#magic bonds

Ominis smirks, “I’m afraid I haven’t ‘seen’ her.” Before Natty can stammer out an apology, he continues, “But, I know where she is. It’s where I’m heading to now. She should be coming back from Hogsmeade soon. Something about going to Ollivanders for an errand. She was rather vague before she left.” 

“I’m surprised you did not accompany her. You two are hardly seen without the other.” Natty teases, her cheeks still warm from his earlier comment.

He has a faint smile as he says, “We’re not joined at the hip. We do have our own lives.” His smile fades as he adds, “Which is why I could not accompany her, as I was busy dealing with a matter of my own. And she insisted it wouldn’t take long.” 

He’s opening the solid, wood door outside when he freezes in place. His limbs are locked and dread squeezes his chest. Despite the gentle breeze fluttering in his face, he feels like the air around him has all but dissipated. He’s not sure why this sudden sense of doom has pressed down upon him and he waves his wand around to find the source of this peril. With only students wandering around the lawn, his anxiety doesn’t quell, but rises drastically. Why… is he feeling this?

“Ominis?” Natty questions - a frown consuming her as she takes in his wide-eye’d, panicked expression. 

“She’s in danger.” He whispers in realization. These horrible, dreadful feelings were coming from her. 

He flares their magic-bond as he sprints forward, whipping his wand to where Hogsmeade is - only to find her magical aura not there. He comes to a halt, his boots skidding against the gravel. His breathing picks up as he spins himself around until he finds her faint, pulsing light in the distance. She’s far. Too far to run there - if he were to make it in time. 

“What is happening? She’s in trouble? H-How do you know such a thing?” Natty manages to get in front of Ominis and he scowls at her.

“I don’t have time to explain. I need to get to her. Now.” Ominis tries to shove his way past, but Natty keeps a firm stance and keeps Ominis in place.

“We can go. Together.” Natty glances at the students flying slowly around on brooms. “Come on.” 

Ominis grimaces, but follows after Natty. 

Natty runs over to the flying class broom stand and snatches one. She gets on the broom - struggling to find a decent gripping - and Ominis doesn’t hesitate to take a seat behind her. 

“Hey!” A student shouts, but Natty takes to the sky before she can be stopped.

“Where do we need to go?” Natty wonders.

“This way. And hurry.” Ominis points his wand in front of Natty - his worries starting to settle now that they were flying towards her.

Natty is not nearly as quick as his love is on a broom, but it’s faster than him. He tries to reach out to her - letting her know they’re coming and to hang on, but he’s not sure if she can notice. His heart is beating rapidly in time with hers and his hands tremble with adrenaline. 

Please. Just hang on. I’m coming.

They fly over the forest and as they get closer, Ominis can feel her distress growing stronger. He can sense her fear and desperation. 

He grits his teeth, “Natty, faster!” 

Natty lowers herself and they pick up speed, but it doesn’t feel nearly enough. They finally spot her on the ground, surrounded by Ashwinders in the heart of a ruined estate. Crackling spells and curses reach his ears and his heart all but plummets to his gut. Ominis curses under his breath and readies his wand. Natty is hovering just above the ground, about to land, when Ominis jumps off, sprinting towards her. 

He can hear her fighting fiercely, her wand moving fluidly as she dodges spells and curses alike. He knows he needs to get to her quickly, to help her fend off the attackers. But the Ashwinders are strong and they keep coming, overwhelming her with their numbers.

“Depulso!” Ominis casts a powerful spell that knocks several of the Ashwinders back. She gasps, flooding Ominis with relief as her eyes land on him. 

“Ominis," she whispers as he joins her side, with Natty finally catching up and joining them as well. 

“We are with you, my friend!” Natty grins towards her - a look of determination and ferocity which matches her own. The Ashwinders gather themselves and begin their attack once again. 

He shields her from the onslaught of curses. They all fight together, their spells colliding with those of the attackers. The battle is intense, and for a moment Ominis fears they might not make it out alive. 

A man appears before her and yells, “Avada Kedavra!” 

The spell makes him freeze and it’s like he’s been dunked into ice. She doesn’t move out of the way and instead counters with a powerful spell of her own. Their magic collides in a deafening shockwave and they’re locked in a stalemate. Pulling himself out of his dread, Ominis turns his attention to the other Ashwinders, keeping them off of her as she fights for her life. Ominis and Natty deflect and counter, dwindling the Ashwinders one by one. 

