Chapter Text
Harry is waiting for him outside, his back moulded to the inner slope of the moon gate and legs stretched out in front of him. He seems to have cast a Heating Charm on himself — the snowflakes melt before they even touch him.
“Oh, good,” he says, smiling as he pushes himself upright. “You got my message.”
“Yes.” The snow crunches softly under Draco’s boots, accepting his footprints next to Harry’s. “I got your incredibly cryptic message.”
Harry shrugs and snatches Draco’s gloved hand to drag him towards the hut. “All I know is that Aileana needs the both of us for something.”
The door is already open, and they find Aileana sitting at the table, as always in the full moon spot. She has prepared four steaming tea cups and gestures for them to sit beside the waxing and waning moon.
“Draco,” she says cheerfully, “there you are.”
As they approach, a crow lands in the open window, adding an acorn to Aileana’s growing pile of offerings, which consists of some smooth river pebbles, a bottle cap and a whole wad of keys, slightly rusty.
“Yes, hello,” Draco says politely as he takes his seat. “Why am I here?”
Aileana smiles and indicates a wooden box that sits in the centre of the table. Draco notes the intricately carved constellations, accentuated with gold and silver inlay. “The time has come to complete the deck once again,” she says."Imbolc is upon us."
Her bangles clink as she reaches out to flip the hinged lid open. The box is already positioned to face Draco. He leans forward to peer inside and freezes at what he sees.
“No,” Draco says slowly. His eyes flick from the box to Aileana, who merely continues smiling. “You’re not … the hag stones didn’t resonate with you at all — not here inside your home, not even that night you were ‘strengthening the ley lines’.”
“What’s happening?” Harry asks, looking from one to the other and back again with a deep frown.
Draco’s voice is hollow. “Aileana is a witch.”
“Not quite,” she says, taking a sip of tea like this is as casual a conversation as any. “I am a Squib. Blessed with the Sight, yes. Deeply attuned to the magic flowin’ through these lands, as well. But I don’t possess any magic of my own.”
“What about the card?” Draco argues, pointing at the deck. “It kept coming back, no matter how many times I got rid of it.”
“This tarot deck has been in my family for generations. It is quite robust.”
“But …”
“We’ve known each other for years,” Harry cuts in, frowning. He turns in his chair to face Aileana, a hurt look on his face. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“Well, I thought you knew,” Aileana says, folding her hands on top of the full moon. “You let me read your fortune last year. Although you did fall asleep if I remember correctly.” Her eyes flick from Harry to Draco and back again. Draco promptly decides not to ponder the implications.
“I did know!” Harry protests, shooting Draco a reproachful look. “Until someone convinced me I was wrong.”
Draco waves the accusation aside and focuses on Aileana. “But you said you’ve been looking after these people for a very long time. How did you do that without magic?”
Aileana nods serenely. “I won’t lie. The two of you have made my task a whole lot easier, especially this past year. There’s only so much I can accomplish with crystals and stones alone, but saturated with just your residual magic?”
She lightly claps her hand and Draco exchanges a fleeting uneasy glance with Harry.
“I’ve got to admit … your impact surpassed my expectations by far, even when it was just Harry pickin’ up my crystals from the post office. But with the two of you actively pourin’ your magic back into the forest? Incredible.”
Harry’s expression has clouded over. One hand is crammed into the big front pocket of his hooded jumper, without a doubt clutching his wand. The other rests on the table, tightly clenched into a fist. “Did you know what they would make us do? In the forest that night?”
Aileana looks from one to the other, clearly curious. “I don’t know what you did that night; only that a significant amount of magic was released. But the forest doesn’t make you do anything,” she says with conviction. “It takes only what is willingly given.”
“Sure felt like a trip,” Harry mutters darkly.
“The forest won’t be lied to. Tell me, do you regret what you did?”
There’s a beat of silence. Draco can’t wrench his eyes away from Harry’s tumultuous expression. Finally, Harry sighs, his shoulders loosening slightly. “No,” he grumbles. In a clipped voice he adds, “What did you say your purpose was again?”
“I look after this land and its people,” she says lightly. “I make sure the energy flows freely, so all livin’ things can prosper.”
Harry’s eyes narrow. “That’s all?”
“That is all,” she confirms, holding his gaze. “I do not wish to harm anyone.”
Harry continues to stare, so Draco hooks a foot around his ankle and tugs lightly. Harry’s eyes find Draco’s, and his frown eases in the face of Draco’s calm expression.
