Chapter Two: The taste of marrow

Chapter warnings: This chapter contains slight gore/violent themes.

XxX

Harry sat at The Golden Compass, ensconced comfortably in one of the booths near the back while he waited for his friends. Sitting crossed legged on the leather, he sipped absently at his coffee as he watched the door.

One shop down from the entrance of Knockturn, The Golden Compass was the only cafe he'd found in the Wizarding world that served the milky, flavoured coffees so prevalent in the muggle world. It was a hotspot for magicals with a foot in both worlds, and as he watched, he saw yet another (presumed) muggleborn giggle at the etching of a mermaid above the door, which blew her a kiss.

White obscured his vision, and when he looked up, he was greeted by the beaming face of Lavender, who had somehow snuck up on him. Dressed head to toe in the traditional robes of an Applicant, she stood out like a lumos among the work-robes and colours others wore, and did not a damn thing to hide it. Her curls had been braided into a golden crown atop her head, and her face was bare and glowing.

"Well, you look beautiful darling."

She laughed, reaching forward to tug his hood off, and sighed in relief when she saw his hair already in a sloppy fishtail.

"I wasn't sure if you'd actually braid it."

"Of course I would." Harry said. "The whole point of this is to follow tradition."

He waved his hand at her to sit, and only smirked when she eyed his gloveless hands pointedly.

"If a wizard gets going from a glimpse of wrist, the world deserves what's coming to it."

Lavender rolled her eyes, waving down a waiter to order two gillywaters, ignoring their dumbfounded stare with all the grace of a person who is used to being looked at.

"You'd think he'd never seen an Applicant before."

"He likely hasn't" Harry said. "Most don't make it a point to have drinks at a middling coffee chain before they make their offerings, let alone so blatantly atired."

"I'm proud to be one," she said. "I'm lucky."

"Luckier than I am." Another voice said shortly, before Parvati sat heavily next to Lavender, pulling a Gillywater towards her without so much as a word of thanks.

"You've cut your hair" said the blonde, reaching up with a gentle hand to touch the soft fuzz that covered her friend's head. Harry pushed a small plate of biscotti across the table.

"It suits you." He said, smiling widely as she glowered at him.

"Yes, well I couldn't keep my hair as it was, and I barely made the cutoff for applications, so I had to shave it in order to keep with tradition. I see you're barely scraping by."

Lavender slapped her shoulder, and Harry chortled, slipping her his gloves, which she slipped on with satisfaction, putting her own cotton ones in a pocket. Like him, she'd covered up with a darker cloak, uneasy with the idea of anyone paying much attention to the white garments beneath.

She hadn't had as much time to prepare for this as the other two, mentally or otherwise. Up until a month ago, she'd been assured of a fantastic political match with a childhood friend.

Engaged from birth to the son of one of her father's associates, she had been fortunate enough to grow up with her future husband. They'd played together as children, experiencing a natural and surprisingly honest friendship which had thrilled both families, who had hoped for a good match. She was headstrong and ambitious, knowing from a young age that she could never be a stay at home Lady. Indeed she'd discovered her life's calling at the age of six, and plodded ever forward with every intention of following it. Her intended, Amandeep, had not mentioned any objections-

'further,' Parvati had written in one of her more candid letters 'he even jokes about being a kept man'.

Her future had been planned down to how many children they would have-

'One. His brother already has four, and he's the heir. Definitely no more, despite how he wheedles.'

Where they would live, and when-

'An estate on his parents property to begin with. A nice stone house tucked away at the base of a mountain in Jaipur. My parent's love it, Padma thinks it's wondrous. It has an attic with a domed glass roof, so at least there's that.'

Even where they would retire-

'Honestly, he wants to move to Delhi, but if we're moving at all, it's back to London.'

Harry and Lavender had spent the last couple of years listening to her plan her future, one amused, the other fond. She wasn't in love, but she was happy.

