She couldn’t remember the last time Henry had cried. 

“Iolanthe is fourteen, Haesel. We won’t be able to bond for almost three years. I’m terrified that something will happen to her before then. What if—? I couldn’t bear to lose her, Haesel,” Henry said.

Haesel should have realized how heavy the burden Henry bore would weigh on him. Especially after the confirmation he received yesterday. Given what Iolanthe didn’t-say, he had every right to obsessively worry about Iolanthe’s safety.

She was destined to birth the Once and Future King back into Avalon. If something happened to prevent that— Merlin. The consequences would be catastrophic.

“You have to trust that Mother Magic will do everything in Her power to keep Iolanthe safe, Henry,” Haesel replied, remembering Iolanthe’s admission of being a Matchmaker and the unspoken implication that she was Fated to soul-bond with Henry.

Henry pulled away and stared up at her with pleading eyes, asking, “Do you think Mother Magic will be offended if I gift Iolanthe with a plethora of gifts that are cursed to help keep her safe?”

“No, Henry,” Haesel said as she gently ruffled his hair, “I don’t think that would offend Mother Magic at all. I think it would make Her pleased with you. Even more than She already is.”

“Thanks, sis,” Henry said.

“You’re very welcome.”

“You know, I think it’s part of the family magic. I’ve never heard of a Potter not bonding for love. We’ve been very blessed,” Henry said.

Haesel stood, stretched, and then said, “Maybe one of our ancestors overdosed on Felix Felicis, bonded in the Ancient Ways under the Olde Magick, and created an heir at the same time. The luck could have been passed down in love.” 

Henry snorted and gave her a one-armed hug, guiding her out of his room as he said, “Yes, that does sound like something one of our ancestors would’ve done. After all, we’re reckless in the face of true love.”

“It does, doesn’t it?”

“Mmhmm. Just be grateful that Lord Prewett only danced you onto a ballroom floor, instead of absconding with you somewhere to bond in the Ancient Ways,” Henry said, smirking wickedly. 

Haesel’s cheeks burned as she half-heartedly swatted her brother, lacking the energy to entertain the thought or invent a suitable comeback. She was still exhausted from everything that had happened recently. Doubly so after her early awakening that morning, though she didn’t regret a single moment of it.

“Charles and Papa signed a contract last night. I’m sure that Papa specified he and Mama would be there to hand me over before we bond,” Haesel said.

She didn’t refute Henry’s assertion that she and Charles would bond in the Ancient Ways under the Olde Magick. Haesel had known she would since the Mark of Merlin first appeared on her skin at age eleven. Charles would bond with her the same way that Myrddin Emrys once bonded with Morgan le Fay. 

“Without a doubt. I don’t think they would ever forgive you if you essentially eloped. Since they can’t be at your actual bonding, for obvious reasons, handing you over is all they will get,” Henry said.

“I know.” Haesel would do nothing to deprive them of that simple pleasure.

Henry hugged her and set his chin on the top of her head, whispering, “Look at us, falling apart over love. You’d think we’d be happy about it.” 

“Love is scary,” Haesel breathed as she clung to her brother. 

“It is.”

“The possibility of losing someone who completes you so utterly is terrifying. I haven’t even had his heart a day, and it’s so heavy. How some people carry multiple hearts, I will never know. But then I remember his thoughtfulness and the warmth of his hands and his smug grins and I wonder how I ever survived without him,” Haesel said before she stepped backward and beamed at her brother. 

Chuckling, Henry started down the hall again, teasing, “I’m sure Zach helped out there.”

Haesel tossed her head back and laughed, recalling the countless times Zach had said something impolite, impolitic, or improper in her presence. He had helped ground her all these years, subtly reminding her that she was more than a legendary title. 

“He did. He certainly did.”

They stopped before the double doors that marked the entrance to their grandfather’s study. It wasn’t a place Haesel visited often, because legal matters rarely involved her; her father usually handled such things. When she knocked, the sound echoed down the hall.

“Come.”

Haesel twisted the lion’s head doorknob and pushed open the right door. A quick glance showed that her grandfather, grandmother, father, and mother were all inside—most likely discussing her upcoming bonding to Lord Prewett.

“Yes?” Charlus asked.

Haesel’s lips twitched as a naughty idea came to mind. How long had it been since she last played a prank on Henry? Much too long, surely. She put a hand on her brother’s back and shoved him into the study, snickering as he stumbled two steps forward with fiery cheeks. 

“Henry here kissed a maiden and went and got himself betrothed. Iolanthe’s hair was down”—her mother and grandmother gasped—“and he wouldn’t stop staring at it, even when she tried to hide behind my vanity. You’ve raised a total rake, Papa. I’m quite impressed.” 

Her father and grandfather goggled at Henry as he spluttered incoherently. 

“You might want to pacify Lord Malfoy before he challenges Henry to a duel to the death over his daughter’s honor. She is, after all, only fourteen,” Haesel said.

Henry spun around and pointed at her, arm shaking as he declared, “That’s not how it happened at all!”

“So you don’t deny kissing Iolanthe Malfoy?” Isadore asked.

“W-well, no,” Henry said.

“And her hair wasn’t down?” Dorea inquired, a smirk on her face as she stared at him.

Henry blinked as an enormous grin appeared on his face. His eyes were wide with awe as he said, “Oh, it most certainly was.”

James stood up, patted his son on the back, and declared, “Brilliant! Another Potter wins the woman of his dreams. I recognize that look. I wore it the first night I kissed your mother.” 

Charlus sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose, demanding, “Both of you on the same day? Don’t you know how much paperwork I already have?”

“Sorry, Grandpapa!”

“Sorry, Grandpa!” 

Haesel and Henry spoke in unison. Neither of them sounded the least bit sorry. If anything, they sounded smug. 

Charlus stood and waved for James and Henry to accompany him. “Let’s go call on the Malfoys and get a contract signed before Lucius threatens a Blood Feud, or the harpy daughter kills her sister out of jealousy.”

Dorea was still laughing when the three of them left via the Floo. Her hand over her mouth did nothing to stifle it. “He shouldn’t have said that, but it’s true. Lacerta Malfoy is worse than Pansy Parkinson.”

“Quite,” Isadore agreed, lips twitching.

Once the laughter died down, Dorea focused on Haesel with blazing eyes and said, “It’s good you’re awake. We need to have a talk.”

Chapter Text

“And you’re certain his brother will be chaperoning?” James pressed, not looking best pleased at the thought of Haesel going to Prewett Manor unescorted.

Haesel could understand her father’s point of view. Truly, she could. But he had asked her that exact same question at least fifteen times since she received the invitation to an afternoon ride on the Prewett estate. 

She hadn’t seen Charles at all the past three days, on account of matters of estate and pre-existing plans that needed his attention. However, his head house-elf brought her the invitation for today’s outing in response to the missive she sent saying there were important matters that they needed to discuss.

“Yes, Papa, I’m sure,” Haesel said as she rolled her eyes.

It had been four days since her mother and grandmother asked her if she wanted to return to Hogwarts for her final year or take her N.E.W.T.s at the Ministry of Magic early. It had been four days since they asked if she wanted to bond soon or whether she would like to wait until after graduation if she chose to return to Hogwarts. 

The thought of waiting a year to bond made her magic writhe. Whether she would decide to return to Hogwarts for her final year or not, she didn’t know yet. That was something that she wanted to discuss with Charles.

All Haesel knew for sure, she told them: “I’ll decide on my schooling later, but whatever my decision on that topic ends up being, we will definitely bond by the end of the year.”

“Then we will have to schedule fittings for your bonding gown, so that it will be ready when you are, darling,” her mother said.

And that was that, as far as her mother and grandmother were concerned.

Haesel didn’t feel like the mark was pushing her to bond with Charles promptly. In fact, she hadn’t felt any urgency from it at all since the night of her coming of age gala when Charles and her parents signed the engagement contract.

It was clear that Chaos would return Merlin to Avalon in His own time. It could be on the night she and Charles bonded in the Ancient Ways under the Olde Magick. It could also be ten years from now. There was no way for her to tell when his return would occur.

However, Haesel’s affection for Charles deepened every day that his heart sang in her chest and beat within her own. She didn’t love him. Not yet. But she fell a little closer every day. She would be very surprised if they weren’t bonded by Mabon. Honestly, if she did end up deciding to return to Hogwarts for her seventh year, it was very likely that they would be bonded before she got on the Hogwarts Express.

“If his brother isn’t there, I expect you to return to the manor immediately,” James said without a hint of the amusement that usually colored his voice.

Haesel dragged her father into a hug and couldn’t help but smile fondly despite her irritation. He smelled like herbs and potion ingredients. It was a familiar and comforting scent, to be sure.

“I promise,” she said.

James rested his chin on the top of her head and sighed. “You grew up too fast.”

She knew this would be hard on her father. He had gone from having two unattached children to one being engaged and the other being betrothed within the same day. At least he only had to worry about Haesel moving out after she bonded. Iolanthe and Henry would, of course, reside in Potter Manor when the time came.

The heirloom clock on the mantle in the third lounge chimed the hour.

James squeezed her tightly one last time and then released her. He shunted paternal love down their bond with a fond smile on his face. Then he waved his hand at the fireplace and said, “You don’t want to be late, darling.”

“I’ll be back by dinnertime,” Haesel assured him.

“Excellent. I know that your mother is looking forward to hearing all about Prewett Manor,” James said.

Haesel took Floo powder from the tin on the mantle and tossed it into the flames. They turned a stunning shade of green. She stepped into them and said, “Prewett Manor!” all the while dreading what she knew was about to happen.

Faces and fireplaces swirled past in a dizzying rush before she was launched out of the Floo in Prewett Manor like a massive stone from a trebuchet. It was patently unfair that Henry had inherited their mother’s gracefulness while traveling by Floo while Haesel had inherited their father’s complete lack of it.

She crashed into a firm male body so quickly that it crushed her breasts against his chest. Strong hands grabbed her by the hips, the smallest fingers just above the crest of her bum. The mark on her hip hummed with acknowledgement.

Haesel craned her neck back and stared into Charles’s blue eyes, which shone with mirth. He was clearly fighting back laughter, though another wizard in the room—William Weasley, most likely—wasn’t offering her the same courtesy.

“I guess I don’t have to watch you punch your brother for putting his hands so low on my hips,” she said.

Charles’s fingers flexed before dropping to his sides. “I’d break his nose if he touched you like that.”

“He would! He absolutely would!” a voice that was cackling with laughter said.

Haesel turned to see the other wizard in the room. He was unmistakably William Weasley. He was taller by several inches, but thin where Charles was muscular. He had fewer freckles as well. His hair was a brighter red and hung to about mid-back in a ponytail. A fang earring dangled from one ear, complementing the rest of his outfit, which consisted of a pair of worn dragonhide trousers and boots and a Corroded Cauldron concert tee shirt. 

“Haesel, this menace is my older brother, Mister William Weasley. He prefers to be called Bill. Bill, this is Lady Haesel Potter, my gorgeous fiancée,” Charles said as he glanced between them.

“It’s nice to meet you, even though you have terrible taste in music,” Haesel said with a bright smile as she offered Bill her hand.

Bill squawked with offense, but gamely lifted it just below his lips before releasing it as he said, “I guess it’s nice to meet you too, even though you clearly have terrible taste in music.”

Charles wrapped his arm around her waist and Haesel turned her attention back to him. She hadn’t greeted him properly upon her arrival. She wanted to rectify that. She kissed his cheek, refusing to be embarrassed about kissing him in someone else’s presence for the first time.

“Good afternoon, Charles,” she said.

He kissed her temple, his cheek nuzzling her lightly. “Hello, Haesel.”

His heartbeat increased in tempo in her chest; the song of his love crescendoed magnificently. It echoed through her magic almost hypnotically.

“Thank you for the invitation to Prewett Manor. I’m very fond of riding,” Haesel said. Her Firebolt was amazing, but there was something special about riding on the back of a living creature, or flying through the sky on one. 

Charles twined his fingers with hers, only their riding gloves keeping their bare skin from touching, and tugged her toward the door. “I’ve been looking forward to it all day,” Charles said.

“He really has,” Bill teased as he followed them. “He mentioned it no less than twelve times over lunch.”

“Shove off, Bill!” Charles said, the shells of his ears turning almost as red as his hair.

Haesel glanced away and bit her lip to keep from bursting into laughter as Bill and Charles continued to poke and prod at each other while they walked down a window-lined corridor that had a large set of double doors at the end of it.

The grounds outside the windows were lush and green. In fact, the front lawn was a rolling wave of green grass as far as the eye could see. There were trees of various varieties and a plethora of wildflowers and Haesel couldn’t help but fall in love with it. It was wild and unmanicured and she thought it was more lovely than Narcissa Malfoy’s meticulous prize-winning gardens.

“What do you think?” Charles asked, swinging their joined hands to catch her attention.

“It’s beautiful,” Haesel said.

A tension she hadn’t noticed working its way into his shoulders eased away. Oh, of course. She should have realized that he would be concerned about her opinion of the Prewett estate. It was, after all, meant to be her future home. He would want her to like it and think that she could be happy here.

