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There were some important events in the life of a witch that they all needed to go through. 

First was finding themselves a familiar. Arguably the most defining moment in their entire lives, since, unlike their future profession, it would stay with them all their lives. An animal imbued with magic marked as an extended part of themselves, becoming their lifelong assistant, magical aid and confidant. A common saying was that a witch without a familiar was half a witch. 

Zhang Hao thought it was stupid. He was perfectly capable of organizing his ingredients and keeping track of time without a frog croaking at him. He also didn’t need to connect his consciousness to a raven’s brain to gain some perspective. Honestly, witnessing his classmates need one and actually get better at witchcraft after finding one was baffling. Didn’t they have this magical compass in their heart, guiding them through every step? Zhang Hao was still the best, even after everyone but him found one, so he’d decided he didn’t need it. 

And so he committed to it; deliberately skipping familiar-finding rituals, ignoring his teachers and parents’ pleas to get one, powering through the bitterness of those less skilled lamenting that Zhang Hao still performed better than them with a handicap. Every advantage brought on by a familiar, he made up with diligence, training and raw talent. By the time he was fifteen, he was judged either cursed or mad, the prodigy without a familiar. 

Zhang Hao loved the title, loved the attention, loved the myriad of ways in which he splintered off from the group. He wasn’t cast aside for his differences, but his uniqueness followed him like a shimmering cloud. 

Second important step in the life of a witch was joining a coven. Most witches were born into one already, and dedicated their whole lives to being part of one once they were adults. At multiple points in the training process, representatives would come and audit the students, flagging those that could be integrated once they were ready. Covens had specialties members were expected to excel at, and as a lifelong engagement, the hopeful students had to prove personally how desperate they were to commit to this magical path. 

But Zhang Hao wasn’t a liar, nor was he willing to debase himself for someone else’s approval. So he showcased exactly what he wanted, which was everything, and didn’t grovel at anyone’s feet once it came to interviews. Zhang Hao knew his worth, and knew that any position that would put shackles on him wasn’t one he would accept. Which all lead to this expected, and yet humiliating ceremony where every single one of his classmates got picked to go to a coven except him. Alone in the fairy ring, his name never to be called. 

Instead of joining a coven, Zhang Hao had simply taken off and picked a nice place to live in, guided as always by this compass that never once led him astray. He’d settled on the side of a mountain, with a pretty forest surrounding the rocky flank bathed in sunlight. It had needed some work, a lot of incantations and coaxing the local spirits, but after a month or so, Zhang Hao had grown a beautiful gigantic tree leaning against the cliff whose trunk and branches knotted, twisted and turned to create his new house.

Its empty core was spacious, with a stairway curling all over the sides to reach the upper floors. His favorite room was the one he’d decided would be his bedroom, at the very top where the canopy of leaves could just as well open up to let the starlight in or close to make a solid ceiling protecting him from the elements. It was the perfect place to meditate, recharge himself with the moon’s power, and gaze upon the forest that had become his.

Zhang Hao very much liked living there instead of in a coven. What he had lost in community, he had gained in freedom; his experiments had gotten wilder, and without a coven to collect his taxes, his rare ingredients were kept in his collection instead of collectivized, and everything he produced was either made for himself or directly sold to support his lifestyle. Of course, there were some drawbacks; for example, with no one around to do the annoying work, Zhang Hao himself had to refresh the wards and various spells protecting him from the outside world.

Plenty of people wanted to meet Zhang Hao, the witch prodigy of his generation. A lot of them weren’t ready to understand that no, he still wasn’t interested in joining their coven, and the constant harassment had gotten old really fast.

Back when he was still studying in the city, so many of them tried to recruit Zhang Hao that he had promised himself to never fold and join their enterprise. At first, it had simply been a petty, knee-jerk reaction after being hounded one too many times post rejection. But then it had become his identity; the powerful witch that was wasting his potential by not taking the best route. No coven, no familiar. A squandered future.

Now, Zhang Hao was the one that made them feel like they had squandered their future by not treating him better, and he reveled in it every minute.

Still, doing the warding rituals every moon cycle was a drag.

But what had to be done had to be done, and Zhang Hao had prepared the materials for it during the last week. In the first floor, his biggest room dedicated to rituals so he could feel the earth beneath his feet, smoke was rising from the burning sage placed in each of the cardinal points. He needed to cleanse the room before doing anything new. Zhang Hao dipped a finger into his pot of ointments, tapping the red mixture in little dots under his eyes, over his forehead, in the middle of his lips. Opening his inner eye, his mind, letting his word become law.

He arranged the last crystals into position, over the large pattern carved and painted on the floor. It would be impossible to read for anyone that wasn’t as familiar with it as Zhang Hao was. Circles and symbols, patterns and lines crossing and overlapping in arcane ways. It was important to know everything. Where the stars turned, which element was stronger, if the spirits would be favorable or had to be bribed. Only subpar witches would neglect those aspects for something deemed as an easy task.

When he was finally ready, Zhang Hao stood in the center of the room, hands extended and eyes closed. He had to feel the right moment to get started. Time was fickle, and tools to measure it only masked the truth. Humming a low tune, he swayed from one bare foot to the other, letting the power in the runes under his feet flow through him. It was almost here. He could feel it.

Slowly, he moved his arms up, singing a little louder. The bracelets and trinkets around his wrists chimed against each other. Zhang Hao knew that his grimoire was open in front of him, should he ever need to be reminded of a step. It hadn’t happened in years, but he wasn’t ready to let his hubris lead to his downfall yet. He was too young and too pretty to become a Lich.

Carefully, in time with the beating of his heart, Zhang Hao started moving.

With the tips of his toes, he followed the divet in the wood leading him to make a curve to the side. The moon, starting anew. With it, he bowed and turned his hand, feeling the air flow between his fingers. Respect, introductions. Then Zhang Hao turned, putting his weight on his extended foot and twirling so he could land exactly over the small bump marking the end of the quadrant.

Even if there was a faint light in the room from the small fire offerings, Zhang Hao was blind, perfectly repeating the gestures he knew better than anyone. His power flew through his nerves, made him bend and curl with each silent beat, perfectly accompanied by the echo of his heart. Using his eyes would only distract him. There were shapes, lights floating around him that he could feel. And maybe less experienced witches would need to have reminders or collaborate to navigate this ever shifting landscape, but Zhang Hao was better than that.

He sang louder now, using his lungs only as much as the air should be disturbed. With his voice, vibrations could alter the energy surrounding him, shift it to a purest form or color. It wasn’t a melody, and he never knew what it would sound like; just like always, he let his compass guide him, hitting the notes he knew he needed to proceed to the next quadrant.

Sometimes, his earrings hit his skin, his bracelets slid down his arms, the charms on the chains around his waist and feet caressed him. They were useful for the ceremony itself, but mainly, they allowed Zhang Hao to get reminded of where was up and down, and what his body was doing. Because endlessly turning and twisting in the darkness of the spirit world often led to disorientation, but his skin never lied. Zhang Hao knew where he was, where he was going.

Warding was a chore, but it was also one of the many domains in which he excelled.

In the last quadrant, Zhang Hao was breathing harder, moving faster, his heart speeding up. He had to keep up the rhythm of life, no matter how frantic it got. There was the heat of the fire in his muscles, the water sliding on his skin, the wind rasping down his throat, the earth nourishing him under the sole of his feet. A perfect communion, melded together to serve and protect Zhang Hao from any danger. Once again, his domain was closing around him, making the forest impenetrable, the mountain unclimbable, the tree stronger than any fortress. The spirits blared their lights at Zhang Hao’s soul, singing in harmony with him as he accomplished the last steps of the dance.

And then it was over. Back at his starting point, he slowly opened his eyes, taking in the room as he tried to catch his breath. Remnants of the light that had guided him were still floating around, colorful little dots quickly fading away like scared fairies. The sparks of power buzzing in Zhang Hao’s veins gently receded, leaving his extremities first as it was once again absorbed into the earth. A faint whisper could be heard before it faded away for good, wandering spirits attracted by the event chased away by the boundary of salt inlaid around the room.

With this ritual done, Zhang Hao wouldn’t hear anyone’s voice again for a long, long time.

“Ooh. That’s pretty.”

Zhang Hao screamed so loud it actually hurt his ears, making him stumble back and frantically search around the room for the intruder before his heart failed. There was a black lump on the ground near the window, two glowing yellow circles staring at the witch. Zhang Hao pointed a vengeful finger at the cat. 

“YOU!”

“Me,” the cat responded, smug. 

“How did you get in?!”

Zhang Hao took a step towards the cat to assert his dominance, but the creature got up, and the witch jumped back with another yell, clutching his chest. So much for his dignity. 

“I had to find you,” the cat simply said, primly sitting down. “I am your familiar.”

“I don’t have one,” Zhang Hao frowned, doing his best to seem calm and collected. “And I don’t need one. Get back to where you came from or I’ll send you there myself.”

“I know you don’t need one,” it said, taking a few steps away from the window in blatant disrespect to the witch’s orders. “You’re too good for it. And I don’t need a master, because I’m too good for it too.”

The cat walked behind the lectern over which Zhang Hao’s grimoire laid, but as it passed the wooden beam, a human appeared on the other side, getting up from the ground. It was a man, dressed in a simple black shirt and pants, with black hair and sharp but disinterested black eyes. 

“So really, it’s the only logical outcome,” concluded the young man, turning a page from his grimoire. “We don’t need each other, so we should definitely live together.”

“Don’t touch that!”

Zhang Hao slapped his hand away, and the stranger took it back with a yelp and a pout. Over his head, two black cat ears twitched and turned back, clearly expressing his displeasure at the same time that a black tail whipped the air. 

This made Zhang Hao pause. Familiars were animals. Shapeshifters could look like animals or humans, but not mix and match their characteristics. So which kind of creature was Zhang Hao talking to?

“What are you?” he asked, squinting suspiciously. 

The young man smiled brightly. The dimples on his cheeks looked like whiskers. 

“I’m Hanbin!”

“But what are you?”

Hanbin hummed, as if he had to think about the question. Then he smiled again with a short nod, his lips pinched and eyes bright. 

“I’m an experiment.”

The more he looked, the more fascinated Zhang Hao became. There was a strange power coursing through Hanbin, a different hue to what he was used to. It was intriguing enough to not kick him out immediately. 

“And how did you get in?”

“I waited for the new moon so your ward would wane right before being restored. I had to get to you, after all. I need to be your familiar.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s how it should be! Don’t you feel it?”

Zhang Hao was about to say that no, absolutely not, but something stopped him. Something deep in his chest, this fragment of a compass always pointing in the right direction. Because, in this moment, it was indeed pointing at Hanbin. Steadfast, absolute, undeniable. Hanbin was supposed to be here. Zhang Hao was supposed to keep him around. He knew it. Maybe Hanbin knew it in the same way, too. 

It didn’t mean Zhang Hao would follow his instincts blindly, though. 

“I still don’t need a familiar.”

“And it’s for that reason that nobody will take better care of me than you. Where do I sleep?”

“I don’t recall agreeing to you staying?”

“But I have to.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m your familiar. I can prove how useful I can be if you want!”

