A/N: Look, I know it's been an age, I'm sorry. Writing is hard, and so are mental health issues. But I am back now with renewed confidence in myself and this story. I hope you enjoy after what I know has been an unbearable wait (on a cliffie, no less). As always, reviews are appreciated. Also, in other news, I am writing an original novel! Details (though light, obviously) to follow. Love you all so, so, so much. xx TSA

Chapter 9: Nothing on My Tongue but Hallelujah

"...Even though it all went wrong I'll stand before the Lord of Song with nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah..."

Boom.

Lucius and Ariadne's magic collided with a bone-crushing clap, and Leolin was torn from Adrian's grip and thrown backwards. Her head hit the ground a second later, and her vision went white.

She could neither see or hear Lucius, but she could feel his rage singing in her skull, and the pressure of it was so great she thought she might go mad. She grit her teeth and screamed as its potency increased, and she felt her sanity fracturing into a savage kaleidoscope of thought and memory. She clung bitterly to lucidity as his displeasure crescendoed, but she found she knew nothing in that moment but his fury as it threatened to tear her in two.

Then all at once, it stopped.

Her mind continued to whirl, and only the slow, cold echo of her heartbeat told her she was not dead. Panic crested as her facultes slouched back together, struggling to remind her who and where she was .Still dazed, Leolin's eyes dragged open, a tear slipping from the corner and down her cheek as she found she was able to turn her head.

Not paralyzed then, she realised numbly. She blinked several more times, feeling beginning to return to her fingers and toes, which twitched compulsively.

The Embassy. She was at the American Embassy, and Lucius was...

Her pulse quickened, and she fought through the haze colours and shapes and the shrill buzzing in her ears.

Draco.

Ariadne.

She had to—

Leolin turned her head the other way and felt her heart stutter and start in her chest. There, lying across the ballroom, was Ariadne, and as Leolin's gaze swam back to focus, they locked eyes.

Alive. Ariadne was alive, though she didn't seem to be moving.

Leolin grit out a cry as she rolled onto her stomach. She had to get to her.

The world was coming back into focus now, and she fought down a wave of nausea at the heaving, frothing chaos around her. The ballroom continued to reel as she fought to get her bearings, and she felt as if she were on a drunken carousel with no means to get off.

"Mum," she felt her croak. "Mum!"

She pitched to her feet, weaving like a serpent before finding her balance and pitching upright. Some vague part of Leolin reminded her that Adrian was probably still there, but she didn't slow or bother to look for him as she picked her way through the carnage, pausing only to cover her head at the intermittent shower of sparks raining down from above. She could still see Ariadne laying twenty yards off. She tried not to think about what it meant that Ariadne still hadn't moved as she got closer and closer. Her back could be broken, or her spine damaged, or—

The buzzing in Leolin's damaged ears grew to a dull roar as she nearly reached Ariadne's side, the blood throbbing in them hard enough to make her dizzy again. A shove from behind had her falling to hands and knees, and she crawled the last few feet, seeing now what she hadn't been able to at a distance; though Ariadne's eyes indeed remained open, no light shone in them.

"Mum," Leolin mouthed, gripping Ariadne's shoulder.

She didn't stir.

"Mum!"

Leolin grabbed her wrist, trying to quiet the throb in her skull to hear for a heartbeat.

She found only silence.

Rocking back on her heels, Leolin felt a primal tether in her chest snap from its mooring. She collapsed forward, omitting a silent scream as she cradled Ariadne's head in her lap and began to sob.

Draco's hands had still been bound when Lucius had touched Ariadne, and the succeeding blast threw his head back into the marble pillar. His skull and teeth sang at the impact, and a moment later his world went back. When he came to, he had no sense of how much time had passed, preoccupied instead with the roaring in both ears. He looked around in disoriented panic, trying to take in the magnitude of the hell breaking loose all around him.

The collision of Lucius's power and whatever shield Ari produced had torn the wards guarding both the manor and the city wide open, and Draco watched dazedly as people began disappearing at will, skirmishes continuing to break out as Solarrii soldiers lunged for prisoners. He shook his head, feeling like top who no longer has the energy to keep spinning. He shook his head again, fighting down a swelling urge to vomit. None of it mattered, he reminded himself.

Leolin. He had to find Leolin.

Slowly, painfully, he staggered up, weaving on unsteady feet and leaning on the now-broken pillar, eyes furiously scanning the crowd. He couldn't see her through the carnage, and he attempted another step.

This time he pitched forward, and he would have eaten marble were it not for the hand at his elbow. He turned, still bathed in buzzing silence, to find Felix at his side looking grave. His mouth was moving in rapid agitation, but Draco only shook his head.

"Leolin," he felt the word form on his lips, even though he couldn't hear himself say it. "Find Leolin."

Beside him Felix continued to speak, and Draco drunkenly shook his head again, gesturing to his ear. Felix drew his wand and flicked it, and suddenly the cacophony of chaos crashed into Draco, making him wince.

"Leolin!" he shouted, squeezing his eyes shut and fighting to master himself. "We need to find Leolin and Ariadne."

Felix's eyes—keen as his vulpine namesake—raked the ballroom for a few seconds before he froze, body going rigid. Draco followed his gaze and felt his knees nearly give way.

There lay Leolin in a crumpled heap, a limp figure with dark hair the same colour as her own cradled in her arms. Draco could tell from this distance, even without Leolin, that Ari was dead.

He swayed, and Felix's grip tightened on his elbow as he choked out a noise.

He had to go to her. He had to—

Before Draco could make a move, his felt a cold prickle at the edge of his vision, and his gaze flicked up to see Adrian labouring to his feet twenty-odd yards off. Draco watched his lambent eyes scan the butchery before finding Leolin—sobbing and unaware—across the ballroom.

Draco turned to Felix, grabbing his arm.

"Get them out! Chaisson, you have to get them out now!"

"Come with us!" Felix cried over the screams. "This whole place is going to cave in!"

Indeed, plaster and glass were raining down as the building groaned and shivered. The more the apparations tore open the ward, the more the foundation quaked. Felix was right; the Embassy was mere minutes from total collapse.

"Draco!"

Draco shook his head, watching over Felix's shoulder as Adrian continued to fight a path to Leolin.

"Get her out!" Draco repeated, eyes pleading now. "Please Chaisson, now!"

Felix growled but relented, sprinting nimbly to Leolin's side and folding down beside her. She snarled the violation as he reached to take hold of her, Ariadne's body still clutched in her arms. However, after a second they disappeared, and Draco felt a stricture in his chest eased. With Leolin gone, he turned his attention back to Adrian only to find the latter staring back, teeth bared.