“I’m glad,” Charles said with a smile. He gestured at the manor as they approached the doors and said, “I’m aware the manor itself could use some updating. I realize it’s short notice but I’d like to invite you and your mother to review it in the next few weeks, if your schedule allows, so that I can hopefully have all of the renovations complete before our bonding. I’ve spent so much time traveling since I graduated, pursuing my Mastery in Magizoology, that I never got around to it whenever I came home for a visit.”

“What Char here means is that he hates choosing decorations and that he would be eternally grateful if your mother would lend him her discerning eye and excellent taste,” Bill said.

Haesel laughed heartily as they went outside. It was sunny and warm and there was a nice breeze.

“Mother would be delighted to help in this endeavor. Interior design is one of her favorite hobbies. We don’t have anything on our agenda between noon and five a week from today. Will that work, or is the time inconvenient?” Haesel asked, knowing that they would need several hours to tour the entirety of Prewett Manor and compile a list of suggestions.

“I can shift the one meeting I have during that time slot to earlier in the morning. It’s not an inconvenience at all. Please invite your father and brother as well, though I don’t want them to feel obligated to come,” Charles said.

Bill snorted and snidely asked, “Haven’t you met Heir Potter? I’m sure he’s dying to get you alone in a room with Master Potter so that they can grill you about your intentions.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Haesel said, shoulders shaking with laughter. 

“I signed a magically binding engagement contract. How are my intentions unclear?” Charles asked as they reached the stables.

A stableman, who had the look of the Loyal House of Vane about him, led three Dapple Greys out of the stables by the reins.

Haesel walked up to the nearest one and stroked her hand down its muzzle. Its coat was reminiscent of clouds during a thunderstorm. “You are a stunning creature.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Charles rasped out, his heart skipping a beat in her chest.

She glanced over her shoulder to see that his eyes were working their way back up to her face from where they had been firmly fixed on her posterior. She smirked, pleased with her decision to wear cream riding breeches and a lavender lace blouse with pearl buttons instead of one of her riding habits that required her to sit side saddle.

“You can’t keep your eyes off of her for more than thirty seconds at a time, can you?” Bill taunted as he accepted the reins of one of the horses and swung up into the saddle.

“I don’t want to hear that from the wizard who bonded with a Veela,” Charles promptly retorted.

“Mademoiselle Fleur is riveting,” Haesel said, remembering the few encounters she had with the Beauxbatons’ Champion during the time she was at Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament. “I guess that means that you don’t have terrible taste in everything, Bill,” she teased.

“Fleur deciding she would court me is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Bill said with a fond smile. “I honestly never thought she would give me the time of day. She’s a Marquis’s daughter and I’m just—”

“The First Vassal of the Duke of Heartfire Haven,” Charles finished.

Bill rubbed the back of his neck and bowed his head to Charles before mockingly saying, “Indeed, your grace,” in an overly-exaggerated posh voice.

Charles groaned and wandlessly flicked a stinging hex at his brother with his unoccupied hand. “I told you not to call me that!”

“As entertaining as it would be to continue this, because we both know that I’ll win—”

“You will not!”

“—I do believe you invited Lady Haesel for an afternoon ride that you’ve yet to follow through on, Char,” Bill said.

Haesel grinned at the entire byplay. It reminded her of when she was bantering with Zach or Henry or Draco. It was relieving to know that his eldest brother had sworn loyalty to him, especially given how Charles no longer had a relationship with his parents on account of their actions when he was a child.

A lordship was an immense responsibility. No one with an ounce of reason or common sense would gainsay that. But Molly Weasley had no right to put the Prewett family magic and legacy at jeopardy because she thought Charles was too young to bear it.

It must have warped the witch’s world-view to see how successful Charles was in faithfully fulfilling the duties she believed were beyond his ability.

“I promised her an afternoon of riding and an afternoon of riding we will have,” Charles said.

Since there wasn’t a mounting block out, Haesel wasn’t the least bit surprised when Charles wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her into the saddle. He stayed at her side until she was fully settled with the reins in hand and her feet in the stirrups.

“I guessed at the saddle size. Is it all right, or do you need a different one?” he asked as he rubbed his thumb against her knee. It was distracting in the best way.

Haesel shifted her weight and was satisfied with how it felt. But she couldn’t resist the urge to tease him by saying, “It’s great. You must have made a detailed study of my body to make such an accurate guess, Charles.”

His ears turned fiery red and his heart galloped in her chest.

Bill howled with laughter as Charles muttered, “No comment!” and swung himself up into the saddle of the final horse. 

Charles nudged his horse into a trot and Haesel did the same, pulling up alongside him as he led her toward a wide trail that meandered into the distance. She reached out and touched the leaves of a tree that had birds chirping on its branches as they rode past.

A glance over her shoulder revealed that Bill was following about twenty paces behind them, which would keep them in eyesight whilst allowing them to converse without being overheard.

“My mama and grandmama brought up a topic the morning after my gala that I would like to discuss with you,” Haesel said.

“What is it?” Charles asked, giving her his full attention.

“They would like to know if I wish to take my N.E.W.T.s this summer at the Ministry a year ahead of schedule or whether I desire to return to Hogwarts for my seventh year,” Haesel said.

“Could you take your N.E.W.T.s this early?” Charles asked without judgment. 

It was a very reasonable question. Most people weren’t prepared to sit them a year early. They were called the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests for a reason. It wasn’t uncommon for examinees to sleep for a full day after finishing them.

“Yes,” Haesel replied, “and I’m confident I would pass at least six of them.”

N.E.W.T.s were required in any subject someone sought an apprenticeship in. Certain ones were also requirements for specific positions in the Ministry, including those in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

“How many O.W.L.s did you get?” Charles asked.

“Nine,” Haesel replied. It might seem like a lot to some people, but she knew it wouldn’t impress him, not when two of his brothers—Bill and Percy—both received a perfect twelve O.W.L.s.

“Do you want to sit your N.E.W.T.s early?” he asked as he stared intently at her.

Haesel bit her lip and glanced away at the lovely scenery. It would make the beginning of their bonding easier if she did. She wouldn’t be away from him for long stretches of time and— She wanted to go back to Hogwarts. She wanted to be Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team and rip the Quidditch Cup out of Ravenclaw’s greedy hands now that Uncle Valerius wasn’t there to score a record-breaking amount of goals.

She marshaled her courage and turned back to him to say, “I want to go back to Hogwarts, but I don’t want to only see you for a few hours on a couple of Hogsmeade weekends between the start of the term and Yule break.”

Charles led his horse to a hitchpost near a small pond that was surrounded by flowers and dismounted. He tied his horse to it and then did the same to hers before lifting her out of the saddle. Her body slid down his as he lowered her to the ground, desire flaring in his eyes.

“If you choose to bond with me before the start of the term,” Charles said slowly as if he worried he might spook her, “I will inform Headmaster Dumbledore that I require duchal spousal rights. You’ll be allowed to live here at Prewett Manor and will receive a Portkey that will allow you to arrive at Hogwarts before classes begin each day and leave after they end.”

“Oh!” Haesel gasped.

She hadn’t even considered that, had entirely forgotten it was an option if she was being honest. But Charles hadn’t. She could have her seventh year at Hogwarts and not feel like she was abandoning her new lord-husband as a result. That was—

“Is that a good ‘oh’ or a bad ‘oh’?” Charles asked, his heart flitting in her chest as he stroked the back of his hand against her hair, which was up in a chignon today.

Haesel looped her hands behind his neck and kissed him on the lips. Their magic shone like fire refracting off onyx as a betrothal bond formed between them. 

Charles remained still for several seconds, and then he kissed her back. His lips were gentle, but insistent, and she didn’t even consider denying his unspoken request to continue the kiss. His heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest through her rib cage as he guided her closer with a firm hold on her hips.

She closed her eyes and surrendered to him, yielding her mouth to her lord. 

He teased her with short, quick kisses, and then would press his lips to hers for what felt like hours. When Haesel was so dazed that she could barely focus, Charles licked her bottom lip. She gasped in shock and he took advantage like the Slytherin he was, easing his tongue inside her mouth. 

Haesel froze for several seconds and Charles’s hand, which was sliding up her spine, stilled, as if he had only just realized what he had done. As his tongue began withdrawing, she daringly licked it. 

This time, it was Charles who froze, though not for long. When his tongue returned to her, it was with more tenderness and care, his hand petting her back before rising to cup her jaw to tilt her head just so.

Charles tasted right.

When she whimpered into his mouth, Charles tugged her even closer, if such a thing were possible. At which point, Bill coughed very loudly. 

Haesel buried her face against Charles’s shoulder, her cheeks burning even more than her mark. Her heart and his both thumped wildly inside her chest. It was a struggle to catch her breath as her chest strained against the buttons of her blouse. 

“Merlin, Haesel, I—” Charles groaned.

“If this is revenge for the time I asked you to chaperone for Fleur and I, I offer my sincerest apologies for calling you a coward when you swore to never do it again. Merlin, this is awkward. I’d rather be ward-breaking ancient historical sites with devious and lethal booby-traps than do this again,” Bill said.

Haesel tilted her head just enough to see that Bill was pointedly looking in the opposite direction. She had entirely forgotten he was there when Charles was kissing her as if he never wanted to stop.

“You can hold hands, but you need to step away from each other,” Bill said.

“I might hex you for this later,” Charles warned his brother, his voice gritty and his blue eyes flaring with his desire to continue kissing her.

“I know,” Bill said with the tone of a long-suffering sibling.

Their magic sparked painfully as she untangled her hands from where they had curled into his hair. It was loose now, instead of tied back at his nape, and fell to his shoulders. He released her hip with his left hand and slid his right from the nape of her neck all the way down her arm until his fingers entwined with hers.

“Is it safe to look yet?” Bill asked.

Charles stepped away from her so that they were side by side instead of molded together from the front. “Yes, you git.”

“Oh, thank Merlin. Don’t make me do that again,” Bill pleaded as he turned back around to keep an eye on them.

Haesel walked along the pond at Charles’s side, the afternoon breeze helping to cool her cheeks. “You should request your duchal spousal rights from Headmaster Dumbledore before the start of the term,” Haesel said once she regained control of her breathing.

Charles’s delight and anticipation at her admittance that she intended to bond with him before the start of the school term rolled down their newly established betrothal bond. 

He leaned over and plucked a red flower, seemingly at random, before offering it to her with a soft, “For you, my lady.”

Haesel accepted it from him as his heartsong swelled inside her. Neville was her godbrother. She would have become fluent in floriography by association if her mother hadn’t taught her. “Everlasting love.”

Charles raised their joined hands and peeled back her glove just far enough so that he could kiss the bare skin of her hand. His gaze was piercing as he swore, “Everlasting love.”

A heart lurched in her chest. It was hers.

Chapter Text

“Well, what do you think?” Elara Black asked as she stepped back from the pedestal Haesel stood on so that she could see her reflection unimpeded.

Elara Black née Selwyn was her godfather Sirius’s wife. Their bonding was a bit of a scandal, to be honest. After all, he had called off his engagement to Miss Leanne McLaggen less than a month before the bonding, after courting her for five years, because he had fallen in love with Elara Selwyn. Elara had just turned seventeen. Sirius was twenty-two at the time. 

People still talked about it over a decade after it happened.

Haesel examined herself in the mirror, grateful that it was unenchanted. Between herself, her grandmother, her mother, Elara, and Evelyn Yaxley, there were already plenty of opinions in the room about what her bonding gown should look like.

When her mother had asked her where she wanted to commission her bonding robes, Haesel didn’t even have to think about it before saying, “Elara and Evelyn.”

The two sisters had opened an exclusive couture boutique catering solely to pureblood witches in Leisure Alley a few years after they graduated from Hogwarts. They achieved their Masteries in Fashion Design in almost a year less than it took most people. It was a small boutique, only serving one patron at a time. It prevented anyone else in society from seeing a new gown or dress robes before they were worn to a society event.

And since Haesel and Charles would not have a public society bonding when the time came, she was especially grateful for the opportunity to keep knowledge of her bonding robes to as few people as possible.

As the designers and proprietors, Elara and Evelyn were sworn to never reveal details of their patrons’ orders.

“Please turn for us, Haesel,” Dorea instructed from where she sat on an ivory divan.

Haesel held her hands out to the side and turned slowly so that everyone could see it from all angles. It was only a muslin mock-up, of course, to see if she preferred this silhouette. They wouldn’t start on the actual dress robes until she was fully satisfied with her choices of silhouette, fabric, accouterments, and so forth.

The pins holding it together twinkled in the morning sunlight. The front window of the boutique allowed light to shine through but prevented anyone shopping in Leisure Alley from seeing past the window display.

“I like this silhouette better. It flatters your figure, darling,” Isadore said.

“I agree. It’s very becoming, Lady Haesel,” Evelyn stated as she continued to assemble fabric samples and ribbons and other adornments on the tables that lined one wall of the room.