“My plants have been growing rampantly ever since … Beltane,” Draco says, giving Harry a look. “And my potions have never come out more potent than now. Not to mention the insane number of eggs my chickens are laying.”
Aileana shifts to face Harry as well, who seems torn between his brutally obtained distrust and his deep-rooted desire to believe in the good of men.
“Half my colonies have been outgrowing their hives,” he finally admits. “They’ve been doing incredibly well.”
“Wonderful,” Aileana says. “Am I right in assumin’ that the two of you would be willin’ to assist me in the future as well?”
Harry takes a deep breath, eyes fixed on Draco, and smiles, crooked and true. Draco can’t help but smile back, heart fluttering inside his chest. “Yeah, we’ll help.”
“Brilliant. Now,” Aileana says, gesturing at the deck, “this year's subject will be arrivin’ soon. If you would?”
Draco isn’t sure when he last saw The Lovers, but of course the card is waiting inside his pocket when he reaches for it. He holds it in both hands, tracing the familiar relief of clover and fern while he searches for any creases or damages. The card is without blemishes, bearing no traces of the months spent haunting him. He slips it into the box.
There is a knock on the door. Callum enters.
Even after three whole years of living in Scotland, June will always be Draco’s favourite month of the year. Both flora and fauna have reached their full potential, the rides into the village are bright and pleasant, and life is in full swing. The ley lines are bustling, and magic thrums through Draco’s body with every spell he performs. Change is in the air, almost close enough to touch now.
When Draco reaches the apiary, Harry is already in the process of unloading the car. Once he has exchanged Bonnie’s bridle for a halter and tied her to the hitching post, Draco accepts the hive box Harry hands him. There is another car parked beside the carport but neither of them mentions it. They’ve both been feeling this coming for a while now.
Harry, who has his bee suit slung over his shoulders and one arm occupied by his toolbox, opens the gate for Draco and then follows him down the gravel path leading into the garden. They make it about halfway across the grass before they spot Callum and Ainsley sitting on the back porch, chatting with two young girls standing on the other side of the railing. Two battered hiking backpacks are propped up at their feet.
“Hello!” Callum calls when he sees them, waving for good measure.
“Hey!” Harry shouts back, dropping his equipment. He places a hand on Draco’s lower back, directs him to the end of a row, and then takes the newest hive to set it down. He makes sure that it stands secure before unblocking the entrance. His T-shirt rides up a bit from crouching, and Draco tugs it down when Harry straightens, making sure the newest imprint curling around his hip — ivy, this time — is fully covered. The girls eye them warily, so they stop a good distance away from them, just close enough so they can easily understand each other.
“Hello,” Draco says pleasantly as he takes off his riding gloves. “I’m Draco and this is Harry.” He nods his chin at Harry by his side. “And that lurking shadow over there is Morgan,” he adds, pointing them out behind the apple tree. “They’ve been staying with us for about half a year now.”
Morgan chooses that moment to reveal themself, skipping over to the group like they only just got there. Atop their multicoloured bob rests a daisy crown.
“Robyn,” the first girl says, eyes flicking from Morgan to Draco and back again. She steps a bit closer to her companion, so their elbows touch lightly. “And that’s Zoe.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“We ran into them down in the village,” Callum explains. “I told them they might be able to help out around here in exchange for room and board. Ainsley was gonna drop this off for your party tomorrow anyway.” He gestures at Draco’s birthday cake on the garden table. “So we figured we’d give them a lift.”
“Perfect timing,” Draco agrees. Harry is practically vibrating at his side, so Draco elbows him lightly. These girls are nervous enough already. He really doesn’t need to make it worse by behaving like the obsessed stray magnet he is.
Harry clasps his hands together. “Alright. So, this is the apiary.”
“Or, as I like to call it,” Morgan pipes up, “The Honey Bee’n’Bee.”
Harry just nods and continues. “Currently, it’s Draco, Morgan and me living here, but we’ve got three more empty bedrooms. They all lock from the inside. Straight off the bat, I should probably tell you that there is no electricity in the main house.”
“And no reception,” Morgan adds.
“Literally, how do you cope?” Callum interjects, and Ainsley snorts.
“We manage,” Harry says cheerily. “Also, we do have hot, running water, and the annexe is connected to the electrical grid.” Harry points the building out. “That’s where we’ve set up our office. You’re free to charge your phones, use the Wi-Fi and whatever else you might want to do, of course"
“That’s where I do all my online courses,” Morgan says.
