Taylor’s arm is tightly clutched around my waist, her body flush against my back.

It doesn’t matter.

The wind roars around my helmet, the road blurring below my bike as the engine overheats between my legs.

It doesn’t matter.

The Rig is getting closer.

That matters.

I swerve around a car moving far too slow for my tastes, the dirty white sedan frantically honking at me when I suddenly pull right in front of it to avoid the red truck coming at me in the other lane.

It doesn’t matter.

I… I strain, every single detail around me coming into stark relief, fed to Power as soon as I can be aware of them, or sooner in most cases. I adjust my course minutely to avoid yet another of Brockton Bay’s potholes before I pull into a sharp angle that takes me along a perpendicular street and toward the coast, the Boardwalk, and I allow Power to calculate the likelihood of encountering one too many traffic stops along the way if I stick to conventional routes.

I don’t like the result, so I speed up, jump the curb, rush past low buildings filled with cape souvenirs, and finally skid over tightly packed wooden beams mercifully deserted of most pedestrians, as even Brocktonites have the sense to void easily accessible public places when an Endbringer siren sounds.

I used to think it was stupid. Paralyzing the whole world at once every time there’s so much as a threat of one of them showing up? Why not wait? Why not have a hint of their actual target before mobilizing an entire planet?

The answer?

Because we need to.

Because most capes refuse being easily tracked, so we need the rallying cry to reach all of them. Because if the Simurgh moves, no one knows where or when it will land, and every second counts in vacating civilians or at least getting them to the (oh so very inadequate) shelters. Because Leviathan cruises the oceans at a speed that allows him to strike anywhere in the world in minutes.

Because Behemoth…

The Hero Killer.

My fists tighten, and the engine roars.

There’s a staccato, the suspension barely keeping up with the ups and downs of the wood below us, but Taylor doesn’t complain. She just tightens her arm once again, holding me closer until we finally reach the expanse of concrete at the end of the Boardwalk.

Not far behind us, a gleaming, crystal hotel where we spent our last peaceful date fades into the distance.

And the Rig grows closer.

***

I pull up in front of the ramp leading to the superhero base of Brockton Bay’s Protectorate. The rallying point is at the PRT building, but I’m not here to volunteer. I’m here to talk some sense into someone stubborn enough to…

To follow me to the other side of the country.

Damn it.

I kick my bike into its parking position, and Taylor briefly squeezes me before letting go, both of us dismounting as fast as we can. Then I tear my helmet off before I pull my phone out of my jacket’s pocket as I march toward the ramp leading me to Colin.

I press a few buttons, and the phone only rings once before she picks up.

“Sarah! Sarah, I’ve been calling you—” Mom says.

“Are you safe?” I cut her off.

“Yes! Yes, we’re headed to a shelter—”

“Don’t. Get back to the house. Tell Danny it’s Behemoth and remind him of the looting statistics during attacks. He’ll know what that means.”

“What does it mean?!”

I glare at the PRT trooper standing in the middle of the ramp until he gets the hint and steps away, but not before looking behind me at Taylor.

I don’t know what she’s gesticulating to him, but I can only guess being whitelisted by Tagg is helping at this very moment.

That, and that we currently are Skitter and Tattletale, so he may have guessed this has something to do with the ongoing crisis.

Good.

“There’s nothing here that Behemoth wants. It doesn’t fit his style, and there hasn’t been any seismic activity. While Endbringers can and will deviate from known patterns, the closest shelter to Danny’s home is near enough that you will be able to safely get there if Brockton Bay is confirmed as an attack site. Meanwhile, it’s statistically more dangerous for you two to be on the streets.”

“And what about you?” she asks, voice trembling.

I, without even slowing down, close my eyes.

“I am a superhero, Mom. The good guys always win,” I tell her, lying to her worse than at any time in my life.

Then I open my eyes, and the glass gates leading to the reception for visitors and tourists (such a ludicrous thing) slide open before me.

“You don’t have to be! You can stay here and—”

I hang up on her.

Then I call Brian.

“Almost there,” he grunts in a way that suggests somebody is holding the phone close to his ear.

Note to self: buy hands-free devices. For all of us.

“Good. See you soon,” I tell him, not clarifying what that means.

Because I haven’t told him what I just told my mother. Because he’s heading to the Undersiders’ base to collect a little someone who may or not make an actual difference in the fight to come. The fight he still thinks may happen in his little sister’s hometown.

Lying by omission. It’s so easy it feels like cheating.

“Lisa?” he asks, something worried and anxious in his tone.

I glare at the receptionist standing behind the crystal shelf keeping her away from slack-jawed tourists, and stride right to an elevator with a number pad that I quickly press a combination on.

One I memorized when I came here to nail down the nature of my deal with Tagg. Thankfully. I’m not in the mood to play a guessing game.

Equally thankfully, the security of this place is still crap, and the password works despite having been used in front of a Thinker seven. Sometimes, I wonder how Coil wasn’t already running this town before I arrived.

“It’s…” I hesitate, something in me shifting after stopping. After having been made to wait rather than move. “It’s nothing. Hey, Brian?” I say.

“Yes?”

“Aisha will be all right. I promise.”

“You can’t—”

“I can. And tell Rachel to stay at the base. Behemoth’s aura would fry her dogs before they could do anything worthwhile, and I don’t want that on my conscience.”

The phone crackles with sudden motion.

“I can fight,” Rachel says without any inflection.

“You can,” I tell her. “But I don’t want you to.”

There’s a pause that only makes me focus on the barely perceptible rumble of an elevator moving too slowly for my tastes.

“Thank you,” a small, frightened voice that nonetheless stands firm finally says.

And Rachel hangs up.

My phone rings as soon as that happens, Mom’s name flashing on the screen.

I…

I want to pick up. I want to tell her… A lot of things. Reassuring things, hurtful things, meaningful things, and ceaseless prattle.

I want…

I want to tell her everything still unsaid.

Without turning around, I hand the phone to Taylor.

“Tell her you need to speak to your father. Please,” I say, my throat clenching before and after the last word.

The doors to the elevator open, and Taylor speaks to my mother behind me.

Lisa Wilbourn—

Just… Just drown me with facts and inferences, all right? Make it so I can’t think my own thoughts until I need to. Please. Please, Power—

Three main modes of attack. Attacks wasteful. No regard for efficiency. Overwhelming force. Display of power dramatic. Demoralization of opposition intended. Differs from other Endbringers in approach. No subtlety. No feinting. Relentless advance. Likelihood of—

Thank you. Thank you, Little Brother.

… So-called ‘kill aura’ consisting of lethal doses of radiation, yet not spreading in the radius expected by field equations—

***

“You are not coming,” Colin says as soon as the door to his workshop slides open and our eyes meet.

“You are not the boss of me,” I try to tell him with as much levity as I don’t feel.

Colin, standing amid whirring metal limbs, his armor still being secured over his black undersuit—

Electromyography—

Of course.

“No. I am not,” he says.

And he keeps just standing there, arms spread, feet beyond the width of his shoulders as pieces of blue ceramics with a metal sheen are bolted on his frame, servos coming to life as they assemble and connect to one another.

“That’s inefficient,” I say.

“What?” he asks with actual affront.

“That. The myosensors. I’m betting they require pretty precise conditions to work to your specifications—humidity? Right. Humidity. Gel pads. You devote a lot of space, relative to what you’re capable of, obviously, to making your suit adhere to the nerve endings you have calibrated for it and—”

“What are you doing, Lisa?” he asks.

“I’m showing you I can be of use! If I’m there, I’ll see things—”

“You promised—”

“And I’m a villain! A Thinker—a social Thinker! Of course I’d lie to you and—”

And Taylor hugs me from behind.

“No,” she whispers. Right against my ear.

Unfairly.

“Tay, I am—”

“You aren’t going. What you could do there that you can’t do remotely doesn’t even rate the personal risk—”

“I could—I could hide inside Grue’s cloud! Dragon just proved it’s a shield against any kind of radiation, anything a dynakinetic can—”

“Except for kinetic energy. Like a thrown rock,” Colin cuts me off.

I glare at him.

“Why aren’t you surprised about what I just said? Dragon was almost apoplectic with the implications—of course.”

A monitor swivels on an arm located behind and above Colin’s left shoulder, and a sheepish Artificial Intelligence waves at me.

“Hi, Lisa—”

“Of course. Of course nobody stopped me coming in. Of course he isn’t surprised and is ready for my arguments. Of course—”

“You are in no state to go to an Endbringer battle,” Colin speaks right over me.

“—of course you’d all gang up on me to stop me from doing what I need to do to keep you, band of lemmings, alive!”

“I can’t say I disagree with the sentiment…” Hannah mutters from right behind me before she lays a hand on the shoulder Taylor isn’t wrapped around and goes right back to her place as my favorite adoptive mother figure.

…

My life is complicated.

“He’ll go. We will go. It’s what we do, Lisa; you already know that. You aren’t even trying to stop us, just trying to be there, to feel like you have a choice in what happens. And none of us do,” Hannah says, cruelly kind with every truth I already know.

I close my eyes. Feel Taylor around me.

And take a deep breath.

I… I need clarity, but I don’t want it. I don’t want to know the odds, how likely it is at least one of them won’t come back. How…

How powerless I am.

Lisa Wilbourn—

All right. Poor choice of words.

So I open my eyes.

I look around me.

“This will be my comms center,” I tell them in no uncertain terms.