Padma, as it turned out, was not so happy.

Her sister had been offered an arranged marriage as well. Unlike Parvati, she had never liked her match, finding him too plain and boring to befriend, let alone marry. Parvati found him nice enough; he was a few years older than them, and a good deal more conservative, but he was thoughtful and kind, and only ever respectful of his young intended. When Padma had not declined the betrothal the previous year when the option became open to her, Parvati thought, quite logically, that Padma had become happier with the match.

She hadn't, which was made clear with heartbreaking clarity when their father had found her mounting Amandeep in one of the guest rooms on the day he was meant to finalise his promise to Parvati.

What followed was somehow worse.

Padma claimed Right of First Blood.

Amandeep claimed nothing.

They were married that day quietly and without fanfare, Parvati sandwiched in a corner between her mother and the woman she would have called mother-in-law, watching her sister happily tear down her future one vow at time.

She wondered how she had missed that her sister was in love with her fiance. Wondered how and when and how long. She saw the familiarity in the way he cupped her hands, in the way he held her as he kissed her. She saw the way he curled his hands into the long silk of her hair, possessive and protective and fond, and wondered if she had alway been blind.

When it was over, and they'd read the vows Parvati had crafted and eaten the food Parvati had made, and her shock had loosened into a dull simmering fury that at least let her form words, she managed to corner her erstwhile fiance- her good friend and childhood playmate- long enough to ask the very simple question of why.

Whatever she was expecting, it hadn't been an almost sheepish shrug and a lazy-

'I thought she was you.'

The question of whether or not he was lying was irrelevant. If it was the truth, then he couldn't tell her from her own twin (and though physically identical, they were different in the ways that mattered. The ways that you learned when you knew people. When you cared, even just a little). If it was a lie, then it was a bad one, and pointless all things considered.

Leaving before anything else could be said, before her father could comprehend that fixing this mistake still left Padma's own contract a gaping wound, she packed away her hurts and precious things, and fled to her favourite Aunties house.

Hidden in a small cottage near Loch Lomond in Scotland, her Aunt took care of her, misdirecting her increasingly frantic father who was calling for her to take her sister's place in the previous contract, and rushing to prepare her for an application to prevent such a thing from happening when he wouldn't be distracted further.

Parvati, much like her Aunt, would rather be Craft-Wed then wed at all, but as an Applicant, she had the option to decline propositions when all was said and done, as long as each were given the consideration due to them. She couldn't be forced into a contract in absentia of her sister.

And so she had scrambled to prepare her application with only weeks to spare, her Auntie taking leave from work to help as best she could. Lavender had been a massive help with fleshing out her ledger, well used to scraping the marrow from one's own tentative strength's to form a well reasoned file, and Harry had sent her a fully articulated blood-bound family tree, which would have taken her far too long and too much to commission had she had to go through governmental channels instead of a 'contractor'.

She'd submitted the application with a day to spare, and been accepted not a week later by the skin of her teeth. Her blood status and blossoming promise as a rune witch had likely pushed her over the edge, with nothing else to truly recommend her. (And what an astronomical stroke of luck. People prepared years for this).

Her Aunt had gifted her an appropriate wardrobe for an Applicant, which was a sensible, mostly appreciated gift to be sure. Her trust vault had been blocked while she hid away, and she had no wish to impose on her friends anymore than needed, let alone for clothing.

She'd also received a small pot of her favourite hair oil, which she had spent a long night combing into the long coil of her hair, before she'd shaved it the very next day. Applicants could have one of two hair styles, and as much as a braid became her, she couldn't bear to see anymore of her sister than she already did when she looked in the mirror.

Exhausted, she'd managed to salvage the tatters her sister's choice had left her with, more focused on her future happiness than her family's reputation. And she'd done it all in an entirely above board, traditional way.

Grimacing, she waved away Lavenders gentle fussing, fixing Harry with a gimlet stare.

"So you're really going through with this?"

