#fic bits

Paul Lewis stood on the artistically rustic deck of the pricy mountain resort. It was a lovely day, bright and vivid, the sun warm and the air refreshingly crisp. The view was pretty great, too.

The resort's sprawl of lodges, cabins, and sundry other outbuildings, were perched on the side of a hill that rolled up to a craggy, snow-capped peak. The view from the deck took in a broad valley with a white river rushing through it. Breaking up the dark green pine forests that blanketed the valley and crawled up the peaks, patches of birch and aspen trees were turning gold and vivid orange with the season. Across the river, beyond a scenic meadow, the valley gave way to another hilly rise up to another rugged and picturesque peak.

It was all very bucolic and pretty. Paul just wished it was peaceful. The main lodge behind him was absolutely crammed full of Perlmans and Marellis, gathered from the far-flung corners of the U.S. to attend the wedding of Marcia Marelli and Derek Young. The family had decided this wedding was the perfect excuse for a long over-due reunion. Those poor Youngs had no idea what they were stepping into.

Paul had no complaints about the Perlmans or Marellis; they were good people - with a couple of exceptions - and he had always felt warmly welcomed and included, but, by God, there were a lot of them. The two families had blended and expanded exponentially when Paul's sister-in-law, Jo, married Hugh Marelli. By the time Paul joined the family, they were well established as one giant, boisterous blob. And half of them hadn't even arrived yet! The place was going to be a madhouse for the next four days.

There was a sudden burst of noise - chatter, laughter, voices talking over voices - and then it dulled to a low murmur. He turned his head and watched his wife step on to the deck, pulling the lodge door shut behind her.

"Phew," she said, blowing a piece of hair out of her face. "And it hasn't even really begun. Just wait until the open bar opens. Hugh's going to have to take out a second mortgage to pay for it." Rebecca scanned her husband's face and narrowed her eyes consideringly. "How are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm fine," he said with a wave of his hand. "I just needed a minute of quiet to let my ears stop ringing."

"No kidding," she replied and leaned against the railing. "It's really gorgeous here. Darcy's due any minute or I'd say we should take a little walk."

"She called?"

"Yeah, she's reluctantly winding her way as we speak."

Paul smiled. Even coming from such a big family, Darcy did not really like the fuss. She was a bit of a Lewis like that. They weren't a small family, but they were tiny compared to the Perlman/Manelli mob. And, of course, you had to take into account the Stark family of two. Actually, that was just kind of sad; money didn't buy everything. Just as well she had the Perlman/Manelli/Lewis squads.

"And James?" Paul thew up finger quotes around the man's name.

James Buchanan "Bucky Freaking" Barnes was his daughter's partner and maybe boyfriend and she was bringing him to her cousin's wedding like he was just some guy. Like how she brought Steve Rogers home for Thanksgiving. That kid's life was unreal sometimes. But, they weren't supposed to call him Bucky because his status as a possibly wanted assassin was a little vague. Paul got the sense that nobody quite knew what to do with him. Anyway, best to not bring up that he was a hundred year-old super sniper.

So weird.

"Him, too." Rebecca laughed a little. "I can't wait to meet him. There's a weird sort of symmetry to Darcy knowing him, isn't there? Maybe symmetry isn't the right word," she mused, "but I find I'm not shocked they ended up partners."

"You expected the Greatest Generation brain-washed assassin?" Paul asked, a little skeptical.

"Bucky Barnes being alive was a shock," she clarified. "Bucky Barnes finding his way to Darcy? Feels like it was inevitable. Who, aside from Steve and Darcy, would understand him?"

Paul shrugged. "I guess."

"Besides," she continued, "according to Tony, Darcy has a nasty habit of collecting assassins."

"Not funny," he grumbled. Though it ended horribly, but he kind of understood Tony making an army of robots to protect his daughter (and the world, of course, or whatever). It was a conflicting sort of feeling, but it was the one point on which he and Tony always agreed - protect family. The destruction of Sokovia was terrible, but yeah, Paul got it.

Rebecca laughed at him again and rubbed a hand down his back. "Darcy doesn't need two dads grumpy about James. Let's give him a chance."