But then, a bright light fills the air, and the Ashwinders are thrown back by an explosion of crackling, magical energy. A thunderous clap rings in their ears. Natty glances at Ominis in shock - both of them panting as they examine the area to ensure they were alone. The Ashwinders that do remain, run away - disappearing into the surrounding forest in terror. 

Ominis turns to find her. 

She stands there, strong and resolute, her wand raised as she surveys the scene. He feels the light touch of ash landing on him and he can taste the raw magic lingering in the air - electrifying his skin. Ominis can sense the exhaustion within her, but also the unwavering tenacity. She turns to face him and they’re both staring at one another - his wand filling his mind with her bright aura.

He moves to her, whispering her name as he embraces her. She gasps at how tightly he holds her before she holds him just as fiercely back. He closes his eyes and buries himself into the crook of her shoulder. The connection radiates warmly between them and it feels like all is well. 

“Did they hurt you? Are you alright?” He pulls away and is feeling over her arms with pinched brows. 

“You… came for me?” She whispers in incredulousness.

Her mind still can’t believe he’s here. How did he… Her eyes go over to Natty, who’s looking around at the Ashwinders strewn about the ruins with amazement. 

“Of course. I-, why wouldn’t I?” He cups both of her cheeks and she’s in disbelief at how brave he is. She presses her forehead to his with a heavy exhale. 

“You came for me.” She smiles. 

The relief in him is palpable as he strokes both of her cheeks with his thumbs. His misty gray eyes are soft and her knees nearly buckle at the sight. 

“I’m okay. Thanks to you.” She whispers then frowns. She pulls away from him enough to bring out a rectangular box and she holds it between them. Ominis lowers his hands away from her as she opens the box for him.

Ominis’ fingers skim over the contents and he feels a wand. His features harden. There’s a strong determination within her and his sightless gaze tries to meet hers.

"I have to go now," she whispers. "It's time." She tucks the box back into her robes. 

He swallows down the lump in his throat. They’ve spoken of this before, but it always seemed so far away. Now it’s here… and she has to go. And face a most harrowing threat. He brings her into a tight embrace once more - tempted to keep her here, and safe - and she whimpers at the longing he can’t keep at bay.

“I’ll be waiting for your return,” he whispers. “So, please don’t keep me waiting for too long.” 

She lets out a sharp laugh that nearly sounds like a cry. He parts enough to slam his lips against hers in a greedy kiss. Like a parched man, she lets him drink his fill of her - searing this feeling into her mind. All the things they want to say are exchanged between them in their heated kiss. He lets her go with a soft sigh and a longing gaze. She takes several steps away from him, unable to break away from his wanting stare. She mounts her broom and she glances between him and Natty. She gives them a sure nod then takes off towards Hogwarts. 

His fists clench - wishing nothing more than to be with her. But, he knows he can’t. She is the one that has to determine the fate of the wizarding world. He watches as her light goes further and further from him, his heart full of hope and fear. He knows she’ll be alright. She will fight with everything she has. His throat tightens at the thought of that not being enough. Natty comes next to him, wordlessly placing a hand on his shoulder. He turns to Natty, his eyes filled with tears. 

"See. We are not always together," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "But, I'll be waiting for her. No matter what.”

--------------------

AN: originally, i just had Ominis and Natty coming in after MC defeated Rookwood, but then I realized that I can do whatever I want and decided to have them help out MC. Also, wow yeah I really am just rushing to get to my most excited fic which involves a Boggart... >:)

We're nearing the end!! I have these last few fics lined up:

After Ranrok Battle Scene

Her Dealing with Ancient Magic Trauma Pt 1 and Pt 2

Then... 7th Year shall BEGIN!

Her mother had sat her down three days prior, all fluttering hands and shifting eyes, unable to even look at her child when she laid out the bad news.  Great-grandma Dorma had been Atlantean royalty, betrothed to marry the prince of the waters.  There had been a civil war, years of fighting, during which she had explored further and further afield until she came upon humans and, like in all the best fairytales, Dorma fell in love.

“I’ve seen this movie,” teenage Darcy had snarked.  “I liked it better with the singing crab.”