"Yes dove, I am. I thought we had this conversation?"

"A few dozen times" Lavender muttered to herself.

"We have." Parvati acknowledged. "And I understand why you're doing it. I know I was a little...insensitive-"

"Jealous," Lavender said.

"Insensitive," Pavarti insisted. "You being you and having what you have, I admit I couldn't understand why you felt the need to tie yourself down like this, but I get it now."

"Honestly." she said to Harry's raised eyebrow. "I do. I always understood that you wanted to put your...research first without compromising responsibilities. I just didn't understand why you insisted on throwing courtship into the mix. But...having lost something I didn't even have. Something I...took for granted. I just wanted to apologise. Wanting affection-" she choked, swallowing bile "Isn't something reserved for people like Lav."

"You look disgusted Patty." Lavender said, eyes crinkling. "Honestly, you're two peas in a pod."

"No, really!" she said when the Parvarti scoffed, affronted. "You think Harry wants love? Good Merlin, the boy thinks his mother was an idiot for refusing to move when the Dark Lord came to visit. Let's not talk about what he thinks of Daddy Potter."

"No," she said decisively. "Harry's in it for the sex."

There was a brief moment when Parvarti and Harry met each other's eyes, dumfounded, before turning stiffly away, shoulder's shaking in mirth.

Lavender smiled a distinctly cat-like grin, before swallowing the last of her drink.

"Seriously. I want love, you want security, and Harry wants it all. That you've realised it's important to like your partner was a foregone conclusion anyway, love aside."

"I know Lavender," said Parvati, softening a little. "I just meant…"

"I know."

"And then there's-"

"Dumbledore" Lavender whispered.

"And Granger. Weasley. The entire muggleborn contingent and society in general. The media is going to eat you alive. There's no guarantee the Old Bloods are going to treat you any better."

"I know." said Harry. "But I want what I want, and that's the end of it."

He sighed at Parvati, who was still looking unsure.

"Here what it boils down to dovey. I'm the last heir of an Old family. That my mother was a muggleborn is an irrelevant point- all Old lines know the importance of new blood every ten generations or so, my father just did it publicly. I have never officially declared my allegiance to either side, regardless of what people think, and I will be declaring as prospective neutral when we sign the official register.

I'm proud of my family's history, but I don't have the head to manage it. I could, but I don't want to. And politically, I could care less, I just want to conduct my business in peace. I'm declaring neutral purely to avoid the headache that would come with anything else. Dumbledore will have to dip back into the world of traditional politics if he has any chance of stopping me, and we all know his stance on that. The government can't interfere now that I'm officially an Applicant, and as for everything else…"

He shrugged. "I'll be careful. But...I need to do this."

Lavender looked at him shrewdly.

"Need?" She wheedled. "What an interesting choice of words. Especially for you."

"I've felt the call," Harry said frankly. "I've felt it since fourth year. Otherwise I would have hired a dummy proxy to sit on my affairs while I fucked off to Scholomance."

Lavender turned the colour of curdled milk.

"H-Harry, you can't just say things like that. We're in public."

Harry pointed idly to the plate of biscotti.

"It's fine, I've already made sure whatever we said won't be remembered."

Lavender sagged slightly in relief, before stiffening in understanding.

"They don't serve biscotti here do they?"

Parvati narrowed her eyes, fear and anger roiling through her. "You used blood magic on the biscuits didn't you?"

"Of course I did." Harry said. He watched her through narrow, glittering eyes, chin cradled on both hands where he leant on the table.

"That's disgusting" She snapped, jumping a little at her own anger. "It's one thing to use it on muggles, it's something entirely different to use it without consent on your friends."

"A valid point" said Harry, nodding agreeably.

Parvati stared at him. "Well, are you going to agree not to do it again?"

"Of course not" said Harry.

"It's black magic, Harry. I don't want to associate with it at all, let alone eat it!"