"Of course," he agreed easily enough, and despite some doubts, he did intend to give the man a chance. Darcy liked him; he should find out why. It wasn't easy to watch his little girl grow up, but she was a remarkable woman and he was proud of her. He trusted her to know what was best for her. Mostly. Still, Bucky Freaking Barnes?

The wall of noise rolled out of the lodge again, followed by the loud pronouncement, "Lafayette! We are here!"

"Darcy's arrived," Rebecca murmured with a smile an a shake of her head. She turned and held her arms out. "Are we taking on no-man's-land today?"

Darcy stepped into her mother's arms and gave her a good long hug. "Got to dig in first. And, you know, check in."

Letting go of Rebecca, Darcy turned to Paul and gave him his own long hug.

"Hey, baby girl," he murmured into her hair. "Missed you."

"Hi dad, I've missed you, too," she said back. Then gave him a smacking kiss on his cheek and stepped back.

Waving a hand, indicating the man hovering near her shoulder, Darcy introduced her partner, whatever that meant in her world. "Mom, dad, meet Bucky Barnes. Though, we're calling him James this weekend," she said. "Bucky, my mom Rebecca and my dad Paul."

Paul wasn't quite sure what he expected. Darcy had described Bucky as a little rough around the edges, and the word 'hobo' had been thrown around once or twice. But, the man before him looked like a nice, clean-cut fellow. His jaw was shaved, just a hint of a five o'clock shadow, his hair was trimmed short and tidy, and he was wearing a nice blue, cable-knit sweater and new jeans. He was tall, broad across the shoulders, but not Steve Rogers big. If he didn't know the guy was a hundred-something years-old, Paul would guess he was in his early 30s. Overall, except for the black glove on his left hand, he looked … normal.

"He decided he should look like a lawyer for the wedding," Darcy commented as Rebecca stepped forward to shake the man's hand.

"James, it's so nice to meet you," Rebecca greeted. "Ignore Darcy, I think you look very nice."

Darcy harrumphed. "I didn't say he didn't look nice."

"Mrs. Lewis, Darcy talks about you a lot, it's really nice to meet you, too," James replied, then gave Darcy a quick and narrow side-eyed glance. "She's always had a lot of opinions about my clothes. I mostly tune her out."

"Harsh," Darcy said, but she laughed anyway.

Bucky stepped up to Paul next, hand out. "Mr. Lewis, nice to meet you, sir."

"James. It's nice to have you here. It's always great to meet Darcy's friends." The other man's grasp was firm, but almost gentle, too, like he was being very aware of his own strength. Steve had been like that, careful in how he shook hands. And arm wrestled. God willing, James wouldn't be introduced to Lewis family dispute resolution this trip. He supposed it would come down to how well he and Sam got along.

Speaking of, Darcy was frowning, and asked, "Where's Sammy? Hiding from Aunt Edna's riveting account of her battle with lumbago?"

"He and Bryce went to explore the local town," Rebecca explained. "We weren't sure when you'd get in."

"Sorry," Darcy said with a shrug. "There was a problem with the concrete guys and then we got the wrong brick, and it was a whole thing for like three days. We got a late start."

Darcy was building something in New York. She said it was a bar, but Stark Industries was also involved, so Paul was sure it was a whole lot more than a local watering hole. Sometimes he wanted to know things, sometimes he didn't, but most times he wasn't sure if he did or didn't want to know.

"Well, you're here now and everybody's going to be so happy to see you," Rebecca told her.

"What's the plan for today?" Darcy asked.

"Nothing big," Paul put in. "The festivities don't start until tomorrow. But, we should go out for a family dinner tonight. Just us. And James, of course."

Bucky nodded from his spot at Darcy's side. He looked like a protective rottweiler. Interesting. "Sounds nice. Darce?"

"Yep," she agreed. "Let's go check in, and then you can hide while I brave the invasion."

The man snorted softly and shook his head. "I"m not hiding. You said you needed backup, I'm backup."

"You said I needed backup," she corrected him.