Draco broke the contact only long enough to spot a katana like Leolin's lying at his feet. It fell into his outstretched left palm with a flick of his boot, and he extended it with a satisfying snap even as he drew his wand with his right hand. He looked up again to see hatred and fear—real fear—bloom in Adrian's eyes.

"You are dead," he called hoarsely across the expanse between them. "I am going to kill you."

The ballroom had nearly emptied by then, the relative silence buzzing louder than the chaos had. Adrian bared his pearly teeth again, stark white against his dust-laden skin.

"You'll have to catch me first," he said, backing into the nearest shadow. "Tell Leolin I'll see her soon."

In a flash he'd drawn his wand, sending a curse into the ceiling just as Draco advanced.

Draco cried out and covered his head as the stained glass window above shattered, raining down jagged shards that pommeled the shattered marble floor in a lethal thunderstorm.

When he looked up again, Adrian had gone. He was alone.

The katana clattered from Draco's boneless grip as he collapsed to his knees. The once-lovely ballroom lay in utter ruin, dozens of bodies still scattered throughout. Remnants of his father's foul magic still lingered in the air, turning their blood black beneath them.

The last bastion of the city, destroyed. Draco squeezed his eyes shut against the horror of what this battle had cost them, trying to find some semblance of calm. He shouldn't linger. Adrian could return with more Solarrii, or worse, his father. Still, he wasn't sure he was ready to go back to the abbey, either, knowing what awaited him there.

Finally he took a shuddering breath, closing his eyes against the savage graveyard of the Embassy before disappearing in a cold pop.

He was barely able to keep his feet as he landed in the courtyard, where a smattering of figures stood assembled. Draco's eyes fell on Blaise first, and the relief slammed into him a moment before Blaise did. They didn't often physically express affection for one another, but Draco didn't resist as Blaise wrapped a hand around the back of Draco's neck, allowing him to bury his face in Blaise's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, mate," Blaise said, thumping Draco on the back.

Draco clenched his jaw, fighting not to cry. He was not so insecure a man that he couldn't admit how much he wanted to give into Blaise's comfort and sob like a child, but he knew couldn't afford to be weak tonight.

Leolin needed him to be strong, and for her he could be. Had to be. For her, he assured himself, he could be anything.

He pulled away, bracing Blaise's shoulder.

"Where is she?" he said hoarsely.

"Upstairs. Gin and Chaisson are with her."

Draco nodded tightly.

"And Ari?"

Blaise's face remained stolid, though his eyes stormed.

"Leolin refuses to leave her side."

Again, Draco just nodded, cuffing Blaise's shoulder before striding towards the stairs without a backwards glance to the others. He took the stairs two at a time, eyes glued to the stone as he forged upward.

"Draco."

He slowed without turning, and Langdon Blackburn caught up to him easily, grabbing Draco by the elbow.

"A word?"

Draco clenched his jaw.

"Can it wait?" he said, fighting not to jerk out of Langdon's firm grip. "I need to—"

"I'm afraid not," Langdon said, handsome face stern. "This is urgent."

Draco tensed but didn't object.

"You need to get Leolin away from her mother's body. There is no telling what kind of dark magic is still clinging to Ariadne from the collision, but whatever reaction it produced, it's likely toxic. Leolin could get seriously ill if she's exposed to it for too long."

Draco nodded, trying to force down a mounting hysteria.

"Thank you."

Langdon gave a short, sympathetic nod before slackening his grip so Draco could continue his ascent.

His composure was in tatters by now, and a new wave of adrenaline surged at the idea that Leolin might still be in danger. He could feel his breaths growing more shallow, so much so that his cheeks and lips began to buzz from a lack of oxygen.

Panic attack, he realised dully. He was having a panic attack.

Hand pressed to his chest, he stumbled sideways into a wall, drawing his wand and producing a bubble charm to get himself breathing his own air. The effect was nearly instantaneous, and he forced himself to take several steadying breaths before continuing up the final flight of stairs and rounding the corner.

Ginny and Felix sat on the floor outside Ariadne's closed bedroom door, head to head and knee to knee. At his arrival they both scrambled up.

"How is she?" Draco said in a whisper.

Ginny and Felix exchanged a look before she shook her head.

"She hasn't said a word yet," Ginny said. "But Drake, Langdon Blackburn told us tha—"

"I know," Draco interrupted, unable to bear hearing it again.

"We'll wait for you out here," Felix said in a solemn tone.

Draco nodded, giving the other man's shoulder a grateful squeeze as he stepped aside. Readying himself, Draco unlocked the door and slipped inside, closing and re-locking it behind him.

At seeing Leolin curled against Ari's still form on the bed, Draco couldn't breathe. His heart was a collapsing star in his chest, a black hole whose pull threatened to tear his soul from its mooring. For a terrifying second he thought Leolin was unconscious, but after a second she stirred slightly, and his pulse began beating again. He approached the bed and crouched down so they were eye level, extending his arms slightly.

"Leolin," he said, unsurprised to find himself barely able to speak. "Please, my love, you have to come away from there or you'll be sick."

There were tendrils of oil-dark magic swirling softly off Ariadne's body, and Leolin's skin had indeed taken on an ashen pallor, her lips withering to a corpse's grey.

"I don't care," she said, voice shattered and soft. "I hope it kills me."

"Leolin," he pleaded. "This isn't what she would have wanted from you."

At this Leolin went rigid, through her grip on Ari only tightened. Something in Draco strained to breaking and snapped, and he grit his teeth to fracture the sob that clawed up his throat.

"Please," he said, a tear slipping down his cheek. "Leolin, please."

He choked off another sob as she sat up, touching Ari's face with heart-rending gentleness. She then let out a sob of her own, and he surged forward, tugging her off the bed before collapsing to the carpet with her in his arms.

She buried her face into his neck and began to cry in earnest.

"I know," he said, tears falling into the dark satin of her hair. "I'm so sorry, darling."

Lying there with a broken Leolin in his arms, Draco found himself again in that dingy hotel room at the very heart of rock bottom, feeling smaller and more lost than he'd ever been. Ari had been so much more than a friend or even a mother to him; she had a been a beacon of hope in a sea of despair. With that light extinguished, he didn't know quite where he was anymore, even with Leolin clutched in his arms.

Draco's tightened his embrace as her sobs waned then began anew. Leolin—his Leolin—who had always been her mother's most precious treasure. Of all the many unearned kindnesses and gifts Ariadne had bestowed on him over the years, Leolin had always been the most dear, and his heart ached with the weight of that debt, a debt which he would never now get the chance to repay.

"I'm sorry," he breathed into Leolin's hair, willing himself not to fall apart. Not yet. "Callie, I—I'm so sorry."