This was going nowhere. Zhang Hao was exhausted, and as powerful as he was, he couldn’t fight against a magical adult creature after such a taxing warding spell. The best thing left to do was to check him for intentions, potential controlling or spying spells, and let him sleep in the hammock for the night. 

“Alright, come here, I need to examine you first.”

“Okay!” Hanbin beamed, sitting primly on the stool pointed to him. 

There was nothing lurking behind the intruder’s eyes, only the golden light of his cat form reflecting the magical flame’s light. There was no abnormal magic at play around his ears and tail, seemingly being part of his natural body. His teeth were unnaturally sharp, but his mouth held no potion smell. No confusion in his mind, a pure blue aura of hope and eagerness. Everything pointed to what Hanbin said being true. He wanted to come and become his familiar, as baffling as this was, and his compass begged him to give him a chance. 

This would be a problem for future Zhang Hao. 

“I’ll show you a room. I’m giving you a week, and if you do anything wrong, I’ll teleport you into the swamp. And this time I’ll make sure you won’t be able to come back. We’ll talk more tomorrow, I’m exhausted…”

“Yes! I won’t disappoint you!”

It was impressive how determined his eyebrows could look. 

Zhang Hao almost wanted to believe him. 

⚞▴⚻▴⚟

Zhang Hao woke up to a delicious smell floating through his tower. Which was surprising, because usually it smelled more like moss and deep woods than anything. It wasn’t a bad smell by any means; it simply wasn’t freshly cooked food. 

The witch got up from his bed, dressed up, and walked down the stairs to meet with the one most probably responsible for the smell. After a good night of sleep, he felt more equipped to deal with this whole mess. 

When he stepped into the living room — a small comfortable space with a hammock, a table with a single chair, and a kitchen equipped with a fireplace and a huge cauldron — Hanbin was fretting over the two magical warming stones on the counter, excitedly waving at the witch once he noticed him. 

“You’re awake! Finally. I cooked for you, so you’d have all the energy you need to get started on your day!”

By the time Zhang Hao reached the table, there were two plates of food being put down. It looked delicious; fresh fruits, grains, waffles and jam, scrambled eggs with avocado on a grilled toast, charcuterie and cheese on the side. It was a lot, but in perfect portions so that it looked filling but not overwhelming. Everything was artfully composed, seemed delicious, and maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to have Hanbin hang around. Zhang Hao smiled as he sat down. 

“Thank you so much, it must’ve asked for a lot of work…”

Hanbin beamed, his whisker dimples showing. It was a little endearing. 

“I did my best! I just wanted you to have a great start today!”

It wasn’t good.

Really, if Zhang Hao had to be honest, it was barely edible. The waffle was bland and raw inside, the eggs were overcooked and held enough salt for a week, the toast had been burnt, and the other ingredients only survived by virtue of simply being cut and not cooked. But Hanbin was smiling so earnestly it was hard to push the food away, and so the witch powered through the dish. After all, as an experiment, it very well could have been Hanbin’s first attempt at any of this. 

Zhang Hao was very proud of himself for finishing his plate. As he got up to leave the room after thanking Hanbin again, his stomach was heavy, but his spirits up.

“I also rearranged your ingredients upstairs.”

Zhang Hao whipped around, glaring at Hanbin so hard he was this close to summoning lightning. 

“You what?”

“Don’t worry!” Hanbin grinned. “I took care not to contaminate anything and I followed your ordering system. There were some expired ingredients, but I kept them aside just in case for you to check! By the way, you’re almost out of Vesicularia Ferriei. Should I try to find some?”

Surprised, but still suspicious, the witch climbed down the stairs to explore his shelves. The mild chaos permeating the floor had turned into rigorous order, vials and flasks turned label first, scrolls carefully piled up in the appropriate places, dried plants and animal parts hanging on the walls. It was like walking into a furniture magazine. The only materials left on the ground were in a small pile near the door, probably the expired ones Hanbin had mentioned. 

Zhang Hao was baffled. 

“You did it all while I was sleeping?”

“I’m very quiet,” Hanbin nodded, so obviously proud of himself.

And maybe the breakfast had been a failure, but this was extremely impressive. 

“Wow. Thank you, It’s going to be really helpful.”

“Of course! That’s the least I could do as your familiar.”

Zhang Hao considered the boy, the way his tail stood high with pride and his ears flickered. Had he spent all night working in hopes that the witch would make him his familiar? This could lead to dangerously overzealous behavior down the line. Especially since it wouldn’t happen. 

“I like to take some tea before starting with my morning rituals. Care to join me, Hanbin?”

For some reason, Hanbin decided to be a cat as they sat down at the same table after Zhang Hao brewed some tea in silence. He frequently stuck his head inside of the cup to give it some kitten licks. As adorable as it was, there were a few details that needed to be ironed out before they went any further.

“So, tell me, Hanbin. Where do you come from?”

The cat curled his paw over his ear, rubbing it a couple times before shaking his head with a little sneeze. 

“The Transmutation Coven.”

“Really?” Zhang Hao frowned. “Were you some witch’s familiar then?”

“No. I was born there.”

“But you’re not a witch…”

“I’m not!”

“Then why did they let you live with them?”

Hanbin’s attention snapped to a piece of dust floating in the sunlight, and he flopped onto his side, focused. 

“They were observing me. Because I’m an experiment, remember? I told you yesterday.”

Zhang Hao silently ran a finger over his cup, gazing at Hanbin. The Transmutation Coven. An experiment, not quite cat, not quite human. Born there, but not one of them. It was enough information to paint a picture the witch wasn’t sure he liked. 

“So why did you leave?”

“Mom— Well, not my real mother. But she cared for me a lot. One day she took me outside, far away, and she told me to leave. That bad things would happen if I stayed. So I said goodbye to her and I never went back home.”

“And then… You came here?”

“I stayed in the forest for two months before,” Hanbin corrected, curling into a ball after losing interest in the dust. “I had to wait for your warding spells to fade and I didn’t manage to run fast enough the first time.”

“But you grew up in a coven… how did you survive in the wilderness?”

“I’m a very good hunter! And mom taught me so many things. It’s her that told me all about you. She said that you were the most powerful of all witches, and that you didn’t have a familiar yet. That you wouldn’t bring me back to the coven. I don’t know if she really believed it, but it felt right. So I came.”

The cat stretched and rolled on his back, exposing his stomach. Zhang Hao took a sip of his drink, completing the puzzle as well as he could. Hanbin had been created as a cat hybrid by transmutation researchers. Maybe a homunculus, maybe an altered human fetus.  He was studied, but one of the researchers took him on as her son. To save him from a grim fate as the experiment reached its end, she sent Hanbin to live with an outcast hopefully able to take care of him. It was a good sob story, for sure. 

But no matter how steadfast Zhang Hao’s magical compass was, he had convictions. 

“I still don’t intend to get a familiar.”

Hanbin’s head shot back up, his whole body flopping back towards the witch. 

“But you said you’d give me a week?”

“Yes, one week to see if I can tolerate having you around. You living here doesn’t mean I’d need to make you my familiar. I won’t bring you back to your coven anyway, but I wasn’t planning on sharing my home. I need some time to see where I stand on this issue.”

“Mmh.”

Hanbin rolled around again. It was hard to tell whether he was thinking about Zhang Hao’s words or had ended the conversation. Cat body language wasn’t an elective he’d picked during his training. 

“But I still think that I would make a good familiar,” he finally concluded. 

“If it doesn’t work out, I’ll find you someone else to share a home with.”

“I like it here, though.”

Hanbin jumped from the table to find a golden spot of sunlight on the floor, stretching before laying down with a little sigh. Zhang Hao finished sipping his drink in silence, lost in thought. 

For some reason, he didn’t really want Hanbin gone yet. 

⚞▴⚻▴⚟

Hanbin was hard to pin down, even after living a week with him. 

For every conclusion Zhang Hao reached, another one put it into question. For example, Hanbin was quiet. He appeared in random corners, moved stealthily between the shelves, and put random bowls on the desk as silently as if they were made of yarn. But Hanbin was also very noisy. He meowed loudly whenever the witch was late to eat, regardless of whether he was in his cat form or not, and knocked down empty jars that had been sitting too close to the edge “by accident”. 

There were some things that were obvious truths, though, supported by evidence on every front. 

Hanbin was kind; he cared for Zhang Hao’s needs and wants way beyond what would be expected of any familiar, seemingly without expecting anything in return. Hanbin was impulsive, acting first and then deeply regretting the very foreseeable consequences (like the jar shattering on the ground). Hanbin also was very skilled, seemingly knowing on instinct when to offer assistance for a spell and when to step back, never messing up any component. 

Most of all, Hanbin was loving. In a boundless, uncomplicated kind of way. 

Zhang Hao wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it came from the way he had been socialized back in his coven, perhaps it was innate. Maybe it was a deliberate choice, even. No matter the reason, Hanbin was extremely affectionate. He seeked touches and human warmth constantly, bumping his head against Zhang Hao’s hand no matter his form. After unsuccessfully trying to convince the witch to let him sit on his lap, Hanbin seemed to understand he was more receptive to touch when he was a cat, and in seven days a lot of Zhang Hao’s boundaries had crumbled. 

Hanbin could pretty much do whatever he pleased, because even if it was annoying, Zhang Hao would bend over backwards to let him have it his way. Hanbin wanted to take a nap in the cauldron? No matter, he didn’t really need that potion. Hanbin climbed on his shoulders, wrapped his flexible body around his neck? He’d been a little cold anyway. Hanbin was already sleeping in the dead center of Zhang Hao’s bed when it was time to rest? With a little gymnastics, he could get on his side against the wall to not bother him. 

Zhang Hao couldn’t remember the last time he had been so endeared with anyone, human or not. He’d even gifted him some of his old robes to replace the basic clothing he came in with. Hanbin was hesitant, but sometimes the witch added a bracelet, a necklace. Hanbin looked good in his human form. Very good. Some eye candy was a welcome bonus to this whole situation. 

Which was why it was confusing to wake up to Hanbin fidgeting next to Zhang Hao’s bed in his old black pants and shirt, his tail furiously whipping the air. 

“What’s happening?” the witch muttered. 

“You’re awake!” Hanbin exclaimed, startled. 

“Why are you dressed like that?”

Hanbin lowered his chin, his ears pushed back. 

“Since we didn’t talk yesterday, I didn’t know if you wanted your clothes back before I left, so—”

“What? You’re leaving?”

They stared at each other, confused. 

“Am I not?”

“Oh, is it the end of the week already?…”

“Well, yes? And you don’t want me to be your familiar. So I thought…”

“It doesn’t mean that I’m kicking you out,” Zhang Hao sighed, drowsy. “If I didn’t say that I want you out, then obviously I want you to stay.”

“Really?”

Before the witch could find an appropriate sarcastic answer, Hanbin jumped onto the bed, hugging him through the sheets. 

“Thank you, Hao! Thank you thank you thank you! I’ll be the best ever!”

“Start by giving me ten more minutes to sleep,” Zhang Hao gargled, suffocated. 

“Yes! I’ll get started on breakfast now! See you soon!”

Hanbin left the room with a skip in his step, ears and tail perked up. Despite himself, Zhang Hao smiled at the closed door, feeling warmer than he did a week ago. 