Haesel stared at her reflection in the mirror and had to admit that her mother was right. This was the sixth silhouette she had tried on since their appointment started two hours ago and it was her favorite so far. She was glad that she had decided to continue on instead of settling for the last one, which hugged her figure so tightly that she knew it would drive Charles wild. However, it had been entirely fitted to her knees before flaring out and she could only take mincing steps in it, which is why she had decided to see the next silhouette.

“What do you think, Haesel?” Elara asked, brushing a loose strand of chestnut hair back up into her bun and out of her sienna eyes.

The current muslin gown fit like a glove from her chest to her waist, and then the skirt poofed out in a dramatic fashion. Her shoulders were bare and it had a sweetheart neckline. Her mother was correct; it was very flattering on her. She liked it a lot … but she didn’t love it.

“I recognize that look,” Elara said as she laughed and came over to Haesel’s side to start taking out the pins. “Let’s move on to the next silhouette.”

“I didn’t think it would be this difficult!” Haesel said, frustrated. Was she being too picky? It wasn’t like her bonding robes would be seen by hundreds of guests in person at a traditional dawn bonding on one of the sacred holidays.

Since she and Charles would bond in the Ancient Ways under the Olde Magick, they would be the only people at their actual bonding. So did it really matter what they looked like when he was just going to undress her to perform their bonding?

“Am I being too picky?” Haesel asked.

“No,” Elara said.

“Absolutely not, Lady Haesel,” Evelyn stated, glancing over from where she was organizing a display of several different types of buttons.  

“A witch should never settle for a bonding gown,” her grandmother stated solemnly. “After all, you will only bond once.”

Isadore smiled fondly at her and said, “I booked Elara and Evelyn for the entire day for a reason, darling.”

Haesel felt better after their reassurance, even though she was still somewhat frustrated that it felt like they hadn’t made any progress at all since they arrived two hours ago. “All right. On to the next silhouette!” 

“I’ll find one that makes your heart light up if it takes me all day,” Elara said as she removed the rest of the pins and handed the muslin off to Evelyn.

She really hoped that it wouldn’t actually take all day. Her feet would be fine, because she was wearing flats and there were comfort charms on both her shoes and the platform. However, she wasn’t used to standing still for more than an hour or so at a time. The majority of her wardrobe came from Twilfitt and Tattings each season and they had her measurements on file. The most she usually needed to do there was pick a fabric and then let one of their seamstresses make any minor adjustments necessary.

“Don’t worry, Haesel. You’ll find one. Be patient,” Dorea said.

“Yes, Grandmama,” Haesel said.

Her patience, such as it was, finally paid off two and a quarter hours later. As soon as Elara stepped away to offer her an unimpeded view, Haesel said, “This is it.”

Isadore sniffled behind her, a handkerchief gently dabbing at her teary eyes, even though it was muslin and only a mere shadow of the elaborate bonding robes that would be the end result. “It’s perfect, darling.”

“Thank you, Mama,” Haesel said, vexed at how tears were now prickling at her eyes as well.

“I daresay Lord Prewett will be very pleased, indeed,” Dorea stated with a smug grin on her face.

Haesel watched her cheeks grow progressively rosier in the mirror as she imagined how Charles would react to seeing her in the finished gown. He kissed her so passionately and stared at her with such avaricious hunger while she wore riding breeches and a blouse at his estate a few days past. If such simple clothes could garner such a significant reaction, what would Charles do when he saw her in the exquisite bonding gown that was being commissioned solely so that he could take it off of her?

“Don’t tease her so much that she faints,” Elara said as the four bonded ladies laughed at her reaction. “She’ll get blood on the muslin when the pins prick her. And I’ve managed to avoid that this entire time, so I’d like to end this fitting the same way it began—bloodlessly.”

“What’s next?” Haesel asked, desperate to change the subject.

“Every bride deserves a little teasing, darling,” Isadore said, her eyes bright with mirth.

Thankfully, Evelyn took pity on her and helped Elara remove the muslin gown without upsetting any of the pins. It was a bit of a struggle, but they managed it in the end. 

“Now,” Evelyn said, “you get to look at fabric swatches. After that, you get to choose buttons. After that—”

“I will die of old age,” Haesel teased as she redressed and walked over to the tables Evelyn had carefully arranged everything on earlier.

“We recently received a shipment of pearlescent Acromantula silk, and another of—”

As Evelyn began explaining the options, Haesel had to remind herself to breathe. There were a plethora of options in varying shades of white: ivory, snow, pearl, alabaster, bone, etc. She was spoiled for choices. It was, frankly, overwhelming. So many of them were so similar that she would have been lost without her mother and grandmother’s guidance. 

In the end, it took her another hour and three-quarters to select everything that was required for Elara and Evelyn to begin the actual construction of her gown. 

“It will be complete on the eighteenth, unless you require it sooner?” Elara asked as Dorea paid for the commission.

“Haesel?” Dorea asked, an eyebrow cocked.

“Charles and I haven’t discussed an exact bonding date yet, Grandmama. There’s no need for Aunt Elara and Lady Evelyn to rush it. The eighteenth should work just fine,” Haesel said.

Though she and Charles had agreed that they would bond before she returned to Hogwarts to attend her seventh year there, that still left them almost a month before she would need to board the Hogwarts Express. If she accurately understood how the duchal spousal rights worked, Deputy Headmistress McGonagall, as her Head of House, would present her with the Portkey following the Welcoming Feast so that she could sleep in Prewett Manor with her lord-husband.

Ideally, she would prefer to get to know her future lord a little better and spend more time with him before the actual bonding itself took place.

“Your presence will be required on the fifteenth for a final fitting, Lady Haesel. Does half ten work for you?” Evelyn inquired as she stood before the appointment book with a quill poised.

“Mama?” Haesel asked. She knew that her mother and grandmother had scheduled several appointments to attend to her trousseau. She couldn’t remember when they all were or where.

Haesel was better at keeping track of when she would see Charles. Which, amusingly enough, would also happen on the fifteenth, though not until the late afternoon. She wasn’t sure what the planned outing was; she only knew that it put a wistful smile on her mother’s face and that her father had declared, “I really didn’t want to like him!” when they received the letter asking for permission.

“Yes, that will do nicely,” Isadore said.

“We are honored by your patronage,” Elara said before she and Evelyn curtsied. “May Mother Magic keep you safe.”

Once they returned the ritual departure blessing, the Potter ladies walked out into Leisure Alley. It was bustling. Though, that was to be expected. It was summer and the height of courtship season.

“Well, would you look at that?” Dorea said.

“It seems Neville has done quite well for himself,” Isadore said as she tilted the parasol she had retrieved from the stand by the door when they exited to better block the sunlight.

Haesel turned and grinned when she saw Neville escorting Daphne into Your Greyce farther down the Alley. “I should have Lotsy put a Dungbomb under his bed. It’s been almost a week and he never bothered to tell me that she accepted. I was sure she would, but still. It’s the principle of the thing.”

“I’m impressed you’re limiting yourself to one, young lady,” Dorea said, lips twitching as she twirled her own parasol. 

“I am merciful on occasion,” Haesel replied with a smirk. Besides, she couldn’t truly blame him for being distracted by a new courtship. Especially since she hadn’t seen him since her gala, and that was only in passing. She had been so entirely wrapped up in Charles that Neville could have danced three times with Daphne and she wouldn’t have even noticed or heard the speculation.

“I’ll see you later, darlings,” Dorea said before meandering away from them.

“Did you want to stop somewhere for a late lunch or would you prefer to eat at the manor?” Isadore asked.

Haesel, who had not brought her own parasol, linked her arm with her mother’s and headed for one of the Apparition points. Several people in the Alley were already turning as if to approach them. She didn’t want to deal with pureblood society’s nosy questions. Which, by now, must be plentiful.

This was, after all, the first time she was in a public location since her and Charles’s engagement was announced in the Daily Prophet on Lughnasadh.

“The manor,” Haesel answered.

Thankfully, they managed to Disapparate from Leisure Alley before anyone caught up with them enough that they would be required by the rules of polite society to stay and chat, regardless of their personal wishes.

“Welcome home, Mistress!” Lotsy said.

Haesel stripped off her gloves and handed them to her house-elf before asking, “Where is everyone?”

“Master Charlus be at Gringotts. Master James be on the west terrace chaperoning Master Henry and Lady Iolanthe. Master Zach be out with Heir Macmillan and Mister Finch-Fletchley at The Golden Fleece,” Lotsy replied.

“Haesel and I will relieve my lord-husband of his chaperoning duties. I’m sure he would enjoy an evening out with Sirius and Remus,” Isadore said.

Haesel didn’t doubt that in the least. It had been almost two decades now since The Marauders graduated from Hogwarts and the three wizards were still the best of friends. Due to all of the planning involved in her coming of age gala and everything that happened afterward, he hadn’t spent as much time with them lately.

Her father usually spent an evening every week in the laboratory of Marauders’ Mischief, their prank shop in Leisure Alley. Her father and godfather provided the capital to start the business and Remus Lupin managed it. All three of them were involved in inventing the products they sold.

“Let’s go free Papa from responsibility for a while before he develops a rash,” Haesel teased.

“Haesel and I have yet to eat lunch, so please have the kitchen elves prepare us something and bring it to the west terrace,” Isadore said.

“Lotsy will be doing that at once, Mistress Isadore,” Lotsy said before vanishing.

It didn’t take them long to reach the west terrace, which spanned the entirety of the west side of Potter Manor. They exited the manor and Haesel couldn’t help but laugh as her father lit up and hurried over. He swept her mother into his arms and spun her around before peppering her face with kisses.

“Welcome home, my darling,” James said.

“Thank you, James,” Isadore replied with rosy cheeks. “Now, off with you. Go spend time with those absolute scamps you call friends.”

Laughing, James set Isadore down, kissed her once more, and then was off after a brief kiss to Haesel’s cheek.

Haesel followed her mother to the table and chairs her father had been seated at. An oversized parasol extended upward from the middle of the table, providing shade for the surrounding area. The frame and chairs were iron and the tabletop itself was seaglass. The chairs were plentiful with cushions and pillows.

Once she sat across from her mother, she glanced around to find Henry and Iolanthe. She didn’t know where they were or what they were doing. She knew the topic had been mentioned during breakfast, but she was so excited about the appointment for her bonding robes that the particulars of Henry’s plans must have gone in one ear and out the other.

“They’re well suited,” Isadore said with a fond smile.

“They are,” Haesel agreed as she followed her mother’s line of sight.

Henry and Iolanthe were about halfway down the terrace; given the length of the manor, it kept them in eyesight but out of eavesdropping range. Iolanthe sat before an easel, an artist’s palette hooked over her left thumb as she, presumably, painted the manor grounds. Henry sat beside her, talking.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Henry as content as this,” Isadore said.

“You should have seen him when Iolanthe kissed him,” Haesel replied, remembering the awed wonder that had painted itself across her brother’s face.

“And how did Charles look after you kissed him?” Isadore inquired as she poured herself a cup of tea from the set that had just appeared on the table.

Haesel felt her cheeks burn and knew that she was blushing. The kiss that she and Charles had shared by the pond on his estate replayed in her mind. The heat of his hands on her body, the wet glide of his tongue against hers, the aching desire in his eyes, and the thunderous beating of his heart in her chest were unforgettable. 

“How did you know?”

Isadore tittered and said, “You just told me, darling.”

“I can’t believe I fell for that,” Haesel groaned as a lunch service appeared on the table with several different types of food. “Please don’t tell Papa.”

The number one rule of pranking was ‘don’t get caught’. While this wasn’t the same situation, it was still embarrassing that she had fallen for such an obvious ploy. 

“Hmm. We’ll see,” Isadore said.

“Mistress, this just came for you,” Lotsy said, holding up a silver tray with a single blossom on it.

Charles was spoiling her. He sent small gifts throughout the day, always having one of his house-elves check with Lotsy first to ensure she was home before sending the next. This morning, after her bath, she received a dark chocolate truffle with a treacle center. It was delectable.

Now, it was a single red camellia that was softer than silk and perfumed the air with a lovely fragrance.

You’re a flame in my heart.

Haesel’s heart fluttered in her chest. There was no question that Charles was seducing her, and in a socially acceptable and encouraged manner at that. It was as plain as the gold on a Galleon. As was the fact that it was working. Her pulse raced as she yearned for something she had never experienced.

“Please send him a jonquil,” Haesel said as she avoided her mother’s gaze.

Affection returned. Desire.

She didn’t love him—not yet. But she didn’t think it would take her much longer to fall in love with him and lose her heart. Charles dedicated himself whole-heartedly to everything he deemed important. It was clear that his pursuit of her was no different.

If anything, he was applying an extra measure of diligence.

“Lotsy be doing that at once, Mistress!” Lotsy said before vanishing to do so.

“I’m so pleased for you, darling,” Isadore said, reaching across the table to squeeze Haesel’s unoccupied hand. “You’ll have a joyous bonded life with Lord Prewett.”

Haesel stroked the petals of the red camellia and said, “Yes, I do believe that I will.”