"You like it well enough to accept the rune stones I crafted," he spoke bluntly. "You didn't say no, did you Parvati, you naughty girl. Not when you needed something."

She flinched, turning away from Lavender's probing eyes.

"I suppose we all know what will come from your calling then." She said spitefully, already regretting it at the look of disappointment on her best friends face.

"That's enough Parvati." She said firmly.

"No, it's alright lovely. She's just rattled."

Harry's hand reached forward to rest gently atop her own gloved one, and she shuddered at the lattice of scars that glimmered silver and web like on his golden skin.

"She's still adjusting to the knowledge that her friend is a little less conventional then she had assumed," he clarified to Lavender, his dark eyes never leaving Parvati's. "It's understandable, Lav, your acceptance is a blessed rarity."

"Oh" said Lavender. "But she should-"

"It doesn't matter." said Harry. "I understand her anger; I was invasive. I'm sorry."

Parvati shifted awkwardly, oddly exposed under Harry's thin smile. A flush of guilt hit her, and she looked away.

"Well then." Lavender sipped primly at her empty glass, baby blue eyes fixed firmly on Harry. "I think it's fantastic that you've felt it. You deserve a fated match."

For a while, Harry didn't say anything. His thin hands pulled back across the table, where he stared at them in contemplation, watching the skin pull over muscle as he clenched his hands.

"I suppose we'll see." he said finally, ignoring Lavenders pout of disappointment. Parvati watched him with careful eyes, stiff backed and contemplative.

Dimly he could hear the roar of fire, crackling as it always did when the hollow throbbing of his soul stuttered. He swallowed the copper on his tongue and smiled a little, stealing the last of the biscotti, and crushing it between his teeth. He swallowed, pulling himself to his feet and tugging at his sleeves.

"Either way, we'd best be off. I want to avoid running into anyone we know if I can help it."

Parvati nodded, slipping out and pulling her cloak closed while she waited for Lavender.

"You know you'll have to remove it afterwards." Harry said softly.

"I know," she said. "And also...I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me before."

"I understand." Harry smiled at her, small but honest. And she knew he did. Just like she knew it didn't really mean anything. Harry wasn't the sort of person to let common decency stop him from doing anything he'd put his mind to. Lavender adored him with a blind faith that made her stomach ache with worry, and really, he was a better friend than Parvati herself was, but she wasn't blind to the teeth ever hungry beneath his skin.

Sometimes she worried she was a little more blind to his mechanisms than she thought, a little less savy to the guile behind his smiles. Mostly though, she worried at the way it was slowly ceasing to matter to her, his calm support slowly whittling away at her the hypocrisy of her morals.

She wanted to argue that she wasn't like him. That she, at least, had a line she wouldn't cross.

But she had already crossed it.

Wrapped in velvet, hidden at the bottom of a mokeskin purse in her trunk, the 24 runes stones he'd gifted her taunted her. Bone white and powerful, she knew exactly how he'd made them. And couldn't bring herself to regret it.

Although…

She shuddered as his eyes glimmered cruely, before he winked and turned away, offering a hand to Lavender who had stubbornly stayed seated to let them talk.

Well. Harry had her blood, didn't he? Perhaps she really had no choice, but to follow him down the rabbit hole? And he was friends with Lavender, for Mordred's sake. Lavender, who was soft, and kind and good.

Relaxing a little, she smiled crookedly at her two friends as the blonde re-tied the ribbon in Harry's hair.

"There!" Declared Lavender, as if Harry's hair wasn't already springing away from the braid to bounce around his face. "Much better."

"Mmhmm" Harry agreed, pulling a handful of sickles from the pouch at his waist. "Thanks Lav."

Money on the table, they made their way outside, Harry pulling his hood firmly up to cover his face.

The weather was hot and dry, light reflecting off the polished cobblestones and shop windows to blind them as they walked. The air smelt sour and dusty, worse around large families or groups of friends that were out, and already, they could feel the sticky slick of sweat rise on their skin.