Dragon smiles, Colin rolls his eyes, and both Taylor and Hannah squeeze me harder, though through different means.

***

I am sitting in Colin’s chair, the damn ergonomics so fricking comfortable it’s utterly unfair to my willfully tensed shoulders.

“We still don’t know where he will emerge,” I confirm with Dragon after taking a look at the extracts from shifting seismic readings all over the globe.

“He likes to do that. Swimming just below the Earth’s mantle for a while, going in and out of convective currents to threaten different gathering points. He’s… Different from the others. Leviathan and Simurgh will attack hard and fast, taking everyone by surprise in their search of their objective, but Behemoth… he wants an audience,” Dragon tells me from the monitor over my right shoulder as Colin keeps making last-minute adjustments to his armor.

“Are you sure he’s that sentient?” I ask, trying to come up with a pattern as Power and I browse a list of the last sites ravaged by the monster.

“It doesn’t matter. If he isn’t, he’s being made to act as if he was,” she says without even hinting at what pain those very words could cause her if applied to the artificial being who became a woman.

I hum.

Then I take out my phone, ignore the hundred missed calls from my mother, and call Brian.

“Lisa? Do we already—”

“Brockton Bay is safe,” I tell him.

“Will you ever let me finish a goddamn sentence—wait, what? Are you sure?”

“I am… almost certain. He still hasn’t set on a target, but there’s nothing here to lure him in, given his past history,” I tell him.

“Then—”

“Then,” I cut him off with a hint of a smile, because one should relish life’s small pleasures, “you can relax knowing that Aisha is as safe as I told you she would be. You and Alec, though…”

“What are you even suggesting?”

I close my eyes, lists of cities swimming behind my eyelids while Power sifts through them and tries to do what no other Thinker has ever managed.

I don’t open them when I answer Brian.

“I am saying that we just learned your power is a perfect counter to many of Behemoth’s known abilities, but not all of them. I am saying you could be Alec’s bodyguard during the fight, or you could protect the healers and injured. I am saying that you, Brian Laborn, could be a hero today… And I don’t want you to.”

“What?” he asks, tense because of something other than me rudely interrupting him.

Must try harder.

Lisa Wilborn’s sense of priorities—

Oh, come on, you like it as much as I do.

“I… Okay, don’t take this the wrong way. I don’t want you to go soft on me just because of this, but… I love you guys, all right? I… I have taken a peek at what each and every one of you actually is, what lies under the surface, and the trauma, and the powers bullshit, and I… Don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose someone I love ever again. But you’re also not mine. I can’t control you. I can’t keep you safe despite your will. So, if you go? You’ll get your pay plus a hazard bonus, and I’ll be proud of you. Proud enough to give you detailed plans for counter-pranking Aisha the next time she gets a bee in her bonnet, literal or otherwise, and I know the expression doesn’t even fit that well, but I’m an emotional wreck, and I want you to live, and not have to tell your little sister that her brother was a hero she should honor every day of her life, and—”

“Double hazard pay,” he says.

“What?”

“I want double hazard pay. So does Alec,” he says.

“I wasn’t done telling you why this is a terrible idea.”

“Yet I’m done listening to you lose your mind. I… We also love you, Lisa. And thank you for giving me this chance,” he says.

And the man with the biggest chip on his shoulder I’ve ever met, a man who I just told is a perfect counter to some of the most feared attacks on Earth Bet, hangs up on me.

…

I may not have thought this through.

“You’re far too mushy,” Taylor says from my left, her hand squeezing mine once more.

“I just…”

“I know,” she says.

And I open my eyes.

The almost soothing dark red from my eyelids is yet again replaced by Colin’s harsh, stark lighting reflecting off the brushed metal covering his walls. He’s on the workstation beside me, working on something that looks far too bulky to carry by himself, so I’m guessing it is a last-minute addition to his bike, and—

…

I forgot to chain up my baby.

Lisa Wilborn’s sense of priorities—

And you conveniently forgot to point it out.

… Anthropomorphizing of parahuman abilities interfaces—

You motherfuck—

“It will be on Asia,” Dragon points out, her voice stark enough to break me out of my inner dialogue.

I… blink, trying to regain my focus, and stare at the readings she just pulled up in the display in front of me.

Small tremors reported on Myanmar. South Korea. Nepal. Mongolia…

And none from China.

… They can’t be this stupid.

It’s absolutely impossible for even a dictatorial regime to hide seismic tremors during a Behemoth alert. Nobody is that suicidal. There’s absolutely no way the CUI would willfully ignore useful, powerful assets invaluable to their survival—

…

Lisa Wilborn’s—

I know. Shut up.

I close my eyes tightly for a couple of seconds before I reach for my phone.

Then, buried among the notifications of missed calls from Mom, I find… precisely what I expected to find.

And I return one of the many, many calls I kept ignoring.

“Hey, Dinah…” I tell her with my most apologetic, sheepish tone.

“Hey,” she replies with an icy cold tone.

Then we let an awkward, tense silence pass.

“Would you believe I have been ignoring another person, and I just forgot to check on who else was calling me?” I tell her as both Dragon and Taylor look at me like I need some kind of intervention.

Hopefully, they have different methodologies in mind.

“Yes. Because I was forced to waste a question on that after you kept not picking up,” the adorably grumpy world-class precog tells me.

“Right. Right, that fits. So I guess you already know Brockton Bay is safe—”

“Yes.”

“Right.”

…

I don’t know how to handle this!

Dinah Alcott’s need for acknowledgment—

… This is now going to feel manipulative, no matter how sincere I am, isn’t it?

Lisa Wilborn’s sense of morality—

I don’t even know if that’s a good or a bad thing at this point.

“Hey, I… I am sorry. I promised you I would treat you like an equal, and right as a crisis hit, I forget all about that and just try to tackle it on my own, and… And that’s not how I want us to be. I want us to be badass Thinkers together. So… let’s show an Endbringer what he’s gotten itself into by bringing a Blaster power to a Thinker fight?” I hopefully ask.

“… You’re quoting something I haven’t read, aren’t you?” she says.

“A movie, actually. And I’m paraphrasing it, not quoting it.”

There’s a strained silence as the partner I unwillingly offended likely pinches the bridge of her nose, copying something she’s sometimes seen her uncle do and finally understanding the true reason behind the gesture.

“Let’s kick monster butt,” she finally says.

And, for the first time since this whole thing started, I feel my smirk stretch my lips.

=================

This was one of those chapters that had my temples burning with throbbing heat as my brain protested the abuse it had just been put through. I think it was worth it.

Even if it obviously lacks at least a couple of shards humming Careless Whisper to one another.

Anyway, things are getting somewhat more serious than usual in this fic, and they are likely to remain so for at least the next few chapters. On an entirely unrelated note, I think I need either a glass of wine, a mug of chamomile tea, or a professional masseuse. Whichever is cheaper.

As usual, I’d like to give a particularly enthusiastic “thank you” to my credited supporters for going above and beyond: Niklarus, Tinkerware, Varosch, and Xalgeon!


Regular Day at the Office

"Are you serious? Why didn't he tell me this?" Naruto asked bewildered; his hand lingering above a yellow rose.

Itachi huffed amused. "I guess because he doesn't like making a big deal out of it. He's rather modest."

The blond man huffed, retrieving another yellow rose from the basket. "Modest he might be, but that doesn't mean something like this shouldn't be celebrated! I mean, how many people can say they accomplished this much at his age already?"

The other man chuckled lowly. "I wish you good luck in trying to convince him to celebrate. My little brother has never been really fond of parties."

"It doesn't have to be a party." Blue eyes rolled. "Just a celebratory dinner; he can't have any problems with that, surely?"

"Like I said, good luck," Itachi told him amused. Someone else started talking in the background and after a short moment, Itachi said apologetically, "I need to look at some documents. Let me know if you actually managed to convince my otouto to have some fun." Amusement coloured his voice audibly.

"Oh, you of little faith," Naruto snickered. "Have fun with those documents!"

After hanging up, he checked the clock, worrying his lower lip between his teeth in thought. Ten past four … Well, that should give him enough time to stop by the store and buy the ingredients for dinner tonight. Itachi might be sceptic that he would succeed, but he didn't know yet just how stubborn Naruto could be once he had an idea in mind. There was no way he was just going to ignore his milestone!

First, he added the last two roses to the bouquet and placed the flowers carefully in a bucket with water. That done, he picked up his phone again, hoping he wouldn't accidentally disturb the other one. Did he have a meeting now? He couldn't remember. Ah well, if he didn't want to be disturbed, he wouldn't pick up the phone in the first place, so he'd know soon enough.

Humming, he listened to the 'beep, beep' tone; leaning his arse against the edge of the table while he waited for the other man to pick up.

"Naruto, this is a surprise," a deep, smooth voice greeted him. "I didn't think I would hear from you for another three hours at least."

"Yeah, well, I've got some time between preparations and there aren't any customers in the shop," Naruto replied; a smile unwillingly spreading across his face at the sound of his boyfriend's voice. No matter how many times he would hear it, Sasuke's voice never failed to send shivers down his spine and warmth curling up in his belly.

He cleared his throat and crossed his legs, reminding himself sternly that this definitely wasn't the place to let his mind wander. "I'm not disturbing you, am I?"

"No, not at all," Sasuke reassured him. "Any reason in particular you're calling or are you just missing my voice?" he asked teasingly.

"Bastard, don't be so smug," Naruto grinned fondly. "I should scold you actually: why did I have to hear from your brother of all people that we've got something to celebrate tonight?"