"Well, whatever," Bucky said, unbothered by the details. "I'm looking forward to meeting your grandmother."

Rebecca and Darcy gave him identical skeptical frowns. Paul sucked in his cheeks and looked up at the sky. He tried to stay neutral; nothing good came from getting in the middle of any Francine-related tussle. Or really a Francine-related anything. His mother-in-law was a walking landmine.

"That is such a lie," Darcy said finally. Then she gave Bucky a firm pat on the shoulder. "Okay, let's do this. Over the top, doughboy."

"I think you outrank me, so I'll let you lead the charge," Bucky told her with a smirk.

"I'm not impressed with your cowardice, Sergeant."

"I'd watch her," Rebecca put in, "she tried to court-martial a friend when she was eleven."

"Fourth Street was invading, we needed to shore up our defenses, and Becca was malingering. And whining. So much whining." She sighed dramatically. "Besides, she was always more of a frenemy."

"You tried to court-martial somebody when you were eleven?" Bucky asked, but he wasn't really asking. It was like he expected that, of course, Darcy tried to court martial somebody when she was in grade school. Clearly, he'd come to understand her well. Paul found that both comforting and discomfiting.

"Actually, I did court-martial her," Darcy said with an off-handed shrug. "And then we never spoke again."

"It was a kangaroo court," Rebecca laughed.

"I'll have you know," Darcy said with a superior sort of sniff, "that I stole Rhodey's UCMJ and I did it by the book! The literal book."

"Of course you did, sweetie."

Bucky was looking very amused by the whole thing. "You stole a copy of the Uniform Code of Military Justice?"

"Don't make it sound shady. I gave it back." She clapped her hands and started towards the door. "Now, it's time to storm the trenches."

"Why are we doing World War I today?" Paul asked, following along with Rebecca as they all headed back inside.

It was Bucky who answered with a wry twist to his lips. "Darce got the notion in her head that a family wedding was like trench warfare. It's been Verdun since Seattle."

Darcy opened the door and they were all smacked by the din. "It's not too late to call in artillery."

"Nah," Bucky said. "Bad terrain for artillery."

Darcy pouted at him then made a show of sniffing the air. "I smell brimstone."

"Oh stop," Rebecca chided as she shepherded her daughter inside. "You saw Ericka."

"What's an Ericka?" Darcy asked. "Oh, did you mean Satan's Handmaiden?"

"This is your mom's cousin?" Bucky asked, frowning like he was checking his memory for the list of potential hostiles.

"Yes," Rebecca confirmed. "And, Darcy, just stay away from her. No fights this weekend."

"I won't start anything," Darcy told her piously.

Paul laughed a little. She was so terrible at playing innocent. "But, you'll finish everything, won't you? How about we avoid getting to that point?"

"You're all determined to spoil my fun this weekend," Darcy said with a sigh as she stepped up to the check in counter.

Creatures:

Pugfish: a rather ugly fish with a smashed-looking face that lives in the Black Lake. They’re immune to most spells and must be caught by tickle-trapping. Their scales make emetic potions far more potent. 

Snufflers: like piglets, but rounder and even cuter. Just a cute little animal that lives in the forest.

Snow Waddlers: Cute, fluffy white duck-like creatures that swim in lakes in the winter. 

Vesper Hawks:  A bird that is difficult to trace with magic. Its feathers were once used as wand cores, but no longer, as criminal spells cast with them were too difficult for aurors to trace. 

Calypso Oysters - Live in a freshwater spring deep inside a cave in the Forbidden Forest. They produce beautiful black pearls.

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Plants: 

Aestivanox: A magical flower that only blooms once a year, at night.  The blooms glow a beautiful radiant blue/green.  Used in potions. Once wilted, the flowers produce a sweet nectar which unicorns love to eat.

Astrabacca: A flower whose buds ooze an oil, good for making hair healthy and shiny.

Gloamsweet Roses: Rare roses so dark purple they almost look black. They smell like warm chocolate, and grow in remote spots deep in the Highlands, beyond the castle grounds.

Starflox: Pretty star-shaped flowers, magenta with lavender centres. They grow in the Forbidden Forest.