"This is ridiculous." Lavender flicked open a pale parasol, pretty face twisted in annoyance.

"Why haven't the spells on the alley been renewed?"

"It's ministry regulated" said Harry, as if that was all that needed to be said.

"Ridiculous," insisted Lavender, and Parvati sighed.

"Gringotts is just up the path." she said "and Horizont Alley is privately owned, so you just need to bear with it for a little while longer."

Lavender said nothing and pursed her lips, walking around a particularly slow couple with an irritated jerk.

The white marble of Gringotts loomed over them as they walked closer, a sterile and intimidating landmark sandwiched between two smaller buildings that seemed grubby in comparison. The Goblins at the door watched them with hard eyes as they approached, before one with a clipboard in place of a spear caught them before they entered.

"Applicant Offerings?" He asked, voice sharp like flint on flint.

Lavender nodded, clenching her hands around the parasol mutely.

"Take a left upon entry. Enter the elevator- it will take you to the right floor. You will leave your wands at the checking desk there."

Parvati muttered a thankyou, before they swept past and made their way to the aforementioned elevator.

"I wonder who else will be there." Lavender murmured quietly, intimidated by the eyes that followed them across the lobby. "This session is for Hogwarts students only, so we should know everyone."

"A lot of people from our year have betrothals already," said Harry, ignoring Parvati's flinch. "And a fair few are 'modernising' or unimportant, so I suspect the number to be quite low actually."

Lavender nodded pensively, smiling at Harry when he gestured for them to enter the elevator first.

"Oh this is nice" she said with some surprise. The elevator was chiseled crystal, pale pink and humming pleasantly with a soft vibration that resonated through them as it lowered. After a minute or so, a small table rose from the floor, a tiny plaque in polished bronze proclaiming it to be the checking desk.

"Do we give it our wands?" Parvati wondered, and immediately, three narrow draws shot out, just long enough for each respective wand. Harry shrugged and slipped his wand into the longest one, snorting when it slammed closed with a tinny thank you. Lavender and Parvati followed suit, jumping when the desk grew up and into the ceiling before folding upwards.

With a small shudder, the elevator ground to a stop, and the doors opened into a dimly lit natural cave. The exact size of the cavern was impossible to tell, each wall receding into an inky blackness that was difficult to see through. A large lake lit up the centre of the cave, glowing blue and luminous and endless. Within it, white shapes moved like shooting stars.

They stepped hesitantly forward and stopped suddenly as magic crashed down over them, heavy like ozone before a thunderstorm.

"Where is everyone?" Lavender whispered, and Harry pointed silently to the white shapes moving like ghosts on the far side of the lake.

"I think there's more than one elevator," Parvati murmured, and nodded to a slight flicker of pink off to the left, followed by another white smudge moving forward.

"Alright." Lavender breathed. "Okay, that's fine. Maybe better."

She took a coltish step forward, trembling hands reaching up to unbutton her cloak, which she placed in a neat pile on the ground, followed shortly by the rest of her clothing. Harry sighed, before shrugging off his clothing as well, putting them with his shoes and Parvati's own crumpled pile. He slipped the ribbon from his hair, letting the heavy waves fall from the braid without prompting. Pulling a waxed linen bundle from under the pile, he cupped it carefully in his hands as he made his way to the water with the others.

"Do you need help with your braids?" He asked quietly, watching as Lavender dug her fingers around the crown of her head.

"No, thank you. I think I've...I'm almost...there!" She tugged something, and Harry watched her ringlets halo her in a fluffy mess.

"Impressive." He said, meaning it. She'd braided her hair with nothing but grit and skill, using no pins or clips to help. She grinned proudly at him, before noticing what was in his hands.

"Oh, is that…?"