"Oh?" Sasuke said blankly. "We do? What did nii-san tell you?"

"Does the fact that you've been leading your own company for five years already ring a bell maybe?" Naruto asked exasperatedly.

"Oh that." Sasuke sounded entirely unruffled by that. "He's making a deal out of nothing."

"Out of nothing?" the blond man repeated incredulously. "Sasuke, you're not even thirty and you're already leading a company! That is huge!"

"If you say so," Sasuke replied and his tone made it clear that he was smirking.

"Yes, I say so!" Naruto snarked. "So we're going to celebrate that tonight! Any requests for dinner?"

"You," Sasuke answered promptly and yeah, he was definitely smirking now, the bastard.

"That's not dinner, that's dessert!" Naruto fired back cheekily; his grin widening when the dark haired man chuckled pleasantly surprised. "So with dessert settled, what do you want for dinner? I can make everything you want, no problem. The stores are still open so if need be, I can make a quick stop at one of them before going home."

"I don't need something elaborate or special, but if you insist, I like omusubi with okaka. Or you can make something with tomatoes and Skipjack Tuna," Sasuke answered calmly.

Naruto wrinkled his nose. "Only you can have something incredibly healthy as your favourite food," he said in disbelief.

"Hey, you're the one who asked me what - "

"Please, Uchiha-sama! I swear I won't do it again!"

Startled by the unexpected loud pleading, Naruto questioned, "Who was that? What the hell did they do that they're pleading like that?"

"That was an employee who made a serious mistake in a document for an important client," Sasuke answered; a hint of irritation sneaking into his voice.

Naruto winced, feeling sorry for the poor soul in Sasuke's office. He and Sasuke might have only known each other for barely a year, but he'd learnt early on that Sasuke strived for perfection in everything he did. A mistake in a document meant for an important client? Yeah, there was no way he was going to let that fly.

"Oh man, he's in deep shit now," Naruto sighed, shaking his head.

"You can bet he's going to get quite the earful of me," Sasuke muttered darkly.

"Well, don't make him cry too much, all right?" Naruto said, turning his head when he heard the doorbell ring, signalling he had a customer. "Look, I've got to go now, but tonight we're definitely going to celebrate. Don't work too late, okay?"

"I won't," Sasuke promised. "I'll see you tonight."

"Yeah, I'll see you in a couple of hours," Naruto grinned and reluctantly hung up.

He blushed when he walked past Ino, who was looking at him with knowing eyes, all while artistically putting together a small basket of purple lilacs and forget-me-nots. "Celebrating tonight, hm?" she said teasingly, waggling her eyebrows.

"Oh shut up," he laughed, nudging her shoulder with his before he went out to the front to greet their customer.

He and Sasuke were definitely going to celebrate tonight, all right. For now, though, he had a customer to attend to.

Placing his phone on his desk, he slowly turned around, looking at the piece of shit who had nearly destroyed everything he'd built so far with his lover.

The cockroach in question was trembling heavily, forced onto his knees by Jugo, who had one large hand clamped across the man's mouth. It was only thanks to Jugo's quick interference that nothing worse had been revealed.

"Apologies, Sasuke-sama," Karin grimaced, glaring at the man in the middle of the office. "If I had known he'd be that stupid, I would have gagged him."

He waved off her apology, knowing it was sincere, but it was unnecessary. It wasn't her fault that this son of a bitch had decided to make everything even worse for him.

Stopping in front of the terrified man, he stared down at him coldly. "You nearly got me into some trouble there, Mizuki. I can't say I appreciate that – nor do I appreciate what you intended to do."

Mizuki started blubbering something, fat tears dripping down his face, and Sasuke waited for a moment before signalling for Jugo to remove his hand.

"I'm sorry, Uchiha-sama! I swear, I never meant to go through with! You have to believe me!" he begged; his thin, white hair plastered against the right side of his face where a cut was still bleeding sluggishly. "They were making me do this! I was planning on telling you all what they wanted me to do and - "

"Suigetsu, refresh my memory if you will: what was Mizuki planning to do?" Sasuke asked calmly. That was a front, however, as he was inwardly seething with fury, barely able to hold himself back.

His third trusted bodyguard straightened up from his slouched position against the wall and stepped forwards, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. A vicious glint lit up his purple eyes as he recounted, "Per Itachi-sama's information, Mizuki was planning on abducting Naruto-sama and delivering him to the Sound clan where Naruto-sama would either be killed or be forced to work as a whore."

"He's lying!" Mizuki said shrilly, trying to wrestle free from Jugo's grip. "That guy is lying! I never said I - " He grunted in pain when Jugo kicked his back.

He could try to struggle for as long as he wanted; Jugo was one of his strongest men – if he didn't want to release someone, they would never get free.

"My brother is lying, you say?" Sasuke murmured silkily and Mizuki's eyes widened, fear making him quiver. Black eyes glided back towards Suigetsu. "Anything else to add?"

"Sure do, boss," Suigetsu smirked, but his gaze was as cold as ice when he continued, "When looking at his e-mail history, we discovered that he'd been negotiating with Kimimaro, the leader of the Sound clan, for 'rights' to get to try out Naruto-sama first – as he so eloquently put it."

"Sicko didn't hold back either in describing his fucked up fantasy," Karin muttered disgusted, flipping her red hair back over her shoulder. "I feel like I need brain bleach to be able to forget that filth." She shuddered, looking like she'd swallowed something foul.

"They're lying, they're lying, they're lying," Mizuki kept repeating over and over again, shaking his head in desperation.

Picking up a bundle of papers, Sasuke read the first page, curling up his lip at the content of it.

'I can assure you the plan will be easy to accomplish. I'll wait until he locks up the shop, follow him into the alley he takes to get to his scooter and there I'll sedate him. I'll take him to …'

'Uchiha doesn't suspect anything. He'll be too busy with the meeting with the Sannin to pay attention to anything else and that's when I will strike.'

'I would like one favour, Kimimaro-sama. I'd like to have at least three hours with the whore before delivering him to you. I've been waiting for an opportunity like this for a long time and …'

On and on it went; the pages detailing the elaborate plan to abduct Naruto and hand him over to one of Sasuke's biggest rivals. Countless mails detailing the depravities Mizuki had been longing to inflect on the man Sasuke called his lover before disposing him into the arms of the Sound clan. One large, elaborate plan and several condensed ones in case the first one failed. Line after line, Mizuki's betrayal was laid out in front of him, showing clearly how close Naruto had come to being in danger.

He had his brother and Mizuki's own stupidity to thank for the fact that Mizuki's plan had been foiled just on time.

"So these e-mails don't come from your account?" Sasuke asked nonchalantly, dropping the pages one by one on the floor in front of the bastard. "That wasn't you writing to Kimimaro how you wanted to fuck Naruto raw and have him screaming and begging before handing him over? These messages talking about how to abduct Naruto – they aren't signed by you?"

"Sick, fucked up and dumb," Karin muttered, shaking his head. She crossed her arms underneath her breasts and breathed out loudly. "Man, how did he ever get through the selection process?"

"Granted, he was working in one of the lowest levels," Suigetsu pointed out, running his tongue across his sharp teeth. "Doesn't take a genius to be able to work there."

"We'll be conducting a clean-up after this," Sasuke murmured and all three of them inclined their heads.

"What do you want to do with this one here, boss?" Jugo asked calmly. He could have been simply asking whether Sasuke wanted a cup of coffee with how calm he was – save for the gun pressed firmly against the back of Mizuki's head when the man wriggled one time too much.

At the feeling of the cold metal pressed against his head, Mizuki froze and whimpered, looking like he would start pissing himself any second now.

"I never did like it when people tried to take something of mine," Sasuke mused, dipping his hand into the inside of his jacket to retrieve his gun. "I like it even less when people think they can drag my brother's name through the mud."

"Looks like you hit the jackpot, jackass," Suigetsu grinned, sauntering over to look at Mizuki. "Did you really think you could get away with this?"

Ignoring Suigetsu, Mizuki looked up, quivering like a leaf in the wind, and stuttered, "Pl-please, U-Uchiha-s-sama, I – I sw-swear I – I won't d-do it again! I-I-I'll k-k-keep aw-away from Naru-"

"Don't you dare say his name!" Sasuke snarled viciously, whipping his gun out of his pocket and aiming it straight at Mizuki's forehead.

The white haired man froze, his mouth open but no sound coming out anymore. He'd grown so pale he looked like he was going to faint any second now.

"Karin," Sasuke said deadly calm. "Prepare the car. We're going for a ride."

"My pleasure," she grinned; her eyes gleaming like a cat who got the canary.

He was cutting off Mizuki's remaining ear – excruciatingly slow so he would feel as much pain as possible – when Karin stepped forwards, entering his line of vision.

"Sasuke-sama, sorry for interrupting, but if you want to be home on time, you should leave now," she said quietly, undisturbed by the ten discarded fingers dropped just two feet away from her. "That will give you enough time to shower and change your clothes so Naruto-sama won't notice anything."

Sasuke paused, staring down at the crying, bloody mess in front of him. They were in an empty warehouse at the edge of the city; the remoteness of it ensuring they wouldn't be disturbed. Mizuki was currently missing his fingers, the stumps sluggishly bleeding, colouring the concrete floor a dark brown; four precisely aimed bullets had shattered his kneecaps, ensuring that he wouldn't be able to flee even if he would have had the chance. His shirt had been cut off and his bare chest and back were a macabre artwork of deep, bleeding gashes; a result of Jugo's handywork with the whip.

