Harry Potter and the Moment of Silence

Chapter Five: Magical Cleansing

Harry Potter and the Moment of Silence

When he woke, she was already taking him into her. As she rocked above him, the happiness that made her cheeks flush gave him as much pleasure as being inside of her did. And then she slid her arm down, over her own breasts, and touched the place where they were so intricately merged. He gripped her hips as the fast rush came to an end and they both shattered at the same instant.

She collapsed on him in a heap of sweaty, and ironically cool, flesh.

"That's...a really good way to wake up," Harry managed. "Not a bit shy, are you, Hally?"

She pillowed her head on her arms, smiled at him. "Would you like me to be?"

He shook his head. "Naw. I like you the way you are. Of course, Ron and Mal are going to go crazy when they see you."

Her eyebrows lifted. "Ronanmal?" she repeated slowly. "What is that?"

"What?" Harry repeated, then whooped with laugher. "I do not know about Ron, but Mal is definitely a what instead of a who." At her blank look, he explained. "You see, when I was eleven and went to Hogwarts -that is my school of wizardry, by the way- I met Ron Weasley. He is my best friend. So's Hermione Granger. You will probably like her."

"Probably?"

"Well, some people think she's snobbish and a know-it-all." He gave her that sharp grin. "She is the latter, but that has saved my butt more times than I can count, so I don't have the right to criticize."

"What all does she know?" Her eyebrows were lowered and puckered, making him chuckle. "Is she your woman in that world?"

He lifted a hand to stroke her hair. "I do not have a woman in that world. Women are free to do as they choose. Nobody owns them or forces them to do anything. I did date Ginny Weasley, Ron's little sister, last year, but I ended up breaking things off."

"How come?"

He twirled a strand of her hair around his finger, his face and voice sober. "I did not want to hurt her," he said quietly, then sighed. "Hally, there are things you will not understand until you see my world for yourself. I have a habit of ruining my friends' lives and making everything difficult for them."

Again, that puckered brow. "Why? If they are your friends, why do you hurt them so?"

"I don't know. I do not mean to, but it isn't something I can just stop. The past couple years, I just got so stressed. Everything was falling apart. I was being shuffled around since my relatives died, and everything was just...messed up, you know?"

"I would like to say I do, but I truly do not. If everything was falling apart, then why did you do that to your friends? Had they done something wrong?"

"No." He whooshed out a breath. "They just cared too much. I couldn't go anywhere without them trailing after me; worried I was going to kill myself, they were. And the media is crazed enough to steal and read my mail. Then I was in the hospital for convulsions because Olean kept trying to find my where-abouts, and there was this big thing about me being a Mage. It is a little weird when you are stronger, magically, than pretty much everyone else on the world. And you do not know how to control it. You live in one world, and yet you have some guy trying to tutor you on protocol and how to survive in a bloody monarchy. I just...It was hard, Hally. I had to do it on my own, and my friends didn't like that. They just got stuck in the crossfire, and I am sorry for that, but they're tough. Something like that will not put them off."

"Your world sounds so beautiful, Romane. I cannot wait to be a part of it, to simply see it as no one in my world ever has. It is such an honor."

He gave a deep, rumbling laugh and rubbed a hand down her back till it rested on her bare hip. It felt nice to hold someone so close, if only for a while. To feel this intimacy was like a miracle to him, a fresh, much-needed miracle. Especially when Harry remembered the last time he'd done anything remotely similar to this. He had to admit that this time around, it was definitely something he wanted to keep doing.

"I wonder if you will still think that when you see what technology and the human populations have done to it. There are barely any hills in England. Well, Hogwarts is in Scotland, I think, and it is pretty, but other than the country, the world is so populated. It's hard to find a place to be alone, to find some peace and quiet."

"I have had an entire life of loneliness and serenity. I want a little action."

"There's no doubt you will get it if you are around me at Hogwarts."

They stayed like that for a couple of minutes until Harry had to get up to wash up and get to breakfast. When he did leave, Hally made sure he thought of her by giving him a mind-numbing kiss right in the open doorway.

Their relationship had changed so drastically. On his way to Practillez, a distressing amount of worry wormed its way through his mind. How would he keep her protected and safe when Olean started getting anxious to get rid of him?

* * * * * *

"Delis de furan!"

"Parle de Centrui!"

"Fein day cu!"

"Darma de diagio!"