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Potions:

Arborbane: Hay-fever relief

Blissbane: Induces euphoria, but lethal in large doses. Banned at Hogwarts.

Mittomorbus Serum: A powerful cough suppressant.

Nyctobane: Used to restore eyesight after a magical accident affecting the eyes. It requires very specific brewing conditions.

Vederebane Serum: Makes the drinker undetectable.

Veilvedere Serum: Dunno what it does, but it must be brewed in a platinum cauldron.

Veterio Potion: Makes the drinker appear ten years older for six hours. (created with @hyper-fics-sationn)

Malumparma Potion: A very powerful protection potion. It must be brewed by two people with a real romantic connection. The recipe was lost to time. Severus and his girlfriend managed to re-create it and make it even more powerful during his seventh year in my fic. They named their version Malusarmum Potion, or "Echo of Evil" colloquially.

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Spells: 

Demiospyn Abadmoa - a dark spell that can be used to make potions exponentially more powerful, leading to the gory death of the drinker. 

Discerpo Inerficio - a curse that can kill.  If the incantation is said improperly, or only half-said, it can viciously maim the victim without killing. 

Sectumpaulum: Makes a single, small cut on living flesh.

Volito Statim - A levitation spell.  

Vomilio Limax - A hex that makes one vomit slugs

Renodius - Un-does jewellery that's been enchanted not to open/come loose/fall off.

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Elf names:

Dolly, Bitty, Bibble, Weeble, Finny, Beeker, Minty, Sunny, Fibble, Duckly, Pinky, Dottie

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Places:

Dillinger’s: An upscale restaurant featuring a live jazz band and dance floor. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy are regular customers.

Eternal Opulence: A jewellery shop in Diagon Alley.

Vincenzo’s: Italian restaurant in Hogsmeade.

The Bear Cave - A cave in the Forbidden Forest. No bears actually live there, it's only named that because some cheeky student drew a bear paw on the cave wall. Has a freshwater spring deep within that is home to magical fish and other creatures including Calypso Oysters.

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Random Bits:

Fizzing Fireball: A shot of cinnamon liqueur mixed with ginger ale.

Mud Bug: a cocktail of several dark liquors. Not a very popular drink; Madame Rosemerta has only ever been asked for it once.

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Bits of Lore:

  ~ Upon becoming Headmistress, Minerva decided to allow the Hogwarts staff to apparate within the castle.  There are various points around the castle they may apparate to and from.  This keeps them from having to climb hundreds of stairs every day, and makes it easier to get around in case of emergencies.  

 ~ After Flitwick’s retirement, he began working part-time as a wedding celebrant.

  ~ Pomona Sprout used to be married, but after her divorce she decided she’d never be tied down again.  Few realise that short, dumpy Pomona is actually quite the minx, and is typically seeing several men casually at any given time.  She meets them through personal ads, cooking classes, or whilst shopping in Hogsmeade.

  ~ Severus used to sometimes have dinner in a hot bath, during very cold winter days in his younger days of teaching.  He found it quite the pleasurable indulgence.

 ~ Lucius Malfoy was always proud of his long, platinum hair… until he began balding in his early twenties.  Luckily, Severus brewed him a bespoke potion which kept him from losing his hair.  After the war, Severus of course cut ties with the Malfoys.  However, Lucius has written him on numerous occasions, offering him huge sums of money for the hair tonic.  Severus ignores the letters, and Lucius has resorted to wearing a wig.

Oh. Her hands curl into fists again. She's angry. She'd spent so long being gentle with Diluc, trying to deny, then trying to soothe, then trying to explain and justify and conciliate--when he was the one who'd come barging in with Kaeya's secret as a banner, who had been gone for years and then returned and presumed to decide what she should do with her relationship, that she should throw it away as he had. Who had assumed, without asking, that Kaeya would have lied-

Kaeya *had* lied, but she's not angry about *that*, she realizes, her hands uncurling. Maybe she should be. But she's too angry right now at Diluc for thinking she should be angry at Kaeya all over again. She'd spent all her anger at the lies he had revealed to her long ago.