"It should have been me," she said in a hoarse, broken whisper, fingers tangled in his filthy jacket. "This is my fault."

"No," he said, pulling back and wiping her tears even as savagely forced down his own. "Never."

Leolin's lip quavered.

"I don't know how to live without her, Drake. I'm not sure I even can."

"I know," he breathed. "But we will find a way. Together."

"The funeral," she said abruptly. "It should be at the estate in LLangollen."

He nodded, and she continued. "I don't want anyone—" she broke off, fending off a fresh sob. "I can't bear a lavish ceremony. I want—I need it to just be us and James."

"Okay," he said, brushing a kiss to her temple.

"Okay," she whispered, lips trembling again.

Draco pulled her gently to his chest, unsure if he'd ever be able to bear letting go. He stroked her hair, whispering soothing reassurances in broken Welsh, and—when that failed him—in French.

He was unsure how long they stayed there, but it was only when she'd cried herself to sleep that he dared move, Leolin still tucked to his chest. Gently he stood and nudged open the door to find Felix and Ginny already on their feet.

"Don't let anyone into the room until Langdon Blackburn examines the body," he instructed in a whisper. "And find James. The funeral has to be tomorrow, and he'll likely want to stay with Ari until then."

Ginny nodded, brushing a hand down Leolin's hair before looking up into Draco's face, her hand bleeding to his cheek.

"Are you alright?" she murmured, and his throat was so tight it was a wonder he could breathe at all.

"No," he admitted. "But Leolin needs me to be strong. I have to keep it together until after the funeral."

"We're here for you," Felix said. "Ne perds pas espoir, mon frère."

Draco nodded his acceptance, more grateful for Felix than he could have ever imagined being.

"Thank you," he breathed. "Both of you."

Leolin stood in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection. She searched and searched her face, but she found that it was her mother who stared back. The same storm-ridden eyes, the same full lips and dark hair. People had always told her they looked alike, but Leolin had never quite seen how much until now. Her mother's beauty had always seemed so idyllically unattainable to Leolin, her face imbued with a wisdom and kindness Leolin was so sure she'd never achieve.

Ariadne's last words still echoed in Leolin's ear, as if she was standing behind Leolin like she so often had.

Bod yn ddewr, fy mhlentyn. Be brave, my daughter.

Leolin shook her head at her reflection.

"I don't know how," she pleaded softly. "Tell me what to do."

She waited for a response, or to feel Ariadne reassuring hand on her shoulder, but in the end she found only silence. A crushing, deafening silence she'd never known. Even in her darkest hours, she'd always felt Ariadne's guiding hand at her back, urging her onward. Without that guidance, she wasn't sure she still knew who she was.

She reached out to touch the cool glass, half-expecting Ariadne's to step through it and into her waiting arms. Come back to me, Leolin willed her. Even as a shadow. Even as a dream. Her vision blurred with tears, and when she blinked them away, Ariadne was gone, and it was her own reflection peering back.

She didn't turn at the sound of the door to the bedroom opening behind her, still beseeching her mother's spectre to reappear in the mirror. Draco said nothing as he came up behind her, silver eyes studying her expression in the reflection. He slid his warm hands around her waist and she let him, pressing her cheek to his jaw and breathing in his scent.

"It's almost time," he said after a minute, warm breath caressing her cheek. "You need to get dressed."

She didn't reply, but nor did she object when he loosened the tie on her silk dressing gown, pulling it from her shoulders until it pooled at her ankles. He then retreated to the bed behind her, carefully picking the black stockings off the bed and kneeling at her feet. Steadying herself with a hand on his shoulder, she lifted her right foot to allow him to roll the stocking up to her mid thigh and before securing it there with a murmured spell. He then repeated the gesture on the other foot before retrieving her dress and helping her step into so he could zip it up. Wordlessly, she extended the arms back to allow him to slide a heavy wool coat over her shoulders, unfocused gaze slipping to the mirror again and lingering, even as she deftly put out a hand for him to steady her as she stepped into black pumps.

When she was dressed he came to stand in front of her, obscuring the mirror with the broad expanse of his shoulders.

"I love you," he breathed, brushing a thumb across her cheek. "Wastad."

Always.

She surged forward to kiss him at the word, and his lips were soft and firm against hers.

"You are my safe harbour," she said, more a plea than a statement.

He nodded, brushing his lips to hers again.

"Wastad, cariad."

She nodded then, too, and he stepped back, handing her a pair of supple leather gloves from the pocket of his own coat before threading his fingers through hers and leading her from the room.

Outside the sky roiled with a coming storm, and Leolin pulled the tall collar of her coat up to her ears, feeling as if she could almost hear her mother's voice in the shushing wind. She was relieved to find a crowd had not gathered, only Felix, Blaise, and Ginny having come to see them off. She was even more grateful when no one spoke, offering her tender but unsmiling expressions instead.

"Where is James?" she said in greeting, voice slightly hoarse from sobbing and disuse.

It was Draco who answered, appearing at her side holding the sleek onyx urn.

"He left for Llangollen about an hour ago. He said he wanted—"

Leolin nodded and he broke off, gently extending the slender urn to Leolin. She took a shuddering breath, feeling dull, grief-soaked panic rising up. Draco didn't move to press her, and after a moment she extended a shaking hand to accept it. He didn't insult her by asking if she was ready to go. Instead, he extended a wordless hand for her to hold, which she took gratefully.

She glanced at the others as a threstral-drawn carriage landed in a gravel, the quadrant wickering softly.

"Thank you," she managed, and Felix nodded.

"We'll be here when you get back. Take your time, lapin."

To this she only nodded again, accepting Draco's hand into the carriage. Soundlessly he shut the door and slid in beside her, his left arm extending across the back of the bench seat in silent invitation. She said nothing as she curled into his warmth, her mother's ashes still clutched to her chest.

It was less than an hour's journey to Llangollen, and the Madoc Estate looked more dreary and embattled than ever against the grey November sky. Even her grandmother's lovely roses looked wan, as if they understood what they were bearing witness to today. James was not out front the greet them, but Leolin could tell from their exchanged glance that she and Draco both knew where he'd probably gone.

Taking hands again, they started down the stone pathway that arced the the right of the manor house, following it to the glassy lake that yawned off the back of the Estate. It had been a favorite spot of Ariadne's since she was a child.

James stood silhouetted in the gloom, back to them as he looked out over the lake. He stood still as death, and if had not be for the soft plume of condensation slithering from his lips, Leolin might have thought he wasn't even breathing. Letting go of Draco's hand, she went to her stepfather's side, looping her arm though his. He didn't move, and they stood for what felt like a lifetime, one that stretched on almost as long as the years they now faced alone.