Harry had gotten gradually better during the past week or so since that night with Hallyanka, but mistakes were still made habitually and, more often than not, were severe. If he got into the rhythm in the first part of practice, he could usually keep up with the pace of it. Of course, he still saw it as pointless for a bunch of men and boys to stand in columns and rows and move their arms around like they were doing some intense recopy of the Muggle dance The Hokey-Pokey.

At break time, Lycander pulled him aside.

Bitterly, Harry sneered. "What have I done wrong this time, dear Qaiul of mine?"

Lycander frowned at that, but didn't respond to it. "Romane, I am glad you are getting better. The Head Counselman agrees with me that you are getting adjusted to our ways of life, but he would like to see you hanging out more with the other Qaiulees. There have been rumors going around that you have been spending time with the women more than the men."

Harry grinned. "That's not a rumor, Lycander, that is the truth."

Color surfaced on his Qaiul's face, and then left it just as quickly. "Harry," he said, shifting his body forward. "I want you to have the best experience while you are here. I know it is hard, I know it is different, but it is the way it is. Nothing will change it." Quietly, he added, "Not even The-Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry's chin jutted up defiantly. "That is what you say, Lycander. But, as my world used to be the same as yours, and it has changed, there is definitely a possibility of it changing for the better." There was logic in that, he mused as Lycander seemed to struggle to find words. It would have been something Hermione would have said. He could almost imagine her nod of approval.

Although it made him feel good, it also made him realize how much he missed her and the Weasleys. Hell, even Mal. He was homesick, he realized, and struggled to swallow it down before he made a fool of himself.

"Well, Head Counselman Questcinzay will not allow it, so forget this half-baked plan and get over it. You have yet to give your entire concentration to Practillez and dueling. And do not even get me started on your dueling technique"

"What's wrong with my dueling technique?" Unconsciously, he reverted to English and didn't even realize it.

Lycander, too, switched languages, although the switch was deliberate. He did not want all the Qaiulees to hear what Harry said, just in case he said something that Lycander would not be able to take back for him.

"It is not dueling, Romane, it is simply using your fists as a weapon. That is a fight, not a magical duel."

"That's where we differ, then, is it not, Lycander?"

"It does not matter where we differ. What matters is you actually dueling and doing your part around here."

"Doing my part?" Harry said, reverting back to Geyesh, his voice rising. "Doing my part of what? Standing in a bloody column all day and moving my arm like someone was throwing darts at me? Spending the afternoon dueling against a bunch of damned robots who do absolutely nothing in life but follow stupid orders from a king that has no right to be ruling a world that men believe that their sexual counterparts are somehow unequal to them?"

Lycander glanced around. Everyone was watching them, their faces varying from shock, confusion, anger, and complete and utter surprise.

"Stop it, Romane."

"Stop it?" Harry shouted. "Stop what? Stop being right, stop trying, stop being me? Sorry, Lycander, but just because you dragged me here to some insane little dimension does not mean you are in charge of me. I obeyed every protocol instruction you ever gave me. I did my best. I kept up with them, did I not?" He gestured to the enraptured crowd. "I left my world, my friends, my bloody family, for a bunch of numbskulls who could not even take care of one of their own kind and had to force a teenager to take up the slack! Not to mention that said teenager was from a different world!"

"I'll tell you something, dear Qaiul. I hate you! I hate every Mage in this entire little Mage community. The only people who are even worth knowing are the women here, and they are too scared to do much but say greetings!"

He was panting heavily, almost as if he hadn't stopped doing Practillez. He swiveled on his heels and sulked out of the room before Lycander could think of anything else to say. Something was bubbling inside of him; something he desperately wished wasn't hysteria. When he got into his rooms, he was still breathing as if he'd gone through the ringer. His hands were trembling for some reason, and he couldn't seem to find Hallyanka.

"Hally?" His voice, embarrassingly, shook.

Merlin, he was so angry and he didn't even know why. Lashing out, he punched the stone wall, then again, and again, and again, until he collapsed to his knees, hugging his bleeding hand to his stomach. It was worth the pain to simply feel again.

"Romane? What are you doing here? Has Practillez been cancelled?" When she saw the blood, she dropped the mound of laundry she carried and fell to her knees beside him. "What happened?"

He hissed when she tried to take his hand. "Leave it." When she disobeyed, he snagged her wrist in his good arm and snarled at her. "I said leave it, Hally."