Delilah rolled her eyes extravagantly and huffed.  “Honestly, Darcy, life isn’t all about men.  Dorma fell in love with human culture.  She loved our music and our dances, our food and our cities.  She didn’t want to be a queen, she wanted to live.  So she went to a sea witch.”

Darcy mimed a yawn.

Delilah’s eyes flashed.  “Fine,” she said, “be a pest.  The worse you are the easier it’ll be for you to convinced Him to give up on you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The betrothal contract was signed in blood and magic, because of that Dorma couldn’t entirely get rid of it, it had to be fulfilled somehow.  The King of Atlantis is owed a wife.  She took the parts of her that were most strongly tied to that debt and left them in the magic’s keeping.  They can only be claimed by one of her daughters, of daughters’ daughters - and so on.  Your grandmother was already seeing your grandfather when she turned sixteen, she only had the dreams for a few days.  I had them for two years.”

“Dreams?”

Her mother sighed and leaned back in her chair, looking up to stare at the ceiling.  Her fingers set up a restless tapping, accompanied by the tinkle of her bangles shifting on her wrist.  “His name is Namor,” she said after a moment.  “He will tell you... all sorts of things.”  She looked down again at Darcy, lips pursed.  “I don’t know whether it’s better to warn you more or let it ride.  Don’t agree to anything he offers.  He’s tricky.”

“Mom, you can’t be serious,” she said.

“You’ll see,” Delilah said grimly.  She shook her head, looking frustrated with herself, “Grandma explained it better.  I tried.”

You didn’t try very hard, Darcy thought.

That night, she dreamt of drifting, a fathomless amount of time spent hanging in a formless space.  It wasn’t pitch-black, but an ever-shifting cloud of darkness with just enough variation that she could track motion.  Time passed, and eventually she felt something push up against her, closer than whatever force kept her afloat in this void.  It wrapped around her like a blanket and then it made a sound sort of like a contented sigh.

Daughter of Dorma, a voice sighed.  I have been waiting.

It was strange, as the voice spoke it went from a sense to actual words, from meaning she felt to sounds she heard.  The man, the voice sounded male, had a warm tenor, the kind that resonated a little.  It was a smooth, controlled voice, and the way he spoke was very deliberate, as if his words were chosen carefully and for maximum impact.

“My mother’s name is Delilah,” she said after a moment.

“Darcy, daughter of Delilah, daughter of Diana, daughter of Dorma.  You are part of an unbroken chain, a lineage of women who forsook their duty.”

It was just insulting enough to make her grit her teeth.  She bit back her first (colorful) response and instead remained silent, waiting.

He made a a soft sound of interest.  “You are not what I expected from a daughter of Delilah,” he said after a moment.

Darcy smirked at the darkness around her because subverting expectations was her raison d’etre and that little trait had been inherited on both sides.  “So, is this the part where you ask me to marry you and pull a reverse Little Mermaid?” she asked, her tone making it explicitly clear what she thought of that.

“No, this is the part where you wake up.”

He had woken her forty minutes before her alarm was due to go off.  She wasn’t sure if it was deliberate or not, but - “He seems like an asshole,” was the first thing she said to her mother that morning.

Delilah looked relieved.  “Well, if we’re lucky, you’ll only have to deal with him for a few years.  Just... be careful.”

“King, huh?  We elect our officials.”

“And how does that work out for you?”

“You know I’m not legally an adult, right?”

“If you were representative of the adults of humankind, I would consider waging war on the surface for their own good.”

“...go bite a fish.”

“So this ‘prom’ is a celebratory ball?”

“Kind of but not really.”

“A rite of passage?”

“Kind of?”

“Does it involve a feat of bravery?  Test of skills?”

“...eh, close enough.”

“So you have visited the surface!”

“It has been decades, but yes.”

“Do anything interesting?  Meet anyone famous?”

“There was a man, he was called ‘Captain America.’  I believe he achieved some notoriety among your kind.  He was... a friend.”

“Shut up.”

“Excuse me?”

“Shut up, you did not meet Captain America!”

“Met and fought with, on multiple occasions.”

“Wow.  Also, god, you’re old.”

“Who pissed in your Cheerios?”

“...you choose these idioms merely to vex me.”

“Yeah, and you’re dodging the question.”