As always, he could trust his compass to guide him in the right direction. 

⚞▴⚻▴⚟

Most days were silent, even with Hanbin living with him. Zhang Hao had his routine; he would lay on his favorite hammock, the one right by the window so that he could bathe in the morning sun, and make the ancient book he was currently studying float above his head. Really, the only difference was that now, a small furry body liked to curl up on his chest to sleep. 

Zhang Hao wasn’t annoyed by Hanbin taking his naps on him. He was warm, a soft pressure that was more comforting than suffocating. Sometimes, Zhang Hao’s hands were bored as the pages flickered above his head, so he ended up running his nails through the silky black fur under his chin. Even at the slightest touch, the cat purred sweetly, its vibrations soothing something in the witch’s chest he didn’t even know to feel restless. It felt right to share this moment. 

A week later, it felt wrong to not share it. If Hanbin wasn’t there to get cozy with him, Zhang Hao called for him throughout the house until he came running, dropping whatever he was doing to jump on his rightful bed and drift off. 

This specific time, Hanbin had just finished grooming himself and started diligently licking the witch’s cheek. He did it sometimes, and Zhang Hao understood the bonding activity for what it was, simply scratching behind Hanbin’s ears to reciprocate. He was too busy trying to craft a new potion recipe. There should be a way to combine the algae-based, solar-powered healing potion with the fire resistance potion based on animal parts and minerals. An ingredient bridging the gap between the two to act as a binding agent…

“Hanbin? Could you go and fetch me some solar salamander eggs, please? I need to check if the photosynthetic algae living inside matches my needs.”

The cat stopped licking him, stretched with a flash of his translucent claws, and when he jumped off of the hammock, two human feet touched the ground. 

“I’ll be right back.”

True to his word, it didn’t take long for Hanbin to come back, handing the witch a jar filled with yellow gelatinous eggs. To better ponder, he made it float next to his book. How could he incorporate it efficiently after taking into account the relative states of the potions? Maybe if it was used as a gel? But how could it—

Zhang Hao’s focus was shattered by seventy kilos dropping onto him like a piano crushing him for comedic effect. Hanbin, fully human, curled up over his torso with a sigh, getting comfortable despite the dying sounds coming from under him. 

He considered throwing Hanbin away, but after a few seconds of deliberation, the weight wasn’t so intolerable anymore. He could get used to it. Tentatively, Zhang Hao raised a hand to rub the back of Hanbin’s hair, making him hum low with a vocal fry, almost like purring. Despite himself, the witch smiled. He really was just a cat. 

Then Hanbin raised his head, and used his very human tongue to lick the side of Zhang Hao’s face. 

Zhang Hao shrieked, jolting so violently that the hammock capsized and they both slammed onto the ground, Hanbin cushioning his fall. The book and the jar gently floated to the ground beside them as the witch sat up over a disgruntled Hanbin. The air on his wet cheek felt cold. 

“Why would you do that?!”

“Do what?” Hanbin groaned, rubbing his elbow. 

“Lick me!”

“I always do it?!”

“No you d—”

Zhang Hao froze. Yes he did. It was always Hanbin grooming him, all those other times. Whether he presented as human or not, it was still the same person, and, judging from Hanbin’s look of complete and utter confusion, he didn’t understand the difference his form could make at all. 

Zhang Hao had been encouraging him. 

With a sigh, he grabbed Hanbin’s hurt elbow, and traced some invisible runes over it to ease the pain. 

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I just got flustered because… licking between humans has some implications. It’s often used for, uh… mating rituals?”

“Oh, I see,” Hanbin nodded with an apologetic smile, seemingly unphased but with some pink now coloring his face. “I’m sorry for crossing your boundaries. Should I stop grooming you then?”

Zhang Hao imagined the cat on his chest being done with his grooming and then simply turning away. It felt even worse than the night he didn’t get picked for any coven. Hanbin rejecting him was making him miserable, even though it was only a hypothetical. 

“No, no. It’s okay,” he decided, letting go of the elbow. “I’ll just keep in mind what it means for you.”

Zhang Hao took back his book and jar, making sure that there was no damage. Hanbin was restless. 

“Are there any other mating rituals I should be aware of?”

Zhang Hao hummed, searching for the main points to communicate. They would, after all, constitute their boundaries. 

“Any kind of contact with someone involving the mouth, especially a kiss on the lips.”

“But mom used to kiss my head…”

“No, that’s family. It doesn’t count.”

“What else?”

“Let’s see. Sleeping with someone…”

“But I sleep with you, sometimes.”

“It’s okay when you’re a cat. It’s just… Harder with a human.”

Hanbin frowned. He was clearly lost with those nonsensical nuances. Zhang Hao switched gears, crossing his legs to sit more comfortably in front of him. 

“So they socialized you more as a cat?”

“I guess? I don’t know.”

“You didn’t have any cat friends with you?”

“No. But everyone was very kind to me! Only mom and the HeadMistress could touch me, though.”

“I see… So when you groomed your mother when you were little, how did she respond to you? She didn’t lick you back, did she?”

“Of course not! She had this wet toothbrush, and she used to brush the top of my head with it”, Hanbin demonstrated, combing his fingers through his hair. “I liked it a lot.”

A wet toothbrush, huh…?

“Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

A minute later, Zhang Hao came with a dripping wet hairbrush, and firmly pushed Hanbin’s fringe back with it. As if hit by a spell, Hanbin’s eyes became unfocused, his shoulders dropped, and this strange kind of purr escaped his half-opened lips. In a few seconds, Hanbin had turned into a limp puddle with his head resting on the witch’s thighs, ears folded back to make the brush’s slide easier. 

“But your studies?” Hanbin muttered against his leg. 

“Don’t worry about it. It can wait.”

Zhang Hao presented his hand before Hanbin’s nose, which made him look up, confused. 

“Go ahead,” he softly encouraged him. “I understand.”

Hanbin’s tongue was raspier than a human’s, the witch noted as he gently licked his fingers. Rough, powerful, agile. 

Zhang Hao loved learning about everything, and few things right now were as fascinating as the boy falling asleep on his lap. 

⚞▴⚻▴⚟

Even though Hanbin lived here, he wasn’t always around. When it wasn’t time to eat and Zhang Hao was particularly engrossed in his studies, he jumped out a window and disappeared for hours at a time. Once, he’d asked the cat where he had been as he slithered back into the house by the open window. Hanbin had simply answered that he was having fun in the forest. Zhang Hao understood. As much as he loved his home, there wasn’t a lot of fun to be had. 

This is why the witch wasn’t worried as he made some calculations on his desk, alone in the house. He wasn’t worried either when the door opened, quiet footsteps climbing up the stairs to reach the study — human footsteps, this time. 

Zhang Hao was, however, worried when he looked up with a smile to welcome his companion. 

Hanbin was absolutely drenched in blood. It saturated his clothes, clumped his hair in a matted mess, dripped onto the carpet. The only part of his body that was still immaculate was his teeth, a stark white as he smiled at the witch. 

“Hao! I brought you a gift!”

He dumped a big, wet pouch on Zhang Hao’s desk. A bloody eye rolled out of it, optic nerve still attached, and a foul smell filled the room. Repressing a gag, Zhang Hao stared at him, his expectant gaze, his excited grin. Hanbin’s tail flickered in anticipation, flinging droplets of blood all over the room. He was honestly, devastatingly sincere in his gesture of affection. 

Zhang Hao forced out a smile. 

“Oh, wow! You brought me ingredients! Thank you, Hanbin! It must have been hard to get all that!”

Hanbin beamed at the praise. 

“I love hunting!”

Cat. Cat. Hanbin was half cat. He was human enough to make Zhang Hao forget his more feline traits, sometimes, and he needed to remind himself of it in order to not go completely crazy.

“And you did it so well!” he praised him again, getting up. “But let’s take a bath now so you smell better, okay?”

“I like the smell of blood,” Hanbin smiled innocently.

Zhang Hao grabbed Hanbin’s bloody hand to gently guide him away. The very hand that had been digging into flesh minutes ago, plugging out that eye from some poor animal’s skull. He did need the ingredients, but the witch’s methods were usually more… clinical. 

Despite Hanbin’s love of blood, he let himself get led to the bathroom, where Zhang Hao prepared a cleansing bath. He wasn’t sure how many creatures Hanbin had slaughtered, but that couldn’t be a good energy to bring into the manor. Sage cinders, a lot of sea salt big enough to exfoliate and purify, a few drops of a corrosive potion, half a bottle of healing and soothing potions to make it all harmless…

“I like baths,” Hanbin hummed, dipping his fingers into the now shimmering liquid. “I feel clean afterwards, and when I’m like this I have a lot less fur. I don’t like it when I’m small. Water sticks everywhere.”

Zhang Hao helped him undress, dunking the dirty clothes in a basin to soak for later. By the time he returned to Hanbin, he was stepping inside of the water, and Zhang Hao’s eyes fluidly went up from his ankle to his neck. As he suspected, Hanbin looked good underneath his clothes. But it wasn’t the appropriate time to leer, and so he grabbed a sponge and got started on the washing. Grabbing Hanbin’s wrist, he rubbed on his bloody knuckles, cleaned under his nails and between his fingers, went up his arm. Thanks to Zhang Hao’s diligence, the blood was disappearing quickly. 

“It’s not that I’m complaining,” Hanbin suddenly said. “But why are you washing me?”

“Because you were covered in blood!”

“I could’ve done it myself though?”

Zhang Hao froze, sponge mid-scrub on his shoulder. Of course. Of course Hanbin knew how to wash himself. He wasn’t a cat. And even cats knew how to groom themselves! Flustered, Zhang Hao smiled to prepare his casual response, but nothing came to him. He really just took Hanbin for a small baby animal he had to care for, didn’t he? Embarrassed by his own actions, Zhang Hao dissolved into silent laughter, hiding himself by putting his forehead against the bathtub. 

“You thought I couldn’t?” Hanbin chuckled, baffled. 

Zhang Hao only collapsed further, sitting back on his heels. Hanbin softly head-butted him, his laughter tickling the witch’s skull. 

“I’m clean! I even use your perfumes to make sure that I smell good to you! How could you think that I don’t know how to bathe?”

“Aah! I know that you do! I didn’t think at all!” Zhang Hao exclaimed, throwing his head back in frustration. “I was just acting on instinct.”

“Your instinct is to wash me?” Hanbin teased him. 

The witch found his footing again, climbing back up to finish cleaning up the stained skin. Hanbin’s face was close, their smiles mirrored. It was amazing, how nothing ever felt awkward with him. Thinking back to the day they met, Hanbin had been right. He was supposed to be here. They were meant to be together. 

“I’m sorry. When I saw you in this state, I could only think about taking care of you. You went through all this trouble to get me a gift, and you got so messy…”

The teasing glint in Hanbin’s eyes turned softer as he leaned back, exposing his neck for Zhang Hao to rub. 

“It’s my responsibility as your familiar. You should always have fresh ingredients. And the full moon is tonight, so it’s important that you get the best stuff. You weren’t sure if you could do the extra ritual, right? You can now. I double checked.”