Chapter Text

Haesel smiled up at her mother as they exited the second drawing room in Prewett Manor. They had been touring and making notes for the past hour and a half, and she couldn’t help but wonder how Charles was entertaining her father and brother. 

As long as her father didn’t start a fight—he was still annoyed that she had been around Charles in a nightgown; she should have figured that Lagnok would tattle on her—she assumed they would all still be alive by the time she and her mother returned to the first floor parlor for afternoon tea.

“It’s lovely architecture. Lord Prewett was entirely correct, though; some of the rooms need work. But I think you’ll be happy here,” Isadore said. She clasped Haesel’s empty hand and smiled fondly at her.

Haesel squeezed her mother’s hand in response. “I agree. There’s a lot of potential. I do think that whichever of his ancestors last decorated was just overly fond of excessiveness and gaudy displays of wealth.” 

The sitting room that was nothing but endless shades of gold had hurt her eyes.

“Like the Blacks,” Isadore whispered as if worried they would be overheard by someone other than the house-elves. “Walburga has a sitting room that’s full of mirrors, so she can see herself from every angle.”

Laughing, Haesel swung her mother’s hand. She didn’t doubt it in the least. Lady Walburga Black was only tolerable in small doses, and not solely because she thought quite highly of herself. 

“Don’t let Grandmama hear you say that. Blacks have every right to be vain,” Haesel replied.

Isadore mimed locking her lips and throwing away the key. 

“Which room is next?” Haesel asked the head house-elf, Tervil, who was silently leading them.

“The Lord’s and Lady’s chambers,” Tervil responded as he straightened his livery.

Haesel stared at the bound parchment book she had been writing her notes in. Several rooms in the manor desperately needed redecorating. She understood now why Charles wanted her and her mother to make a list of changes as soon as possible. She had assumed he was exaggerating about maybe not being able to finish them before their bonding. Now, she knew it was a real possibility. 

“All right, let’s start with the Lady’s chambers,” she said as she reread the list.

Tervil turned around and wrung his hands. “My lady be misunderstanding.”

“How so?” Isadore asked, brow furrowed.

“There’s being none of those, excepting the parlor and study we decorated for my lady like Lotsy be describing,” Tervil said.

“And you did a wonderful job on those,” Haesel assured Tervil. 

The furniture was elegant and antique, built to last and built for style—unlike the horrendous pieces that had become popular in the last decade. Though it was somewhat disloyal to her heritage, she was obsessed with Baroque furniture. She adored the cream, sage, and robin’s egg blue palette that Lotsy had chosen as well.

Isadore gazed at Tervil, head tilted, and then said, “You meant chambers that the Lord and Lady of the House will share.”

Tervil nodded enthusiastically, his ears slapping against his face. “Yes! My lord is being most insistent that my lady is not being in chambers away from him. My lord is saying a lady is belonging with her lord always. My lord is being most very determined.” 

“Please show us,” Haesel said, her heart racing. 

Her thoughts were on her future as Lady Prewett, and Charles’s desire that she share his bedroom. She knew of several pureblood witches who had their own bedroom, separate from their husbands. She also knew her grandparents cohabitated, as did her parents. Haesel had always sought that for herself: a man who would want her with him always. Being relegated to another bedchamber, only to be visited when he sought to bed her, would be insulting in the extreme. 

“This is being the way, my lady,” Tervil said as he started back down the corridor.

“Are you okay, darling? Your face is red,” Isadore said, with both a hint of worry and teasing in her tone.

“I’m fine, Mama. I just…”

“Just what, darling?” Isadore queried, more worry in her voice. She released Haesel’s hand and gave her a one-armed hug.

Haesel sighed and leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder. “Mama, would you allow me—? May I—? Will you—?”

Isadore stopped walking and locked eyes with Haesel. Their eyes were mirror reflections of ice, and only two inches separated their height. Anyone who didn’t know them might assume they were sisters. “What is it, Haesel?”

“May I enter the chambers alone?” Haesel inquired. 

It wouldn’t be at all proper, but the closer she got to their destination, the more uncomfortable she felt with letting her mother enter the rooms Charles slept in. A bonded couple’s bedchamber was for them alone: intimate and sacred. She had never even entered her parents’ bedroom. She had seen all of the other rooms attached to their suite, but not that one.

The smile on Isadore’s face was bittersweet as she traced her fingers down Haesel’s face. Her voice was husky and gentle as she said, “It seems like just yesterday that I held you in my arms for the first time. And now you’re all grown up.” 

“Mama.”

“Of course you may, darling. I understand. I’ll wait outside for you,” Isadore said.

“My lady? We are being here,” Tervil said. He indicated a door just feet from where they stood.

“Thank you,” Haesel said absently. 

“You is being welcome. Tervil will be fetching a cup of tea for my lady’s mother,” he said before vanishing.

Haesel stepped toward the door that led into the suite, and then turned around and engulfed her mother in a hug. “I love you, Mama.”

“And I you, my darling girl,” Isadore whispered. She hugged her tightly, and then kissed her brow. “Now go see your future, darling. But never forget your past.”

“I won’t,” Haesel promised as she pulled away. She inhaled shakily and blinked back the tears that wanted to fall. She could only hope that, someday in the future, she would be half the mother her own was.

She crossed the threshold and then closed the door behind her. 

It felt like stepping into a vision of the future.

The room was elegant and had dark antique furniture. Settees were placed near the massive fireplace. She walked toward it and ran her hand along the mantle, before turning her eyes to the floor. Haesel could easily imagine winter nights spent cuddled before a roaring fire, Charles’s arms holding her close to his side. She would tilt her head back and offer her lips, and he would claim them until she could no longer think.

Her fingers trailed along the back of the nearest settee. Haesel would lie here in her nightgown, waiting for Charles to return from assisting Newton Scamander with a raid against magical creature poachers, because she would be unable to sleep without him beside her—his breath on her neck, his arm around her waist, and his magic blanketing her.

It felt so real that she shivered.

She stood before an ornate mirror, unenchanted and somehow all the more intriguing because of it. Haesel would stand right here before they left for future galas, having to fix her hair because he inevitably mussed it when he couldn’t help but kiss her, for her gown was just a little too low-cut. 

Charles’s magic would lash out with hunger and his eyes would burn that eerie shade of blue. He would plead with her to change into another gown, but Haesel would ignore the request, because she loved seeing his passion for her.

“Charles,” she whispered.

Haesel opened the nearest door and walked into a dressing room of immense proportions. There were empty racks and drawers, each waiting for her clothing, shoes, and accessories. The barrenness of it called to her, as if Charles constantly stood in this dressing room and bemoaned her absence, eagerly awaiting the day she would fill it with her wardrobe and bridal trousseau.

One of the drawers in the jewelry armoire was open. Haesel approached it with delighted anticipation. Charles wasn’t careless; he had left it open on purpose to garner her attention. She had a suspicion of what it might be, though she didn’t know what it would look like exactly.

She picked up the velvet box, lifted the lid, and gasped in awe.

“Do you like it?”

Haesel spun around to see Charles leaning against the doorframe. His auburn hair was unruly, as if he had just run his fingers through it several times. 

“What are you doing here?” Haesel asked. He was supposed to be off with her father and brother getting up to some manner of mischief knowing them. Her mother never would have allowed her in here alone if she knew Charles would be present.

“I felt you enter our rooms. I couldn’t keep away,” Charles confessed as his heart lurched guiltily in her chest. 

“Am I so tempting that you can’t bear to be away from me?” Haesel teased.

Charles straightened and rasped, “You tempt me beyond words.” 

Haesel flushed and bit her bottom lip, pleased and flustered with his answer at the same time. She was tempted by him as well. She had spent an inordinate amount of time over the past week replaying their kiss by the pond in her mind. Every time she did, she found herself wondering how long they might have kept on kissing if Bill hadn’t interrupted them.

She honestly didn’t know if they ever would have stopped.

“Do you want me to leave, Haesel? I don’t want my presence to make you uncomfortable,” Charles said with all seriousness. 

Even though she knew that she should send him away, she didn’t. She couldn’t. This felt so right. They belonged here—together. “Please stay,” Haesel said.

Charles’s shoulders relaxed as he strode toward her. His eyes sparkled with desire and hope as his heartsong chorused beautifully inside of her. He touched the velvet box, his fingers brushing against hers, and repeated, “Do you like it?”

Haesel tore her gaze away from his enticing smile and looked at the rings once more. One was a plain band of what she believed to be mithril, and the other held a blue diamond. “They’re stunning,” she breathed.

Smirking with pleasure, Charles picked up the jeweled ring and said, “I personally imbued the mithril with protection charms and rituals over the years, including Blood Arts. I’m not willing to take any chances with your safety, Haesel. It’ll stop almost everything but the Killing Curse.” 

My world would end if anything happened to you, his heart sang to her. 

As would mine, she thought, her own heart pounding furiously inside of her.

“I will not chance losing you, my lady. Promise me that you’ll wear it as often as is feasible,” Charles demanded, something dark and weighted and desperate in his tone. 

Haesel turned her head and kissed Charles’s palm as his magic urged her to give her word. Even if his magic had been silent, she still would have complied. The desperation in his eyes was unnerving. She didn’t want to know what phantoms of the mind taunted him. She would do everything in her power, which wasn’t insignificant, to ensure that nothing stole her away from him.

“I promise,” Haesel said. 

Charles’s eyes conveyed his gratitude as he removed the engagement ring from the box. He slid it onto her finger and it magically resized to be a perfect fit. Haesel was grateful that he had thought so far ahead while waiting for her to come of age; it made her feel cherished. There was no doubt that Crafting the ring was a labor of time and love.

She felt their magic spark with ecstasy as she picked up the plain band and slid it on the fourth finger of his left hand. It meant a lot to her that he desired to wear an engagement ring as a symbol of his commitment to her. Many wizards didn’t. 

When Charles kissed her neck, Haesel dropped the box. The kiss was warm and gentle. He kissed her neck again and again, his eyelashes teasing her skin. He pressed a kiss that was almost not-there against the upper swell of her breasts. Her hands trembled as her heart fluttered wildly. 

“C-Charles.”

Charles groaned against her skin, then pulled away. He rose to his full height. His eyes burned down at her like Fiendfyre and Haesel wanted to let it consume her. 

“I love it when you say my name,” Charles said, fingers gripping hers possessively. “It’s so intimate.”  

She shuddered at the husky sound of his voice as he placed featherlight kisses on her bare wrist. Haesel understood what he meant. The few times when he had addressed her by her name alone were precious. Her name sounded different on his lips than on anyone else’s. It sounded … treasured, perhaps? 

“Come with me, Haesel,” he purred.

When Charles started walking toward the door he had entered the dressing room through, Haesel’s breathing sped up. He was leading her into their future bedchamber and no one was around to chaperone them. Her stomach knotted with emotions, nervousness and curiosity chief among them. Before she could sort out her feelings, they crossed the threshold.

The room could have been covered in cobwebs and dust, or as immaculate as if Lotsy just finished cleaning it. It could have had marble flooring, or stone, or hardwood. The walls could have been blank or lined with priceless works of art. 

Haesel had no idea what the rest of the room was like, because her gaze had locked onto the enormous bed the moment she passed over the threshold. Its four posts were magnificently carved, and the bedstead itself was definitely from the Medieval era. She wondered if it had been in the Prewett’s Ancestral Vault. Morgana knew the Potters possessed vaults full of nothing but stored furniture that wasn’t being used, carefully protected with preservation charms. 

Charles led her to the bed and then halted. Haesel felt his gaze on her as she touched the nearest post. It radiated warmth beneath her fingers, just as her wand did. 

“It’s holly,” she realized.

“It is.”

“For protection from illnesses, fire, and Black Magic,” Haesel said, memories surfacing. 

She had researched holly thoroughly after she got her wand, desiring to know all of its properties. A holly wand chose her and she felt that it was important to know why. She wasn’t at all surprised by the phoenix feather core, given the Mark of Merlin was already on her body at that point. Of course, a creature of rebirth and immortality was fitting given her future Fate.

“Yes.”

“Dark twin of the oak and king of the forests for six months of the year. Always strong, always in bloom, refusing to succumb to the harsh frigidity of winter. Always living and thriving. Unconquerable,” she whispered. 

“As our bonding will be,” Charles said, stroking a hand down her back.

“Yes,” she agreed. 

Haesel swallowed as she remembered the last important quality. Taking into account all she knew of it, it was no wonder Charles had insisted their bonding bed be created from the wood of a holly tree. It was both touching and amazing how diligently he had prepared for their future together.

“Holly,” Haesel breathed, “for life and ... fertility.”

Charles, eyes blazing, grasped her waist. He spun her around until her back was to the post, and then he carefully pressed her against it. She didn’t push him away. How could she? There was nowhere else she would rather be.

“Haesel, I—” 

And then his mouth was on hers. Charles devoured her, sending her emotions into a whirlwind. All thought of nerves, or lack thereof, vanished as he kissed her. Haesel reached up and thrust her hands into his hair, fingers tangling in the dark-auburn strands.