“I have a counsellor who may be planning a coup.”

“Yikes, that sounds bad.”

“It will be.  For him.”

“He was not worthy of you.”

“Yeah.  I get that.  Still sucks.”

“...if he finds his way to the waters, it will not go well for him.”

“I appreciate the thought but please don’t drown my ex-boyfriend.”

“Hmph.”

“Namor.”

“As a favor to you, he may keep his wretched hide intact.”

“You’re a gentleman and a scholar.”  Darcy made a mental note to avoid complaining about any other romantic entanglements.  For their sake.

“So... I turn eighteen tomorrow.”

“As it is a birthday of some significance to your people, I wish you well.”

“Yeah, thanks.  I was wondering... are you going to go away?”

“Your pardon?”

“You stopped bugging my mom when she turned eighteen, isn’t that the cut-off?  The make-or-break day?”

“You thought-” soft laughter emanated from the darkness and Darcy got the vague sense of being hugged combined with gentle amusement.  “Your mother had proven she was ill-suited for rule within a few months of our introduction.  I continued to speak with her at the behest of my council.  We have been many years without an heir, and at that time we were experiencing a period of unrest.”

“In other words-”

“No, I do not intend to sever our connection."

Her mother relaxed after her birthday.  There was a weight that Darcy hadn’t noticed that seemed to disappear.  She didn’t have the heart to tell her mother that the dreams - that Namor - never went away.  The dreams remained as they always had: inconsistent, coming and going on a schedule she never fully understood.  They were, at the same time, one of the only constants in her life.

“My dad died a week ago.”  There was silence and a vague impression of waiting.  Darcy’s words stuttered as if her breathing was ragged, though she’d long since given up trying to understand how speech worked in this dream space: “I didn’t really know him that well, so it’s not that I’m sad about actually losing someone close to me.  I think - I think I’m sad about losing the idea of him.”

“A loss is a loss, whether you mourn the man or the father he might have been, you still mourn.”

“Yeah, I guess.  Have you...?  Sorry, stupid question, I know you’ve seen war.”

This time the pause was different, almost hesitant, though Darcy was reluctant to use that word to describe any aspect of Namor.  “Your foremother...,” he said after a moment, “when she left for the surface I was... angry.  I knew her as a friend and I...perhaps took her presence for granted.  Once I was over my anger I found I did not miss her, I missed the reassurance she brought.”

“You missed the future queen, not the woman who was supposed to be queen.”

“Yes.”

“Dude, you realize that’s probably part of the reason she left, right?”

“I had, yes.  Do not call me ‘dude.’”

“The salmon was... okay.”

“What else did you try?”

“Tuna and something called ‘white fish.’”

“Your thoughts?”

“It was good.  I’d eat it again.”  He didn’t say anything, but he emanated ‘I told you so’ so strongly that if she could have, she would have kicked him.  “Someday you have to try a burger, fair is fair.”

“We shall see.”

“I’m changing my major again.”  She got an impression of vague curiosity and interest.  “To political science.”  The interest sharpened.  “Don’t get all weird about it, there’re some really good professors here and I want to take advantage.  I’m going to keep the religious studies as a minor.”

“To go with your philosophy minor.”

“...and the culture studies minor.  The system maxes at three.”  There was a strong impression of satisfaction that made Darcy bristle.  “Stop that,” she said.  “I told you not to get all weird about it!  I’m just studying what interests me.”

“What interests you interests me,” he all but purred.  Then, before she could retort, “Will this extend the duration of your studies further?”

“Yeah, another year.  My dad left enough money that I can swing it, barely.”

“If that becomes an issue, know that what treasures I have are at your disposal.  Your education is important.”

“...thanks.  That offer sounds like a fish with a hook in it.”

“Another idiom?  How quaint.”

“You know, I realized, you’re probably my best friend.”

“Good.”

“Really?”

“Yes, this pleases me.”

“Am I your best friend?”

“You are my closest confidant.”

“You’re being cagey.”

“’Friend’ is, perhaps, not the word I would choose, no.”

“What would you-” she woke up scowling.  Cagey bastard.

“It just seems a little... extreme?”

“You would have me be lenient.”