Baffled, she yanked off the sleeve of her dress easily, the muscles in her arms barely shifting, and wrapped it around his fist tightly, even though Harry murmured at her to leave it be. She did not understand what had happened or what he wanted her to do, but she did comprehend that he wanted his fist to stay unhealed. She wrapped her arms around Harry's neck and urged him to rest his head on her shoulder when she realized his whole body was quivering.

"What has happened?" she questioned. "Who did this to you, Romane?"

"No one," Harry whispered. "I did it to myself."

She stroked her hand in small, soothing circles on the side of his neck where her right hand rested. Her heart ached when she heard the misery in his voice.

"What is wrong, Romane? I might be able to help."

He shook his head frantically and struggled to shove the knot out of his throat. "You can't, Hally. You can't unless you can get me home."

Understanding made her hug him tighter to her chest. "Oh, you are homesick. You have only a few weeks left. Can you not wait that long?"

Harry didn't answer. He simply couldn't because he didn't know. Out of comfort, he lifted a hand to the necklace he kept hidden under his shirt. And since his face was smashed against her shoulder, he missed the small, light glow of red that silently emanated from the snake. It only lasted a moment, and then it was just another piece of silver hanging around his neck.

* * * * * *

He was sweaty, a little bloody, and exhausted by the time dueling was finished. He bent down so he could wipe his face on the bottom of his top, and then straightened. He'd been doing better -much, much better- the last few days and was even starting to use a little bit of magic during his duels. Harry told himself it wasn't because of what Lycander had said at all, but the fact that he was here to study his Mage powers and not hand-to-hand combat.

He lifted a hand to his cheek, smeared a little blood and winced. It didn't hurt all that much, but it stung enough to have him striding out of the room. If he got to Hally before it started running on his uniform, it would save her time from having to scrub it off in the morning.

"Harry?"

He twisted around when Lycander called him. "What?" He wasn't in the mood to fight or be ordered around.

"Come with me. I have something to show you that I think you will like."

Frowning, Harry walked with him in the other direction, towards what Hallyanka had said was the Royal family's rooming quarters.

"What is it?" he asked apprehensively.

"If I were to tell you, Romane, it would not be a surprise, now would it?"

His Qaiul gave him an enigmatic smile. Much to Harry's disgust, he felt his pulse pick up in anticipation. What was it? This was most definitely not like Lycander. Not like him at all.

"I expect you to act properly," Lycander warned him as they came to a double door archway.

Then he opened the door.

A smile lit Harry's face even before he walked into the room. He sent Lycander a grateful look. "Thank you," he said sincerely and walked into the room before the Mage man could respond.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked it out.

When she hugged him, Harry wrapped his arms around her and squeezed the life out of her. As they rocked, he gave the Weasleys, Hermione, and Malfoy a mile-wide grin.

"Merlin, it's good to see you." He pushed Hermione back so he could study her, and then hugged her again, laughing.

"It's good to hear you laughing," Mrs. Weasley murmured tearfully and gave him one of her trademark hugs when he released Hermione.

What was he supposed to say to that? Harry wondered uneasily. But the unease, however, didn't last more than a few seconds when he saw Ron and, surprisingly, Malfoy, and the other Weasley boys. They greeted him with grins and slaps on the shoulders.

"Hey, Mal. Didn't expect to see you. How have you been?"

The blonde shrugged. Harry noticed he was wearing one of his rich-boy shirts, but the black of it was beginning to fade a little. A sign, he knew, that he was getting used to not having everything he wanted at beck and call.

"Decent, I guess. You? This place looks like one hell of a spot to be visiting."

He snorted. "Visiting? Hell, it's a prison. Wow, it is odd to be speaking English again. Hey, Hermione, how's my accent?"

She grinned at him, near tears. "More pronounced, that's for sure."

Ron plopped down onto the bed that four of his brothers were already sitting on. Mrs. Weasley, following his lead, sat down on one of the sturdy red wood chairs. Harry continued to smile.

"I'll tell you one thing, Mrs. Weasley. I cannot wait to sleep on a mattress." His eyes lit. " Or a couch, for Merlin's sake. It is like living in the eleventh century here."

One of the twins -Harry didn't know which- looked him up and down. "Nice duds, Harry. Very stylish. You should wear it back to our world."

The other added, "Yeah, Harry, you'd make a statement."