Finally, he turned to her, eyes red-rimmed as they took her in. He drank her in as if he were dying of thirst, and Leolin could tell that he was seeing in her face the same thing she'd seen in the mirror that morning. Wordlessly she held up the urn to him, and his face crumpled, pale lips trembling as a strangled sound escaped them. He looked down as if he meant to take the proffered cylinder before shaking his head and taking a small step away.

"I—" he choked, shaking his head again. "My darling girl, I'm sorry, but I—I can't—"

He broke off, and Leolin nodded.

"I understand," she told him, and she meant it. If their places were reversed, if he stood offering her Draco's ashes— "Do you want me to wait for you?"

She could see the shame as it flickered across his face, as it settled over his shoulders like a leaden cloak, bowing his back as if he were a man forty years older. Handing the urn back to Draco, she gingerly placed her gloved hands on her stepfather's damp cheeks.

"I'll do it here," she told him, wiping a tear away as tried to escape down his cheek. "You can come see her when you're ready."

James stumbled over another sob even as he nodded.

"You are more like her than you will ever know," he told her softly, and Leolin felt the words fill her chest, buoying her ever-sinking heart.

"Thank you," she breathed, and he pressed forward to kiss her forehead before gently pulling away from her embrace and disappearing with a soft pop.

Leolin and Draco said nothing for several minutes after he'd gone, and Leolin let the silence wash over her, straining to hear her mother's voice on the wind again. Eventually she drew her wand from her coat pocket, running the soft yew through her fingers. After a minute of contemplation she turned to Draco, holding her wand out to him instead.

"Veux-tu lui donner une éternelle pleureuse?" she said softly, and he nodded, accepting her wand from her and flourishing it with a murmur.

The ground at their feet began to shimmer, then rise, the figure of a eternal mourner blossoming from the earth like a solemn flower, her head bent in supplication. She was exquisitely rendered, her veiled brow crowned with a corona of fresh white lilies. She knelt on a simple white marble pedestal, and inscribed on the base were the words, "unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality."

Leolin nodded her silent thanks accepting her wand back and then—after a minute—Ariadne's ashes. Draco extended a hand to help her as she knelt at the mourner's base, taking a breath whose evenness surprised her. She set down the urn with excruciating gentleness before removing the lid with the same care. Raising her wand, she coaxed the ashes from inside with a breeze charmed to flutter like a butterfly's wings. They both watched as the ashes rose, glittering, before catching the wind and blowing towards the lake.

Draco watched their journey for a moment before drawing his own wand. His falcon patronus appeared with a soft flick of his wrist, bearing the ashes farther out, across the Dee valley and into the Berwyn Mountains beyond. Leolin watched the dim, grey light reflecting off its wings before looking down at the pedestal again, where Ariadne's name had been etched under her epitaph. Removing a glove, Leolin ran her fingers over each letter.

"Even now my heart wants to follow where you've gone," She admitted into the soft, lulling silence, voice beginning to finally crack. "But I know I have to go on living, and that's the hardest part."

A single tear fell into the churned earth, and a Madoc rose bloomed from the spot where it fell, soon spawning others until they clustered around the mourner's base. At seeing it, Leolin felt her grief—her loss—hit her in an artic surge.

Her heart was a violin, the bow of her grief wringing a melody so finely edge from its strings that she felt herself being cut apart from the inside. She crumpled, clutching at the lapel of her coat as if to tear the instrument from her chest and silence its song.

Suddenly the whole ritual felt hollow and grotesque, and she had the urge to topple the mourner and tear the flowers to ribbons, as if she could bring Ariadne back to life simply by erasing all the evidence that proved she was gone.

But she couldn't, she realised. Not now, and not ever. Her mother was dead. She would always be dead, and unless there was a life beyond this one, Leolin would never see her again.

She let out a pained snarl, teeth clenched as the injustice of that fact washed over her. Ariadne was gone, and Leolin was alone. Her tears began again in earnest at the thought, and wordlessly Draco sank down beside her, touching her back.

"You are not alone," he told her quietly, reading her sorrow. "Leolin, you are never alone."

At this a soft wind ruffled her hair, and feeling her mother's fingers in its chilled brush on her cheek, she collapsed against Draco and sobbed.

Draco stepped out of Leolin's bedroom the next evening to find James standing in the hallway, dark eyes haunted but full of alacrity. He seemed to have mastered his grief since his breakdown the previous morning, and his expression was so full of love and concern that it made Draco's throat ache.

"How is she?" James asked softly.

Draco shook his head, driving a hand through his hair.

"I don't know what to do, how to help her," he admitted. "And I've just had word Crofton Teller and his cronies have joined the order, and that he's called for a council-at-large meeting tomorrow."

"He wastes no time, I see," James said, and Draco grunted his assent. "You have to go in her place."

Draco shook his head again, glancing back at Leolin's closed door.

"I can't leave her here like this." Draco didn't want to have to tell James that she'd barely spoken since breaking down at Ari's grave, and that despite his pleading, she hadn't eaten , and had drank no more than a glass or two of water. "Besides," he reasoned, not sure if he was trying to convince James or himself. "Chaisson is her second. When she's gone, he's in charge."

"That may be so, but you're her heart. She wouldn't want anyone to speak for her but you."

Draco bowed his head, throat aching again, and James clasped his shoulder.

"I will look after her, I promise."

"And who will look after you?"

James gave a said, wisened smile.

"Ari will. Being here, in this place she loved, I can still feel her with me."

Draco took a breath to expel the unbearable tightness in his chest.

"Go," James urge in a gentle voice. "Leolin will be alright, you'll see. She just needs a bit of time. Go and buy it for her."

Draco nodded, allowing James to tug him into a tight embrace. They stood there for a moment without speaking before James pulled away, clapping Draco on the back and retreating down the hall to the stairs.

Draco took another breath and slipped back into Leolin's room. He went to her desk and wrote her a quick note before setting it on her side table and gingerly sitting on the bed next to where she lay, deep under the thrall of a dreamless draught. In sleep her face was serene, and she had a panda teddy from her childhood pressed to her chest. He smoothed a hand down the conker brown silk of her unbound hair then bent to kiss her.

"I love you," he breathed onto her delicately parted lips, kissing her again and rising.

If he didn't leave now, he knew he'd never find the strength to do it. Casting her a final tender glance, he left her room and descended the grand staircase, intending to bid James a final farewell before leaving. He found the older man was standing at the window, staring through it and watching the last shreds of a variegated sunset as it gilded Sian's rose garden, the same one James and Ariadne had been married in. Draco found he couldn't bring himself to shatter the moment, knowing that if he did, he'd be spoiling the memory as well. Instead, he indulged in a final glance up the stairs before he slipping from the estate and into the damp twilight.