“Also, we have movie nights on Fridays, but no pressure to join or anything.”
“He will steadfastly invite you, though,” Draco says. “The snacks are worth his ongoing commentary most of the time.”
“It’s not that bad,” Morgan says.
“Thanks,” Harry says, giving them a fond smile. He turns back to the girls, tone now serious. “Now, we won’t turn you away if you’re underage, but we’d like to know if we should expect anyone to come looking for you. The village won’t give away your whereabouts if they know they’d put you in danger.”
“We can be very discreet,” Callum promises, pretending to lock his mouth and throw away the key.
“Speaking of danger,” Draco continues their speech. “Beware of the woods.”
“Why?” Zoe whispers anxiously. “What’s in the woods?”
“Is this about the swan?” Robyn asks. “People down in the village seem obsessed with it.”
“It’s about the fairies,” Morgan says in a hushed voice.
“It’s about the bog,” Harry corrects. “There are no fairies.”
“But do not go into the forest after dark,” Draco insists. “And definitely don’t follow any strange lights while you are out there.”
The girls exchange an uneasy look. Robyn clears her throat and asks, “Wait, did you say fairies?”
“Oh, right.” Morgan smacks their own head, then raises an index finger. “Never let them hear you call them that. They prefer to be called the ‘fair folk’.”
“What — Don’t tell me people actually believe there are fairies in these woods?”
“Fair folk,” Morgan says, raising a second finger. “They are drawn to the area. The local ley lines are very clean.”
“The bogs are not,” Harry says in an obvious effort to steer the conversation away from the Hinkypunks.
Draco turns to frown at Morgan. “How do you know about ley lines?”
“The witch told me,” they say, still in that cryptic voice.
“Witch?”
“Her name’s Aileana,” Harry says casually. “And she is not a witch. People around here are just superstitious.”
Callum hums, head cocked to the side. “She will read your fortune, though, if you’re interested in that kind of stuff.”
“Even if you are not,” Harry mutters.
Draco bumps his shoulder as a way to scold him for what might be perceived as criticism of the very act that brought them together, and Harry twines his arm around Draco’s back and presses a quick kiss against his jaw before releasing him again. Draco is dimly aware of the two pairs of eyes that follow this interaction with keen interest.
“But beware of the goat,” Ainsley pipes up, oblivious to any of this. “I lost my favourite scarf to her goat.”
“Aileana lives in the forest, though,” Morgan says. “If you go into the forest, don’t wear green.”
Robyn looks down at the green camo jacket tied around her waist and asks, “Why?”
Morgan leans in so they can lower their voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “It belongs to the fair folk, that colour. You’ll anger them.”
“You’ll blend in with the underbrush and we won’t be able to spot you when you inevitably get lost,” Harry says. “Wear something bright and reflective. We’ve got a stack of high-vis vests in the boot room. Just take a pair when you go out.”
Draco nods and adds, “But no matter what you are wearing, keep away from fairy circles.”
Zoe steps even closer to Robyn. Their arms are now firmly pressed together. “What’s a fairy circle?”
“If you ever find a bunch of mushrooms or flowers growing in a circle, that's a fairy ring,” Draco explains. “They are dangerous.”
They haven’t yet figured out a way to explain what exactly makes fairy circles dangerous without bringing magic into the mix, but seeing as not even Callum objects to the statement, they should probably be fine without going into further detail. If push comes to shove, they can always fall back on those hallucinogenic mushrooms Harry invented purely so he wouldn’t have to deal with his bloody feelings.
“Well, I mean …” says Harry, failing to elaborate. Does the idiot want their newest potential residents to waltz right into the forest’s clutches?
“Absolutely not,” Draco says sternly. “Ten minutes of fun is not worth signing away your firstborn to the fair folk.”
“It was not ten minutes,” Harry protests. “More like an hour.”
“Forest time.” Draco should know, seeing as he had enough foresight to check his watch before they stepped into the circle this year.
“Yeah, but wouldn’t you measure fun by the time you were experiencing it?” Harry argues.
Morgan exchanges a quick glance with Ainsley, who turns to Callum for an explanation. Callum, of course, doesn’t know what any of this is about either. (Thank Merlin.) He glances at the new girls, who seem equally confused.
Draco’s full focus remains on Harry, though. “Hypothetically speaking,” he drawls, “how much fun would one have getting trapped in a fairy circle for approximately twelve hours? In your opinion.”