“Well, yes.  It sounds like it was a first offense and the evidence you’ve described is mainly hearsay.  I mean, obviously I don’t know anywhere near as much as you do about the parties involved, but as an impartial-”

“You have made your point.”

“And the guard who oversaw the trade?  What’s going to happen to him?”

“I had not decided, you have thoughts?”

“Do I ever...  Um.  Is this helpful?  You were just venting, I didn’t mean to derail you, I just wanted to be a shoulder.”

“Idioms,” he sighed.  “You have a different perspective.  I may not always agree, but I benefit from your words, if only as another view of the problem.  You have, as you have said, no horse in the race.  It is...refreshing.”

“Aw, now who’s using idioms?”

“It’s been almost a month.”

“I know.”

“It’s - we’ve never gone that long without-”

“I know,” he said tersely.

“Did something... happen?”

“You are too far.”

“I didn’t know that was even possible.”

“Neither did I.”

“...I’ve missed you,” she admitted.

“And I, you,” he said, and she felt warmth blossom from without and within.

“Something has happened.”

“Understatement.”

“What happened, Darcy?”

She gathered herself, anticipating his reaction.  “So,” she started cheerfully, “you remember that internship?”

“Yes.  You are still in the desert,” he said, words clipped.

“I... yeah.  You can tell?”

“Yes.”

“Anyways... I met a god?  His name was Thor.  He fell from the sky and the whole town nearly got destroyed and my boss’s work was stolen and there were government agents everywhere - it was nuts!”

“You were in danger, why?”

“Well, I mean, everyone was in danger, not just me specifically.”

“You did not go on the battlefield?”

“...Technically-”

“How much longer?”

“What?”

“Your internship, its duration and the fulfillment of your degree requirements.  How much longer?”

“The internship runs through the end of May, then I’m all done.”

“And what do you intend to do at that time?”

“I’m not... I might stay on with Jane,” she said in a rush.

“Why?”

“Well... her work is interesting.  I’m - I feel useful here.”  She snorted.  “Plus, it’s not like I’ve gotten any better offers, so-”  Her words cut off there as she felt something.  It was like pressure hitting peak and then suddenly she was being inundated with feelings.

“No better offers?” Namor inquired silkily, but behind his words was a wealth of incredulity and anger and regret and other feelings, less clear, muddied by the overwhelming frustration that was at the forefront.

Darcy was left reeling.  “I-”

“You would be queen,” he said softly but intensely.  The emotions she’d been sensing cut off with all of the suddenness of a switch being flipped.  It was a relief, his words alone were drenched in so much feeling she was dizzy with it.  “You could never be bored, not with all the oceans to explore, all the many peoples you would find, the new things to learn.  You would be eminently useful, as a council member, ruling at my side.  You are the partner I was promised.  This offer has been waiting for you for years, you have not been ready to take it.”

“But that’s - I’m not-”  She felt shaky, jittery, too much going through her mind but too little sticking around long enough to develop into coherent thought.  “Queen and wife,” she said at last, quietly.  “I don’t know - do you even care for me, I mean, in that way?”

There was a crystal clear moment of such perfect shock and disbelief that she started to try and wake herself up to avoid potential embarrassment.  She felt him reach out to her retreating consciousness and grab hold, keeping her cradled in the warm and dark of their private dream space.  Then he opened the floodgates and Darcy could feel every single thing he felt for her: pride so strong it made her blush, fondness saturating every action and word, a strain of tenderness kept well-hidden, though not so well as the desire and abject want that had her shivering in reaction.

“Such confessions as you ask of me are best delivered in person, where more than our minds can meet.  I would have you, as wife and queen, as the daughter of Dorma and a promise fulfilled, but more importantly as your self.  I cherish you, and my only regret in our interactions is that I have not made that more clear.”

He released his hold on her then and let her flee to wakefulness with his words resounding in her mind and heart like a bell struck.  From that moment, everything changed.  From that moment, it wasn’t a question of if, but when.

“Are you scared of the ocean?” Jane asked her once, just after the move to New York.  “You always stare at the water but you never go near it.”

“Not scared, exactly,” Darcy hedged.  “I just have a healthy respect for the water and all its creatures.  It’d be way too easy to get pulled under, and there are all sorts of currents we can’t see.  I’ll steer clear.

It was the middle of the day, but she could have sworn she heard the echo of masculine laughter.