Now that he didn't have Leolin with him, he simply apparated back to the abbey, relieved when he reached the courtyard and found he was alone. He took a back staircase up to his and Leolin's bedroom, having decided on taking a nap before scrounging up some dinner. Leolin had been up most of the night crying, and he hadn't wanted to fall asleep until she had. As a result, he'd gotten very little rest in the last two days, and weariness was tugging on his bones.

However, when he finally sank down on the bed he found something else tugging at him instead, and despite all the promises he'd made to himself, he felt his eyes begin to burn.

Ari was dead, and his father had killed her. Ari, who had been his safe harbour and his redemption, who had seen good in Draco when he was at his lowest. Ari, who'd shown him the path back to Leolin when he couldn't see it himself.

He bent his head and began to sob in a way he hadn't since that day she found him in the hotel room in Riga, his shoulders shaking with their violence. He wept for Leolin, who'd already endured the sufferings of ten lifetimes, and for James, who'd only had a few years with the love of his life before losing her. Most selfishly, Draco wept for himself, for the swelling grief in his chest, which rose with every one of his pointless attempts to push it down.

He sobbed until his throat ached and his eyes stung, but somehow he couldn't find a way to stop. He was so lost to it that he didn't hear the door open, and it was only when Ginny sat down beside him and laid her head on his shoulder that he realised he was no longer alone.

"I'm sorry," he said hastily, pressing his thumb and forefinger to his eyes to staunch the tears. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" she breathed, looping her arm through his and stroking his bicep. "You aren't doing anything wrong."

I feel like I'm failing Leolin," he choked, savagely fighting to master himself. "I promised myself I wouldn't cry while she still needed me."

"She's your mate, Drake. She will always need you. But she wouldn't want you to bury your pain; you'll allowed to grieve, too."

Another sob tore through Draco's tattered defenses, and he bowed his head. Ginny stroked his hair the way Ari had once done for him, and he cried harder.

"It's alright," Ginny soothed. "Let it out."

"I feel so lost," he confessed. "Leolin's a wreck and I don't know how to help her, especially when I feel like I'm drowning myself. It's so selfish, I—"

"It's not selfish," Ginny said, fingers sliding through his flaxen strands. "Ari was like a mum to you, too. It's natural you should feel this way."

"Does it ever stop?" he pleaded, and he could see the pain of Fred's death crossing over her face like a shadow. "I just need to make it stop."

"I wish there was," she said. "You just have to face it one day at a time, and take strength from knowing she'd died defending the most sacred thing in her life, and that now she's in a place beyond pain."

He straightened a little and wiped his eyes, his breath stuttering but no longer quite so fractured.

"Do you really believe in an afterlife?" he said, and she considered, burnished cognac eyes alight.

"I didn't really think about it before the war," she said. "But now I do. I have to; if I didn't, I don't know if I could handle it."

He nodded, taking another deep breath.

"How is Leolin?" Ginny asked, still smoothing circles across his broad back.

Draco pushed out another long breath.

"I worry she thinks Ari's death is her fault." he confessed, and felt his throat tightening again. "I just, I—I can't bear to see her in any more pain."

Ginny gave a sad, knowing smile as he bowed his head again.

"It's understandable, given how everything played out. But your girl is a bad bitch; she'll find a way through this, just like she has with everything else. All you can do is be there for her. And in the meantime," Ginny continued, touching Draco's chin so he'd look at her. "Be kind to yourself, Drake. Ari was your family too. Let yourself mourn for that. Do yourself that kindness. Please."

He nodded, and she brushed another of his tears away with her thumb.

"I don't deserve either of you," he said, and she smiled.

"Draco Malfoy, I had every reason in the world to hate your guts, and you still managed to win my loyalty, my admiration, and my eternal love and trust. And not just mine, but also the love and loyalty of that goddess among mortals you call a fiancée. If that doesn't prove your worthiness, I don't know what could."

He couldn't quite stifle a laugh as something eased in his chest for the first time in nearly three days.

"What's going on with Croften Teller?" he said after a minute. "Please tell me he just came to kiss the ring and beg for Leolin's forgiveness."

Ginny gave a sympathetic wince.

"I wouldn't count on it. He didn't give specifics about wanting to speak before the council-at-large, but I don't anticipate it being very pleasant, whatever he wants."

"It's impressive, for an almost perfect stranger, how much violence that sod manages to inspire in me."

"No arguments here," Ginny said. "But wanting to murder him isn't going to make him go away."

Draco let out another weighty breath.

"What?" Ginny said, reading his somewhat defensive body language.

"Leolin would know how to handle him. You should have seen her in Greece. She played the stupid nob like a fiddle."

"She has been known to have that effect on men," Ginny said, trying to keep it light.

"And despite everything, I think he respects her. If anyone could bring him to heel, it would be her. I worry about what he might accomplish in her absence."

"Nothing," Ginny said. "Because we won't let him. And I don't think he's very popular with the American cohort right now anyway. He didn't try and persuade Saint-Croix to evacuate. There's a lot of blood on his hands."

"Maybe," Draco said, running a hand through his hair. "But you know Yanks; they can be annoyingly obstinate if they feel like someone is telling them what to do."

"There's no sense in worrying about it until tomorrow. "In the meantime, get some rest; you look terrible."

He gave a hollow laugh, and she stood, bending to brush a kiss on his cheek.

"And remember, be kind to yourself. You promised me."

"I did know such thing," he said, voice teetering between humour and despair.

She touched his face with tender admiration.

"Then promise me now. For Leolin's sake, if not for your own."

His throat ached at the prospect of Leolin lying heartbroken and lost in the dreary old Madoc manor.

"Drake—"

"I promise," he said, cutting her off, and she gave a soft smile.

"Thank you. There's still probably some dinner left. Do you want me to make you a plate and bring it up here?"

"No, that's alright," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're right; I'm shattered. I think I'll just shower and go to bed."

Ginny nodded, brushing a hand against his forearm in salutation.

"I'll see you at breakfast, then."

With that, she left, shutting the door quietly behind her. Draco felt his chest tightening again as he stood and glanced in the mirror, hating how much of his father he saw staring back at him. Turning away, he shed his clothes and stepped into the shower, turning the water scalding and permitting himself to cry again.

Twenty minutes later he dressed in warm flannel pajama pants and a Slytherin t-shirt that Leolin had last worn and that still smelled faintly like her. When he finally emerged from the bathroom, it was to find Rodames was lying on the bed. He leapt up at seeing Draco, docked tail wagging excitedly as Draco pet him.