Harry laughed and turned to Lycander, who stood back out of the way back by the door. Since he figured he'd understand it better, he transferred to Geyesh again. "Lycander, can you summon Hallyanka, please? I want her to meet my friends."

"What did you say to him?" Ginny wanted to know when his Qaiul left the room.

Harry clapped his hands in front of him. "He's gonna get Hallyanka so I can introduce you guys to her. She's great. Guys make her nervous, so be polite and do not move around a lot." He said the last part to the group of Weasley men and Malfoy, all who sat on the bed.

Ginny's voice was curious. "You sound like you like her a lot."

Harry hesitated. "I do," he said truthfully. "She is a great person. Disadvantaged, but she still manages to, you know, be happy. Or relatively happy. Not many women here are happy. Where's Mr. Weasley?" he asked suddenly.

It was Bill who answered. "He had some business to do. Malfoy's offered his family manor for Headquarters, and they're getting it prepped. We should all be able to move in by the time you get back."

"Wow." It was a day for impressing Harry. He looked at Malfoy. "Looks like you actually have a heart."

Mal sneered. "Maybe I just became resigned to the fact I'm stuck where I am."

Ginny clapped him on the shoulder like her brothers had done. "Now that we got him one, maybe we should work on you next."

That caused a small round of guffaws from her family. Harry shook his head.

"You, Ginny Weasley, have spent way too much time around the male species."

"What can I say?" She sent Malfoy a sly look. "I'm stuck with 'em."

"Come on, Ginny." This from Charlie. "You know you love us." To prove it, he reached out, snagged her hand, and pulled her onto his lap to tickle her.

Ginny's laughter was still loud and tinkling when the door opened. Lycander walked in first and made Harry frown, but then Hally walked in and silenced every single person in the room. She was dazzling to look at, her curly hair falling to her waist, her body lush and curvy. Her dress was dirty and thin, but she managed to make herself look sexy and attractive even beside it. She walked to Harry and he held out a hand for her.

"Guys, this is Hallyanka Questcinzay. Hally, these are my friends." He smiled at their dazzled, awestruck gazes. "The redheads are all Weasleys." He pointed them out and named them off. "That is Bill, the twins, Fred and George, Charlie -he works with dragons in my world- Ron, he's the one I was telling you about- and that's Ginny."

Ginny pulled herself out of her brother's arms and stood. She blinked. "Nice to meet you," she murmured.

Hally gave a shy, uncertain smile and did a quick dellicour to her, to Mrs. Weasley, and then another one towards the majority of men on the bed.

"The pleasure is all mine." She turned to Harry, smiled. "You are bleeding, Romane."

He reached up, flinched. "I forgot about that."

She lifted a hand, placed it on the cut. When she pulled it away, all that was left beneath it was an unobtrusive, tiny white scar.

"So," she said airily, deciding to toss Geyesh protocol to hell. She sat down, folded her legs neatly beneath her, and gently dragged her lover down to sit next to her. "Tell me about all the trouble Romane tells me he gets into in your world."

* * * * * *

That night, when he and Hallyanka lay facing each other in bed, he smiled.

"I am not sure whether Lycander did that to get me to start working harder or to make peace with me. I do not particularly care since I got to see my friends again, but I am curious."

She curled her back so she could rest her head on his chest. The flesh carried ridges and red, angry welts from his last and only encounter with a whip, but it was warm and soothing to the touch. The scars did not matter, although she had experienced a bad moment imagining them being entrenched there. That was a nightmare she did not want to contemplate again. Once was more than enough to put the fear of Merlin into her. Her hand lay on his chest, a fingertip tracing slow circles.

"I like your friends, Romane." It was the truth. She would never have given him anything but that. "Your redheaded friend stared at me, but he made me laugh."

Harry chuckled. "Ron was dazzled and charmed." And Hermione hadn't looked a bit pleased; he mused, flashing back. The thought of his two best friends dating had occurred to him before now, but he didn't think he'd ever seen a more obvious sign of mutual attraction between the two of them than Hermione acting jealous. "I almost died of laughter when I made Charlie take off his robe to put over your shoulders."

Puzzled, she looked up. "I do not understand that about you. There is nothing wrong with my dress. It is a bit worn, I admit, but-"

He cupped her cheek and managed to create enough energy to place a hard, passionate kiss to that furrow between her brows.