“Remember that conversation, all those months ago, about the ocean and how I don’t mess with it?” Darcy asked, eyes shut as she tried to ignore the sway of the sinking boat beneath her feet.

“Uh-huh,” Jane said.  "I would like to take this moment to say that your concerns about currents was valid and I am now equally concerned.”

“Probably not equally,” she muttered.  “This is such bullshit, though.  I mean, what are the odds that the baddie of the week with a mad-on for Thor would live in a freaking houseboat?”

“Slim to none.”

“But the whole water thing.  God, he’s never going to let me live this down,” Darcy said, now edging up onto a cot as best she could considering her arms were shackled to the wall.  “I’ve been bleeding into the water for at least a minute or two.  Since whenever the water reached us.  Not enough that I’m worried about sharks, but enough.”

“Enough for what?” Jane asked cautiously.

As if on queue, there was a loud crunching noise and then a man burst through one side of the room, bringing with him a deluge of water.

“Hi, honey,” Darcy called with a quavering sort of bravado.  He was here, in the waking world and not in her dream.  The reality of him, the intensity of his presence, the intelligence in his face, the physicality on display, was overwhelming.  “You miss me?”

“You are in danger, again,” he snarled, taking the room in at a glance before stalking over to Darcy and unceremoniously ripping her chains off the wall.  He reached out and gently ran his fingers over her skull, scowling when he reached the bleeding bump on her head, before cupping her cheek.

She shivered under his touch and was momentarily grateful that her pupils were already dilated from the dim interior.  The chill would camouflage any other obvious reactions to his presence.  He was both familiar and un, every part of his person matched up with the voice that had lived in her head for over a decade.  There were new things to catalogue, though: physical tells she hadn’t had access to in the dream space, reactions he could no longer hide.

“I would have waited for you to come to me,” he said.

“I know.”

“But now-”

“I know,” she said.  “And we can talk about it in a minute, but first can you get Janie and me out of here?”

Namor turned to Jane, eyes narrowed.  “This is the scientist.”

“Glare later, help now,” she said firmly, barely restraining the urge to lean against him and borrow some of his equilibrium.

He pursed his lips, frowning and gently guided Darcy along beside him until he reached Jane and could rip her chains off the wall as well.  He removed the manacles at her wrists, tearing the metal away as if it was tissue paper.  Once freed, he wrapped an arm around each woman, Darcy nearly plastered to his side while Jane was held much less close, and pulled them towards the hole he’d made in the hull.

“Deep breath, Janie!” Darcy shouted just before they hit the water.

They reached the beach in mere moments, nowhere near long enough for Darcy, who had never been in the ocean before.  Darcy, who had never even been swimming before.  Darcy, who had not realized that the peaceful drifting she had experienced in the dream space was the barest echo of the true wonder of being cradled and kept by the ocean.

Jane staggered onto the sand and flopped down, gasping for air, while Darcy stood knee-deep in the waves.  Part of her, a large part, wanted to dive back in head first.  The rest of her remembered things like friends, family, responsibilities, and not becoming a statistic.  It helped that Namor’s arm was still wrapped around her waist, supporting her and providing, ironically enough, a grounding presence.  Being in his arms now was strikingly similar to the feel of the dream space, but more immediate, their contact set off sparks enough that she wondered if her hair would stand on end if it was dry.

“So, about that confession-”

He tangled his fingers in her wet hair and tilted her face up to his own, pressing his lips to hers.  It was surprisingly gentle for the moment, sweet and soft and over far too quickly.  Her eyes fluttered open afterwards to find his face inches from hers.

“You are each of the things I wanted and everything I never thought to ask for,” he murmured into the space between them.  “If anything were to happen to you, I would take a consort out of necessity, but the throne I built for you would remain empty till the end of my reign.  I love you, Darcy.”

And everything inside of Darcy said yes.

A second after that, her skin started to glow.  It grew brighter and brighter until she shut her eyes and buried her face against Namor’s chest.  The light was accompanied by a tingling coolness that started at her extremities and coursed to her center before echoing back to the bounds of her skin.  This happened over and over till every part of her seemed to be ringing.  Then it cut off so suddenly and jarringly that she might have fallen without Namor to hold her up.

Darcy blinked, the world seemed slightly... different.  “What the fuck was that?”