When he pressed fully against her, caging her safely in his arms, their magic went wild. It flared around them, traveling out from their bodies. Their magic melded and slithered into the floor, ceiling, and walls. Haesel felt the suite’s wards strengthen under the force of their combined magic. 

Haesel’s tongue battled with Charles’s as he moaned into her mouth, sending her senses into a frenzy. She had never felt like this before, like her veins were full of fire. She desperately tried to inhale enough oxygen to satisfy her lungs. Her summer dress felt unbearably restraining. 

“Forgive me, my lady,” Charles groaned.

“For what?” Haesel asked. Surely, there was nothing to forgive.

His hands dropped then, and she almost choked when she saw the expression in his eyes. It was wanton. Charles’s magic felt primal. The scent of ozone and petrichor flooded the air as he carefully took one step backward. 

Her magic writhed at the distance he put between them, small though it may be.

“For losing control,” he gritted out as he retreated another step. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Haesel’s heart ached with each word he spoke. He might fear for her safety in his presence, but she never would—not even if he went completely feral. She caressed her new ring and then closed the distance between them, hating each step he took away from her. Charles’s back met a wall and Haesel paused before him, love and trust overwhelming her. His whole body sought to both greet her and lurch away. 

“If I know nothing else in this world, Charles, I know that you will never allow your control to slip so far that you harm me,” Haesel said, utterly convinced of the words she spoke. He wasn’t the type of wizard who would ever hurt the witch he loved. He would never attempt to claim something that she wasn’t ready to offer him yet.

He stared at her with sincere longing and rasped, “I—”

Haesel met his gaze and stated, “Charles, you are the only man I would ever trust to honor me in the Ancient Ways under the Olde Magick. When that time comes, I know you will treat it as the gift it is.” 

“I will,” he swore.

“I know,” Haesel replied.

Her heart thundered in her ears in a cacophonous symphony of love. In the face of such care, such thoughtfulness, such unflinching honor, how could she do anything other than fall? 

Haesel smoothed her hands against his strong shoulders and leaned forward. She kissed his chest, right over where his heart used to reside, gifting him hers in the process. She felt the rush of warm magic as her heart left her chest for his own.

Charles gasped, eyes bright with tears and wonder. He reverently breathed, “You love me.”

“How could I not?” she whispered, repeating his own words back to him.

Haesel kissed Charles gently on the lips, and then left the room. Both she and Charles had been absent for long enough. Any longer and her family would inevitably grow suspicious.

A few, quick spells smoothed out her dress and hair and reduced the swelling of her lips. It was the best that she could do given that her mother would spot a glamour charm the moment she stepped back into the corridor if she tried to use one. And that would lead to questions Haesel didn’t want to answer. 

She couldn’t do anything about the twinkle in her eyes that she saw when she passed the mirror to retrieve her notebook and quill from where she left them earlier while distracted. Then again, it could be explained away as joy. That would do. Charles had, after all, thoughtfully left an engagement ring as a present for her to discover.

“I see Lord Prewett left you a gift,” Isadore said, extending a hand so that she might examine the ring more closely as Haesel entered the corridor and closed the door to the duchal suite behind her. “It’s lovely. It’s almost the exact shade of your eyes.”

“It is,” Haesel agreed.

Isadore linked their arms and asked, “Are you pleased, darling?”

“Very pleased, Mama,” Haesel replied with a grin.

“Then that’s all that matters,” Isadore said, before turning to Tervil and gesturing for him to continue the tour.

Haesel smiled down at the ring and marveled at the feeling of a single heart beating in her chest once again. It almost felt peculiar after the days she spent with two residing inside of her. If she made it to the end of the next fortnight unbonded, Haesel would be thoroughly impressed with her self-control.

Chapter Text

On August 15, Haesel hurried up to her suite after returning from her final fitting at Elara and Evelyn. The bonding robes were absolutely exquisite. She couldn’t be more pleased. Only a few alterations were necessary and Elara assured her that they would be complete and delivered to Potter Manor on the eighteenth.

“Where are you rushing off to?” Zach asked.

Haesel skidded to a stop on the rug that ran the length of the corridor. She felt a little bad that she hadn’t spent much time with Zach since he claimed Sanctuary. They ate breakfast together every morning, of course. They finished up the rest of their summer assignments in the library just the night before. And they had a duel for fun earlier in the week. 

But given how busy her schedule was at the moment, and how often Zach was off with other friends, their paths hadn’t crossed all that much.

“Charles is picking me up for a courtship date in forty minutes and I need to get ready,” Haesel said.

The fitting had taken longer than she thought it would. Given the length of the original appointment, she should have realized that Elara and Evelyn would nitpick every single detail and stitch in their attempt to create perfection. Neither of the witches were women who would accept less than the absolute best from their own efforts.

“Did you need something?” Haesel asked.

If Zach needed her help with something, she would find a way to assist him, even if it meant that she looked less than her best for Charles. A friend in need was more important than primping.

Zach snorted and shook his head. “No, I’m just bored. I’ll go to Justin’s and drag him out to one of the clubs; he’s a challenging fencing opponent.”

“I—”

“Don’t feel bad, Haesel. It’s not your job to entertain me. If I were at home, I’d be dragging Justin off to fence anyway. It’s a weekly ritual over the summer break for us,” he said.

That didn’t surprise her in the least. Of all the Hufflepuffs in their year, Haesel knew that Zach found Justin Finch-Fletchley, a New Blood, the most amusing. For being born into two completely different worlds, they certainly had a great deal in common.

“All right, Zach. Have fun. Please give my regards to Mister Finch-Fletchley,” Haesel said before hustling down the corridor to her suite.

Once she reached her chambers, she stripped off her clothes, set her engagement ring atop her jewelry armoire, and then walked right into the shower. Haesel would have loved to take a bath and soak for a while after having had to stand still for three consecutive hours, but she didn’t have the time to properly enjoy one.

With how thick her hair was, it took almost fifteen minutes just to wash and condition it. Thankfully, it took much less time to clean the rest of herself. 

Toweling herself dry, Haesel walked into her dressing room. This was the first time that society would see her and Charles together since her gala. Every outing since then occurred on one of their estates. She wanted to present herself well.

“What should I wear?” she muttered, staring at her racks of clothes.

“Calm down, dear. Take a deep breath and then let it out,” the mirror ordered.

Haesel did as instructed and felt the frustration and anxiety easing. She meant to choose an outfit and accessories yesterday, but she had ended up spending the entire evening chatting with Charles over the enchanted communication mirrors that her father presented to them as an engagement gift when they were at Prewett Manor.

“Now, pick something in crimson,” the mirror said. “It’s your first official courtship date together; you should wear the family heraldry colors.”

“Right,” Haesel said as she examined the section of her wardrobe that was specifically for garments in Potter-Crimson. She smiled when she saw a summer dress that she hadn’t worn yet. That would do nicely.

She stepped into a pair of knickers and then charmed her hair dry in sections so that the waves would be smooth and shiny. She brushed it and then glanced up at the mirror questioningly. 

“You don’t have time for anything intricate, dear. A chignon will do, and it’ll look well with the dress you’ve chosen,” the mirror said.

Haesel put her hair up in a chignon and nodded. “That’ll do.”

“It looks lovely, dear,” the mirror assured her.

She pulled on a pair of nude tights that were such finely woven Acromantula silk that it was nearly impossible to tell that she was even wearing them. Then, she donned the dress. It fell just past her knees in a flutter of multiple layers of embroidered crimson chiffon. The bodice resembled a corset with crimson boning and laces, but wasn’t an actual corset. The lace neckline showed a hint of decolletage, but not so much as to be improper, where it rose halfway up her neck before buttoning behind her throat. It was entirely sleeveless.

Crimson lace slippers and gloves completed the ensemble. 

Haesel retrieved her engagement ring from where she had placed it before her shower and slid it back onto her glove-covered finger. It was the only jewelry she intended to wear today.

“Spin, dear,” the mirror said.

She twirled and grinned when the layers of the skirt twirled with her, flaring up before fluttering down. It was pretty without being itchy or too formal for a courtship date. Though— “Do you think he’ll like it?”

The mirror scoffed. “I think your wizard would still think you were beautiful if you were wearing hideous Muggle fashion, dear. He’s besotted with you. There can be no question of that, given how many presents he sends you every day!”

Haesel grinned at the reminder of the many flowers that Charles had sent her. Ever since their kiss beside the pond, he sent her one every day. She had Lotsy purchase everlasting frames in Leisure Alley so that she could place the blossoms inside for display and never have to worry about them wilting or dying. The frames, a specialty of the Creative House of Patil, lined the walls near her bed so that she could see them when she woke in the morning and before she went to sleep each night.

“He’s been very generous with his affection,” Haesel said. It was true. Even though they were already engaged, Charles was no less ardent as a suitor. Some wizards might have slacked once she was a ‘sure thing’, as it were. He didn’t. She loved him all the more for it.

“What flower did he send you this morning, dear? I missed that in your rush to make it to breakfast so you wouldn’t have to attend your fitting on an empty stomach,” the mirror said.

“An arbutus,” Haesel replied as her pulse raced.

Thee only do I love.

“Oh, that’s wonderful! You’ve chosen a mighty fine lord for yourself, dear,” the mirror said.

Haesel grinned and cupped her hand over the mark on her hip-bone. Chaos had known exactly what He was doing when He created a Fated destiny between her and Charles. Even if the marks had never appeared on their skin, she couldn’t help but believe that they would have found their way to each other anyway. They were so well-matched in so many aspects that she couldn’t even imagine a different wizard in his place in her life.

“Yes, I have.”

“Now, off with you. You don’t want to keep him waiting,” the mirror said.

Haesel went down to the parlor that was connected to the Floo network that guests could access. She sat on the sofa, smoothing her skirts out, so that she wouldn’t be pacing on the Persian rug before the fireplace when Charles came through the Floo.

“There’s my beautiful girl,” James said as he entered the parlor and sat beside her. He slung an arm around her shoulders and hugged her.

“Hello, Papa,” Haesel said as she leaned her cheek against his shoulder.

“How was the—?”

The flames in the fireplace turned green. Moments later, Charles gracefully stepped from the Floo. There wasn’t a trace of soot on him. 

Haesel couldn’t help the jealous voice in her head that grumbled, Why can’t I exit a Floo like that?

James kissed her temple before standing and offering his hand to Charles. “It’s good to see you again. If any harm comes to her while she’s with you, you won’t live long enough to regret it. Have fun!” he said as he shook Charles’s hand.

“She’ll be safe with me,” Charles promised.

“That’s a good man,” James said as he clapped Charles on the shoulder and then walked back out of the parlor.

Charles dragged his gaze slowly down her body after she stood from the sofa and approached him. It was appreciative and desirous and sent his heart racing in her chest. His hands grasped her waist and tugged her closer so that he could lean down and kiss her in greeting. It was sweet and soft but didn’t linger.

“Hello, darling. You’re stunning, as always,” Charles said, brushing the back of his hand down her cheek.

She kissed him again and then regretfully pulled away. “You look dashing yourself, Charles.”

“May I Disapparate us from the manor, or do we need to leave via Floo?” Charles inquired.

Haesel granted him temporary permission to Apparate through the wards. Given the choice of Side-Along Apparition or Floo travel, there was no question of which she would choose. She said, “You can Disapparate us.”

Charles tugged her close to his chest, wrapped her in his arms, and then spun on his heel and Disapparated. 

They Apparated into a familiar room. It was floor-to-ceiling yellow marble and unmistakably the Apparition Chamber of The Golden Fleece.

“Color me intrigued,” Haesel said, wondering what he had planned. There were over a hundred rooms in The Golden Fleece and at least twice as many activities available for the patrons’ enjoyment.

“Lady Haesel,” Charles said with a secretive smirk as he offered her his arm.

Instead of laying her arm atop his in the formal manner, she linked hers with his near the elbow. It was more intimate. She didn’t care if it set society into a fit of gossip; she wanted to be as close to him as possible.

“Lord Charles,” she replied with a grin, even as she tried to figure out why he had brought them here. 

It wasn’t the proper time of day for a picnic in the Crystal Caves. She briefly considered that he might have brought her here to view the Menagerie—given his love of magical creatures—but that wasn’t likely to be the case. Too many people were allowed in the room at once and they wouldn’t have any privacy at all. He wouldn’t choose a location where people could frequently interrupt them.

So what—?

“Please be following me,” a house-elf in a smart, yellow uniform said.

Haesel’s mind churned even faster than before as Charles escorted her into the Yggdrasil room and continued after the house-elf without offering more than passing nods to anyone who greeted them. House-elves only led patrons to rooms that required reservations. There were twelve such rooms in The Golden Fleece. She was particularly curious to know which Charles had chosen. Some were easier to reserve than others.

They passed the fencing halls, where Zach and Justin Finch-Fletchley were vigorously competing, and then they passed the chess room, where Lord Urquhart was playing an opponent Haesel didn’t recognize.

This was the way to— Surely not! Charles would have had to make the reservation months ago, possibly even last year!