"Hallyanka, when we go home, you will see why I believe that rag you call a dress is inappropriate and self-deprecating." Harry had a bad moment remembering the day Mackenzie and joked about him using big words and fought to push her out of his mind. She wasn't a part of his life anymore. "Did you not see what Ginny, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley all wore? They dress much as the males do, and then they get dressed up a bit more formally for dances and special occasions. You would be surprised at the sacred rituals females hold themselves to on Earth. Make-up, dresses, materials, hair, gossip, nails, shoes." At her face, he couldn't help but laugh. "I promise you, Hally, you will have everything a girl could possibly want when we go there. There is Diagon Alley, a sort of street full of stores and shops. You will love it."

Love was a bright, harsh fire set under her heart. Aching with the desperation of it, she let her head rest on his chest again and pinched her eyes shut against the tears. What kind of man was it who could think of so little of things and make her heart almost combust with love, pride, and needs so passionate that it brought tears to her eyes? Was every man on his world like this?

"The mother- Molly, was it? -seemed to watch you closely while you ate."

Lycander and the Head Counselman had arranged a private, special meal in Questcinzay's rooms. It had been full of jokes and laughter that Harry hadn't heard in a very long, long time.

There was a sadness he hadn't expected to feel at the thought of going home, back to where everyone knew him as the Boy-Who-Lived. Would Hally still like him when she realized who he was, what he was, and what he'd done? Would she still be able to let him hold her like this, or would she be too scared to even come near him? Harry wouldn't blame her if she was, and yet...his stomach dipped to his toes at the thought of not having her to hold.

"Mrs. Weasley is just worried about me, I guess. I wasn't an angel or as happy as I am now the last time I saw her." Grimly, he stroked a hand up and down her ribcage. It was so tiny; it utterly fascinated him. "She probably had orders to study me and give a report to Dumbledore and my psychiatrist."

"Your what?"

"When I was in the hospital, they weren't exactly sure if I was emotionally stable. I had been whipped and tortured, and they were not willing to release me until they knew what had happened. It probably hadn't helped when I refused to mention how I killed Voldemort." Now Harry glowered at the ceiling. He couldn't help but feel resentful of all the hours he'd been forced to spend in that dull psychiatric evaluation room in St. Mungos. "Nelly Simmons was an Auror -someone who knew the law and protected people. His family had been murdered, so he gave up the Ministry business and got a psychiatric degree. I was forced to see him everyday for three hours, and I was not happy."

"I do not know why everyone wants to know about May fifteenth, Hal." Then he laughed with a tinge of bitterness. "That's a lie. I do know," he said angrily. "I just do not understand. I used Dark Magic to get rid of the biggest terrorist in the Wizarding World, and they want to arrest me and take me to Azkaban. The man caused horror and tragedy everywhere he went. He killed people: my parents, men, women, children, babies. I don't expect an Order of Merlin, First Class, but I spent the last six years of my life fighting and hunting and protecting myself and my friends against this man, this...this snake, and it does not matter to them."

Her heart ached for him. Lifting her head, she pressed her lips gently to his, her fingernails trailing down his cheek with a warmth that came from the depths of her heart.

"I am sure they just do not understand, Romane. No one ever can, not even me, no matter how many times you tell what happened. No matter how many times you go through it and explain it, detail by detail or minute by minute. They have not gone through what you have gone through. They have not seen what you have seen. Romane, no one could ever kill him. Maybe they resent that someone so young could have killed a man that dozens of trained professionals have tried and failed to kill themselves."

She had no inkling what an Order of Merlin, First Class was, or Azkaban. Dark Magic was a phrase she had never heard before in her life. But it did not matter. Now was not the time for explanations. Her man -for that was surely as she thought of him as- was in pain. It was her duty -no, her responsibility- to eased that pain in any way she could.

"Hally, sometimes I just cannot breath." Though his eyes watered, he didn't let any collect or fall. "Sometimes I would simply look around a room, at people I have roomed with for six years, since I was an eleven-year-old boy, people I have had conversations with and should understand, and my body seems to freeze. I do not know why, but it hurts so much sometimes. I feel...almost as if I am on an ocean, drifting on a lifeboat. My skin is on fire and hurts and the boat is swaying on tidal waves of dark, dense, immovable black fog. I am drowning even as I float, and I know no one will ever come and rescue me."