The witch’s heart started swelling with affection, warmth spreading in his chest. Hanbin was always looking out for him, making sure everything was as Zhang Hao wished. Diligent, silent, caring. 

“Thank you, Hanbin.”

Maybe he wouldn’t mind if Hanbin did become his familiar, even if it meant washing blood out of the carpet sometimes. 

⚞▴⚻▴⚟

Zhang Hao woke up with a shout, his heart beating fast and hard. The nightmare wasn’t fading away yet, and so, even though he recognized the footsteps climbing up his stairs, he couldn’t help the extra rush of adrenaline in his veins. 

“Hao, are you okay?!”

Thankfully, Hanbin’s voice helped calm him down enough to breathe in deeply, and not blast a fireball into the darkness. 

“Yes. I just had a nightmare.”

The mattress dipped next to Zhang Hao. Hanbin’s silhouette was traced by the faint moonlight coming from outside. 

“What was it, to make you so scared? I thought you got hurt.”

The witch sighed, thinking back to his dream. With Hanbin here, it sounded silly. 

“I dreamt that someone managed to get in and wanted to harm me. It’s kind of a recurring theme.”

“An intruder? But you’re so powerful. Nobody could hurt you in your domain.”

Zhang Hao pushed his hair back, breathing deeply and moving his legs to get rid of the last remnants of his nightmare. 

“It’s a little bit different from you, but… I’m also afraid that someone from a coven will come and force me to leave with them.”

Surprisingly, Hanbin shook his head. Zhang Hao could only see the side of his face, the rest hidden in the shadows. 

“I won’t let them.”

“If even I can’t help it, what would you do?” he chuckled. 

But Hanbin wasn’t laughing. 

“I’ll find a way to let you escape. Even if it costs me my life.”

The silence in the dark room was suddenly heavy. Hanbin moved, and little cat paws climbed up on Zhang Hao’s chest. 

“I’ll be on the lookout tonight in case it was an omen. You can rest now.”

Surprised by the gravity with which Hanbin was dealing with the situation, the witch let him settle. Instinctively, his hand ran down Hanbin’s silky fur, gently caressing him. 

“You shouldn’t lay your life for another so easily,” Zhang Hao murmured. 

“It’s not easy. But your freedom is what I love the most, and I don’t think I could ever give it up.”

Zhang Hao’s half formed protests died on his lips. That wasn’t something he thought he would ever hear, but it made sense, in some way. Hanbin’s life might have been very different before coming here, and not the most comfortable either, judging from his willingness to leave his home. This freedom Zhang Hao cherished might have been just as precious to Hanbin, an escape from a stifling life. 

“I won’t ever let them take you either,” he promised. 

“I know,” said Hanbin.

Something moved on his chest, a small head nuzzling against his neck. Zhang Hao did ask him to only be a cat for night cuddles for obvious reasons, but at that moment, it felt wrong. Hanbin wasn’t a cat. He was a friend, he was an equal, he was just as human as him, and it was something Zhang Hao wasn’t respecting enough. He knew it changed nothing for Hanbin, but it did for him, and he had to act accordingly. 

“Do you mind being in your other form?”

“I thought sleeping with a human meant something special to you.”

“It does.”

A beat of silence, and then Hanbin rolled to the side, snuggling against the witch’s form and draping an arm over where his small body had been. Every time Hanbin had hugged him, it had felt unusual, but this time, deep in the safety of his own bed, it was even more heart-fluttering. Hanbin was warm, comfortable, always thinking of Zhang Hao’s desires.

“Does this mean something, then?” Hanbin asked in his ear. 

The witch turned to Hanbin, taking him into a loose hug. The covers separated them, but still, they met in a sweet embrace. 

“It means I feel really safe with you.”

Hanbin nuzzled his head against Zhang Hao’s neck again, his silky black hair familiar against his skin.

“I’m glad.”

That night, Zhang Hao slept peacefully, warm and happy. 

⚞▴⚻▴⚟

“The night market will open soon.”

Hanbin opened his eyes from where he was napping, his head resting on Zhang Hao’s thighs as they laid on the floor. The witch was meditating; or at least that’s what he was trying to do, before drifting off to the vibrations of Hanbin’s sleepy purring. 

“What is it?”

“A place for witches to meet up and exchange goods. I have a stall there, most of my revenue comes from trading. It’s an important stop to get some rare materials I can’t get otherwise, too. I’ll need to prepare before going.”

Hanbin got up on his hands, towering above Hao looking worried. 

“You’re going?”

“Yes.”

“But I thought you didn’t want to see the other witches.”

“I do have friends, and I like to see them sometimes. The issue has more to do with everyone else trying to recruit me.”

“So you’re not safe.”

Zhang Hao sighed out of fondness, scratching Hanbin behind his cat ears. The boy fought against the pleasant sensation so he could keep looking serious. 

“I’ll be okay, Hanbin. They won’t hurt me. You know it, right? I’m better than all of them.”

“But… I’m too worried. I’ll come with you.”

This time, it was the witch that got up on his hands, almost headbutting Hanbin. 

“Absolutely not! The Transmutation Coven will be here and they’d recognize you immediately. It’s not me who’s going to be in danger if you show up after disappearing for months!”

“But you can’t leave all alone! They won’t look at every cat coming, right? I’ll just stay small!”

“You’re their experiment, of course they’d recognize you even under your cat form! The magic in you is so unique, even I saw it right away!”

“Then can’t you alter it? You know transmutation magic, right?”

Zhang Hao frowned, quickly thinking of his options. With the proper spells and rituals, he’d be able to alter Hanbin’s color for the night and make his energy signature unreadable. But still, it would be completely irresponsible and—

“Please,” Hanbin begged as he sensed an opening, crawling over the witch’s lap. “Please let me come. Please. Please? Please. I’ll be so good, I promise. And I’ll cook every meal for a week!”

“Wow, hey, calm down. Why do you even want to come so bad? I told you, it’s just a market.”

Hanbin pinched his lips, his hands absentmindedly kneading Zhang Hao’s belly. 

“I don’t like knowing you’re alone where I can’t reach,” he said, looking a little confused and embarrassed. “It makes me all… panicked and antsy. I’m supposed to be there with you. I know that’s where I should be. Please let me come with you. Please.”

The witch closed his eyes, seriously considering the question. Hanbin was an adult man (or rather, catman). Who was he to deny him his right to roam freely? If it was Hanbin’s choice, and that Zhang Hao could provide help, then it sounded like the only reasonable thing to do. 

“Okay. Come with me, I need to run some tests first.”

Hanbin gasped, delighted, and rubbed the crown of his head against the witch’s head. It was with a constant stream of thanks that Zhang Hao collected some crystals and powders in his storage. The sun had recently set outside, and small orbs of lights helped him to navigate his ingredients. The tower was silent, but Zhang Hao could hear the faraway twinkle of wandering forest spirits. 

“Do you have a true form?” the witch checked, pushing a jar aside to grab a vial hidden behind it. 

Hanbin, currently curled up in a small furry ball in the crook of Zhang Hao’s arm, blinked up at him with a confused head tilt. 

“I’m Hanbin. I’m always Hanbin.”

“Yeah, I figured as much…”

Which called into question which herbs to use. Changes would apply to both forms, but the spell itself would differ depending on which body type it was applied to. The cat would probably be easier, because of its small size, but a human allowed for much more delicate work. And Zhang Hao never took the easy way out. He pulled out the dried Adder’s Tongue, Dogbane, Protea, and after a brief hesitation solved by his magical compass, added Canterbury Bells and green Carnations. 

“I’d need you to be human for this. Did they teach you how to dance for rituals?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t have suggested to be your familiar otherwise. I’m very good at it. Do you need me to share my energy with you?”

“It’s unnecessary. I just need to know how much preparation this ritual calls for.”

“Will it be hard for you?”

“No, I just need to fine-tune a couple of things. Tell me, which color do you want your fur to be? It doesn’t have to be natural. Pick something you like.”

Hanbin jumped on the desk as Zhang Hao put down his main ingredients, opening up his forbidden human transmutation grimoire so he could refresh his memory on the potion brewing part. While he flicked the yellowed pages darkened with ink, Hanbin stared at his reflection in the small oval mirror, and then at his little paws on the dark wood. 

“I want something very light, but not white. It feels like too much. Maybe something like… cream? A little bit darker? But not too warm. I don’t want the color to be too saturated, either. I don’t know…”

“Ash blonde?”

“Maybe? I’m not sure.”

Zhang Hao sat down on his stool with a hum, watching the way Hanbin’s tail flicked in front of his nose with barely contained frustration. 

“If it’s hard for you to visualize, maybe I can help you with a minor illusion spell.”

The witch ran his finger on the side of the mirror. In its reflection, the cat’s fur turned lighter, to a dull gray. Hanbin considered the color with a tilt of his head before sneezing. 

“No. More clear and… warmer.”

Zhang Hao caressed the mirror again, turning the vision into a pale ginger. Hanbin’s tail whipped the desk. 

“Less red, less red. More yellow.”

“Like this?”

“No, it’s too intense…”

“Maybe this one?”

“Yes! Yes, I like this one!”

“A little bit like burnished gold.”

“Can you change my eyes, too?”

“Of course. Which color?”

“Blue.”

This time, the exact shade was pinned down on their first try, and Hanbin admired himself, fascinated. 

“Do you want markings, too?”

“Markings?”

“You know, stripes, spots, or something more fantasist if you want. You don’t have to be a solid color.”

“Oh! Then I want that.”

Hanbin pawed at the symbols carved into the desk, sun, star and moon. 

“Really? Why?”

“I love the way you communicate with the sky, and you always check on the moon before doing anything. It’s new for me, but I like it. It feels like you, in a way. I want it here.”

He licked his chest as if he was grooming himself, and then looked at Hao expectantly with his deep blue eyes. Picking a mark that made him think of Zhang Hao’s way of doing magic…

“Hanbin,” he carefully said. “You know it’s not a bonding ceremony, right? It’s not… I’m not marking you as my familiar.”

“I know,” Hanbin responded, twisting himself to admire his back with his new color. “Is it not okay to pick those?”

Relieved, he scratched Hanbin’s head, letting the illusion in the mirror dissipate. 

“No, let’s do it. But it might look blurry on your fur. It’s going to be great for your human form, though.”

Hanbin started purring, very satisfied. Zhang Hao drafted his plan on his desk, absentmindedly caressing and scruffing up the cat’s body as he consulted his books. Hanbin purred loudly as he received the witch’s touches, laying down on the desk, curling to push into his hand, using his hind legs to get his buttocks higher as Zhang Hao scratched the base of his tail. Absentmindedly, his fingers ran lower on the side of the raised tail, and Hanbin twitched with a tiny mewl. 

“Oh?” Zhang Hao chuckled. “You really like it here, mmh?”

Hanbin froze. Before the witch could understand what went wrong, human hands held his wrist, a very red face averting his gaze as he scrambled up on his feet. 

“Maybe— maybe not here,” Hanbin stuttered.

“Did I do something?” Zhang Hao frowned, worried. 

“It’s… You know how you said that, hum, kissing on the lips would be a mating ritual? It’s… kind of… like that.”

It was Zhang Hao’s turn to blush, slowly taking back his hand. He hadn’t thought a single second about a cat’s erogenous zones. 