His nose had been broken in two different places and he was missing at least six teeth. His right ear laid discarded next to the pile of fingers; his left almost on the verge of being sliced off. His face was a disgusting mess of tears, snot and blood, and his pleading and screaming had died down to weak whimpers and pitiful sobbing; there was nothing left of the arrogant man who'd stepped foot in Sasuke's office three hours ago.

"P-p-pl-please," he cried. His wrists were a mess of raw chafed skin after having struggled uselessly against the ropes tying him down to the table.

Sasuke considered him before checking his watch and noticing that it was indeed time for him to leave if he wanted to go home on time. Quick as a snake, he hacked Mizuki's left ear off, smiling grimly at the choked scream leaving the son of a bitch.

"Look at that," he smiled cruelly, rising up. He held out his hand, accepting his gun from Suigetsu. "Looks like you're saved by the one person you wanted to hurt. I wonder if this is called irony?"

One single gunshot echoed through the large warehouse, cutting off the crying abruptly.

"Jugo, Suigetsu, clean up this mess," he ordered calmly, lowering his gun and watching the blood ooze slowly out of the single hole right in the middle of Mizuki's forehead. "Let the rest of them know what will happen if they dare to cross me again."

"Ay, ay, boss," Suigetsu smirked, saluting him.

Jugo nodded respectfully, bowing when Sasuke marched past him.

"I've already informed Deidara-sama that we will be stopping at his place for you to clean up," Karin informed him as they made their way to the car. "His place is the closest and you've got clothes there, left from the time Danzo attacked you in your house and you had to stay with Deidara-sama whilst the place was being cleaned."

"Thanks, Karin," he murmured, studying the dried smears of blood on his hands with cool detachment. "Put together a team of fifteen men by tomorrow afternoon. We'll be paying the Sound Clan a visit to remind them who exactly they were trying to cross."

"Certainly, sir," she agreed and bowed, straightening up to open the door of the car for him.

When she was settled behind the wheel, he spoke up again, "Send a bottle of Yamazaki whisky to my brother; he's earnt it."

She flashed him a smile through the rear view mirror. "Very well, Sasuke-sama."

After all, he reclined against the comfortable cushion, annoying as his older brother could be at times, he deserved a gift for helping him out.

"You're on time," Naruto smiled pleased, removing his apron when Sasuke walked into the kitchen.

The dark haired man smirked, crossing the distance between them in a couple of large strides. Gripping slender hips, he bent down and caught Naruto's mouth in a soft kiss. "Were you expecting me to be late?"

Naruto shrugged, cupping the back of Sasuke's neck with his hands. "I know how much you love to work and you've lost track of time before," he reminded him cheekily.

"I love spending time with you more," Sasuke instantly shot back and had the pleasure of seeing a deep red flush filling Naruto's cheeks rapidly. The sight of it had his cock stirring and he pressed his body firmly against Naruto's, pushing the blond against the counter. Running his nose across the smooth expanse of skin in Naruto's neck, he breathed out, "What do you say of having dessert first?"

"Well, I've always been more of a dessert kind of guy," Naruto said mischievously; his blue eyes sparkling brightly. His mouth dropped open, his blush deepening, when a hand cupped his dick; it hardened quickly underneath Sasuke's touch and the dark haired man smirked.

"That's what I like to hear." He stepped back and Naruto's confused look was quickly wiped away when Sasuke swiftly picked him up and swung him across his shoulder so that he ended up hanging upside down.

"Seriously, Sasuke?" Naruto laughed, smacking the man's arse for good measure. "I can walk!"

"This is quicker," Sasuke smirked and not having the patience to make it up all the way upstairs, he made a beeline for the living room instead, where he dropped his lover down on the couch.

Loosening his tie, he watched how blue eyes darkened and a tongue shot out to lick pale red lips. "Now," Sasuke murmured, kneeling down on the couch between Naruto's legs and leaning over him. "What was that about a celebration?"

If Mizuki's screams and crying had been like listening to a nice song, Naruto's throaty moans and breathy gasps and his pleas for more, harder, please, Sasuke! were like music to his ears.

Burning black eyes took in the way Naruto had his head thrown back across the arm of the couch, baring his neck; a flush spreading from his cheeks down to his chest. Unable to resist the invitation, Sasuke swiftly leant down, pressing himself deeper into his lover at the same time he kissed his neck, worrying the skin right above his collarbone between his lips, nibbling at it softly. That earnt him a deep groan and Naruto's inner muscles clamped down around his cock; fingers gripping black strands and keeping his face pressed into the blond man's neck.

"M-more," Naruto whimpered; his other hand scrambling across Sasuke's back, his nails occasionally catching pale skin, leaving faint red lines behind.

"If you've got time to order me around, I'm not doing a good job then," Sasuke grunted and his next forceful thrust had Naruto nearly mewling, eyes squeezed shut and his body shuddering underneath Sasuke's.

"Look at me, Naruto," Sasuke demanded, needing to see those glorious blue eyes looking at him.

Naruto obeyed almost instantly, eyes flicking open, revealing dilated pupils. They burnt with lust, passion and love; the sight of that drove Sasuke nearly insane and he caught Naruto's mouth in a deep, filthy kiss, swallowing his next moan when he angled his dick just so that he struck the blond's prostate dead on with his next thrust.

Naruto clung to him, letting him use him as he saw fit, kissing him back with equal desperation; his arms and legs wrapped tightly around him, as if he never wanted to let him go.

Sasuke wasn't planning on letting him go.

It didn't matter if he would have to go to the deepest pits of hell itself – there was no way he was ever going to let this man go. This gorgeous, wild creature with a heart as pure as fresh fallen snow was all his and he was going to make sure everyone knew that.

The second anyone tried to touch as much as one single blond hair – they would pay.

He would murder every single last person, would set everything alight in flames if that meant keeping Naruto safe. If it meant keeping him with him always, he would go to every length necessary.

Mizuki had tried to take him away and he'd failed. The Sound clan had tried to steal his lover from him – and they would pay dearly for that.

Naruto was his: mind, body, soul, heart. Everything was his. He'd make sure everyone would know that by the time tomorrow would come to an end.

"Sasuke!"

Inner muscles clamped down around him, making him groan, and Naruto thrashed his head back and forth against the couch, shuddering and shivering as he spilt between their stomachs; his eyes rolling back in his head when Sasuke kept striking for that hidden spot deep within him, prolonging his pleasure.

When Sasuke came, pleasure crashing into him like waves against a cliff, it was with Naruto's name on his lips and slender arms holding him close.

"So how was work today?" Naruto asked when they dropped down onto the bed. They really should eat, but … Eugh, he didn't want to move now.

Sasuke turned his head and smiled faintly, pulling him closer with one arm. Blue eyes closed when lips kissed his forehead tenderly.

"Oh, just a regular boring day at the office."

The End


The manor was insufferably warm. From the groups of rich nobles gracing around the hall and from the steaming heaps of rich food that was being brought out in silver platters.

What made it worse was the constricting silks Geralt was forced to wear and he wanted nothing more than to rid himself of the dumb silks and get back into his trusty leathers. Although... Ciri was practically glowing as soon as she pulled on the dress and she nearly exploded when she entered into the hall so Geralt kept his complaints to himself.

"The man who owes you money," grunts Geralt in a low growl to Yen who was posied by a wall, goblet of wine in hand. "Who is he?" Geralt chances a glance to Ciri who was watching the nobles dance but was still close enough to Geralt so that Geralt wasn't itching with worry.

"Why so you can beat the money out of him," scoffs Yen as she pauses to sip from the goblet. "You needn't worry about him yet. I haven't seen him yet and I'll deal with him later when he's drunk. I wouldn't want to ruin your night." Yen pushed off from the wall so she's mere inches from Geralt.

He can smell the wine from her lips which she was licking but he simply rolls his eyes and grunts before turning his back on her. Much to her annoyance.

"Isn't it just wonderful," giggles Ciri as she sways in time with the music. Geralt gives a small hmm of agreeance but really he watches the nobles seeing only peacocks flashing their feathers.

Woman have their grandest jewelry in an attempt to show it off. Men have shark-like grins as they talk of their riches, their land and themselves. Right now everyone is sober but Geralt wishes everyone would hurry up and get drunk. That's when the fun begins.

His eyes scan across the sea of glittering jewels and vibrant dresses before his eyes lock onto something brighter than jewels, something worth more than anything that hung off the women's necks... a pair of painfully familiar blue eyes.

And they were looking back at him.

"Geralt, are you okay?" Geralt is only slightly aware of the slight tug on his arm and he had only just realized that he had been stood silent and motionless.

"Hmm, yes..." Geralt takes a glance down at the small girl who was stood worried next to him but he quickly pulls his gaze back up in search of the blue eyes but they were gone as soon as he looked away.

Geralt suddenly became very aware of the music around him. The man's voice was nice but not smooth like silk or sweet like honey. Like Jaskier's voice. There was already a bard strumming and singing so why was Jaskier here?

There was already a bard? Unless...

Jaskier was a guest.

"See I knew you would enjoy yourself," smiles Yen as she joined Geralt and Ciri.

"I just wanted to thank you-" starts Ciri only for her to abruptly interrupted by Geralt.

"Lord Augustus," he begins as he turns his hard stare onto Yen. "What is his full name?"