Where had that come from? he wondered. His chest tightened in an emotion he couldn't describe or name, and he wished it would disappear passionately. Maybe Nelly was right when he'd told Harry that he didn't know what he was thinking or feeling anymore than the people surrounding him did.

Hally stroked his cheek, saying nothing. Laying back, this time pulling Harry's head onto the cushion of her breast, she breathed deeply. She curled an arm around him, her hand massaging at the flesh behind his neck gently.

What was a person -any person who had honesty inbred in them from the cradle- to say to such heartfelt pain? Nothing. There was nothing she could possibly do for him but comfort and try to help him heal.

When Hallyanka had been sick as a child, her mother had sung Old Geyesh songs to her and simply curl up beside her on the bed that she'd shared with her sister and rock her to sleep. It had always made her feel so warm and loved. So she decided to pass the tradition on and began to sing about a young Roman warrior injured fatally in battle and the struggle to return home to his love. Her voice flowed over the high notes, swept down to the lowest of the baritone section of the scale, and did not have to force any emotion into it.

Hally thought the song suited him to all intents and purposes.

Slowly, almost by magic, Harry felt each muscle relax one by one. She had the voice of an angel, he realized, and entwined his other hand with hers. And then, without realizing it, he fell into a deep, soothing sleep, dreaming of lush, green mountains and a tanned teenager wearing old-fashioned Latin armors.

"A remour de rogeutier. Au demoto, sei de mout. Lo amour, de sei mout.

Reri a fay, deson, de lete au monoten. Swa une gwar, a un frare munette.

Assa tu bon, a la se fol de ma. Soa fo di a mager, a mager, di a mager.

A remour de rogeutier. Au demoto, sei de mout. Lo amour, de sei mout.

Reri a fay, reri a fay. Di a une gwar, wune a day, fo di a mager."

"I ao, I ao, de lete au monoten, sei de mout. Das amour, de sei mout.

A remour de rogeutier. Di a une gwar, wune a day, fo di a mager.

Genes for be tu de mone, es a rebalon."

When she knew he was asleep, she glanced down, kissed his forehead, and closed her own eyes to sleep. The words echoed in her head, and she, too, dreamt of a young boy in olden times.

* * * * * *

"I do not know why you did not tell me of this, Hally." There was a scowl and displeasure in his voice, but she just grinned at him. The smile lightened his heart. She didn't do that often, honestly smile with her eyes glowing, but when she did, it was the most dazzling thing he'd ever seen. Before, she'd have avoided him simply because of his mood, but now it had her plastered to his side, her arm held through his as went tradition and protocol.

She wore a dress that Harry hadn't seen before. It was the same as the others, but less worn and stiffer. It was still see-through, but he managed not to grind his teeth over the issue. She deserved to wear those classy dresses that women seemed so fond of. Dresses of sequins and glitter and shiny materials.

He made a silent, mental vow to both of them that he'd provide her those dresses as soon as they were home.

They entered the Cleansing Hall in a line of royalty. The High Counselman held his mate, Deirdre, whose black hair shone as shiny as any American Indian's would have. They were elbow to elbow, just as Harry and Hally were.

The side of Deirdre's face was slightly bruised. A fury like none other roared through his veins, but he reigned it in. This was a Geyesh holiday, or so Hallyanka had told him. It wouldn't do anyone good for him to be in a pisser of a mood. No one had thought it important enough to announce it, which annoyed him a little. Lycander or Hally could have at least mentioned it before now.

Behind the Head Counselman were his sons Airon and Brae and their mates, both dark haired with high cheekbones and stormy eyes. Harry figured the two girls were either cousins or relatives of some distant kind. Lyon walked ahead of him and Hally, her hand connecting her to her younger sister, Lawnci. Well, adoptive sister. No two sisters were actually biologically related. The only exceptions were twins; if there was more than two children at once, they were separated and assigned different families. Harry had a feeling that no Mage liked to be confused or forced to guess, which inevitably happened with multiple birthed children.

Behind them marched the long line of the Counsel and their families, which included Lycander and his woman Mali. No, Harry mused; they're not families, but units. Family was too personal a word.

"I am sorry," she whispered sincerely. "I have been spending so much time inside our quarters that I forgot about it almost completely. It is no big deal, really, Romane. It is just some foolish old tradition."