"Hey mate," he whispered quietly, throat tight again as Rodames nuzzled into Draco's touch.

Big as he was now, Draco could still remember who small he'd been the day Ari had given him to Draco.

"I don't even like dogs," he'd said as Ari handed him a Rodames small enough for him to hold with one hand.

"It's not a dog, it's a puppy," Ari had said, laughing as Rodames licked Draco's cheek in hesitant affection. "Everyone likes puppies."

Draco had held Rodames by the scruff the the neck, examining him with scrutiny.

"He is pretty cute."

"His name is Rodames," Ari'd said, petting the puppy's soft head as Draco tucked him back to his chest. "And when you look at him, I want you to think of me, and how much I love you, and how proud I am of the man you've become."

Draco could still feel how those words had moved him, and how hard he'd fought not to cry at the affection in her tone. As he watched Rodames now, big eyes sparkling as he looked up at Draco in admiration, Draco felt a sob clawing, unbidden, up his throat. When he let out another, Rodames began to whine, trying to wiggle his nose under the hand Draco brought up to cover his face.

He wrapped an arm around the dog's neck, and Rodames didn't object, only settled down next to Draco and kept vigil as Draco cried himself to sleep.

Gia sat at the small, shabby desk in her bedroom, still dressed only in undergarments and a silk robe as she stared down at mostly the blank parchment in front of her. A drop of onyx ink slipped of the nib of her quill, which she held poised over the stationary, and she watched as it hit the pristine surface and made a jagged stain. Trembling, she set the quill down, her gut twisting as she was reminded of the blood pooling under corpses, stained an oily black from the emperor's foul magic.

They still didn't seem to know how Leolin's mother had resisted his magic, but the memory of seeing his hand as it made to drive into Ariadne's chest one was that Gia knew she'd carry with her to her grave.

She could still hear Leolin's screaming in her ears, and it made her feel ill. There were many types of love, Gia mused, but there were few that seemed to run as deep as the love of a mother for her child.

Gia hadn't been able to stop thinking of her own mother since they'd escaped the embassy, even as she tried to brush the feeling aside. She'd hope the need to reach out to Lauren—who was with the rebels still fighting minor skirmishes in occupied France—would eventually pass.

It hadn't. In fact, it had grown to such a pitch that Gia knew she had to write to her. The problem was that she had no earthly idea what to say. She glanced down at the only word she'd managed so far:

Mum.

Her relationship with Lauren had always been strained, and despite her brother's urging, and her uncle's, and even her psychologist's, Gia could never seem to let the pain of Lauren's abandonment go and forgive her. Regardless of Lauren's assurances to the contrary, Gia had always felt like a shameful secret, an inconvenient daughter who'd been too black, too damaging to her mother's precious reputation, to be worth keeping.

An age-old resentment began to tighten in Gia's chest, and she made to crumple the parchment. However, a vision of Leolin, sobbing and broken on the floor with Ariadne cradled in her arms, flashed through Gia's mind, and she picked the quill up instead.

She'd told herself that she understood what war was, what it would entail, but seeing the carnage at the Embassy had shown her she was wrong. She'd thought after being in Florence and seeing the streets run red that she could handle it, but the truth was that she'd never really considered what it would be like to lose someone close to her. She felt guilty for being jealous of Leolin, considering that now she found herself selfishly thanking the stars that her family was still intact.

Watching Leolin lose Ariadne the way she had, Gia was finally forced to admit to herself that underneath it all, she loved her mother, and the added realisation she could easily die before getting to tell Lauren that spurred her to action.

Lowering the quill once more, she carefully wrote, Blaise and I are safe. I hope you are too, and I—" Gia paused, biting her lip. She knew what she ought to say, what deep down she wanted and needed to say, but instead she continued, "I miss you. Floo me when you're in a secure location."

She sat back, reading the line over and over again before signing, "xx, Giacomina."

There was a knock on the door just as she was setting down her quill, and hastily she muttered a drying spell on the ink as she called, "Brin, it's open."

The door swung in and closed a second later, and Gia turned...and shrieked.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" she snarled at Beau, retreating behind a silk dressing screen.

"You said 'come in'," Beau pointed out mildly, and Gia could hear him ambling around the room. The idea of him in her space, touching her things, made her want to scream.

"Actually, you'll find I didn't," she snapped, emerging in a slouchy sweater and dark leggings. She watched his eyes flit over her frame before flicking back up to study her face, and she had to physically fight the urge to claw his eyes out by curling her hands into fists. "And since when is your name 'Brindisi'?"

"Peace, sugar," he said, holding up his hands in surrender. "I didn't come here to fight."

"Well then, that's begs the obvious question of what you did come here for, doesn't it? I'm half-tempted to let Blaise catch you snooping around my bedroom just so I can watch him beat you to death."

Beau rolled his eyes, and Gia was about to snarl at him again to get out when he turned back to look at her, his expression solemn.

"I came to see if you're alright. If you needed—" he broke off, and if Gia hadn't know any better, she might have said he looked sheepish. "—someone to talk to, about the other night."

She scoffed, even as a roiling started in her gut again, horrible images of blood and death mottling her vision.

"And you honestly thought that I'd want to talk about it to you, of all people?"

He didn't balk at her rebuke, eyes dancing back and forth across her face. Of all the many things she hated about Beau Taylor, the fact he was handsome was the one she hated the most. That, and the fact that he was the only other one who'd been at the embassy and who understood just how horrible it'd been.

"I haven't been able to sleep more than a few hours since we got back," he admitted quietly. "Everything that happened, watching Lefevre's mother die like that, it keeps replaying in my mind." He broke off, running a hand through his dark hair. "Perhaps I came because I'm the one who needed to talk to someone about it."

"Well find someone else," Gia said in a flat tone, and she swore she saw his face fall the smallest fraction before he nodded.

"My mistake, then," he said, giving a genteel half-bow. "Apologies."

He turned on his heel to go, and glancing at the letter again, Gia screwed her eyes shut and said, "Taylor, wait."

He paused with his hand on the knob, turning to face her.

"I'm not over it, either," she confessed. "I'm not sure I'll ever be."

He considered this, and her, before speaking again. When he did, his cadence was langud but measured, as if he'd carefully picked each word.

"I don't believe that," he said after a measure. "For nineteen, you're a very tough young woman."

"I'm twenty," she said archly. "And a grown woman." She paused, letting her annoyance cool before adding, "but thank you."

He nodded.