Yen stares hard back at him with her eyebrows knitted. "Why would that interest you?" she asked sounding exasperated.

"Tell me."

"Grumpy are we," sighs Yen as she swirls the wine in her goblet but Geralt's snarl makes her talk. "It is a long name to say the least, complicated too. Something along the lines of... Augustus Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove but I don't see-"

"Fuck!" exclaims Geralt with a snarl on his lips.

Not a bard. Not a guest but rather an heir.

"Language," snaps Ciri in a slightly joking tone but she can see something is troubling Geralt. She goes to ask him as she places a light hand on his shoulder only for her to interrupted again by Lord Augustus' raspy voice breaking over the crowd who had all paused to watch him grace into the center of the floor.

Dressed head to toe in his finest attire, August swans with as much grace as his old body would allow him with his skeleton of a wife hanging from his arm. She too was dressed in her finest dress only it hung from her fragile body like it was two sizes too big on her.

"Esteemed guests," he begins as his hand that was covered in thick rings reached out for the crowd. He goes on to talk and talk, not that Geralt was listening but his attention falls onto the movement from behind Lord Augustus. Behind him, more well-dressed nobles swan behind him. Grinning at the guest apart from one...

His head was turned down at the floor with his face devoid of all emotion. He held himself like he was fragile, cold and like he was in pain.

"My children and I wish you a good night!" With one last show of love, Augustus plasters on a smile and throws an arm to the nobles behind him.

His children...

"Who the hell is that," hisses Yen in a hushed voice behind Geralt. She nods towards the nobles and it was no surprise it was directed at the small looking son. "I knew August had children but he never mentioned him."

"I think there's a reason for that," huffs Geralt as he soon realizes who it was. "That's Jaskier." Geralt's heart shatters at the sight of his bard who was painfully silent. There was no smile on his face or glitter in his eyes. Usually, Jaskier loved public attention but now that the crowd was clapping for him, each clap seemed ot be painful for him.

"You mean your rude mouthed bard," chuckles Yen and her joy only boils Geralt's anger. "Why would he be here?"

"Julain Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove..." sighs Geralt with a hang of his head as he feels shame wash over him.

"Oh, shit..." Yen lets out a sigh of realization but there was a sense of sorrow. For Yen has heard passing rumors of Augustus' cold and unloving nature and for Jaskier's sake, she hopes it was only a passing rumor. "Well, it just so happens..." there was a glint of wickedness in her smile as they watch Augustus and his children melt into the crowd. "We need to make a quick visit to his dear brother Finneus."

"Get that look off your face," snides Finneus as they melt into the crowd towards the table of food. "This is a banquet! Filled with food, drink, fine woman and happiness." Finneus tries to appeal to Julain who was stumbling behind him with no look of joy on his pale face. "Father was right about you ruining it..." sighs Finneus with a side glance to his brother and malice in his voice.

"I'm sorry," Jaskier wasn't entirely sure why he was apologizing but he felt obligated too. "I'm just not... feeling great," Jaskier mumbles as he rubs the pain in his shoulder that seemed to grow as the night went on.

"You're not still worked up about that stupid instrument of yours?!" snarls Finn as he pauses midstep to turn around and hiss at his brother who flinched away at his brother's sudden turn.

"No, I just-"

"It's for the best, Julain," sighs Finneus as he rakes through his dark hair. "You are a Lord, you should be smart enough to know what qualifies to be a Lord and right now, you do not qualify." Finn's words hiss through his grated teeth. "That means no idiotic lute, no mutants and don't even think about singing! We all know what's best for you, Julain and being here is what is best..."

Although his words were cruel and cold, he places a brotherly hand on his bad shoulder but quickly his grip gets tighter until it is no longer a 'brotherly' grip but more a threatening one that enforces his words.

Jaskier swallows down his cry of pain that bubbled up inside him when Finneus' hand clawed into his shoulder that was still raw with pain.

"Good..." said Finnues when he saw the pain in his younger brother's eyes and luckily let his hand fall from his brother's shoulder and Jaskier let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. "Just... don't be stupid. Be... Lord Julain. That's what father wants."

The words were heavy on Jaskier. Reminding him that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be 'Lord Julain.' He was and will always be Jaskier, a punching bag to his siblings, a disgrace to his father.

And a burden to Geralt. A liability.

Jaskier shakes his head as the thought of Geralt creeps back up on him again. So what if he was here? Jaskier's family wants him to be Lord Julain and Lord Julain has no affiliation with Geralt.

"... of course," the worlds fall out of Jaskier's without him even realizing but neither did Finneus as he was concerned with something else. He was scowling over Jaskier's shoulder with his lips parted slightly as his mind whirled with thoughts. "Finneus?" asked Jaskier in a small voice.

"Shit," sighs Finn with his top lip flaring and his teeth grinding. "I need to go." Finn tried to compose himself by smoothing down his hair and sucking in a hard breath but Jaskier could practically hear his brother's heart hammering with fear.

Jaskier dares to look over his shoulder and his eyes fall to the raven-haired sorceress dressed in fine silks who was talking rather animatedly with a small blonde hair girl and burly white hair Witcher.

Yennefer, Ciri and (of fucking course) Geralt.

Behind him, Jaskier hears the hurried footsteps of his brother who had fled behind him.

Now, Finnues was a man who always spent the money he didn't have and Jaskier, although he'd been away for a lifetime didn't have any doubt why he was running. He clearly owed money to someone.

But who?

Geralt wasn't a man of business and if Finneus owed Geralt money, Finneus wouldn't be alive. Not that Finneus would ever give Geralt a contract but if he were and withheld Geralt's money, Geralt would've slain Finnues were he stood and looted his well-earned money from his corpse.

Yennefer, on the other hand, was a woman of business. She had a way with words, money and more importantly men. If Finneus was owed any money, it was Yennefer and if so, he was right to run. Many fear the strength of a Witcher but Jaskier fears the wrath of Yennefer.

"Plan of action?" asked Ciri as she looked up between the witcher and the mage.

"You can run after your bard but I'm getting my money," huffs Yennefer as she downs the rest of her wine.

"If you can find him that is," grunts Geralt and Yen's vibrant purple eyes scowl as she looks for Finn but the twitch of irritation in her face was a sign she'd lost him.

"That bastard probably saw us and took a runner, the coward," she curses as her hand curls around the goblet.

Geralt too was scanning the room for he was indeed going after his bard that is if Jaskier would even want to talk to him again. The night at the inn after the two saw each other, Jaskier did a runner which was fair, to say the least.

And now Jaskier seems to have done a runner again which wasn't surprising. How was Jaskier supposed to feel after seeing Geralt in his family home?

"I'm sure if we find Jaskier, he can point us in the direction of Finn," pipes up Ciri and both Yen and Geralt turn to look down at her. Only Yen had a wide and proud smile on her face while Geralt has his mouth pressed in a firm line of regret.

Part of him wanted never to see Jaskier, not because he believed Jaskier was to blame for all of their misadventures but because Geralt was too guilt-ridden. How could Geralt face his 'closest-friend' who he blamed, ridiculed and shunned from his life? Geralt was never a man of words but he had to so much he wanted to say but would never know how to say it.

"Amazing idea! Maybe some of your brilliant intelligence will rub off on Geralt," before Geralt can protest, Yennefer sent off with Ciri bouncing along behind her so Geralt felt obligated to.

"I have to ask," said Ciri as she fell back from Yen's side to walk by Geralt. "Did you not know anything of Jaskier's past? His family?" Ciri cocks one of her fair eyebrows as she looks up Geralt who's face twists with... something. Shame, maybe? Ciri couldn't quite place it but it was a mix of sorrow, shame, and anger.

"It was never something we spoke of," shrugs Geralt but it was true, Geralt was ashamed of himself for never knowing or maybe Jaskier had told him but Geralt had just brushed it off like Geralt usually did.

"You never asked?"

"I thought it wasn't my place. I knew he was noble but I never asked more. I wonder why though, he must've had a good life with money and whatever he could've asked for." That made Geralt wonder. If Jaskier had all this money and riches at his fingertips then why was he a simple bard and more importantly, why did he tag along with Geralt and sleep in shit hole inns when he could've been sleeping in a manor!?

"Human life is never that simple, Geralt," sighed Ciri with a shake of her head. "Jaskier isn't like other nobles. He's a simple man who is content being on the road with his lute and his Witcher. It makes you think, maybe there was a reason he left it all behind for you."

"Hmm," hummed Geralt. "You're surprisingly wise for someone so young."

"Someone needs to keep you in check," Ciri gives him a soft elbow in his side which Geralt responds to with an amused half-hearted smile as her words were heavy on his entire body.

Jaskier never once talked about his riches, wealth, his home, his family. He never showboated and instead was happy strumming the strings of his lute and singing merrily and he did it all with a smile. Geralt could never imagine any other noble doing this. They were friends for what? Almost two decades? And this train of thought never once came to Geralt? Never?!

Geralt was angry at himself. Jaskier was his... friend and yet Geralt knew so little about him. Now that he thinks about it, Geralt only knew Jaskier, the bard and never knew Julain, the lord.

Geralt must've been really deep in thought as he hadn't even realized he'd collided straight into someone. He resurfaced from his mind when someone small and narrow framed hit his chest.

"Oh, sorry..." came a small voice from below and at the very moment. Blue and Amber eyes were mere centimeters from each other.