She isn't angry at Diluc for his sake, either, and she thinks she should have been that too. But Kaeya has given away enough of Diluc's confidences to her these past through years; she can almost hear Kaeya himself, the chuckle, the way he would tell her that it was only fair. No doubt he'd known, today, when he told her that she should accept Diluc's invitation, go to the Angel's Share, hear him out.

*"Who knows, Jean? It might be more important than you think."*

Jean breaks into a run.

***

Anfortas is downstairs still when she gets home, lying in the foyer before the stairs, though it's well past when Kaeya would normally have carried him up. He rises slowly, creakily, age taking its toll, but his tail thumps as hard as ever. He trots over to the lowest step and whines at her.

"I know, Fort," she whispers, reaching down to scratch a moment behind his ears. "I'll talk to him. We will work this out together."

If he's here. If he's in any condition to talk to. Maybe she's the one lying now.

Nothing is missing, she notes, glancing about the foyer through the doors to either side. There's his cape, still hanging by the door; there's the painting of the Winery Albedo had given him, its corner visible through the doorway to the parlor; there's the wine cabinet in the dining room, still mostly full. Would he pause for any of that, if he'd left? She can't take it as a comfort.

His swordbelt sits on the little table on the landing, sheathed blade and Vision still upon it. Her heart clenches. Carefully she unfastens the Vision, cold in her hand, and continues up.

The door to their bedroom is open, a candle's light flickering beyond. Jean holds her breath and steps through. And Kaeya is there, thank Barbatos, sprawled in her armchair where he's dragged it from her reading nook to before the bed. There's a glass in his hand and a faint flush in his cheeks. When he sees her, he sets the glass carefully down on the floor by his foot and smiles at her, small and wryly resigned.

"Hey, Jeanie."

Jean realizes her hands are in fists again, one wrapped tight around his Vision, its edges and her nails digging into her palms. She believes Diluc--it explains so much--but she has to give Kaeya his chance, too. She has to *know*.

"Is it true?"

All he does is stand up. Everything shifts as he does; his tight pants and the loose ruffles of his blouse fade smoothly into a cloak (cut like feathers on one side, a calm analytical part of her notes, just like his cape), his long braid into a shaggy mane, nails into claws and brown skin into blue. Long ears sweep upward, quivering, and suddenly there's a mask, slashed with gold and blue, horns like icicles slanting outwards.

"Do you want to see?" he asks, reaching up for it.

Swallowing hard, Jean looks down at his Vision, pulsing cold and pale with Cryo in her palm. Then she looks up again, steps forward, and reaches up herself to nudge his hands away. He flinches when his Vision brushes his skin; she catches his hand and presses the Vision into it, folding his fingers around it and holding it closed.

"Do you want me to?"

He gives a shaky little laugh. "You probably should, just to be sure."

"All right."

Jean takes the edges of the mask. There's no strap, no fastening; it comes off without resistance, light in her hand, with a texture like bone.

His eyes are the same. Both of them, and she won't read into the gold tracery of his eyepatch and the gold of his mask, but for all the ruin around it the right is every bit as beautiful as the left.

"Does it hurt?" she asks, reaching without thinking but stopping herself before she can touch.

"Don't ask me that, Jeanie." His voice is strained; his eyes are very wide, staring down at her. "It's fine."

Which is all the answer she needs. She touches anyway, gently; he shivers, but doesn't pull away.

Kaeya's grasp on Hilichurlian, and all the information he's brought her with it these past three years, enough to foil every Mage's wicked plot. Albedo's little smile, warm and approving, and the potions he's handed her now and then to give over to Kaeya without a word of what they're for except that they'll help with the pain. The pain itself; he's tall already, but enough more now that he's crouching a little to meet her eyes, shoulders folded in to make himself smaller.

He's reckless with his knights, but he never lets them die, and he always mourns the horses.

Jean sets the mask aside on the arm of the chair and nudges him around it, pushing him onto the bed. He goes easily, falling onto his back without resistance, eyes still wide. She keeps her hand clenched around his hand around his gently humming Vision as she straddles his waist and leans down.