“Oh— I’m so sorry—”

“You need a potion for me to drink, right? I’ll get the fire under the cauldron started. Don’t mind me. Sorry.”

Hanbin scuttled out of the room, leaving the witch by himself, mortified. His blushy face was adorable, but it wasn’t how he wanted to get to it. 

Zhang Hao wouldn’t mind getting a little more teasing and intimate with Hanbin. He did mind about the form under which the intimacy happened, though. Sure, he might be into catboys, but he very much was not into boyish cats.  

Thankfully, by the time the witch joined him in the kitchen, Hanbin didn’t seem too frazzled by the incident, only a light pink dusting his cheeks as he explained he’d used this time to prepare a snack for them. 

As Zhang Hao thanked him, he put a hand on Hanbin’s lower back, and he had to stop himself from trailing lower around his tail, just to see if he’d react the same. 

But he had a potion to brew, so this experiment would have to be reported to another day. 

⚞▴⚻▴⚟

Together, they had set up the first floor for the ritual. Hanbin had drunk his potion while it was still hot, the gibbous moon was high in the sky, and all of the ingredients were in place. Zhang Hao stretched, loosening up in preparation for the ritual dance, but his companion kept walking in circles, fixing bowls and crystals already perfectly placed. 

“Are you ready, Hanbin?” the witch asked as he passed by him. “You look antsy. It’s okay if you mess up the dance, you know. We can start over, or try another day. We have a lot of time left.”

“No, I know I’ll nail the dance,” Hanbin denied, and Zhang Hao snorted at his absolute confidence. “I’m just mentally getting ready for the pain.”

“We’re only changing the color of your hair and applying a symbol of your chest, not stretching your bones. It will hurt a little, but it will be over in a few seconds.”

“You don’t have to lie,” Hanbin said, shaking his head. “I can take it.”

“I would never lie about the effects of my spells,” Zhang Hao hissed, but his ego quickly receded to make room for curiosity. “Why would you assume I’m lying?”

“Because I’ve had a lot of transmutation spells done on me! They hurt a lot. It feels like burning.”

Hanbin had said it so casually, but Zhang Hao was so horrified he felt the blood drawing from his face. 

“There are ways to reduce the pain caused by the ritual,” he said in a voice that was meant to be condemning, but just came out hollow. 

“But it takes a lot more time, right? That’s why it took you all day, even though the scale of the changes are really minimal. They didn’t have the time to do it, and I knew it helped them if I was brave about it. Does it even reduce the pain that much?”

Shock quickly gave way to rage, and the sudden head rush made Zhang Hao shake. It was clear Hanbin had been experimented on and treated as an animal, but he’d expected — he’d hoped — that at the very least, those experiments had been humane. How could the witches responsible for it even sleep at night? How could they trade a time gain for Hanbin’s wellbeing? Sure, skipping the numbing agents was cheaper and faster, and it left no physical wounds, but was it reason enough to not help Hanbin through the pain?

If he saw the witch to blame for this decision, it was on sight. 

“You look very upset,” Hanbin noted. “Do you want a calming brew before we start?”

“And a lot of meditation, yes,” he gritted out. “And you need to relax, too.”

Hanbin agreed, and they walked up the stairs to get some water boiling. The infusion helped a little bit, but Zhang Hao was still feeling restless when he climbed into his hammock. That is, until Hanbin jumped on him, crushing the witch under his weight as they snuggled against each other. It had gotten more comfortable with time. The pressure helped Zhang Hao to feel more grounded, to not feel as disconnected for his body as he could sometimes be when he got lost in his own mind. 

While Hanbin human-purred on his chest, Zhang Hao painstakingly managed to clear his mind. Hanbin’s past had been abusive and terrifying, but now, he was at home with him, safe and loved. That was what mattered, and what Zhang Hao needed to focus on. Their future was bright, and he would make sure it stayed that way. 

It was interesting to recontextualize what had happened today with Hanbin’s view of the world, though. How insistent he had been to follow Zhang Hao to the market, how scared he’d seemed at the idea that the witch could be taken by a coven. How Hanbin had immediately agreed to subjecting himself to transmutation if it meant being here to protect him. 

Maybe Hanbin didn’t really understand how wrong his situation had been, in which ways exactly people had failed him, but something in his heart had been wounded enough to deeply distress him at the mere thought of Zhang Hao living it too. So much so that Hanbin was willing to go through it again, just for a chance to spare the witch this life he’d escaped. 

Zhang Hao opened his eyes, his heart calmed once more. On his chest, one of Hanbin’s ears flickered incessantly, as if some dust had been caught on its fine hairs. The witch gently rubbed it, and Hanbin startled and mewled in the exact same way he had earlier. Except that when Hanbin looked up at him, his cheeks quickly reddening, he hesitated. Last time, it had been an accident, but with Hanbin as a human, the witch was ready to push a bit further. 

“Something wrong?” Zhang Hao smiled. 

“…No,” Hanbin finally decided, nestling his face against the witch’s chest. “It’s nothing. I was just surprised. You— You can keep going. If you want to.”

And, since Zhang Hao did want to, he got back to it, very softly caressing the pointy black ear between his fingers. It was impressive, the way the witch could feel it heat up even there. If Hanbin had human ears, would they be as red as the face he was hiding? Zhang Hao didn’t need to know. He loved Hanbin in any form, after all, because it was always Hanbin inside. And it was love, wasn’t it? This warm feeling every time Hanbin smiled at him. It went beyond his compass, beyond whatever magic seemed to already bond them. A simple, quiet truth guiding them just as steadily. 

Maybe it was crossing a line, when Zhang Hao gently kissed Hanbin’s ear, tickling it enough to get swatted by it, the pointy ear flicking the sensation away. But if it was, Hanbin didn’t seem to mind, only holding him tighter and purring loud. 

An hour later, after they both fully calmed down, they were back on track, ready to perform the ritual. The lights from the dozens of lit candles around them created shifting shadows. Signs of change, of the ever evolving nature of reality. They stood face to face at the center of it all, barefoot with their toes touching. 

“Take my hand,” he instructed Hanbin. “And put your other hand on my waist to keep track of my movements. You need to perfectly match my steps.”

“Oh!” he exclaimed as the witch put his hand on Hanbin’s throat, feeling his pluse. “I know this dance!”

“This one might be a little different than what you’re used to,” Zhang Hao warned him. “Follow my lead, and keep your toes touching mine. We need to reach the end flawlessly if we want your energy read to be completely masked.”

“Yes. I won’t disappoint you.”

“You can’t disappoint me.”

Zhang Hao closed his eyes, feeling his power rise from the earth. The lights surrounding him shifted, his compass spun, his heartbeat gave him the rhythm. And in the middle of this, Hanbin shone bright, ready to be changed. When Zhang Hao started humming, his light responded, vibrating like a harp’s chord. Perfect to accompany him. 

The witch moved his feet down the line to his right, Hanbin perfectly following. He went slow in the beginning, but Hanbin matched everything effortlessly, proving he was used to it all. So Zhang Hao picked up the pace, trusting Hanbin to follow as his chant became more powerful. Sliding, turning, bending. The classic execution would’ve sent them the other way, but Zhang Hao had read the moon charts, and knew exactly how to move through those lines. Flying through the room, dancing with the spirits to change Hanbin’s color like water receiving a drop of ink. 

The witch let go of Hanbin’s hand to flatten his fingers, conducting the energy in a straight line. Hanbin’s hand perfectly imitated the gesture, their palms flat against each other. It felt so natural to conduct a ritual with Hanbin, Zhang Hao even wondered in his daze if it was really their first time together. If there had been another time, in another life, where they also danced together so effortlessly. 

The dance reached its paroxysm, a sweet voice joining Zhang Hao’s song like a faraway chorus. Hanbin’s light resonated with him, energy perfectly coursing through them, applied exactly where it had to be, in the way it had to be. When they stopped, their breaths heavy, and Zhang Hao opened his eyes again, they were back at the center of the room, a single candle still lit under their feet. The witch made them kneel, Hanbin folding as if he’d been a mere reflection of him, perfectly sitting down. 

A perfect light danced in Hanbin’s dark eyes as the flame rose between them, bathing his skin in warm copper. 

Perfect. Yes, Hanbin was perfect. 

Zhang Hao blew out the last candle. Darkness covered them, and the witch deliberately spilled a few drops of melted wax on his arm before discarding the candle to the side. It wasn’t in the plan, but something in him needed to share Hanbin’s pain, however small it was. Not for guilt, not for justice. Only for his compass, whispering to him that they were the same soul in two bodies. 

“Hao…”

Hands grabbed Zhang Hao’s clothes, and they fell into each other’s arms. Hanbin let himself be cradled, safely tucked against the witch who gently held his neck to not overstimulate his scalp. 

“Does it hurt?” Zhang Hao asked gently. 

Hanbin sniffed. A wet drop ran down Zhang Hao’s throat, pooled at his collarbone. 

“It doesn’t hurt,” Hanbin sobbed. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

Tears on his cheeks, mirroring those on Hanbin’s. This time, Zhang Hao didn’t need to use a candle to share his pain. 

They held each other until Hanbin stopped crying, long after the moon waned. 

Only then did Zhang Hao stop crying, too. 

⚞▴⚻▴⚟

Of course, the transmutation spell had been a resounding success. Zhang Hao hadn’t been able to fully appreciate it on the night of the ritual, but the following days were very gratifying. Hanbin’s blonde hair looked natural on his human form, and even though it looked somewhat strange as fur when he was a cat, it was still shiny and soft and exactly like he wanted. His blue eyes still shined like galaxies, no matter whether his pupils were round or a slit, and surprisingly, the symbol on his chest was still somewhat legible as small patches of black on his fur. 

Zhang Hao had caught Hanbin admiring himself in the mirror twice. It was good to see him so happy with his new look, after the intense emotions the ritual had caused. They hadn’t talked about it, and they didn’t need to. Zhang Hao simply had taken extra care of Hanbin ever since. And he’d continue to do so, by buying him some stuff at the market. Hanbin was really into fish lately, if the recent “gifts” left on Hao’s desk were any clue. 

That’s why Zhang Hao’s pouch was extra large when he strapped it on his back, ready to go. He had prepared a lot of goods ever since Hanbin had started living with him, so that he could buy him stuff that would truly make him feel at home. Zhang Hao unfastened the sword displayed on the wall next to the door with a happy hum. 

“Alright, what’s our plan?”

“No big form,” Hanbin diligently replied from his spot on his shoulder. “No talking. If I see someone from the Transmutation Coven, I hide in your clothes. No wandering alone either. I promise.”

“Good kitty,” Zhang Hao grinned, scratching under his furry chin.

Hanbin immediately purred, pushing his head against Zhang Hao’s cheek to get extra touches. It was impossible to tell like this, but Zhang Hao could’ve sworn he would’ve blushed in his human form. 

The witch laid the sword on the ground outside, stepped on it daintily, and they both floated up. Hanbin meowed, surprised. 

“It flies?”

“Of course?” Zhang Hao chuckled. “Did you think we’d go there on foot?”

“But I thought— They used to talk about brooms to fly.”

The witch shrugged. 

“Cultural differences.”