The air was suddenly very thick and heavy like smoke. It was as if the whole room had stopped just to watch Geralt and Jaskier like the music had stopped so they had center stage but really Jaskier was just stuck in the moment as he looks hard into Geralt's amber eyes. For the first time, Jaskier struggled to find the words.

Even Geralt struggled to find his breath like his throat was tightening. He did want to meet with Jaskier, desperately in fact but not like this. Not thrown together in heat of a feast.

"Jaskier, I-" Geralt begins and without even realizing, he raised his hand for Jaskier's shoulder as if instinct only for Jaskier to step away from his hand to hold his chin up.

"Julain," spat Jaskier.

"Huh?" is all Geralt could manage.

"It's Julain. Lord Julain." His words were so... lifeless. Like he was reading from a script. There was no sweetness or dramatization to his voice and his arms remained steady at the side which was so unlike him. Usually, he was up singing about tales, hands flared and animated as he spoke with joy. "You will address me as such."

That wasn't right. Jaskier was Jaskier, not Julain and certainly not Lord Julain. Never before had Geralt been afraid of Jaskier. Not that Geralt was worried Jaskier would go for a punch or anything but because Jaskier looked at Geralt with so much hate, anger and sadness that it froze Geralt. It was like Jaskier was looking at Geralt like he was indeed a monster.

Much like most nobles look at Geralt.

He could smell that sickening and putrid smell of anger that oozed from Jaskier.

"Jas... Lord Julain," the words felt wrong in Geralt's mouth and even Ciri cringed at it. "I need to speak with you," Geralt was almost begging.

Yen could see the desperation the Geralt's face but even Yen's cold heart crushed as Jaskier looked down at Geralt from his nose without so much as recognition in his eyes but it was at that moment Yennefer saw it.

Love.

They say Witchers are devoid of all emotion but at that very moment, Geralt was almost a different man as he pleaded with the man he loved only for his heart to be crushed.

"I don't know what you're doing here," hisses Jaskier sounding a little more like himself although Yennefer knew Jaskier would never speak like that to Geralt out of his own will. "You told me it would be a blessing if I was out of your hands and yet here you stand pleading with me?"

"I know but I-I didn't mean-"

It was happening but Geralt didn't know it was happening. Everything was he wanted to say was swimming in his mind, fighting over each other to try and get to his mouth so Geralt couldn't actually string a sentence together.

"You didn't mean it?" laughs Jaskier but his laugh was not his own. It was not his usually explosive laughter but this was more a cold one. "Then why didn't you stop me? Why did you let me leave?" His voice cracks and wobbles but Jaskier somehow managed to save himself from utter embarrassment.

What would his family think if they saw him crying? Crying at the feet of a Witcher?

Pathetic.

Speaking of family, Jaskier froze with fear as the thin and boney arm of Beatrice swung around his neck. She smelt of her usual roses but she had the bittersweet smell of alcohol and food on her.

It was bad enough Geralt had come to talk to him and now he was having to keep a strong front against his sister after what she did last night. He couldn't let Geralt know what they had done because then Geralt would know that Jaskier had no place with his family. That he was a disappointment.

"Come now, little brother," her words are slurred a woozy as hangs from Jaskier's neck and he grimaces at his sister's drunkness. "Geralt and Yennefer are esteemed guests and if I recall correctly-" shit. "You are the famous white wolf? Geralt of Rivia?" she points to Geralt with her goblet making wine splash out onto the floor.

"I am, yes," Geralt squints his eyes at Beatrice trying to study her but his eyes fall back to Jaskier who is surprisingly stiff.

He didn't look comfortable at all with his sister that close to him. Or maybe he wasn't comfortable with being this close to Geralt? No. Geralt smelt Jaskeir's fear intensify as his sister latched onto him.

He was scared of his own sister and Geralt was willing to bet Jaskier was scarred of the rest of his family.

"You know," she swallows down a hiccup. "You are extremely handsome. I thought Julain was just being stupidly dramatic about you but damn," Beatrice tries to straighten herself out but instead finds herself leaning into Jaskier again but never once breaking her eye contact with Geralt. "You are very nice to look at."

"You're married, Beatrice," said Jaskier in a low voice to his sister, trying to brush over the fact that Beatrice just let slip that Jaskier thought Geralt was handsome.

"Yeah. Unhappily," snorts Beatrice rather loudly. She finds enough strength to push off Jaskier so she's now standing by herself. "So what do you say, white wolf!" Beatrice opens her arms wildly and attempts to look at Geralt with a flirtatious look but it looks like she's having a stroke.

"Julain.. talked about me?" Just when Jaskier thought the worst was over... but there was a certain softness to Geralt's voice that made Jaskier's heart flicker.

"Nope," said Beatrice rather bluntly. "But he wrote about you, aaaaaa lot!" She swings her goblet up for a drink only for her to underestimate which sent her drink down the front of her dress.

Geralt's face contorts as he thinks. Jaskier only ever wrote in that worn songbook of his and he never let anyone read it not even Geralt.

"Uh, uh, uh. A good craftsman never shows his unfinished masterpiece until it is finished," he would scold whenever Geralt tried to sneak a peek at whatever Jaskier was scribbling down in there.

If Geralt never got to see it, then why would Jaskier let his sister (of whom he is clearly afraid of) see it. Unless.. it was against Jaskier's will.

Geralt's rage boiled.

"Excuse but we have to go," said Jaskier with a shaky sigh as he looks to the floor to avoid Geralt's deadly glare. He loops Beatrice's arm back over his neck and steadies her. "Enjoy the rest of your night." Even if his words kind, there was no meaning to them and they fell flat in the air.

Jaskier turns to leave with a half-conscious Beatrice drooling on his shoulder but something tugs on Geralt's heart.

Pulling and urging him to take Jaskier's hand and pull him back. Something hard and meaningful that made his heart hurt and stomach churn.

Love.

"Julain-" Geralt gives in and takes a grip of Jaskier's arm and gives it a soft tug only for Jaskier to yelp out in pain. "Shit, I didn't mean to-" Geralt recoils his hand as Jaskier twists his head around with his face pinched in pain.

"It's fine, it wasn't you," with his free hand Jaskier rubs his shoulder trying to soothe the burning pain.

"Someone hurt you?" Instinctively Geralt jumps into protective mode. "Who was it?!" Jaskier almost smiled at the way Geralt genuinely cared for him, cared for Jaskier in a way none of his family ever did but it was little too late.

The time for Geralt's apologies and care was years ago.

"Noone. I slept on it funny," lied Jaskier once again avoiding Geralt's piercing gaze as Jaskier knows as soon as he looks at Geralt, he'll tell him everything. "I must go, apologies. Goodnight."

"Wait," now it was Yennefers turn to pester Jaskier and clearly it worked at Jaskier snapped his neck around to scowl at the sorceress.

"Oh for fuck sake what is it now!" His voice was low enough that no one else paid any mind to it but it was so low it was like a growl and Yen actually found herself flinching away from the bard.

"Your brother, Finneus," Yen composes herself. "Where is he?"

"Lemme guess. He owes you money," huffs Jaskier letting his shoulders drop.

Yen simply nods.

"Well, you just missed him. The rat bastard saw you a scampered. Your best bet is looking for him in his chamber, he's probably packing his shit." There was real hatred in Jaskier's voice. Yen recognized that hate as a hate so deep-rooted and strong that you would do anything to be free of them.

"His chamber. Where is it?" Yennefer steps out towards the bard as urgency grips her.

"Up the main stairs, left corridor, fourth door on your right."

"Hah, marvelous. Thank you, Lord Julain," she gives a slight nod of her head before scurrying off but she must admit, it was unnerving to address the bard so highly for she only ever knew Jaskier as Geralt's pet bard now... something had snapped inside of Jaskier.

And now it was only Geralt, Jaskier and Ciri who was looking between the bard and the witcher, suffocating under the tension.

Finally, Geralt spoke again.

"Jaskier I need-"

"Save it," Jaskier holds a hand out and Geralt surprisingly fell silent. "I have guests to attend to and clearly you are at Yennefers bidding again. Go." His words are blunt and have a simple sadness to them. Like this was Jaskier's way of saying goodbye.

And sure enough, when Geralt looked behind him Yen was stood at the base of the stairs waving at him but when Geralt turned, he saw only Jaskier melting back in the crowd.

But Jaskier was stupid if he thought Geralt was going to let it end like that...


"The door," Harry said, trying to prioritize with his head rather than his cock. His cock was saying this was a rather brilliant position to have suddenly found itself in, and hey, let's spend a minute or two rubbing up against a tantalizingly wet Malfoy. "We have to get the door open."

"Oh, open the door. I never would have thought of that. Is that what you brought to the war, a keen sense of the absolutely obvious?" Malfoy banged his head against the wall a time or two but didn't let go of Harry. "The doors down here are charmed to seal shut if there's water pouring into a room. Flooding in a dungeon is serious business, Potter."

"What about the people in the room? You just let them drown?" Slytherins, Harry thought.  "That's horrible!"

Malfoy let his head fall forward until their foreheads met with a clunk. "No, Potter, it's sensible. The founders thought if there was water coming in, it would be through a broken window. Which the students could then swim out of. Understand? Are there any other safety measures regarding living under a lake that you'd like to cover before our imminent deaths?"

"We're not going to die, you berk." Harry tried to make that sound authoritative. It came out a little squeakier than he would have liked—the water was cold and it was starting to tickle his bollocks. Still, some of his panic had faded away. Malfoy was alive, Harry had gotten to him, no one had drowned yet, and there had to be a way out of this.