The house-elf opened a door and stepped aside, saying, “Please be having a lovely visit.”

Through the open door, Haesel saw it and said with wonder, “The Jasmine Room.”

It was a room with a low, carved table, surrounded by large silk cushions for seating. It was attached to, and overlooked, an impeccable oriental garden. There were koi swimming in the pond, beneath the lily pads, in flashes of ivory and russet. There was a sakura tree—perpetually in bloom—offering shade to the koi. A path wended its way through the garden, allowing guests to enjoy all of its flowers and sculptures and other delights.

This was the very room where her beloved father and mother had their first courtship date, arranged by Grandmama Dorea. No wonder her mother looked so wistful and her father couldn’t fault Charles’s taste. She existed because her parents once met each other right here. This was where the fairy tale romance of James Potter and Isadore Vaisey began.

The house-elf closed the door behind them after they entered.

“Do you like it?” Charles asked, shifting nervously at her side.

“Do I like it?” Haesel asked, staring up at him with disbelief. “Of course, I like it! How in all of Avalon did you manage to get reservations?”

“I booked them on your sixteenth birthday,” Charles said, his heart thumping wildly in her chest. “Everyone knows that your parents came here for their first courtship date. I know it was presumptuous of me, but I thought you might want to come as well.”

Haesel knew, of course, that Charles knew who she was before she ever learned that he bore the same mark on his skin that she did. Yet, it was times like this when it really stood out to her. Because he spent years making her an engagement ring imbued with protection spells, and he planned over a year in advance for an outing that he thought would bring her pleasure.

She dared anyone to say that Charles wasn’t whole-heartedly dedicated to her happiness. And if anyone was foolish enough to take that dare and slander his devotion to her, she would curse the culprit silly.

“I have wanted to come here with my future lord-husband on a courtship date ever since I was a little girl. Thank you for making that dream a reality,” Haesel said. 

She kissed him slowly, her hands twining through the tail he had tied his auburn hair back into. It was silky soft to her touch. His lips met hers with equal gentleness. This wasn’t so much about passion as it was about affection and gratitude.

Haesel leaned backward, smiling as he caught her by the waist. She always felt safe and treasured when his hands were on her. It was something she never intended to take for granted.

“I haven’t had a single nightmare since you gave me your heart. That gift, peace of mind and safety in my own skin, is something I can never thank you for enough, Charles,” Haesel said as she stared into his fine blue eyes.

“I wish it was a gift that I could have given you sooner,” Charles replied.

If her parents hadn’t announced that she was unavailable for betrothal contracts, at her request, because of the mark…. If she hadn’t asked her parents to announce that she would not be allowed to participate in courtships before her seventeenth birthday…. Well, there was no purpose to spinning possibilities that wouldn’t occur. It never led anywhere good.

“I know you do.”

“That being said, I do hope you will enjoy this gift all the same, Haesel,” Charles said as he reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and removed a beribboned box that shouldn’t have fit inside it; as was true of all high-quality magical clothing, it must have expansion charms sewn into the pockets with runes.

Haesel accepted the small box and slid off the ribbon without untying it. She removed the lid and stared down at the present inside with unabashed delight. Nestled inside the box was a regulation-sized Snitch with a hairpin sprouting from the bottom. 

“It’s brilliant!”

Charles chuckled and retrieved the hairpin so that he could place it in her hair at the crest of her chignon. She felt one of the wings tickle the shell of her ear as it slowly fluttered. “I’m glad you like it. This is the Snitch that I caught during my last Quidditch match at Hogwarts.”

The game in question still held almost every record in the books at Hogwarts. Slytherin utterly decimated Ravenclaw and won the Quidditch Cup in a decisive manner.

“You mean the match that had scouts from several professional teams aggressively scouting you,” Haesel replied, feeling even more honored than before now that she knew this particular Snitch was special to him.

It was well-known, after all, that Charles could have become a Professional Quidditch Player right out of Hogwarts if he had wanted to. A lot of people were surprised when he chose to seek a Mastery in Magizoology under Newton Scamander instead. Now that she knew him better, it didn’t surprise Haesel in the least. Charles was the type of person who played the sport for fun, who saw it as a game, and who would lose all interest and enjoyment if it became a career instead of a favored pastime.

“Yes, that match,” Charles said ruefully.

“I’ll wear it when we attend the Quidditch World Cup in a few days,” Haesel said, already anticipating the compliments she would receive on it. Perhaps it wasn’t a jeweled hairpin, as the Prewetts traditionally gave when courting, but Haesel didn’t mind in the least. This was much more true to her tastes. She appreciated that over traditional jewels.

It would be a perfect complement to the little surprise that she had planned for Charles. 

Draco was going to be so jealous. She would wager that the prat would commission a Snitch lapel pin the day after he saw her hairpin.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Charles said.

“Good. You should be,” Haesel said, meaning both her intended outfit for the Quidditch World Cup and the event itself. 

She had invited him to attend the first evening they spoke with the communication mirrors, feeling horribly embarrassed that she had forgotten to do so sooner. Thankfully, his schedule was clear as the game was taking place on a Sunday. If he had had something already planned for the day as a surprise for her, he politely made no mention of it in the face of her excitement.

Haesel twined her fingers with his and set the box down on the table. The tea service was under a preservation charm; everything would stay fresh and warm. They could come back to it later.

For now, she wanted to kiss her fiancé under the sakura tree. So that’s exactly what she did.

Chapter Text

“Mistress! Lotsy gots it! Tervil brought it!” Lotsy cheered as she bounced into Haesel’s dressing room with the requested item on a silver tray.

Haesel grinned and said, “Excellent work, Lotsy.”

“Thank you, Mistress!”

There was a Quidditch jersey folded neatly on the tray. It was green and silver. With a grin, Haesel unfolded it to see 02 PREWETT on the back. It hadn’t taken much effort at all for Lotsy to weasel it out of Tervil so that Haesel could wear it and surprise Charles.

“Oh, he’ll love that, dear,” her mirror said.

“Yes, he will,” Haesel replied smugly as she pulled it over her head. She tucked the front of it into her tight black trousers and smirked when the neckline slipped off of one of her shoulders, leaving it bare. It was oversized on her, but still flattering. It was no more scandalous than a sleeveless dress, but it certainly felt more intimate.

“How would Mistress be liking her hair?” Lotsy asked as she vanished the silver tray.

Haesel often dressed her own hair, but there were some days when Lotsy performed that service for her. Especially if it was a particularly intricate style. Haesel was skilled, but not as skilled as a house-elf who had decades or even centuries of training.

“A fishtail plait crown,” Haesel replied.

Lotsy clapped her hands and then began working on the requested style, her magic directing Haesel’s hair in a symphony of overlapping strands until it was complete. 

“That’s lovely, dear,” the mirror said.

“Excellent work, Lotsy. Thank you,” Haesel said as she slid the Snitch hairpin into the black locks by her right temple. She wanted it to be prominent. The wings flapped lazily, one tickling the skin of her brow.

“Mistress is being welcome,” Lotsy replied.

Satisfied with her reflection, Haesel headed downstairs to meet up with the others. She twirled her engagement ring around her finger as she went. It was hard to believe that her life had changed so much in just over three weeks. However, she was grateful that it had. Haesel had never been happier than she was now.

She only foresaw more happiness in her future.

Soon, she and Charles would be bonded. It was something she desired more every day. Obviously, she felt some nervousness about it, but it helped that she knew she had nothing to fear from him. He would—

“What on earth are you wearing?” James cried when Haesel walked into the parlor.

“My sister, the traitor,” Henry teased as he came over and hugged her.

“That is disgustingly sweet, Haesel. It’s revolting, really. I can’t believe you’ve sunk so low,” Zach said, though he seemed more amused by her father’s faux tears than anything.

“Betrayed by my own flesh and blood!” James wailed, rubbing the sleeve of his robes over his eyes. “Where did your mother and I go wrong?”

“You might want to cut the dramatics before Grandmama overhears and comes to investigate, Papa,” Haesel warned with a threatening smile. Grandmama Dorea was, after all, a consummate Slytherin. She didn’t tolerate anyone maligning her former Hogwarts House in her presence.

James cleared his throat and dropped his arm, revealing a face unmarred by tears. “As I was saying, you look beautiful, Haesel,” he said.

“Thank you, Papa,” she replied.

“All right, well, this is everybody,” James declared as he glanced between them. “Does anyone need to grab anything else before we take the Portkey?”

Because Haesel and Draco purchased all of the tickets in a private box, their guests and themselves all received Portkeys to the site the Quidditch World Cup would be held at instead of having to meet up with other attendees who lived in the same area. Apparition was, of course, forbidden due to the amount of magicals who attended from all over the world. 

The Aurors would be busy enough keeping the crowd under control and providing security. There was no need to make things even more difficult for them by allowing for what would potentially be a plethora of Apparition accidents.

“I’m ready,” Haesel said.

“Me too,” Zach replied.

Henry patted down his pockets and then pulled out a money pouch with a grin. Haesel didn’t doubt for an instant that he was planning to place a substantial bet on the outcome. 

“Let’s do this!” Henry said.

Everyone else would meet them at the site, including those who had chosen to camp at the site overnight. Her father had asked if she wanted to do that this year, to get the full experience, but Haesel declined. She would be bonded and living in Prewett Manor soon. So she wanted to spend every single night until then in the suite that had been hers since she left the nursery.

James retrieved a black umbrella from the sofa and held it out. “Hold on tightly. I don’t want to lose any of you along the way,” he said.

As far as Haesel was concerned, Portkey travel fell in between Apparition and the Floo. The hooking sensation behind her navel was unpleasant, but it was far better than being launched out of a fireplace like she had been flung by a trebuchet at the battlements of a castle under siege.

Once everyone had a firm hold on the umbrella, James said, “Bludger.”

And, fittingly, by the time they landed at their destination, it didn’t feel unlike she had been hit by several without protective padding. Thankfully, the sensation didn’t last long at all. It was already fading by the time she straightened to see a sea of magical tents in every direction.

A harried witch in Ministry robes gave them a quick smile before muttering, “Heir James Potter, Lady Haesel Potter, Master Henry Potter, and Heir Zacharias Smith,” as she ticked off their names on a list. She gestured at a large metal bin and said, “Please leave your Portkey object there,” before hurrying off to the next arriving party.

James chucked the umbrella into the bin and said, “I’m off to find Sirius. He and the boys camped out last night. We’ll join you in the box before the match starts.”

If she hadn’t possessed an ICW Ratified Restraining Order against Krum, the multitude of magicals would have been even more daunting than it already was. However, the magically binding protection guaranteed that he wouldn’t be hiding somewhere in the crowd, preparing to attempt to kidnap her again. 

She, Henry, and Zach headed toward the towering stadium. The bookies would be there, as would the booths selling food and other souvenirs. They were supposed to meet the others at the Honeydukes booth.

“Five Galleons says Draco tries to buy Lady Astoria her bodyweight in candy,” Henry said as they wound their way through the crowd.

It was fascinating to see so many magicals from all over the world in one location. Within the distance of ten paces, she heard people speaking French, German, and Italian, though she was only fluent in the first of those.

“No bet,” Haesel and Zach replied in unison.

Astoria was well-known for her sweet tooth. It wasn’t uncommon for her to have at least two helpings of pudding after dinner at Hogwarts. And Draco was equally well-known for spoiling the people he loved. 

“Malfoys only believe in doing things to a single degree,” Haesel said with faux solemnity. 

“To excess!” Henry and Zach chorused before the three of them dissolved into laughter.

It took them nearly half of an hour to traverse the camping area and reach the temporary Quidditch stadium. There were hundreds of booths selling goods, each with a long queue of magicals waiting to be served.

“Do you see Honeydukes?” Haesel asked as she slowly turned, looking for the distinctive sign of the Hogsmeade candy shop. 

There were several booths selling memorabilia for the Irish and Spanish National Quidditch Teams. There were banners, jerseys, signed photographs of the teams and individual players, figurines of the players, and, of course, the commemorative rosettes: green for Ireland and red for Spain.

A booth selling Omnioculars stood between one selling popcorn and another selling salted peanuts, almonds, and cashews.

“Over there!” Henry said.

Haesel turned around and followed Henry, who had already set off into the crowd. It seemed he was as eager to see Iolanthe again as she was to see Charles. She couldn’t even blame him for his enthusiasm. It had only been two days since Charles took her on a courtship date to The Jasmine Room and she already missed him.

“He’s as subtle as a Goyle,” Zach said.

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Haesel replied, laughter spilling from her gaily. 

“I’m not wrong,” Zach said as he stepped between her and a towering wizard who almost crashed right into her.

“No, you’re not.”

Henry was very honest when it came to his emotions. He rarely hid how he was feeling from anyone. If someone upset him, he let them know. If someone dared to hurt a person he cared about, he took revenge so swiftly and intently that the fool never dared to do so again. And when he loved someone, he doted on them.

“It took you long enough,” Draco huffed when they reached the Honeydukes booth. “We’ve been waiting for hours!”