They flew above the canopy, guided by the stars and the moonlight. Zhang Hao felt it when they left his domain, a loss of safety and protection. Hanbin surely felt it too, with the way he pushed himself deep into the witch’s collar for extra protection. 

It took an hour or so to reach the night market. There were portals covens used to get to it faster, but Zhang Hao didn’t have this kind of luxury. When he landed in the clearing, groups of witches were putting up their stands, but there was still enough room to put up his own. He put his bag down, and pulled out a big flower that floated up, turned, twisted, and finally made a tent with some curved petals to serve as shelves. Zhang Hao put up everything he had carried with him to be sold, and then, satisfied, decided to head out. 

Hanbin furiously tapped his paw on Zhang Hao’s chest before he left. 

“What?” Zhang Hao whispered. 

“You can’t sell your potions if you leave!”

Hanbin sounded deeply confused. It was adorable. 

“Witches usually send their familiar to buy their ingredients while they hold their stand,” Zhang Hao explained as he rubbed his lovely forehead. “But I don’t have one, so I’ll just come back once I’m done. 

“I could—”

The witch grabbed the skin on Hanbin’s neck as fast as it was humanly possible, pressing him onto his shoulder. 

“Absolutely not. You promised, Hanbin.”

“Yes, you’re right,” he muttered, ears pushed back. “I’m sorry.”

“They’re used to waiting for me to be done with my shopping spree. My potions and charms are of the highest quality. Waiting is part of the price tag.”

Zhang Hao pushed back the petal closing off his tent, and started roaming the stands. He was a big spender; quality was expensive, and he could afford it. He bought his essentials, made a few impulsive purchases, said hi to a few friends. Kuanjui and Taerae were showing off their latest potion healing any joint pain in the long term, a years-long project Zhang Hao was glad to be able to congratulate them on. They’d worked on the theory together in school, a lifetime ago, and even if their paths had diverged after they’d joined the Health Coven, they were still dear to each other. 

Zhang Hao wished he could share how his life had changed lately, with Hanbin at his side, but this would be a story for another time, with less ears susceptible to catch something they shouldn’t. 

Hanbin admired everything with big, curious eyes, and sometimes Zhang Hao could feel him getting restless on his shoulder. When it happened, he walked closer to the stand, and gauged from Hanbin’s reaction whether it was an object he wished to get. Perpetually fresh fish, pretty necklaces, catnip pots. Every purchase was rewarded with a tiny, excited meow in Zhang Hao’s ear, as well as soft paws making biscuits on his collarbones. In the end, the witch felt a lot more happy buying presents for Hanbin than for himself. 

Once Zhang Hao was done with his retail therapy, and the peak of the market made it difficult to navigate, he came back to his stand and opened his store. The line was already there, collectively taking a step forward as the petals opened to reveal a counter. Money flowed even faster than Zhang Hao’s words, products flying off his shelves. He was the only one offering pluridisciplinary magic, after all. 

The night was nearing its end, but people were still lined up in front of Zhang Hao’s desk. This was a great night. Every time one of his clients tried to recruit him into their coven, Hanbin got up from his spot on the counter where he curiously observed them and hissed and scratched them until they shut up. It was a surprisingly effective strategy, and Zhang Hao was racking up sky high profits while keeping his peace of mind thanks to his little warrior. 

Yes, it was all going swimmingly. 

That is, until Hanbin screamed. 

“MOM!”

Hanbin jumped off the counter, running through the crowd, and Zhang Hao swore before exiting his stand and running to find his escaped cat, ignoring the upset cries of his clients. He found him very fast, because Hanbin was fully human, his blonde ears causing a few strange glances from the crowd as he sobbed into a woman’s arms.

She was chubby, short, with long gray hair betraying her advanced age and adorned in green robes indicating her allegiance to the Transmutation Coven. Mom. They didn’t look like each other at all. But still, there was something in the woman’s misty eyes. A kind, warm glint they both shared. 

Zhang Hao really should’ve told Hanbin off, but who was he to mess up a reunion with his mother?

“Hello,” he politely introduced himself instead. “My name is Zhang Hao. I’ve been caring for Hanbin.”

“Zhang Hao,” she whispered before wiping her eyes and smiling at him, emotion still obvious in her voice. “You can call me Sung. Thank you so much for taking care of my baby. I thought… I was scared that— Thank you.”

Strangely, the witch felt like he had something to prove. He wanted her to approve of him, not just be reassured about this whole situation Hanbin had been thrown in but to feel proud that her son lived in such good conditions. Zhang Hao never cared for other witches’ opinions, but he wanted to be judged suitable for Hanbin. 

“Please don’t worry about it. It’s good to finally meet you, Mrs. Sung. I would love to have you over so you can see what he’s been up to. Hanbin missed you a lot.”

Mrs. Sung’s eyes filled up with tears again, her arms rubbing Hanbin’s back. 

“You did? Oh, my sweet Hanbinie…”

“Mom,” Hanbin whined pitifully, turning back into a cat to better be held. “Mom, I missed you so much!”

“I know, pussycat, I know, me too…”

“You were right, Zhang Hao is so nice,” he sobbed against her large chest. “He lets me go in the forest whenever and he never asks me to do anything and he doesn’t hurt me—”

“There, there, it’s okay, I’m so happy you—”

Zhang Hao didn’t understand how he hadn’t seen it coming. Maybe it was the emotion of seeing the two of them reunited, maybe it was his ego being stroked. Usually, he was sure of it, he would’ve noticed someone stepping next to him. In any case, it came as a shock to everyone when a hand grabbed the scruff of Hanbin’s neck and yanked him out of his mother’s hold. She stepped back in horror and stared at a young woman in green robes now holding the cat; a high-ranking member from the Transmutation Coven, clearly. 

In a second, she had turned Hanbin into stone, his blonde fur now gray and dull, and understanding dawned onto Zhang Hao. Of course, in his human form, their simple color trick wouldn’t be enough to hide the fact that he was the hybrid that had escaped. They had found him, and were taking him back. 

Mrs. Sung fell to her knees, devastation distorting her traits. She couldn’t rise against her own coven, but Zhang Hao was both willing and able to get some blood on his hands if it came down to it. Even if it didn’t get that bad, honestly. The revelations that had transpired last week were far from being forgotten in Zhang Hao’s mind. 

“Back off,” he demanded. “That cat is mine.”

“Yours? You can’t own the living unless it’s your familiar, and I don’t see any mark on him.”

Zhang Hao was already heated, but it was nothing compared to the liquid rage suddenly running through his veins. The way she talked about Hanbin like a thing to be passed around and used by anyone who wanted to, devoid of free will, made him sick. Especially since she’d known full well how human Hanbin was. Maybe he didn’t own Hanbin, but he was happy with Zhang Hao, he was where he was supposed to be, and this heathen would simply snatch him away without a care?

He would not let that happen. And if Hanbin being his familiar was what it took for her to let go of him without resorting to murder, Zhang Hao would not hesitate. 

“The ritual is underway. How dare you separate a witch and their familiar?!”

“We have intimate knowledge of its nature. The beast can’t be made a familiar, for it is half human.”

“And maybe it was enough to stop you, but my powers go beyond your understanding, you wench.”

Zhang Hao stepped up to the woman, ready to fight, but another, taller figure was already grabbing the stone cat. The Headmistress of the Transmutation Coven herself, all draped in green robes with a moose skull covering her face, towered far above anyone in the crowd that had quickly formed around the commotion. She must’ve been immediately summoned, Zhang Hao figured. 

He wasn’t impressed, and very much still ready to fight. 

“O Great Solitary Witch Zhang Hao, allow me to explain. This creature represents almost thirty years of research. Countless hours of work and resources have been put into—”

“I will not entertain your disrespect any further.”

Zhang Hao took a step forward, pink flames suddenly circling the three of them. The crowd gasped and took a step back, all eyes on the rogue witch, the head of the coven, and the little stone cat in her hand.

“If you do not hand my familiar over right this instant, I’ll invoke my protection right and will duel your whole coven if that’s what it takes. And not only will I win, I’ll curse your entire kind for generations to come, as punishment for the harm you’ve caused. The Transmutation Coven will fall because of your folly.”

“You wouldn’t dare—!”

“If I were you, I would think about my next words very carefully, O Great Transmutation Headmistress. I would appreciate it if they were an apology, but I’d also accept you gracefully bowing out. Do not underestimate how willing I am to turn this market into an arena.”

Time stood still as everyone held their breaths. Zhang Hao had been fully sincere in his threat. Decades of being frustrated at the system and the sudden rage at the thought of Hanbin being taken made him very willing to get his revenge, no matter the cost. Maybe she had sensed Zhang Hao’s determination, because she carefully lowered the statue to the ground. 

The stone covering Hanbin chipped, crumbled, and then he was running at full speed towards his witch. Zhang Hao kneeled to let him jump in his arms, immediately swindling his small body against his chest beneath his robes. Claws dug into his skin, pain flaring up as the cat held onto him, but Zhang Hao ignored it. Hanbin needed protection, something that would immediately keep him away from that cruel woman facing them. Even now that he was safe against Zhang Hao’s skin, his heart was rabbiting, tiny ribcage expanding and contracting way too fast. It made the witch’s own heart beat faster, his own lungs failing to expand. 

Hanbin was so, so scared, and Zhang Hao felt this fear as his own. 

“Of course, you could only invoke your protection right because of its familiar status,” said the Headmistress. “We all look forward to seeing the mark that proves that status by the next full moon.”

Zhang Hao’s attention snapped back to the vile creature facing them. He was done. They were going home, and wouldn’t deal with their nonsense anymore. 

“If you want to steal from me, come to my domain and try it. I don’t owe you anything.” 

The flames got snuffed out, and Zhang Hao power walked back to his stand, the contraption folding in on itself before upset customers that had been waiting for their turn. The witch politely suggested they take their ire to the Transmutation Coven for breaking their laws, and ignored everything else as he left the night market, especially the guy trying to get him to join his Illusion Coven for protection. At least, the night air on his flying sword helped to calm him down.

The house was silent when he stepped back inside, the sky slowly turning a deep blue as the sun was getting closer to take its rightful place. The familiar place felt a little bit different after the noise of the market. The air stood still, making the discreet shift of fabric on the witch’s chest loud and Hanbin’s voice even louder. 

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault that it ended like this.”

“Don’t be,” Zhang Hao immediately denied. “It was entirely their doing. You can’t apologize for people wanting to hurt you, ever.”

“But I was supposed to hide. I promised.”

He pulled Hanbin out of his hiding spot, holding him carefully. Usually, for this kind of serious talk, Hanbin prefered to look human, but this time he prefered to stay a cat. “Small”, as he called this form. Hidden away. Ashamed. 

“But you couldn’t help hugging your mother, right? And I’m glad you did. How could I have met her, otherwise?”

Hanbin curled in on himself, even more embarrassed. 

“But I promised.”

“You did your very best in an unexpected situation. That’s all I wanted from you. You did good, Hanbin. I’m not disappointed. But it must have been so scary for you, wasn’t it?”

Something shiny slipped on Hanbin’s small furry face with a pitiful mewl. Cats weren’t supposed to cry, but Hanbin wasn’t just a cat, after all. 