"When your room-mates come back," Harry said, after a moment more of thought, "they won't be able to open the door either. They'll call for help and someone will get us out."

Malfoy sneered. "Dinner just started. By the time they come back, find out something's wrong, get help, and get us out, we'll be blue, wrinkly, and very, very dead. Try again."

"Fine. I've got a bubblehead charm on. I'll do one on you too and we'll be able to last until they get us out of here."

Malfoy sighed like he did it professionally—long and weary and full of resignation. His chest rose and fell interestingly against Harry's as he breathed.  "Bubblehead charms only last an hour. Imbecile."

"So I'll do it again and again until they get us out of here." Harry knew he really didn't need to be having this conversation while pressed tight against Malfoy. The water rushing in was loud, sure, and it was swirling and tugging at their legs but really, he could move back an inch or two at least. Not that he was going to. "The slightest little problem and you give up? What, if you can't hire someone to do it, it can't be done?"

"Well I certainly wouldn't hire you," Malfoy said brightly, letting his arms hang over Harry's shoulders like they were the oldest and closest of friends. "Seeing as how you obviously don't know how bubblehead charms work."

Harry waited. If there was a flaw in his plan, he was sure Malfoy would point it out. Not that there was.

"Those of us who have to pass our NEWTS with knowledge rather than fame understand that bubblehead charms enclose a pocket of air, right? The pocket of air surrounding your head, to be precise. The air which in a not inconsiderable amount of time will be nonexistent in this room. If, while we're drowning, you wish to enclose our heads in an extra bubble of water, however, then it's a marvelous charm. Go right ahead."

Oh. Harry scrunched his face, trying to remember anything else about the charm even as that particular hope died a messy death. "It doesn't pull air from somewhere else?"

"No, Potter. Air cannot apparate in. Just like we can't apparate out." Malfoy let the fake bright look go out. "Which is why we're going to die."

"Fine, so my first idea won't work." Harry looked down at the water, which was now up to his waist, then back at the cabinet it was still pouring out of. Ok, he had another plan—

"We use magic to close the cabinet doors, we might not be strong enough to push them closed physically but if we use a force charm—"

Malfoy was leaning his forehead against Harry's again. "Twat. Once again you display a complete lack of understanding of the magical object in question." The look on his face was almost fond, though he was probably just fond of the chance to call Harry a twat. "Think about it."

Harry scowled and thought about it. Vanishing Cabinets had been used to escape from Death Eaters, right? But you wouldn't want someone at the other end to be able to accidentally interrupt your arrival, so once the connection was established, it probably couldn't be stopped until everything had come through, which in this case was the entire contents of the lake—

"Destroy the cabinet completely," Harry said, fast as the thought hit him. "No cabinet, no connection."

Malfoy was already shaking his head. "Won't work. They're layered in protection charm on protection charm. Indestructible, at least in the time we have."

The water was over his waist now. Not quite to nipple height but definitely at 'get a good plan right now' height.

Malfoy pulled him a little closer. Neither of them were talking about the 'wrapped close as lovers' part of this, but there it was. "Potter. Get me my wand."

Hope surged in Harry's chest. Had Malfoy thought of something? "Accio, Malfoy's wand," he called out.

Nothing happened for a moment then a pale wand leaped out of the water like a thin silver fish. It hit Harry's hand with a wet slap and he passed it over to Malfoy. "So? What's your plan?"

Malfoy wrapped his hand around his wand and dropped his head to Harry's shoulder. His words came out muffled by wet sweater. "I don't have one. I just wanted to die with my wand in my hand."

Harry tightened his grip, solely for the purpose of making it easier to growl in Malfoy's ear. Not to comfort him. "I've come up with four plans and you haven't thought of a single one! So who's the useless berk here, huh?"

Malfoy lifted his head. "You've come up with four stupid, useless plans and I've had to spend valuable time explaining why they won't work. So you're the berk."

Harry went ahead and wrapped his arms fully around Malfoy, because Malfoy was shivering and it was the right thing to do. Plus, something about body heat, right? "At least you got to spend the last hour of your life telling me how stupid and wrong I am. That's got to be pretty nice."

Malfoy swayed in the water and kind of laughed. "Should I even ask why my dorm room is filling with lake water and why you're here too but you don't have any way out either? Is that a profitable use of my last minutes or do I just really not want to know? It's not like there haven't been plenty of other things, major things, that nobody's bothered to explain to me until it's too late to make a difference."

"The short answer is the twins—"

Malfoy nodded, as if 'the twins' explained everything. Which it pretty much did.

"The long answer—" Harry stopped. The long answer involved the words 'magic sex contract' and there was no way he was going there. "The long answer's not worth getting into right now. Except I didn't do this to you and I'm, er, very sorry it happened."

Malfoy didn't answer. Just sniffed a bit. Harry wasn't sure if it was a scoffing type sniff, or a teary sniff, or just a water-up-the-nose type sniff.

Anyway, the water was now rippling across Harry's nipples, and it was chilling and scary and uncomfortably stimulating all at once. "I'd, er, rather spend my final moments doing something else. Not that I think these are our final moments, okay? I'm just taking a quick mental break on making plans."

Harry really meant that. He hadn't survived Voldemort just to die from a stupid Weasley prank. That would make the worst, most ridiculous footnote in the history books since Winifred the Wonderful defeated the Five Troll Army Invasion then choked to death on a ham sandwich while signing autographs.

Malfoy eyed him warily. "What did you have in mind?"

Winifred…trolls…ham sandwiches…choking to death…autographs…  Harry ran through every thought he'd just had in his mind, none of which were things he wanted to discuss. Ever. What he'd really wanted was—

Fuck it. If these were going to be his last few minutes on earth, he wanted to know what it felt like to kiss Draco Malfoy.

Harry leaned forward until their lips brushed. Malfoy's lips were smooth and, surprisingly for the circumstances, not wet. They quivered uncertainly under the press of Harry's mouth and then slowly the kiss was returned, lips softening, head tilting to let Harry come closer.

Harry brought his hand up to Malfoy's neck and cupped his head, leaning in to deepen the kiss. From the nipples down Malfoy's body was cold and wet, his sodden clothes plastered to his thin form. His lips were cold too. But they opened, tentative and unsure. Harry wondered when that had happened—the Malfoy he knew from before sixth year had never seemed unsure of anything. Harry's tongue licked out before he could stop it, wanting to taste and feel. And past those cold lips, Malfoy's mouth was warm. Harry's cock stiffened. Despite the water, despite the danger—or maybe because of it. Or maybe just because it saw no reason not to celebrate being locked in an embrace with a lean male body.

He pushed into Malfoy's mouth and for a moment there was more of that uncertainty, then their heads were tilting and Harry was falling forward into a tangle of hands in hair and warm welcoming tongue, and hips that pressed eagerly into his own. There was an answering hardness swelling there and his cock was completely on board with forgetting about the whole death-by-drowning thing in favor of the need that was seizing hold of him, spiraling up from his groin and making him shake with pleasure.

Basically, it was a bloody fantastic snog and Harry hated to end it but—

"I have an idea," he said, forcing himself to pull away, panting. "See? Letting me take a break from thinking worked perfectly. We can--"

Malfoy groaned. "I'm about to die in water fish have peed in. It's undignified enough without having to spend my last few minutes listening to Gryffindorish prattle about impossible escapes."

"No, hear me out." Harry's heart was pounding double-time from combined fear and lust but he thought he had it this time. Water swirled around his neck. "See, the windows might be specially reinforced against breaking but why would they do that to a dorm room door? Its edges are charmed shut but it won't be charmed to resist a concentrated Reducto in the middle. We'll smash it to pieces."

"A combined Reducto on the door?" Malfoy's head tilted consideringly, cheek coming perilously close to the ever-rising water.

Harry's heart beat faster. They didn't have much time left but Malfoy couldn't think of any reason this wouldn't work and he was nearly as smart as Hermione. He grabbed Malfoy's hand and tugged him until they stood directly in front of the door. "Get your wand ready. They'll work underwater, don't worry about that, just put everything you have into it."

Malfoy nodded stiffly. He raised his wand and pointed it at the door. "We need to concentrate our combined magic on the smallest possible area. Drill a hole and the water will rush through, helping us break it."

"On my mark," Harry raised his wand, then stopped. "Wait. You're right." He shoved his wand back into his waistband. Malfoy was looking at him questioningly, pale and frightened but determined now. "I know the best way to concentrate our magic."

Harry moved behind him, wrapped one arm around Malfoy's waist, and covered his hand on the wand. "I think I proved your wand works for me," he said, not able to help the smile that curved his lips up as he pressed them to Malfoy's neck. "Come on now. The wand just directs the magic. We'll let our power flow through it together."

He felt more than saw Malfoy's nod. Fingers tightened under his on the wand and at the same time, they both breathed out a firm Reducto. Magic rose to his call and poured down his arm and out the wand. Malfoy's magic bubbled around it, lighter than his own somehow, and together they swirled out the end of the wand and slammed into the door.

Sparks flew even underwater. It looked like a video Uncle Vernon had brought home once, something where they were supposed to admire the drills but all Harry had really noticed was the welder's flame, cutting a path through steel with fire.