“He means a quarter of an hour,” Astoria corrected with a smile. A bag with the Honeydukes logo hung from her wrist; it was unmistakably one of their signature Bottomless Bags, guaranteed to hold an infinite amount of sweets while staying as light as a feather.

“That’s what I—” Draco cut himself off as he stared at Haesel’s hair. “Where did you get that?” he demanded, obviously referencing her Snitch hairpin.

“From me,” Charles said, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and tugging her back against his chest.

“And where did you get it?” Draco demanded.

“I don’t have to answer that, Heir Malfoy,” Charles said, pointedly using Draco’s title.

Draco grimaced and said, “Lord Prewett, would you be so kind as to inform me of which Artisan Crafted the hairpin you gifted to Lady Haesel.”

The amount of smugness in Charles’s voice when he answered should have been illegal. His voice practically purred when he said, “I’m not an Artisan, Heir Malfoy, but I thank you for the compliment.”

Haesel bit her lip to keep from laughing in Draco’s face. She wondered if it was a Slytherin pastime to needle each other in public. It must be, because she had seen Draco and his dormmates doing something similar on occasion. It would be just like the Slytherins to attempt to get their fellow Slytherins to lose their composure in public. Which, without a doubt, would involve losing the game. 

“Oh, what a lovely ring, Lady Haesel,” Astoria said, smoothly inserting herself into the conversation. It was calculated, to be sure, allowing Draco time to cool his frustration. She was a very smart and level-headed Ravenclaw and her temperament offset Draco’s nicely.

“Thank you. It was a gift from Charles as well,” Haesel said as she held out her left hand so Astoria could better see the ring. 

Astoria, ever well-mannered, didn’t attempt to touch it. She only leaned forward slightly and then said, “It’s truly stunning. Another of your forays into Crafting, Lord Prewett?”

“Yes, Lady Astoria,” Charles said before continuing, “please excuse Lady Haesel and I. There’s an important matter that we need to discuss.”

Haesel couldn’t have stopped the smirk that appeared on her face if she tried. Oh, she bet that Charles had something that he wanted to “discuss” with her. His heart was beating so fiercely in her chest that she could hear it due to the blood rushing through her ears as a result.

She didn’t even pay attention to where Charles was leading her. As long as it was somewhere private, she didn’t particularly care where it was. 

As soon as Charles closed a door behind them, and raised privacy wards, he pressed her against the door and claimed her mouth. Heat flickered in her belly as Charles’s hands flexed against the swell of her hips. 

“Merlin, Haesel, you make me burn,” Charles gritted out when he pulled away so that they could breathe.

Haesel decided that breathing was overrated and dragged his mouth back to hers, her fingers tangled up in his hair. She wanted to keep kissing him until the sun set, kiss him all night, and then still be kissing him as the sun rose. It was ridiculous, of course. Their lips would end up bruised and sore long before that could happen. But that didn’t stop her from wanting it anyway, regardless of how ludicrous it was.

“You planned so many surprises for me,” Haesel panted against his chin as he nuzzled his nose alongside hers. His eyes were luminous pools of blue desire so close to hers. “I wanted to plan at least one surprise for you.”

Charles slid a hand up her spine; she shivered. Then he fisted his hand in the jersey right between her shoulders, where ‘PREWETT’ was on display for all to see.

“I want it to be true,” Charles rasped as his heart attempted to break out of her rib cage. “I want—” He shuddered, staring at her with rapacious desire.

So did Haesel. She wanted it with a ferocious desperation.

After seventeen years and some weeks as Lady Haesel Potter, she was ready to bond with Charles and assume her lord-husband’s name. It was a momentous change but it was one she was prepared to make. 

“Lady Haesel Prewett,” she whispered.

“Yes!” Charles said. 

Haesel stroked his cheek, smiling as he leaned into her touch immediately. “My bonding robes will be finished and delivered tomorrow morning. If you come for me at three o’clock, I promise I’ll be ready for you, Charles,” Haesel said.

Tomorrow was as good as any other day, really. And her entire family was prepared to rearrange any plans as necessary upon her announcement of the bonding date she chose. She doubted that anyone in the family would be surprised at her choosing the same day Elara and Evelyn completed her gown.

Potters were, after all, well-known for diving head-first into love.

“I’ll be there,” Charles swore, his magic joyously rippling across his skin as his heart danced inside of her. His heartsong crescendoed magnificently. 

Haesel kissed him again and then reluctantly said, “We should get back to the others.”

“Please let me hold you a little longer,” Charles pleaded as he embraced her tightly. “I know that I have to let go, but … please, not yet.”

“All right,” Haesel said, not wanting to be anywhere other than where she was, “a few minutes more.”

“My lady is generous and merciful,” Charles said as he scattered kisses against her hair.

Eventually, they separated and rejoined the others. It was just in time, too, because the announcer was declaring that the game would begin in fifteen minutes.

“You were gone for quite a while. Did you and Lord Prewett have a lot to … discuss,” Zach teased, waggling his eyebrows.

“Oh, shut it, you!” Haesel replied, despising the flush she could feel in her cheeks.

“All joking aside,” Zach whispered, bumping his arm against hers, “I’m happy for you, Haesel.”

“Thank you, Zach,” Haesel said.

It was good that she and Draco had purchased all of the seats in the private box, because there were exactly enough places for everyone. Her father sat on the far right side with her godfather Sirius and Sirius’s two eldest sons—who were twins that played on the Gryffindor Quidditch Team with her as Chasers—Antares and Aries. Next to them came Draco, Astoria, Iolanthe, and Henry in the four middle seats. And then she, Charles, Zach, and Uncle Valerius were in the four seats on the left.

“Hello, little lady,” Valerius said. “I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

“Hello, Uncle Valerius! I’ve been busy,” she replied ruefully. 

The amount of people that she normally spoke with or saw multiple times a week that she hadn’t kept in contact with lately was … a bit embarrassing, to be honest. She had never thought she would be one of those people who got so spellbound by a new romance that they neglected the other relationships in their life.

“So I’ve heard,” Valerius replied without a hint of rancor.

Haesel introduced her uncle to Charles and then asked, “Did you hear back from the Wasps?” 

“You auditioned for the Wimbourne Wasps?” Zach asked, suddenly leaning forward and invested. The Wasps were his favorite team, so that wasn’t surprising in the least.

“I’m to report for the final round of tryouts on the twenty-third,” Valerius replied.

“That’s brill—!”

“My name is Ludo Bagman and it’s my great honor to announce the 425th Quidditch World Cup!” Bagman’s voice resounded through the stadium.

“Pay attention, little lady. I have it on good authority that these tickets were expensive,” Valerius said.

“Draco?” she asked, darting a glance over at the blond prat who was hanging on every word Astoria spoke.

“As if there could be any doubt who blabbed about the cost. Not that he’s the one who even paid for our tickets,” Zach snorted. 

“The starting line-up for the Irish National Team is Mullet, Troy, and Moran as Chasers! Connolly and Quigley as Beaters! Ryan as Keeper! And last, but certainly not least, today’s Seeker is Aidan Lynch!” Bagman announced to thunderous applause and cheering as the players zoomed around the stadium on professional brooms.

Leprechauns threw charmed gold into the crowd. She wondered how many people realized that it wasn’t real and would vanish later.

“The starting line-up for the Spanish National Team is Torres, Navarro, and Rodríguez as Chasers! Álvarez and Martín as Beaters! Ortega as Keeper! And what many of you have been waiting for, the witch who holds the world record for catching a Snitch in the shortest amount of time during an official game, Spain’s Seeker is Valeria Ruiz!”

“I’ve seen her play. She’s fierce,” Charles said as six-inch-tall fairies flitted around the stadium.

“Let the 425th Quidditch World Cup begin!” Bagman declared.

Six minutes into the match, Moran took a Bludger to the shoulder. It shattered the joint so loudly that it was audible from their private box as she tumbled off of her broom, her complexion paler than a ghost.

That set the mood for the entire match.

It was dirty and vicious, with fouls being called what seemed like every other minute as the sun rose high in the sky and then started to sink as the game wore on. It was exhilarating to watch but nerve-wracking as well. 

“That’s blatant Blagging!” Haesel yelled as Torres grabbed and yanked on the bristles of Mullet’s broom so that the Quaffle she would have been in the perfect position to catch overshot her and fell down to Navarro. But the referee missed it because Troy was Cobbing Rodríguez so violently that Rodríguez almost fell from his broom.

Hours passed with no sign of the Snitch.

Until, suddenly, Ruiz darted through the thick of the players, barely avoiding a Bludger to the head in the process. She performed a Sloth Grip Roll and then released the broom with both hands, so that she was dangling upside-down by her legs.

“She’s mad!” Zach said.

Haesel couldn’t argue with that, because Connolly and Quigley had just smashed both Bludgers at Ruiz’s back with such force that it sounded like thunder. Ruiz caught the Snitch and then released her hold on her broom entirely, falling into Martín’s arms as Álvarez bashed the Bludgers straight up into the air.

The referee blew the whistle; it was loud and shrill as large portions of the audience cheered while many others booed.

“Ruiz has caught the Snitch!” Bagman declared. “With a score of 240 to 220, Spain wins the 425th Quidditch World Cup!”

Haesel twined her fingers with Charles’s and slipped out of the private box after Uncle Valerius gave her an indulgent nod of approval. She didn’t need to see the victor’s ceremony or the Quidditch World Cup Trophy being awarded. She didn’t even care that the private box tickets came with passes to meet the players after the game.

Let the others enjoy all of the perks associated with their tickets.

She would much rather spend the final night before her bonding solely with the wizard who had literally won her heart.

“I want to watch the sunset with you at Potter Manor,” Haesel said. 

On Lughnasadh, a sacred holiday, they had watched a sunrise as a symbolic beginning to their future. It only seemed fitting to watch a sunset tonight, a symbolic ending to the separate lives they led before their bonding.

Charles cupped her cheeks and kissed her gently as his heartsong serenaded her. “As you wish.”

Chapter Text

Today was her bonding day. It was finally happening.

Soon enough, Charles would arrive in Potter Manor for her. When he did, she would leave in his arms to become his bonded lady-wife. It was exhilarating and nerve-wracking all at the same time.

She placed one hand over her left breast beneath the bubbles of her bath, her fingers laying flat against her bare skin. His heart thundered inside of her, assuring her that she wasn’t the only one looking forward to their coming bonding.

During the discussion where her mother explained physical intimacy with rosy cheeks, her mother told her, “A true lord will gift you his heart before your bonding night, darling. And when you can feel your lord-husband’s love for you, singing of how he cherishes you, it’s almost impossible to be scared of the new experience.”

“Because my lord-husband will feel how I feel, since I’ll have gifted him my heart in return,” Haesel had realized. Her lord-husband would know instantly if he proceeded too quickly or did anything that frightened her. It would allow him to adjust his approach before she could even voice her discomfort with something.

“Precisely, darling,” her mother had said. 

Her mother hadn’t needed to explain that if a lord-husband could feel his lady-wife’s nervousness, he could also feel her pleasure. A bonding was only further heightened by the exchanging of hearts, which presented emotions in an even crisper clarity for those willingly bound together. In turn, she would feel the pleasure her husband found in her. 

The sharing of bodies and magic and souls was considered sacred for a reason.

“Lord Prewett be sending you another gift, Mistress,” Lotsy said as she appeared at Haesel’s side with a silver service tray that held a single flower.

This morning, just after she woke, Charles had sent her a red carnation.

My heart aches for you.

Once she finished her breakfast, Lotsy brought Haesel a daffodil.

Unequaled love. You’re the only one. The sun is always shining when I’m with you.

When Elara hand-delivered Haesel’s bonding robes, she returned to her suite with the gown to see that Charles had sent her a lily of the valley.

You’ve made my life complete.

And now, as she bathed herself before their bonding, Charles sent her an orange blossom.

Innocence. Eternal love. Bonding and fruitfulness.

Haesel’s anticipation built with every blossom. Soon enough, it would be three o’clock. Soon enough, Charles would come for her. Only, this time, they wouldn’t have to part at the end of the evening.

In response, Haesel told Lotsy, “Please take Charles a white heather and then return to your duties.”

Wishes will come true.

“Lotsy be doing that at once, Mistress,” Lotsy said before vanishing from sight.

“I’m so pleased for you, darling. Lord Prewett truly does love you,” Isadore said, sitting in a chair Lotsy had moved to the bathroom at Haesel’s request. 

Haesel scooped a handful of bubbles out of her bath and blew them at her mother, who laughed. It was something that Haesel used to do when she was a little girl. Knowing that this would be her last few hours as a Potter maiden had her feeling especially nostalgic.

“Do you remember when I slid down the banister of the grand staircase when I was seven?” Haesel asked, recalling how her hair flapped behind her before she crashed into the floor.

“And broke your arm? Yes, darling, of course I remember that. You didn’t cry at all,” Isadore said. 

“It didn’t seem fair to cry when Papa was hovering and bawling his eyes out, terrified that I would die,” Haesel said.

Isadore smiled ruefully and said, “Your father worries.”