"The offer stands. If you ever need someone to talk to about this, or anything else, let me know. Your foolish crush on Chaisson, for instan—"

"Get. out." she said, and he gave his usual lazy smile, though she thought she could still see the haunted wraith of a man who'd been beaten and raped shining in his eyes.

"My lady," he said, and strode out the door.

She waited several minutes before following, flexing her fingers as she walk to try and control their trembling. She wasn't sure she was ready to see Leolin after what had happened, or how Leolin would react to seeing her in turn. It couldn't have been easy, on top of everything else, to have a hoard of complete strangers watch your mother die. She took a steadying breath before she reached the iron door at the end of a long hall and pushed it open

The Order had more than doubled in size since the survivors of the Embassy and other various American cohorts had joined the order, and they'd abandoned the old chapter house for the disused chapel. It was surprisingly grand considering the austere life the brothers who'd once inhabited the abbey had lived, with vibrant stained glass windows and ornate fan vaults. Gia had helped Blaise and some of the others rotate the pews and raised them in escalation so they faced inward like an ampitheatre, instead of forward towards the alter, which had now been dragged to the centre of the space to form a makeshift focal point.

Unlike many of her fellow witches and wizards, Gia found the non-magical world rather engaging, and the transformed space reminded her of the House of Lords and Commons in Muggle London. Once, when she'd been sixteen and on break from Hogwarts, she'd charmed a guard to belief she was a member and had gone to the gallery to watch a session. It had been full of dissension and shouting, and she wondered if she wasn't in for something similar today.

The benches were already packed full, with the closed council occupying chairs which ringed what had become the council floor. Ignoring Beau, who lounged in his chair as if it were a throne, she made her way to her brother, who'd held the seat beside him empty for her. He had Ava cradled in the crook of one arm, and the other he slung over Gia's shoulders protectively as she sank down.

"Stai bene, piccola?" he asked, and she nodded, brushing a knuckle across her niece's cheek and making her gurgle.

"I'm fine," she said. She could feel him studying her the same way Taylor had, but somehow she found his scrutiny more annoying. "Smellita," she said, pushing his arm off and flicking her box braids over a shoulder to keep him from touching her again. "I said I was fine."

He pursed his lips.

"You haven't said anything about—" Blaise began, voice low.

She cut him off.

"Neither have you," she pointed out. "But you don't see me crawling up your arse about it."

"Don't be petulant," he said without malice. "I'm just worried about you."

"I know," she said finally, tone softening. After a pause she added, "I wrote to Mum."

His eyes glittered, and she could tell they were thinking the same thing. After what happened with Ariadne, there was no room for leaving anything unsaid.

"It's going to mean so much to her," he said, touching her cheek and giving her a smile that was warm but shadowed by grief. He had known Ariadne, too, she remember. "Thank you for doing that."

She pressed her hand against his.

"Ti amo," she said, and he smiled again.

"I love you too, topolina," he said, dropping his hand.

"How is Draco?" she said after a minute, and Blaise's jaw tightened in what she could tell was sympathetic pain. "Is he—"

Just then the doors boomed open, and Draco strode up what had—until yesterday—been the chapel's nave. His arrival was met with a bevy of whispers and small gasps of shock, but Draco ignored them, looking dangerous and stern. He strode to where Felix stood directly across from Gia and Blaise, and they cuffed arms at the elbow in the old Roman style but didn't speak. He then glanced across the way to Blaise and Ginny, trading a look with both of them before his eyes slid to Gia and he gave her a small wink, even as he remained unsmiling. He then turned, settling into the seat between Felix and Xavier Borgia and resting his right foot on the opposite knee.

"Shall we begin, then?" he said, sounding almost bored.

At this, a dozen voices began talking at once, mostly from the American cohort, before Crofton Teller, who was striding down from an upper pew to join Draco and the closed council on the floor, called, "Where is Miss Lefevre?"

Draco gave him a odious look.

"It's Ms.," he said, voice smooth and sharp as brandy as he drummed long fingers on the arm of his carved chair. "And she's not here."

"Yes," Teller said. "I think we can all see that. Where is she?"

Draco and Xavier traded a look that promised violence. Finally, indolently, Draco's diamond-bright eyes slid back to Teller.

"Her mother just died. I'll speak with her voice for now."

"With all due respect Mr. Malfoy," Teller grit out, his tone conveying little to no respect at all. "You're not in charge here."

Draco only sneered.

"Neither, I will remind you, are you."

Celeste rose to intervene from the second row of what Gia could now see was the American side.

"Please accept our condolences for her grievous loss," she said, looking stricken herself. "I understand better than anyone what she's going through, and it's a feeling I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy."

Gia watched Draco tense, could tell what he was just barely holding back: that if Celeste's father had only listened to Leolin, both he and Ariadne would still be alive now. Celeste seemed to sense this the same thing, and her shoulders rose as if she was preparing for a physical blow. However, Draco only gave a tight nod.

"Condolences to you as well."

Teller watched the exchange with prim impatience before beginning again.

"When is Miss Lefevre due to return?" He pressed

"Ms.," Draco corrected again archly. "And when she's ready."

"I understand and respect that," Teller said with little conviction. "But we have matters of grave importance to discuss."

A surge of murmurs began in the crowd, again from the American side of the gallery. Draco didn't react, only met Teller's scowl with one of his own, which was far more deadly.

"Such as?"

Teller clenched and unclenched his fist as if struggling to master himself.

"Such as," he snarled. "The Order's next move. We need to press our advantage while it's available."

This time Draco turned to look at Felix, whose expression was unreadable. Gia suspected he'd only done it to stall and set Teller's teeth on edge, and judging by the rather unbecoming red Teller was turning, it seemed to be working.

"Not without Leolin," Draco said finally.

"Your father won't be down forever. We need to strike while the chaos is fresh."

Voice rose in assent, louder this time and accompanied by the banging of fists on the backs of pews.

"Not," Draco repeated in a lethal purr that drowned out the noise. "Without Leolin."

"So what? We're supposed to just sit on our hands until she comes back? There's a war going on, Malfoy!"

"Oh is there?" Draco snarled. "I hadn't noticed."

"Be as glib as you want," Teller said. "But something has to give."

Scattered applause broke out.

"Stop being a coward and say what you mean," Xavier Borgia offered, and Gia watched a brief flash of fear cross Teller's face. Not as stupid as he seemed, then.

At this, Max Brankovitch rose from where he'd been sitting diagonal from Draco and he and Teller shared a look. Draco's eyes heated like freshly-forged steel.

"If Miss Lefevre is unable to be here," Teller said, confidence renewed. "Then I move to vote on her replacement."

The crowd erupted into animated chatter, Felix and Xavier were on their feet at once.