The door might as well be steel, Harry thought a moment later as not even the smallest hole had appeared. What the hell did the Slytherins want their doors to withstand, a battering ram? There were flimsier portcullises, he bet, but he kept his magic strong and flowing. Malfoy was leaning back into him, open now in a way Harry had never seen, letting the stronger flow of Harry's magic pull his own out. Their magic was connecting, merging. It was... right. Being wrapped around Malfoy, with Malfoy pressing back against him, was right. If they ever managed to get out of here, Harry wasn't going to waste any more time. Every cell in his body, every particle of his magic, was telling him that the other things he wanted to do with Malfoy would feel right as well.

Malfoy gasped. Harry saw why a second later—a tiny hole had appeared in the door. It was working! Part of him wanted to stick his tongue in Malfoy's ear and go nah-nah-nah, who's the stupid Gryffindor now, but the larger, smarter part of him wanted to live and so he kept the wand tight and focused.

The water was up to his chin. He'd been so intent on the door that he'd barely noticed it climbing higher. Now it was lapping at the ends of his hair and inside, he could feel his magic tiring. All of it, he had said, and he'd meant it, but it was so hard to keep the wand steady, the hole enlarging. Malfoy was trembling with exertion but the fizz of his magic kept flowing, and it called to Harry's, twisting together into something bright and powerful.

Something gave and when it gave it went all at once. The hole went from tiny to massive as the center of the door blew out. Harry's heart leaped with joy and relief and triumph all at once but he had no time to think about it. Water rushed through the hole, pouring out in a wave that swept them both out of the room and past the accursed door, sides scraping painfully as they popped free. It was too wet and too tidal to properly stand and so together they slipped and skidded down the corridor.

Harry risked a glance back as they stumbled up the stairs to the common room. The door had smashed completely open and if anything, the water was pouring out faster than ever. Some kind of magic, he supposed—the greater the space to fill, the more water was coming through. They were still ahead of it, though, and he kept Malfoy close to him, pulling him up each time he fell.

Into the common room, and Harry pelted across as fast as he could make Malfoy move, tensing as behind them the water bellowed. He looked back again in time to see it explode out of the stairwell with the force of a geyser, sending hungry foaming wave after wave after them. Harry had only a second or two as they ran to consider the irreparable damage lake-water would do to those gorgeous black leather sofas and finely carved tables, then they were hitting the door at a shivering run, arm in arm. The stone entrance creaked as it opened and they tumbled out to the roar of angry water.

"I can't—" Malfoy panted, limped a step and then collapsed. The stone door slammed closed behind them and Harry sank to the floor beside him, pulling Malfoy into his arms. The rumble of water was still loud, ferocious, but they were on the right side of the charmed door now.

"We're safe, shhh," Harry said, feeling stupid and guilty and more wet than he'd ever been. He flopped all the way back, unable to even sit, and Malfoy slid down next to him, practically blue in the face. Harry hauled him on top and started rubbing his back, worried, feeling Malfoy's too-thinness and the cold that had seeped so deeply into him that the dungeon stone seemed almost warm in comparison.

Malfoy let out a little helpless sound and turned his face into Harry's neck. If only he had enough strength left for a drying charm, maybe a warming charm, and Harry definitely wasn't thinking this was a relatively fine position to find himself in—

A shadow fell over them. Harry looked up and then looked up a little more at the tall figure now standing there, a pleasantly amused expression spreading across his face. Blaise Zabini, close enough to take in every detail of their drenched embrace, but just far enough back to keep his expensive-looking shoes away from their dirty puddle. Behind him crowded the rest of Slytherin House, a mass of curious eyes and dropped jaws and whispering heads.

"I'd say, get a room but," and here Zabini paused long enough for the rumbling water on the other side of the door to make its own statement, "but I'm guessing that might have become, ah, problematic? Am I correct?"


Chapter 65

October 31st, 1994

Hogwarts

They left the Great Hall with Fleur having put her name in the Goblet of Fire

"Ok," Harry said, "Follow me".

"Where are we going," Fleur asked.

"Someplace I think you will find interesting," He said.

Shrugging Fleur followed her boyfriend to see what he had to show her.

They arrived at a second floors girl bathroom.

"Why are we at a girls bathroom Arry," Fleur asked.

"It's ok there's no one who goes to this bathroom" He reassured her.

And like he said the bathroom seemed pretty run down.

Fleur looked as he led her to a sink.

He began speaking in the language of the snakes Parseltongue.

She had known for a while that her boyfriend had the ability to speak Parseltongue.

It did not worry her about his ability but it was weird hearing it in real life.

Soon a staircase came off the side of the sink.

She followed down the stairs where after walking down another hallway they arrived in a large chamber.

She stared around her in wonder.

'Where is this?'

'The Chamber of Secrets,' Harry grinned.

"Wow," Fleur said "This is the Salazar Slytherin's Chamber then"

"Yes," He replied.

"How on earth did you find this place," She asked.

"It's a long story," He said chuckling.

Harry took Fleur to then see the Bookshelf in the back of the chamber.

She seemed very interested in seeing all of the interesting books and tomes.

One of the books that he wanted to look at the most he needed her help with due to the requirement of two people for it to work successfully.

He wanted to become an Anigmus.

So they soon were reading the book about Anigmus training together.

'An animagus, is able, once they are fully capable of using their form, of retaining most of their faculties, even if they are influenced while within their animagus body. Ordinary human to animal transfiguration leaves the altered wizard or witch with no more intelligence or understanding than the animal they have become. A partial transfiguration can have either effect, depending on the part of the body altered.

"In order to become an Anigmus, you must need another person with you who will use a spell caused Mutata Interiore

"Well, you mind doing at"Harry asked.

Fleur said "Mutata Interiore" and Harry closed his eyes.

There was a glimpse of a slim, black body. Slender scales, tapering away. Dark eyes, gleaming like gimlets. The dispassionate, distant curiosity of the hunter, its patience, its power. The cruel-edged, long, straight beak, curving talons, and the sleek feathers that concealed him in the shadows.

A raven.

The curiosity was catching, the sense of the raven slipping closer to himself, pervading and permeating his mind, twisting his thoughts into unreadable loops. Harry was distantly aware that he was changing, the world looming larger, and the ceiling rising away from him.

Old-cold-living-stone.

It rung under his talons as he tapped them against it, intrigued that what was not-alive felt so strange. He clacked his beak, hopping from the floor to the warmer, dead-wood-once-trees; it gave him a better view of the room. Dipping his beak into his feathers he eyed the surroundings, tilting and tipping his head to take in as much as he could as quickly as he could.

Two-legged-no-wings-no-feathers.

The creature seemed familiar, but it was old and slow. He could see it in the lines of its pale skin, the talonless tips of its feet, and the greying of its hair.

Not prey. Not a threat.

He clacked his beak at it curiously, hopping closer. It was the only creature present. The living stone drove the others away with its unusualness.

The creature moved with sudden speed, and the desk crumpled underneath him, pitching him onto the floor with an indignant squawk, until he found himself staring at his fingers on the stone, and the raven faded away.

'How curious?' Harry stood up slowly, inspecting himself to see if he was completely human again.

He was.

'I truly was the raven.'

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

After finishing reading about Anigmus Harry was able to somehow convince Fleur to have a mock duel.

Neither particularly wanted to hurt each other but it would be good practice.

Fleur was waiting in the middle of the chamber with her rosewood wand, extended out to her right.

'Normal rules,' Fleur decided, conjuring a glowing circle across the floor. 'Nothing too dangerous, and no speaking anything but spells and no trying to distract each other.'

Her wand snapped up without warning, and Harry immediately flicked his into his palm in preparation.

'Shall we begin,' Fleur returned her wand arm to its original position and Harry mirrored her, forcing himself to look away from her eyes and consider her an enemy.

Fleur struck first, unleashing a trio of jinxes with her wand movements sliding from one spell into the next without halting.

He deflected two of them back at her, side-stepping the last and attacked himself, throwing every one of the borderline useless spells he knew at her, but Fleur proved impossible to touch.

She stepped around them, weaving fluidly, almost dancing amongst the beams of magic, deflecting the few she could not dodge back at him and constantly turning and twisting him along the edge of the ring stretching the angles he could deflect her spells at to their limit.

Harry couldn't seem to pin her down, no matter how fast he cast, and his spells were slicing across the air from his wand tip twice as fast as Fleur could send them back. She was glorious in action. It was hard to ignore the way she moved to avoid his magic, the way Fleur curved away from his hexes was almost hypnotic.

Fleur may not like to fight a lot but she sure knew how to defend herself well enough.

The events of the World Cup and the Tournament had gotten her interested in really learning self-defense.

Abandoning his assault for a moment, he slashed his wand across his chest drawling the water from the pool behind her, he conjured a liquid serpent the length of the bridge that twisted forwards through the air to encircle and shatter her shield.

'Expelliarmus,' Harry murmured, just as her defenses faltered, and then it was over, and Fleur's wand was in his hand.

Grinning triumphantly he gave Fleur her wand back.

Fleur scowled but he knew she was fine with everything.

'So what did you think?' He asked.

``I can't believe you beat me already' she sighed.

'Already?'

'I expected you to win eventually, I'm good at dueling, but I'm better suited to enchanting and other subtler aspects of magic as well as the medical field"

"Well at the very least we will never have to face each other on a battlefield," Harry said.

"Indeed" Fleur agreed.

Harry noticed the time.

"We had better go if we want to get to the Selection Ceremony on time," He said.

"Oui" Fleur said and followed him out of the Chamber as they headed back upstairs and to the Great Hall.

They would be working more at a later date on his Animagus form and seeing if he could transform into a raven.