Haesel knew that that was true. Her father was brilliant and cared for his family more than he cared for himself. He was more likely to cry when Haesel and Henry were sick or injured than they were.

“Papa is going to cry so much today,” Haesel said, knowing it would be true. 

“He started last night,” Isadore replied, a gentle fondness in her eyes. “Not that I can blame him, of course. Things will be very different in the manor from now on.”

“Yes, they will.”

She was so excited for her bonding; it felt right all the way down to her magical core. Haesel loved Charles. She didn’t doubt for a second that they would have a wonderful life together. They already had the best of starts and Haesel only saw things getting even better between them as their love aged like a fine wine.

“Stop fiddling with your fingernails, darling. You’ll chip the varnish,” Isadore admonished.

“Yes, Mama,” Haesel replied, surprised to discover that she was, in fact, dragging her fingernails against each other. She thought she had overcome that habit years ago.

So, yes, she was excited. At the same time, Haesel was nervous. Moving forward meant, by necessity, leaving things behind. Her family wouldn’t be just down the hall as they always had been. She would have a new home, new rooms, new heraldry colors, a new name, and new responsibilities. 

Thankfully, Lotsy would be coming with her, so she would at least have that comfort of home. After all, Lotsy wasn’t one of the Potter family house-elves. She was Haesel’s personal attendant. It was Haesel’s personal magic that fed Lotsy and kept her healthy and, in return, Lotsy was absolutely loyal to her. So, naturally, when Haesel bonded with Charles and moved into Prewett Manor, Lotsy would accompany her. 

Haesel loved Charles. He was her lord; there was no question of that. She also knew that he loved her with everything that he was. His heartsong serenaded her even now, humming through her blood and bones.

It would be a momentous change. But—

“Get out of the bath, darling,” Isadore said. “You’ve soaked long enough. There is still a great deal to do before Lord Prewett arrives to retrieve you and take you to your new home.”

“Yes, Mama,” Haesel replied, leaving the tub after her mother exited the bathroom.

Haesel slowly toweled herself dry, absently running magical fingers over the family magic like a harp as she did so, more cognizant of its presence and power than ever before. She would still have access to it in the future. She was, after all, a Potter by blood. Yet, she couldn’t help but wonder how the Prewett family magic would sound and feel once she bonded with Charles. Would it be harmonious with the Potter family magic, or would the two clash inside of her?

She donned the dressing gown resting on the stool beside the tub and tied it shut as she walked out into her dressing room. 

“Take a seat, darling,” Isadore said as she ushered Haesel over to the stool before her vanity. Isadore dried Haesel’s hair in silky waves and began brushing it with a wistful smile. 

Tonight, Charles would brush her hair. It would likely be years before anyone other than Charles brushed it. When that happened, it would probably be because Merlin was old enough to tend it. 

“I’m nervous,” Haesel confessed. 

Her mother paused in her ministrations, hands still twisted up in Haesel’s hair as the brush ceased smoothing out the strands. Isadore met her gaze in the mirror and said, “He won’t hurt you. Even before your father made him swear on the Prewett family magic not to ever knowingly harm you, I knew he wouldn’t. He’s a good man, darling.”

“I know,” she said, glancing away. 

Haesel had never been the slightest bit worried that Charles would harm her physically. Yet, that didn’t stop the nervous anticipation about her coming bonding. Haesel knew they would bond in the Ancient Ways under the Olde Magick, as Myrddin Emrys bonded Morgan le Fay. She wasn’t scared of what was going to happen, but she was nervous about it.

Having knowledge of a subject wasn’t the same thing as having experienced something.

What would it feel like when their magic twined fully together on a soul-deep level never to be parted? What would it feel like when his body merged with hers? What would it feel like to be known so wholly and intimately?

And what would it feel like to live in Prewett Manor as the Lady of the House, instead of at Potter Manor, with her family, as a much beloved daughter?

Haesel met her mother’s eyes in the mirror—the eyes that were identical to her own—and said, “I love him, but I’m going to miss you all so much, Mama. So much.”

“Oh, darling, we’ll be here whenever you want to come see us. You can come everyday if you want. You know I visit my parents several times a week. You’re not losing us, Haesel; you’re gaining more family,” Isadore said and hugged her. 

That was exactly what she needed to hear.

“I’m going to visit so often that you’ll get sick of me and Papa will claim that I need to start paying like a tenant,” Haesel said, fighting back tears. 

Isadore tittered with a merriment that brightened the mood. “Your papa will likely invade Prewett Manor at least once a week and sit himself at your dinner table without invitation.”

“He would!”

“I’m fairly certain he’s already planning on it. So this is your forewarning, darling,” Isadore replied mirthfully.

“Thank you for the warning,” Haesel said, though the warning was unnecessary. She was certain that Charles wouldn’t mind them hosting a weekly family dinner. It wouldn’t surprise her in the least if he already expected her to ask for that and was prepared to immediately agree to the suggestion. 

Haesel closed her eyes to shut out all of her niggling worries. She focused on Charles’s heartsong which resonated inside of her. It was more captivating than a Syren could ever hope to be.

When she returned her attention to her surroundings, her mother was putting the finishing touches on her hair. It was a masterpiece, a true work of art.

The smile on Isadore’s face was bittersweet as she traced her fingers down Haesel’s face. She repeated the same words she had spoken in Prewett Manor about a week ago, saying, “It seems like just yesterday that I held you in my arms for the first time. And now you’re all grown up.” 

“Oh, Mama....”

“There,” Isadore said, leaning her cheek against Haesel’s and smiling, “it’s perfect. You’re so beautiful, darling.”

“Thank you, Mama. I think you can take half the credit for that,” Haesel replied. 

“And your father will proudly claim the other half,” Isadore said with a laugh.

Her mother’s laugh was one of Haesel’s favorite sounds in the world. It meant she was home. It meant she was loved and safe. It would always mean that, even when the world changed around them.

“All right, darling, up you get. You’ll need help with the gown,” Isadore instructed.

There was no question of that. While Haesel could, technically, fasten her bonding robes with magic, it was traditional for a bride’s mother to attend to her toilette on her bonding day. Haesel knew exactly how much this meant to her mother and she would do nothing to spoil it. This was a gift that Haesel could give her mother that Isadore would never get to experience again, as Haesel was her only daughter. 

When everything was in its proper place, Haesel stared at her reflection. She had no words and, for once, neither did her mirror. 

The formal bonding gown was very flattering. It fit like a glove from her bust to the bottom of her bum, and then the skirt flared out in a dramatic fashion. Her shoulders were bare, but sleeves started at her upper arms and swept down in the shape of white lily petals to cover her hands, symbolizing her purity. The ends of the sleeves hung to the floor and were slit all the way up. The alabaster Acromantula silk shimmered like the priciest of pearls. 

Isadore kissed her on the cheek and said, “Come down when you’re ready, darling. We’ll be waiting.” Then her mother left.

Haesel stared at her reflection silently, taking in every detail. She couldn’t find a single flaw in the gown. Elara and Evelyn had performed their work impeccably. She looked like a proper pureblood bride.

“I’m getting bonded today,” Haesel said.

“Yes, dear, you are,” the mirror said before sniffling.

It felt surreal, in the best of ways. After all the years she spent wondering which wizard Chaos had marked as her future lord-husband, after the joy of discovering Charles’s identity, after the weeks spent falling whole-heartedly in love with him, it was finally happening.

“Lady Haesel Prewett,” she said, relishing the way that it sounded.

“The Duchess of Heartfire Haven,” the mirror finished.

A shiver wracked its way down her spine. Her magic waltzed across her skin with rapturous delight in a brilliant display. The mark burned and Charles’s heart thumped steadily in her chest.

When Haesel opened her door a while later, ready to head down to join her family and Charles, she paused and stared at the wizard who was leaning against the corridor wall opposite the door to her suite. 

“Uncle Valerius?” 

“I missed out on being your supper companion at your coming of age gala when Charles displaced me. I wasn’t going to miss out on this, little lady. I offered to escort you downstairs,” Valerius said, proffering his arm. His blond hair hung down to his shoulders in soft waves.

“Oh!” Haesel said, flushing as she realized that she had never even asked who her mother and grandmother had ended up choosing as her supper companion for the gala. By the time it came to dine, the name card to the left of hers read Lord Charles Prewett in her grandmother’s exemplary penmanship. “Thank you, Uncle Valerius.”

“You’re welcome, Haesel. Now, let’s hurry up. Or else everyone will think you’ve snubbed Lord Prewett,” Valerius teased.

Haesel threw her head back and laughed at the absurd assertion. Given how she had acted around her family since Charles waltzed her out of that alcove and onto the ballroom floor, she couldn’t imagine even the fiercest skeptic believing she would snub Charles on their bonding day.

She linked her arm with his and let her Uncle Valerius escort her to the top of the grand staircase, strategically standing so as to block her from view of those below. He winked playfully and then stepped aside, allowing an unimpeded look at her in all of her bonding finery.

For a moment, she couldn’t hear anything over the sound of Charles’s heartsong.

Then, as Valerius escorted her down the stairs, ensuring she didn’t trip on her voluminous skirts, Haesel realized that it was silent because everyone was staring at her in speechless awe.  

“I’ll leave you here,” Valerius said before kissing her cheek and handing her over to her father when they reached the bottom.

“Well, look at you. Aren’t you beautiful, my little princess?” James asked, tears in his eyes.

Haesel smirked up at him and declared, “You can take credit for the half that wasn’t Mama’s contribution.”

For the next while, Haesel and her loved ones posed for photographs as several of the Potter house-elves documented the momentous occasion.

Then, it was time.

Her father grasped her hands and kissed the insides of her wrists before saying, “Haesel, it has been my honor to watch you grow into the wonderful woman you are today. Your mother and I are very pleased with you. We have treasured you these long years, and it’s with joy and well wishes for your future that we grant your hand in bonding to Lord Charles Ignatius Prewett.”

Haesel trembled as his words rippled through the family magic. The Potter family magic rang with a sonorous bell-like tone through the manor.

“Do you consent to this bonding?” James asked.

The room quieted, and she could just hear her grandfathers beginning to cry. Grandmama Dorea and Grandmother Mabel were already sniffling into handkerchiefs. Henry smiled brightly at her, though it had a tinge of bittersweetness to it. Her mother’s love poured down their familial bond from where she stood at James’s other side. And Zach was trying and failing to look unaffected as he leaned against the wall next to Uncle Valerius.

Yet, it was the rapture in Charles’s eyes as he stared at her that Haesel knew she would remember best in the years to come.

“With all my heart,” she said.

James walked her over to Charles and placed her hand in his. Then with a final kiss to her cheek, he stepped back.

Charles hugged her close and said, “I promise that you’ll see her soon,” before Disapparating them. 

She felt them pass through what felt like battle wards—didn’t Bill work for Gringotts?—and then melted against him as the Prewett family magic embraced her. It slotted neatly into place beside the Potter family magic, despite her worries earlier.

“Welcome home to Prewett Manor,” Charles said. 

Haesel grasped the back of his neck and pulled him down, so that she could kiss him. When her lips touched his, she felt his heart thunder in her chest. Heat built inside of her. This time, it wouldn’t be left to burn itself down to ashes. No, she and Charles would finally be able to quench the fires of their passions together. 

Charles’s eyes darkened and he breathed more heavily as he withdrew from the kiss. “The renovations are complete. I’ll give you the tour—”

“Charles,” Haesel interrupted, voice firm, “I don’t want the tour. I want you.”

“—later. Possibly tomorrow,” he hastily substituted, before kissing her again. “You can meet the rest of the house-elves then, too. But for now, I’ll take you to our suite. It’s going to be my favorite part of the manor.” 

Charles swept her up into his arms. Haesel blushed at the implication and her own forwardness, but couldn’t deny that she was curious and looking forward to what was coming. 

“And there you will honor me as Merlin honored Morgana,” Haesel said as he conveyed her through the manor.

“I will. I swear it,” Charles vowed with all sincerity.

He carried her over the threshold of their suite, and then shut the door behind them with his foot. Once it closed, Haesel kissed Charles with all of the hunger and desire that she no longer had to deny. His heartsong swelled as her magic rose to meet it. She begrudged the need to breathe, for if it weren’t a necessity she wouldn’t have cause to stop kissing the wizard who was about to become her lord-husband. 

“Haesel, beloved, I seek the sanctuary of your flesh,” he groaned against her lips.

“I offer it freely, Charles, please,” she begged, magma flowing through her veins.

Finally, Charles swept Haesel off to their bonding bed in a storm of primal magic. It was covered in amaranth and forget-me-not flowers.

Unfading true love. 

As passion consumed them, Haesel sent a silent prayer of gratitude to Chaos for guiding her to such a wonderful wizard. Charles was everything that she could ever want in a lord-husband. And whatever potential difficulties and challenges appeared in the future, whatever coming events required the return of the Court of the Once and Future King, she was comforted to know that she would not face it alone.

She was Lady Haesel Prewett, the Duchess of Heartfire Haven, and the future was just beginning.