Years. Nearly two whole years. It was only a month until they graduated from Hogwarts and sailed back across the lake to their final trip aboard the Hogwarts Express. They had been so goddamn close. 

“Harry…” Hermione whispered, her eyes wide and wild. She was stressed and pleading, and he couldn’t blame her. 

This was all his fault. 

Beside him, he felt Ron tense further. He’d already been twitchy since they’d come down here, memories of their second year definitely not treating him any kinder than they were treating Harry. Hermione hadn’t been concerned in the least, enraptured with the chance to explore something as ancient and magical as the Chamber of Secrets.

Harry jolted as Ron’s wand appeared in his periphery. Hermione nearly looked ready to snatch it out of his hand.

It made matters worse, Harry supposed, that getting here hadn’t even been that difficult. He had enough extensive knowledge of Hogwarts’ hidden passageways to entrust the map to Hermione—allowing her to safely bypass any patrols on her way down—and the cloak to Ron—who couldn’t be stealthy even with a cheat sheet. As a matter of fact, being separated into different Houses hadn’t even stopped them; it probably made them less suspicious.

“Are you quite certain you know how to use that, Weasley?” Tom Riddle asked, standing hands clasped behind his back, not a hair out of place, in the very centre of the chamber. He was blocking their only way out. “From your lacklustre performances in our shared classes, I hesitate to think you capable.”

“Sod off, Riddle.” Ron’s anger was getting the better of him. His grip on his wand was white-knuckle tight, and, again, Harry couldn’t blame him either. 

Baby Trinity! (I mean.. I drew them as kids, but....) BABY TRINITY!! 💛

”He comes to two more times before fully waking. Both times he’s covered in a thin layer of sweat. He’s achey and his back feels a bit bruised, but it’s the warmth in his veins that worries him.

When he wakes, it’s morning. The fire inside is quelled, for the most part, leaving only hunger and a collection of strange emotions.

”Hunk?” Keith sits up slow. He’s glad for the cup of water at his bedside, which he gulps down in one tipping back.

”Hey, man.”

”What uh-” he pauses, taking in his surroundings, ”What happened?”

It seems to be the wrong thing to ask, because Hunk scrubs a hand along his chin, nervous. ”Well, you fell, yeah? And that hurt you but. You’ve been having fevers. The rest of your vitals were good though, so, I thought that maybe this was something to do with your galra side. Oh, Keith, you’re not gonna like this. You’re... going through galra puberty.”

The cup in his hands is crushed in his fist. The sound of plastic crinckling is loud in the quiet room. Keith breathes in sharp. ”P..puber- Hunk, I’m 24- What are you talking about?” At least Hunk looks as uncomfortable as Keith feels. It’s not a conversation he wants to be having.

”The sweating thing? Kolivan said it’s...” Hunk takes in the biggest breath, ”a.. heat.”

Keith tosses the cup at the wastebasket. It lands inside, banging against the metal.

”... A heat. Like-,” Keith lets his head thunk back against the pillow, ”Like a cat.”

”You know I did always say galra were like spacecat- That’s not helping, ok. Sorry. Yeah, I would talk to Kolivan. But, otherwise you’re good to go. They’re discharging you later today.” He gets up on his feet and stretches, long and loud, like he’s been sitting there for awhile. He heads for the door, and, almost out of the room, turns to Keith. ”We should... hang out later. Watch a movie or something.” And then leaves.

Keith sinks back into the pillow, mortified. He’ll sleep until the nurses kick him out.”-

”Thank you, Keith. I’m afraid I my legs won’t make the journey to her study. Would you send her in?”

”Of course, princess.” Keith ducks his head in a bow and heads out of the command room. It’s more than she wishes of him, a close, childhood friend, whom has guarded her since he’s been old enough to handle a sword, but Keith is traditional and doesn’t lend himself well to change. Besides that he’s galra, a people far more concerned with honor and rank.

The ship’s lighting is cool-toned and soft, a glow just bright enough to see but dark enough that screens and buttons at the control are a visible hum of green. She feels it in her feet and hands, the hour is a quiet ache in her joints. The weariness helps keep her attention from it. She stands tall, shedding the exaustion with a shake of her shoulders. They are fast approaching the coordinates the voice has given her.

”Allura?” Honerva wrapts gently at the door, soft as her voice. Her hair is contained, but only barely, inside a bun. Various strands poke up and hang down. Tucked beneath her forearm is a tablet. Eyes that shift languidly lose their tension as they settle on Allura.

”Come in, please, it’s lovely to see you, Honerva. Shall I brew us some tea?”

”Do you have more of the Ervorian blend? Those flowers are so sweet, that I’ve used up my supply already,” she closes the words with a sigh, ”according to my calculations and mapping, the nearest swap moon is at least a few days journey from our destination. And, that assumes-” The words enter Allura’s ear like sap, pregnant with a sense of meandering, ”-Oh, look, I seem to be ranting. You must excuse me, tracking down data of this planet has not lent itself well to sleeping.”

Allura chuckles. The truth is, Honerva rambles just as much when she has had adequite rest. It’s what makes her the best in her fields, having a mind for simaltaneously quick and deep thought.

Allura strolls over to the command panel on the wall, and taps her index finger, long and polished nail clicking against the screen, through the menu, finding the function to boil water. She enters in the amount of liquid and is then prompted for which type of containers to fill it in, and what tea to draw from its reserves. She has thoughts to do something humorous, something they would be reprimanded for, by placing it in bowls. But the laughter, the sharp contraction of muscles and the mirthful vocals would drain the last of her energy. When it’s done pouring, it beeps and the recieving panel slides up to reveal two cups with steam billowing out, and the scent of the crushed Ervorian flower is sweet as it wafts into the room. She clicks open a table from the wall and two stools raise from the floor to meet it. She places the mugs down, making a soft clank in the otherwise quietness of the room.

They sit down for a much earned break.

”Now, I’ve sent inquires out to the nearest systems, and there’s been no real return. There’s one message that says they’ve encountered intelligent life. But no one has confirmed anything.” Honerva speaks as she’s scrolling through pages on her tablet, ”I keep hoping we’ll get a reply that has something we can hold on to.”

Allura takes a sip of her tea. It’s warm and tastes like chewing on the flower with a drizzle of honey atop the petals, and drinking provides her a few moments to think. ”For now, let’s stick to the plan with the Marmora. We’ll make landfall, and send some agents out scouting. Then, adjust according to intel.”

Honerva hums her agreeance.

”There’s something else, isn’t there? Or else we wouldn’t need to speak alone.”

That finally gets Honerva to look up. Her eyes have the faintest beginnings of wrinkles at the edges.

”Nothing gets past you, my child. Not even in fatigue,” she chuckles for a moment, and it fades into a deep breath, ”Yes, I imagine this will sound harsh, but I must ask plainly, are you certain about this voice?”

”I have faith in what has always proven good, as well as faith in myself.” The words are no more harsh than Honerva’s. Any snideness is an unfortunate bi-product, whose bite is hopefully tampered down by their years of relation.

Honerva tucks her chin in a short bow. ”I shall continue my study. Perhaps there will be more to work with when we next sit and debrief over some tea.” She bids Allura a good rest of her night and makes her exit.”