“Oh, baby, no, don’t cry,” Zhang Hao cooed, putting Hanbin in the crook of his arm so he could carefully wipe his tears. “It’s okay, it’s over. I would never let them hurt you. They can’t do anything against me, we’re alright.”

Hanbin tried to talk, but only a whine escaped. It was cute, Zhang Hao thought. It was also cute when his arm slipped over Hanbin’s back and he got locked in a human embrace, blonde hair shoved against his neck. As Hanbin sniffed wetly on his shoulder, the witch left a feather light peck on his temple. 

“Do you want to eat something good tonight? I bought a lot of perpetually fresh fish for you.”

“You— You had to say—”

The rest of his sentence was muffled. Gently, Zhang Hao pushed his head away, cupping his red, teary cheeks with both hands. Hanbin was an ugly crier. His face was all scrunched up, wet, and only a shade shy from being completely scarlet. Despite himself, Zhang Hao pressed his thumb on the whisker dimple under a ferociously closed eyelid. Hanbin was so, so cute when he cried. 

“Your face looks like clay. Do you think if I pinch your cheeks hard enough I could use it as an ingredient?”

Hanbin laughed despite the tears, his thick clumpy eyelashes parting to let his sparkly eyes shine through. Zhang Hao thumbed underneath, erasing the tears that were still overflowing. 

“Can you repeat what you said? I couldn’t quite catch it.”

“When— You had to say that I was your familiar, in front of everyone,” Hanbin pushed out, his lower lip wobbling. “But you’re so proud of never having one, and you don’t want me to be, and— It’s wrong. I know you didn’t get hurt, but I heard people talking when you left and— And if it wasn’t because of me—”

Hanbin whined weakly, his face crumpling again. Was this really the reason for his distress? Hanbin, who had begged to become his familiar from the moment they met, was distraught because Zhang Hao had to publicly pretend that he was?

It hadn’t really felt like lying, either. Hanbin had been his companion for months now. He did everything a familiar could do, and then more. Sure, Hanbin didn’t have the mark that would make him his, but functionally, it was all the same. 

It felt right. 

It also felt reductive. Hanbin, in all his complexity and depth, lessened to an animal he owned. Hanbin, who cooked for Zhang Hao in the morning. Hanbin, who slept with him when he had nightmares. Hanbin, who made him laugh and exchanged ideas about his work. Hanbin, who was crying because the idea that his most precious wish might be believed by bystanders against Zhang Hao’s will was unbearable to him. 

Hanbin, so much more than a familiar but not allowed to become one. 

The compass pointed to him steadily, ever since they met for the first time, never faltering. 

Zhang Hao closed his eyes, hugging Hanbin again. Maybe it was time to listen. 

“Let’s talk about it tomorrow, okay? The day has been so long already, and we won’t get far while emotions are so high. We should eat something good, and head to bed.”

“O-Okay.”

Zhang Hao cooked something quick with his new ingredients, something hearty and comforting but light so they could go to sleep soon. Hanbin didn’t let go for a single second. His arms stayed securely around the witch’s waist, draped over his back while the cauldron boiled. The only time Hanbin had to use his hands — to bring a chair over when it was time to eat — it was his fluffy tail wrapping around Zhang Hao’s middle instead. Even when their bellies were full, Hanbin still clung to him like a lifeline, slowly walking up the stairs together. 

They stopped at the point where Hanbin would usually turn back. Zhang Hao softly nudged him forwards, silently granting him access to his room, and Hanbin finally took his hands off of him to let the witch undress for the night. Hanbin stood there as Zhang Hao climbed into bed, nervously fidgeting. 

“Do you want me to be small?”

“No. Be the form that’s most comfortable to you.”

With a nod, he followed suit, carefully slipping his human body under the sheets. He was warm, and Zhang Hao took him in his arms as the canopy above them closed to protect them from the light of the dawn. Their bodies comfortably slotted against each other, as if they were used to it. Maybe they were, from all the naps and cuddles now scattered in their daily lives. Hanbin had stopped crying a while ago, but his throat was still rough from it, his words breaking. 

“Hao… is it okay if it’s special for me too?”

Zhang Hao gently scratched the nape of Hanbin’s neck, the warmth surrounding him seeping deep into his body. Making him safe, comfortable, powerful. Loved. He snuggled closer, burying his head between Hanbin’s soft ears. 

“Yes. It is.”

Hanbin’s arms tightened around the witch, their legs tangling as a soft tail draped around their hips. 

“Thank you.”

Zhang Hao slept better than he had in years. 

⚞▴⚻▴⚟

In the afternoon, they woke up together, trudging into the kitchen in silence with sticky eyes. The events of the night seemed far away now, but Zhang Hao hadn’t forgotten his plans for the day. He quietly watched Hanbin work on their breakfast, his blonde hair beautifully catching the light. He had thoughts about it, moderately lustful ones, but it was neither the time nor the place. Instead, Zhang Hao placed himself next to him, as casually as possible. 

“I’ve been thinking a lot, lately.”

Hanbin tilted his head with a cute questioning meow as he put the food aside. 

“I realized that I’ve been really stubborn, and that I should’ve taken other perspectives into account,” Zhang Hao explained himself. “I really thought my philosophy was valid and that it was the right thing to do. But now, I understand that I was just being childish and that the best way to take care of you, to take care of us, is to get over it and start moving in the right direction.”

Hanbin frowned. 

“You make no sense, Hao.”

“What I mean to say is… Hanbin, would you feel ready to become my familiar?”

Instead of the instantaneous, overwhelmingly excited agreement Zhang Hao had been expecting, Hanbin looked down, embarrassed. 

“I… I don’t know.”

What?

What?

Hanbin, who had been begging for it ever since they met, suddenly wasn’t sure of himself? How could he take it back like this? Right when Zhang Hao finally came to terms with it! Something was wrong. 

“What do you mean you don’t know? It seems to me that you knew pretty well.”

Hanbin turned a pretty shade of pink. 

“Yes, no, of course, but it’s… it’s not about it. It’s adjacent?”

“I need you to explain everything very clearly because I’m not following.”

Pink turned to red. 

“Uh… It’s just because… You— I know how you feel about bonding. With the whole master servant thing going on…”

“You’re my equal, Hanbin!” Zhang Hao exclaimed, a bit miffed. “I would never see you as someone below me, bonded or not!”

Red turned to crimson. 

“No, I mean, if— if I did things as your familiar then you might feel like— I think you’d get the wrong idea about my actions.”

“You make no sense.”

Hanbin winced, his tail whipping the air in frustration. And then he took a step forward. Zhang Hao didn’t have the time to react as Hanbin kissed him on the lips, a little too firm and fast. The kiss was far from being the best he’d received on a technical level, and yet it turned Zhang Hao’s brain into goo, incapable of responding as what little cognitive capacity he had left was used to remember as much as he could of it. Hanbin’s thin, slightly chapped lips, the little sound he made in his throat, the warmth of his face. It was just a peck, and already Hanbin was stepping back, ears folded in fear. The witch, completely stunned, stared at his companion who was slowly collapsing onto himself. 

Hanbin had kissed him. Hanbin had also been told, in no uncertain terms, that this was part of a mating ritual. The puzzle pieces struggled to fit, rusty with precaution and cultural differences, so Zhang Hao forcefully punched them until they snapped together. He’d known it was coming, somewhat, with all the sleeping together and light casual kisses. But he hadn’t been expecting it now, as a statement, an action so strong it asked for a redefining of their relationship. 

Zhang Hao might have turned even redder than Hanbin. 

“Oh,” he choked out. “You, hum…”

You like me is what he meant to say, but it felt wrong to put words in Hanbin’s mouth. His hesitation, however, was picked up on by Hanbin, who took another step back and looked away, shoulders high and back curved. He looked like he swallowed something sour, a shine appearing on his lower lashline. 

“Sorry,” Hanbin whispered. 

“No no no no, not sorry,” Zhang Hao hurriedly said, bridging their gap and holding Hanbin’s wrists in case he decided to run away. “I just wasn’t expecting— You do understand, right? What it means for me?”

“Of course I do,” he murmured, looking at his feet. “You told me. And, if I wait until we’re bonded, you’ll think it’s unethical that I want to… to…”

Hanbin struggled to put his thoughts into words. He never had much exposure to the concept of dating, the witch supposed. Feelings he was so sure of, but no model to follow when it came to intimacy. Hanbin knew what he wanted, and only needed a little guidance to get there. 

“To be closer?” Zhang Hao suggested, his heart beating loud in his chest. 

“Yes,” he nodded. “But not like a bonding ceremony. Like… like…”

The witch kissed Hanbin, with more skill and gentleness this time. He kept it light and short too, mindful of their new, uncertain boundaries. 

“Like this?”

“Yes!” Hanbin exclaimed, radiant, the glint in his eyes turning hopeful. “We… can we?”

“We can,” Zhang Hao smiled giddily, sliding his hands so their fingers could intertwine. “I like you a lot, Hanbin.”

“I love you,” Hanbin blurted out. 

Warmth spilled in the witch’s chest, sweet and comforting like a caring embrace. Yes, love. That sounded more like the way he felt. 

“I love you too,” Zhang Hao reciprocated, freeing a hand to caress Hanbin’s face. “But you still need to tell me when you’re uncomfortable if I do something out of line, alright?”

“Of course! And you need to tell me too!”

“Of course,” he repeated with a small laugh. “Now, do you want to try the things you wanted to do?”

Hanbin only hesitated for a second before tugging the witch close and kissing him roughly, Zhang Hao stumbling backwards until he hit the counter. The witch tried to control the kiss, to make it softer, but Hanbin only pressed himself harder against his body. And so, Zhang Hao gave up on his good behavior, and jumped up on the counter before grabbing his collar and making out just as aggressively. His tongue dangerously ran over the sharp teeth, and Hanbin’s hand tugged at his hair deliciously. 

It was nothing like the polite and proper Hanbin he knew; this was raw, unfiltered desire, finally finding an outlet to be as wild as his heart truly was. 

Zhang Hao never wanted to tame him. 

⚞▴⚻▴⚟

There were no hard rules for a bonding ceremony. It could be whatever fit a witch and its familiar, the only point that actually mattered being that it felt right. And so they talked about it; what felt right for them. Hanbin was very insistent that they needed to be close to the sky; up the cliff was the obvious location. Zhang Hao felt the need to invite his loved ones, even if the event itself was intimate; he took care to also extend an invitation to Hanbin’s mother. They both agreed that drinking something felt right; they settled on some calming tea to share from the same cup. 

By the time the big day came, Hanbin’s new colors had completely faded. It was gradual, taking him through different shades of brown before getting back to his usual black. Zhang Hao had been happy to discover, thanks to Hanbin’s blue eyes, that in human form too his pupils contracted in focus and fear. And, maybe more interestingly, they completely dilated with love or pleasure. Now Zhang Hao could see it even with his brown eyes, the small ring of gold lining his shining irises when he ate his favorite food or when they were in bed and Hanbin’s face flushed. He wondered if there were new details to learn about Hanbin. If he would ever know everything about his lover. 