"You don't have that right, Teller," Xavier snarled over the crowd, sending a chill hush over the din until it fell to a murmur.

"But I do," Max said, straightening to his full height. "I hold a seat in the closed council, same as you. Lefevre is unfit to lead, and she needs to be replaced."

Now Draco was on his feet, too.

"You ungrateful swine," Draco said with venom, eyes flashing with ire. "She risked her neck to rescue you from the palace, even when half the people here begged her not to. And you," he continued, rounding on Teller. "She warned you what was going to happen if you stayed at the embassy, but instead of listening to her, you sat in your high horse and followed Saint-Croix into a trap. She didn't have to go there and save your sorry arses, but she did, and look what it cost her. And now, you want to sneak around behind her back and take what's hers by rights and blood? Cowards, the both of you."

He spat on the floor to show his disgust, and the gesture was met with more than a few murmurs of assent from the original Order members.

"Things chan—" Max began, but Draco cut him off.

"Don't pretend this is about the fact Leolin isn't here. It's about punishing her for what happened to Genevieve at the Palace."

Whispers once again snaked through the room, but lower this time, as if fearing Draco's thunderous rebuke.

"That wasn't her fault," Draco continued. "You want someone to blame for everything Gen did? Blame me."

"I blame both of you," Max burst, face reddening. "Did you even care what the two of you's little game of cat and mouse did to her? All the ways you broke her?"

"That wasn't Leolin's fault. It was mine."

"It wasn't though, not entirely. Lefevre is utterly without a sense of empathy or restraint. She wanted you, and she didn't care whose life she had to ruin to have you."

"So everything that Gen did, that was Leolin's fault?"

"Lefevre would have done the same to keep you, if not worse."

Draco lunged at Max, and Felix was only barely able to restrain him.

"Yes, I do blame her," Max said, expression a gnarled mixture of anger and pain. "But I'm also not a kid; I know how to separate out the personal from the professional. Lefevre is headstrong at the best of times, and downright wreckless at the worst. She's proven that time and time again. She was wreckless with Audige, and with Pucey, which lost us the coins your father used to make himself a god. Hell, you just admitted yourself that her decision to go to the Palace, however noble her intentions."

Draco made a noise of absolute disgust.

"I'm not going to stand here and defend her, especially to a worm like you. You want to bring this vote to the Council-at-Large? Someone else on the Closed Council has to second your challenge."

Max's eyes flicked over Felix, who sneered, and then over Beau, who quietly shook his head, blue eyes alight. Gia could see Max drowning in the silence as no one volunteered.

"Well," Draco jeered after a full minute of silence. "Will you look at that." He gave a chilling laugh. "Better luck next time, Bra—"

"I will."

As one, everyone whipped their heads to watch as Harry Potter rose to his feet, expression solemn and resolute. For his part, Draco looked murderous and sick in equal measure, skin draining to the colour of fresh parchment.

When the surge of whispers began to crest again, Harry finally spoke, and his voice sounded genuinely sympathetic as he said, "I'm sorry, Malfoy, but he's right. Leolin almost got herself killed in New Orleans going after Audige alone, and if Ariadne hadn't stepped in last night, she would have been stripped of her magic and all of you would be prisoners. This thing between her and Pucey has blinded her to what's really important."

"How dare you," Draco said, voice soft as death come calling. "How dare you stand here and suggest that everything Adrian has done, has put Leolin through, is somehow her fault."

"Look," Harry said, voice a touch pleading. "I love Leolin, but I don't think she's the right person to lead."

"And who is?" Blaise said, rising to his feet now, too. "You? Brank? Teller?"

He said the last name with piteous disdain, as if it were vinegar served in place of wine.

Harry raised his chin.

"That's what the council has to decide."

Draco shook his head in disgust, eyes glittering.

"This is why I've always hated you. You Gryffindors and your fucking self-righteous 'arbiters of justice and truth' routine make me sick."

Harry ignored the jibe, but Gia heard a few muted insults from what she assumed were several former Gryffindors in the back.

"Are you going to honor the challenge?" Max demanded.

Draco grit his teeth so hard Gia was surprised they didn't grind to glittering dust.

"This isn't a dictatorship," he seethed. "Your request was seconded, so I have little choice."

The hall exploded into sound as Draco retreated to speak with Xavier, Felix, and Blaise, who'd crossed to join them, while Max, Harry, and Teller did the same. They reminded Gia of boxers prowling their perspective corners, listening to encouragement and last-minute advice before starting the first round of a match. Finally, Draco clapped Blaise on the back before turning to Teller, at which point the hall quieted again.

"The council will reconvene in three days," he said. "At which time, the debate over Leolin's replacement will formally be brought to the floor."

Teller and Max exchanged a glance.

"Tomorrow," Max said. "We don't have time for your stall tactics as you scheme about a way to maintain power."

Xavier Borgia gave a throaty growl at the insinuation, but Draco held up a hand to silence him.

"Fine, tomorrow."

"Noon," Max continued, but Draco ignored him, as if he had slipped beneath Draco's notice.

"The council is dismissed until then," Teller said, but Draco held up an imperious hand as people began to rise. At the motion, they all froze.

"Only General of the Order has the power to dismiss the council."

"But you are not General," Teller pointed out in answering fierceness.

"For today, I am."

"Yes, for today," Teller said. "Let's see what tomorrow brings."

"I look forward to it," Draco purred, before his eyes flicked up and over the crowd. "Dismissed."

With that, he turned on his heel and left the same way he'd come in, even as the assembly seemed still frozen in place. Only when the iron doors boomed shut behind him did anyone dare move. Gia watched Max in particular as he broke away from Teller and cut a direct path to Felix.

"Ren," he called to Felix's retreating back, and Felix turned only to sneer in answer, face uglier than Gia'd ever seen it.

"Don't call me that," Felix said. "That's what my friends call me, and you just made yourself my enemy."

"Ren, c'mon—" Max tried, having reached his friend now. However, Felix snarled when Max's hand brushed his shoulder, and he shoved the offending appendage off as he followed the crowd from the room.

By the time Gia glanced away from the pair, watching Felix disappear into the throng, Blaise had retreated back to her and Ginny looking strained.

"Now what?" Gia asked and Blaise and Ginny exchanged a dark look.

Ginny blew out a breath.

"Now we go to war."

Translations

Welsh

Bod yn ddewr, fy mhlentyn—be brave, my daughter

Wastad—always

French

Veux-tu lui donner une éternelle pleureuse—will you give her an eternal mourner?

Italian

Stai bene—are you okay?

piccola—little one (term of endearment)

topolina—baby mouse (term of endearment)

Attributions

Come back! Even as a shadow, even as a dream—Euripides