“Less. I’d imagine.” Harry looks at the girls. “On an unrelated note, definitely never stomp into a fairy circle to complain about the fairies’ actions or to call their judgement into question.”
“Gettin’ off track here,” Morgan says, clearing their throat before continuing in a perfect imitation of Harry’s voice. “We do expect you to pitch in, but this isn’t supposed to be a full-time job. Just do what you can, and that’ll be enough.”
“Yes, thanks, Morgan,” Harry says, giving them another easy smile.
Morgan preens under his attention, and Harry nudges their shoulder before resuming his speech. “There are some bikes in the shed, so feel free to use them anytime. It goes without saying that you can leave whenever you want, but please write at least a note when you do, so we know not to worry. And don’t feel pressured to move on when someone else comes along. We won’t run out of work around here and there’s more than enough room for everyone.”
“A reminder for you as well,” Draco says in Morgan’s direction.
“Oh, I’m not leavin’ before I’ve got my degree.” Morgan wags both index fingers in emphasis and then adds in direction of the girls, “My favourite task is collectin’ eggs from the chickens over at Draco’s potions lab.”
“I told you not to call it that,” Draco protests. “People might actually believe you.”
“That’s what Harry called it this mornin’.”
Draco shoots Harry a disappointed look, who raises an eyebrow in response and says, “I’m allowed to mock you.”
“Yes. To my face.”
“Don’t worry; I’ll still do that as well.” Harry pats Draco’s shoulder and then just leaves his hand there.
“It is not a potions lab,” Draco clarifies, gratuitously refraining from shaking him off and deciding to address the girls instead. “Obviously.”
“I’ve never heard anyone call it anythin’ else,” Morgan mutters. “And there’s no runnin’ water, which is suspicious if you ask me.”
“Draco’s got a cottage where he manufactures natural remedies,” Harry finally explains. “Absolutely no chemicals.”
“Rose calls your lavender tea ‘Sleepin’ Potion’,” Callum says, grinning broadly.
“Nobody should listen to what Rosemary says. She is a superstitious lunatic.” Draco waves a hand in dismissal and then freezes, eyes narrowed. “Wait, when did she call it that and why?”
“Yesterday,” Callum says decidedly less mischievously. “When she came by to borrow some.”
Harry takes a hissing breath through his teeth. His grip on Draco’s shoulder tightens, rooting him to the spot. He is grinning, though.
“No.” Draco points at Callum, voice stern. “Rosemary is not allowed. We are feuding. She knows we are feuding.”
Callum raises both hands in defence. “I thought you made up. That’s what Elsie told me!”
“That was last week,” Draco objects. “This is a new feud.”
“Oooooh,” Ainsley says. “She’s breaking feuding protocol. I can’t wait to tell everyone.”
“Um … excuse me?” Robyn cuts in, reminding Draco of the girls’ presence. He quickly redirects his attention back to them, who seem to have followed the discussion with keen interest and equally evident confusion. “Is this a —” She lowers her voice and whispers, “— gang situation?”
“Don’t worry,” Harry says immediately and in his most reassuring voice. “People aren’t really serious about this whole clique thing. They just need something to entertain themselves.”
“There’s a chart on the noticeboard in the kitchen,” Morgan adds, gesturing between Harry and Draco. “To keep track of who these two are feudin’ with and who we’re allowed to trade with. It’s really not that complicated. The villagers never take it out on me personally, ‘cause they know I’m just the messenger. Oh, that reminds me.” They turn to face Harry. “Archie said to tell you he’s not going to give you any potatoes for at least a week.”
Callum and Ainsley nod in unison. Draco gives Harry a very pointed look that the prat stubbornly ignores.
“I had the flu,” Harry protests. “Did he expect me to turn up at Cora’s birthday party with a fever?”
Morgan shrugs. “He wants to see a sick note.”
Harry huffs but stays otherwise silent. Draco keeps the ‘I told you so’ to himself because he is the bigger person (and also because it drives Harry mad when Draco takes the high road).
“I’ll add it to the board,” Morgan says, turning back to face the girls and effectively ending the discussion.
“So, what do you think?” Draco asks after a brief pause for contemplation. “Do you want to stay or would you prefer to move on?”
The girls exchange a glance, followed by a nod. Robyn intertwines her fingers with Zoe’s and says, “We’d like to stay.”
“Grab your bags,” Harry says. His smile is radiant. “Make yourselves at home.”