Hanbin had been very sad about the symbols on his chest disappearing. Every day, he checked on the fine lines becoming more and more blurry. Zhang Hao had suggested they try some more permanent transmutation to fix it in place, but they’d both understood at the moment that it was wrong. After all, like Hanbin had said at the time, it felt right to pick this symbol for a reason, and Zhang Hao had immediately worried about bonding for a reason. They knew deep down, back then. 

Hanbin was still interested in minor transmutations, though; now that he knew it wouldn’t hurt, he wanted to try new things, experiment with his body on his own accord. Zhang Hao had gladly agreed. It felt like something healing, like Hanbin reclaiming his rights and bodily autonomy. They had plans, for after the bonding, some writing inside of his arm. Hanbin wasn’t sure of the words yet. They had a lot of time to pick the perfect sentence. 

Everyone that had been invited came. Finding a familiar was a once in a lifetime event, after all, even though in Zhang Hao’s case it should have happened a decade ago. All of his friends were ecstatic; Gyuvin even cried hugging him, sobbing and stuttering something about being thankful that Zhang Hao could finally experience the unbreakable bond he had with his beloved dog Eumppappa. They all loved Hanbin, too, and how could they not with how kind, energetic and radiant he always was. Ricky made a joke about adopting him, and then quickly apologized in fear of retaliation. 

Even Mrs. Sung showed up, to Zhang Hao’s great relief. Hanbin had spent the afternoon curled up on his mother’s lap, purring loudly. There was no guarantee she could make it, considering the very tense relationship the solitary witch now had with the Transmutation Coven, but Zhang Hao had worded it as a request for a witness to prove the bonding he’d claimed last month at the market. Considering no one could come into Zhang Hao’s domain uninvited, they had sent her, even though her superiors were doubtful, as she’d explained to the table. 

It didn’t matter, though. It was nothing more than a shoddy excuse to get Hanbin to have his mother here, just like Zhang Hao’s came.

The two older women were talking together when they left to climb the cliff. Zhang Hao hoped that they could support each other, regardless of how different their experiences of motherhood were. They had both ended up with covenless sons, after all. 

Zhang Hao would’ve prefered flying up with his sword, but Hanbin needed to do it the old fashioned way for it to feel right, and so they walked around the cliff, Hanbin on his shoulder. Whenever there was a rock to climb, no matter how small, Hanbin jumped onto it and helped Zhang Hao up. As the terrain became more jagged, Hanbin stayed at his side, holding his hand firmly for balance. They made it to the top safely as the sun declined, walking further along the edge to find a nice spot to sit. The wind softly blew a refreshing breeze in their hair, ruffled the leaves in the forest far below their feet. The sky looked so big, from there. Infinite possibilities, stretching to the horizon with shifting hues. 

Zhang Hao pulled out his tea kit next to where Hanbin sat down, summoning a small fire to make the water boil. They had selected their leaves this morning; something light, sweet, a little bitter on the back of the tongue. When the drink was ready, Zhang Hao filled up their only cup, and sat next to Hanbin, their legs knocking as they dangled over the edge. 

They didn’t talk for a moment, staring at the horizon as the cup warmed Zhang Hao’s hands. He didn’t know exactly what he expected, with the way everyone talked about their own bond being formed with their familiar. He didn’t know what Hanbin expected, either, considering familiars usually hadn’t a sense of self developed enough to have an opinion on it; but for this, Zhang Hao figured he’d know soon enough. 

Hanbin reached for the cup at the exact moment Zhang Hao handed it to him. He gave it a kitten lick first, checking the temperature, before taking a sip. 

“You know,” Hanbin said, and the words were quiet but felt loud. “The night we met, I was really scared. The world felt so big, and I knew nothing about you. But as soon as I stepped into your domain, it all went away. I knew I was safe here. I was home.”

Zhang Hao took the cup that was handed to him too, and took a sip. Light, sweet, bitter. 

“You scared me so much,” he chuckled, thinking back to the incident. “And I couldn’t understand why you were so determined. But I couldn’t make you go away, no matter how strange it all was. You were home, I could feel it. Even if I didn’t want to admit it. You were home.”

Hanbin drank again. Zhang Hao felt the light, sweet, bitter warmth slide on his tongue. 

“I wonder if we were meant to meet each other. If there’s an invisible string between us, and that my mom telling me to go to you was the universe trying to make us be where we were supposed to. Do you think that we would’ve found each other too in another life? If I wasn’t you, and you weren’t me?”

Hanbin frowned, confused by his own words. Zhang Hao swallowed what was left of the brew, his lover licking his lips at the new sensation. 

“Maybe it was magic that guided us,” Zhang Hao said. “Maybe that’s why I could never get a familiar, or get into a coven. I had to wait for us. But we didn’t know it was happening, and we got stubborn about it.”

“You,” Hanbin corrected with a laugh. “You got stubborn. And I, I was…”

Zhang Hao watched himself through Hanbin’s eyes. His clothes and skin tone were dulled, but every hair was sharp as his fringe brushed against his thick eyebrows. There was a fuzzy fabric strand on Zhang Hao’s cheek, and he brushed it off, feeling nothing under his fingers. There were moles he didn’t know existed scattered across his face, a thin scar on his lips Zhang Hao could swear he’d made disappear years ago. 

“Why is my face so red?” Hanbin whispered. 

Zhang Hao blinked away the vision, finding Hanbin with a very moderate pink blush on his cheeks. 

“You’re not red yet. You’re just a little flustered right now.”

“Flustered…?”

Hanbin turned redder, and then even redder. He could always see, he thought. He always knew the way I felt. 

Zhang Hao held Hanbin’s hand between them, smiling foolishly. 

“I could,” he admitted. But couldn’t you see it, too?

Hanbin relaxed, smiling back. Of course we could. His image overlapped with Zhang Hao’s, different contrasts and saturation flickering before merging together in a unified picture. A single smile, shared. A single love, shared. 

And then they were two again, on a cliff over the night sky, before the sea of a silent forest with a cold kettle for only company. 

It was exactly the same. 

It would never be the same. 

When they got back home, their family was still waiting for them. Zhang Hao saw Mrs. Sung, and felt for her the soft love he held towards his own mother. Hanbin walked up to Mrs. Zhang, and called her mom before guiltily turning to his mother. They said they understood. They had talked about it for the few hours they’d spent away. Zhang Hao didn’t think they could really understand. It was so unique, after all. Hanbin was so much more complex than any potential familiar. It was overwhelming, the ideas melding with each other, the feelings so close to his own. But Zhang Hao was just as unique, and he knew he could find a balance through the confusion with time. 

He was and incredible witch with the most incredible of familiars to his side, after all. 

After their guests left, with plenty of promises to meet again soon, they went to bed together, Hanbin comfortable in Zhang Hao’s arms. His black fur adorned three white symbols, more perfect than they’d ever been drawn, and when Hanbin laid down naked on their bed, the sun, star and moon were etched under his collarbones. Zhang Hao blinked, and suddenly it was him on the bed, Hanbin’s hand caressing the three symbols on his chest. Their two bodies overlapped, perfectly lined up over the thin lines. 

“They fit you so well.”

Zhang Hao wasn’t sure which one of them said it. Hanbin didn’t know either. They knew it was true, though, and for now, in this confusing haze, it was enough. 

“I fit well with you.”

I agree. 

I love you. 

⚞▴⚻▴⚟

When Zhang Hao woke up on a cold winter morning, he could only open one eye. The other one, as well as the two thirds of his face, were smothered under a warm and furry body. More specifically, as he realized when a tail moved on his hair, under Hanbin’s rear. 

“Hanbin,” the witch groaned, barely awake. Cat hair slipped into his mouth despite his best effort. “Why are your testicles pressed against my face?”

“Mreow?” Hanbin purred, and Zhang Hao felt his teasing excitement. 

“Don’t you meow me. This is not appropriate behavior.”

“Well that’s not what you said yesterday.”

“Please get off.”

“No. I’m comfy.”

Zhang Hao rolled his eyes. This was always the same, with Hanbin. At least, it meant that the witch had a foolproof plan to get his way. Under the sheets, he turned his hand palm up, scratching at the fabric in short bursts. Hanbin tensed up, suddenly laser focused on the small wiggly bump. Zhang Hao did it twice, thrice, and then his familiar pounced on his fingers with all the ferocity of a baby tiger. Sharp teeth stung the witch’s fingers, but he could now breathe without choking on hair, so it was a fair trade. 

With a grunt, Zhang Hao sat up and swung his legs down the bed. There was a lot to do today. Finish brewing that scent remover potion, dry a new batch of ingredients, prepare a sacrifice for the next moon’s rituals, finally crack that unresolved mystery regarding the optimal moon quadrant to utilize mugwort, and—

Two arms securely circled the witch’s waist, and a second later he was sent flying back into the bed with a grunt, Hanbin pressing him against the mattress. 

“Don’t leave, forget about the mugwort!” he whined. “It’s too early! It’s cuddle time!”

“My baby, I love you but you’ve got to let me do my work…”

“If you loved me you’d show it with actions instead of words,” Hanbin huffed. 

With a sigh, Zhang Hao struggled to get his arms out so he could hug Hanbin back. 

“Okay, okay. Come here.”

Overjoyed, Hanbin snuggled against his lover, shoving his head between Zhang Hao’s neck and the pillow. Hanbin loved being close, Zhang Hao loved him feeling happy, Hanbin loved knowing that it made him feel good. It was a kind of addictive positive spiral, a happiness feedback that happened whenever they touched. 

“Thank you. I love you, Hao.”

“I love you too, Hanbin.”

They stayed like this for a moment in silence, Zhang Hao drinking in the peaceful moment. He loved being forcefully slowed down by his lover, being reminded that there was more to daily life than the hustle of responsibilities. 

Hanbin peppered small kisses and kitten licks following the line of the witch’s jaw and down his throat, sometimes very lightly nibbling on it. The link between them had helped his familiar to stop biting him mindlessly with his impressively pointy teeth. Hanbin still slipped up sometimes, like now with a slightly too enthusiastic gnaw making Zhang Hao gasp and wince, but he made sure to lick the tiny wound apologetically until it was better. It was a good thing that the witch owned an impressive skincare potion collection. 

It was also a good thing they’d fooled around late enough during the night for Zhang Hao to still be spent, or his time left to work in the morning would be greatly reduced. He was far from hating the way Hanbin showed his affection. And Hanbin knew it, judging from his faint, unfocused desire to make Zhang Hao react. 

“Hao,” muttered Hanbin over the freshly bruised jugular. 

“Yes?”

“Why do you always want to get up so fast…?”

“Because the faster I get to work, the faster I’m done with work, and unwinding at the end of the day is my favorite moment.”

“Because I prepare tea for you and we drink it together?” Hanbin asked eagerly. 

Zhang Hao chuckled, kissing the hair between his soft ears with adoration. 

“Yes, that’s a big part of it.”

“I love it, too.”

“Let’s get up now, then, so we can get to it sooner.”

Hanbin raised his head with a hum, and for just a second, Zhang Hao thought his argument worked. But then Hanbin rolled over, nosing at the other side of the witch’s neck. 

“Hao,” Hanbin whined. “I’m horny.”

Suddenly, the exhaustion from last night didn’t bother Zhang Hao that much. 

Well. Maybe the mugwort could wait for another day.