Harry didn't think it looked like just some foolish old tradition. What it looked like, however, was a festive affair. The room was even larger than the Grandelie. The floor was made of marble and dug in them were what seemed to be granite leveled pools, or bathtubs. But, of course, no one here would have known what a bathtub was or what it looked like. The style was more than slightly Roman, so he guessed it was how they'd done holidays or magical cleansing when there had only been two dimensions instead of three.

Hally led him to one of the bathes. "Each pairing in the royal family receives their own Soin. Shed your clothes."

The words hadn't even been properly comprehended when Hallyanka grabbed the bottom of her dress and pulled up, up, and over her head. Nude, she poked a toe into the steaming water where a young, frightfully skinny girl awaited. She was one of the few blondes that Harry had seen, but her hair wasn't gloriously soft like Hally's and Lyon's. It was stringy and frail. Her arms were bony. He couldn't see her legs because the water disfigured whatever was below it.

The blonde was nude as well.

"Hallyanka," Harry said slowly, "did you just-"

Hally grabbed his hand. He was forced to bend down or be pulled under.

"Romane, do not worry. No one will be looking except the washitu and me." She tugged on his hand, her smile forced. "Your Qaiul and the Questcinzay are staring."

Harry's head swiveled around so fast he got a crick in his neck. His eyes flared when he saw Lycander, already in the nude -God, this was just plain perverted- and watching him censoriously. Because his stomach churned in disgust, he looked back at Hally, who'd looked at the Geyesh Mage as well. She wasn't fazed or disgusted a bit.

"It is tradition," she whispered frantically, as if reading his mind. "If you do not follow the rules, they will punish you for disrespect."

His jaw clenched. Furious, he ripped his top and under shirt over his head and his leggings. He did not, however, get rid of the thin material that was wrapped around his waist and fell crookedly slightly above his knees. He got in like that, not looking at Lycander or anyone else. So he disgraced himself.

It wasn't as if he didn't do that daily in this world.

Hallyanka resisted covering her eyes and bursting into tears. More than a little panicked, she let herself slide down to rest on her knees, her head becoming level with the girl's -the washitu's- waist. "They will whip you for disobeying protocol, Romane. Is it that much of a trial to bare yourself and stay in the water?"

"I'm not going to stand around naked so a bunch of foolish idiots can stare at my pecs to see if they're any different than their own!" The water was brutally hot and brought a flush to his chest. Like Hally, he slid down to get out of sight. When the washitu's lips smirked, he smiled. "I would bow, miss, but as you can see I am sort of hip deep in water."

The blonde girl flushed. She opened her mouth, shut it again, and blinked at Hallyanka, who gave a slight, exasperated shrug.

"Romane, this is Rhea. Rhea, asieur Romane. Do not dellicour," Hally told her an instant before the girl would have. "It would be just silly in water and it would just make him more mad."

This time, she sent Harry the exasperated look. "You truly are going to get yourself whipped or deysalied."

"Deysalied?" He hadn't learned that word. "What does deysalied mean?"

"It means getting officially in trouble and being cast out. It does not happen often, but it is not as rare as many people think." She lifted an arm at Rhea's murmured word. To Harry's stunned amazement, the blonde began to scour her palm almost seductively over the dewy, wet skin, leaving a light blue glare on her skin. Hally explained. "It is a magical cleansing charm. It refreshes the magic by seeping out into her palm and then back into me. It is a little cold, but it does not hurt at all."

The blood in his head simply leaked out of his brain. "Is she going to do that to me?"

"Of course, Romane. Oh, do not look so scandalized. It does not hurt." She lifted the other arm. Rhea slid her hand between the gaps of her fingers, over every piece of skin on her arm and shoulder, and then down over her armpit, erasing what little hair had grown there since the last Cleansing. Harry watched, horrified, as she literally handled every piece of Hally's flesh. Her back, between her legs, her neck and scalp, her tongue.

By the time Rhea finished and turned to him, his mouth was slack and he his eyes wide.

"Please lift your arm, asieur." Her voice was kind and gentle, a sweet murmur meant to relax his muscles.

Numb, Harry sucked in a large breath and let himself slip under the water. He'd rather drown then let someone so innocent clean him -especially there. Merlin, the girl couldn't have been eleven. She looked starved, bitter, and yet she had talked to him with a tenderness that made his throat ache. Now he knew why Hallyanka had been so unsettled from tenderness.

Hally called his name. He heard the slightly warbled name he'd gotten used to hearing, but instead of surfacing, he released his breath so he could sink to the very bottom of the tub.

Lightheaded, he didn't struggle when his mate physically hauled him up.

* * * * * *

His last day in the Souriom de Solfiace was the most frustrating thing he'd ever done. It was demalia, so he spent the extra six hours pacing in his quarters. Hallyanka sat on the couch, her hands folded properly on her lap as if she was forbidden to speak or move. Silent treks of tears trailed down her flushed cheeks, but she didn't make a sound. Harry had given up trying to comfort her. Visiting the female part of her family had been emotional, unlike what the actual, proper good-byes would be like. Then she would not be permitted to speak up or even look at her family, as followed Geyesh protocol for the royal family, who Harry doubted would even acknowledge her.

He'd try telling her she didn't have to come, although they both knew she didn't have a choice. She'd simply covered her face and said, in that horribly despairing voice, that it was her duty as the morge of the royal monarch Questcinzay. That was when Harry had cursed Aphrozodis Questcinzay.

He rolled tensed shoulders.

"You won't have to worry, Hallyanka, that you will be alone there." Merlin, words were just so inadequate. What did you say to a girl who was being forced to change dimensions for no sensible reason at all? "I will take care of you."

She didn't respond.

The pain was almost physical. "I promise," Harry insisted. It was unbearable; the way those silent tears fell down her face was eating at him alive. He moved to kneel in front of her. "Hally, I promise. I won't let anything happen to you."

Hally gave a weak, shaky smile. "I know, Romane. I know. It is just that I do now know if I can live without my mother and sisters. Lawnci would not speak to me." Her blue eyes filled with tears again and a sob of despair betrayed her and came out. She lifted a hand to cover her mouth and closed her eyes tightly. She did not want to cry. Why was she crying? she asked herself harshly. She had been waiting for this day when she got to leave for months. "I am going to miss them so much."

His heart ached for her. "I know you will." He pulled her down off her chair so he could hold her on his lap. She let her head nuzzled his neck as the tears refused to end. "Merlin, do I know you will. But we'll be okay. I promise. You will love the Weasleys and you will not be lacking in the friends department. You'll have men all over you with those looks." She pulled her face back. Gently, he used his thumbs to dry her cheeks. "I will have to beat them off with sticks."

She rested her head on his shoulder. "I do not know what you speak of." But it sounded pleasant enough the way he said it.

The knock on the door barely gave them warning before Lycander burst into the room. His chest was heaving. "Come on, Romane, Hallyanka. The portal is ready and we do not have time. Young Airon messed up the time. Come, come! We only have minutes to spare!"

Harry cursed him and got to his feet, then leaned to help Hally up.

"Are you bringing anything?" he asked kindly.

She looked around, a hand going to the necklace of pure, chunky silver around her neck. "No," she said quietly. "You said you would pay for a new outfit and supplies."

He took her hand. "So I did. Let's go."

The portal had been set up inside Questcinzay's office this time, where the Weasleys and Harry's friends had met two weeks ago, instead of the Grandelie. And, surprisingly, only the Questcinzay and his mate, Deirdre, Hallyanka's mother, were present. Harry was glad. He wouldn't have to pretend to be sad to miss any of them, and that also meant that Hally might not get any more upset than she already was. He hated to see her crying.

"You will come back next summer, Romane." The Head Counselman's lips formed a thin, disapproving line. He had yet to forgive Harry for shunting protocol at the Magical Cleansing. Shuddering at even the memory of his free hand bath, he scowled back.

"I'll come back if I can. If you do not remember," he spoke in English now, which felt foreign and thick on his tongue, "I have Olean to take care of. I might be just a tad busy. And, of course, I might not want to."

Lycander placed a hand on his shoulder, shocking him hard enough to make him jump. Harry mentally cursed the Majestic connection that provided his Qaiul the means of punishing him by merely touching him.

"Ow!"

"Get in the portal," Lycander hissed.

Harry glared at him, but obeyed.

"What does it feel like to transport through dimensions?"

He kissed her nose. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

She squeezed his hand. Happiness was a butterfly in her stomach. To settle it, she rubbed a hand over her abdomen.

"Ready, Romane?"

Harry nodded at Lycander. He turned to look down at her, curly hair spilling over her shoulders and her eyes still shining with the light sheen of tears.

"You ready?"

She grinned. "Absolutely."

* * * * * *