He nodded, smiling at her fondly. Lavender had gone with a traditional Offering, twining her milk teeth with a lock of her hair in a braided piece of jewellery. It was simple, but personal, and the most commonly given offering for its effectiveness. She had made several of them, enough for a bracelet for each wrist and one for each ankle, and a thin harness that crisscrossed between the valley of her breasts. The more he looked, the more he saw, and when he squinted, he saw something white and hard smile at him from the halo of her hair, before he was caught off guard by a sudden bark of laughter by Parvati.

Parvati had gone more personal, like him, Offering her old betrothal contract. She had covered the pages in lines of runes so thick the pages themselves were black with ink, which she made into a paper crown. She wore it now, white teeth gleaming at him with savage triumph when he noticed. Something wild slunk behind the brown of her eyes, and Harry felt drums resonate within him, urging and eager.

Both girls watched him as he carefully unfolded the linen flaps, dipping his fingers into the black ash that he'd packed it with. He hadn't had to think terribly hard on what exactly his offering should be, and there, in the cold silence of the Offering chamber, he smeared the burnt remains of what used to be his parents' wands over the right side of his face, covering his scar completely.

"Beautiful" Lavender sighed, drawing him in for a hug that burnt like acid, teeth gnawing at him, before allowing herself to be tugged away by Parvati, who dipped and swayed with a music that only she heard. The two girls swung away from him, dancing and moving together, glorious and sylph-like, until between one second and the next, they vanished into the mirror-like surface of the lake.

His nerveless fingers dropped the linen, and something magnificent drew him forward. He smelt fire and smoke, and when he breached the water, he boiled, skin blistering and splitting and reforming all at once. It was rapturous, the feeling that seized him, and he moved with strong purpose. He was fire, flickering and golden, surging across the surface of the lake like it was oil. Like a phoenix, he flew with burning wings, and when he reached the centre of the lake, where the lights sung to him with words that made him die and live and die again, he dropped like a stone straight to the bottom, the lake as smooth and silent as it ever had been.

XxX

Harry burned.

He was tied to a stake in the middle of a village, feet staked to the pole with a single large bolt, hands slick with blood and bound behind him. He had been burning for a long time, the kindling beneath his feet long turned to ash, his body burning of its own accord. The fire was green, and as the tall flames spat and hissed, he heard sonnets being crooned, a deep voice whispering secrets hotly into the shell of his ear.

Beyond him, beyond the flames, Harry heard screaming.

The voices of the village rose up, serenading him with the violence of their deaths. All at once, every wretched person who had put him there sang him love songs with their dying screams. A prolonged wail of such utter misery, his breath hitched at the artistry of it. He heard the crack and pop of the buildings as they burnt and shattered, the fire ravenous as it spread and ate and pillaged. He heard sobbing, dull and hopeless, and he was aroused.

Something sinuous moved beyond the wall of flames that cradled him, a shadow that slunk just beyond his view. It undulated before him, massive and hypnotising, and he ached with a hunger beyond any he'd never known. Harry was a black hole, wanting and wanting and wanting, and he cried out with the fury of his need.

The fire wavered, before the great shape of a man rose up, a towering giant of flame and rage and world consuming hunger to match his own. Eyes of starlight watched him, timeless and ageless, before the great man knelt before him with great care. Beyond them, the world split, great chasms gouging the earth as the God settled to his knees. The sky turned red, splintered and broken, playing the sounds of a dying people like raid sirens.

But Harry saw none of that, trapped in the gaze of the man who watched him with covetous eyes, softened with something like wonder. Harry's soul ached to be closer, to both consume and be consumed by the man. He wanted him. Wanted him to sink into the hollowness of his bones and make a home there.

A smile split the being's face, too wide too sharp, splitting him from ear to ear. His teeth gleamed like shards of broken porcelain, white and shocking, before it hissed out what could only be a victorious 'yes'.

Time flickered, stopped and then restarted. Harry was burning, then he was not. He was bound, and then he was free. Standing unhindered in the middle of the village, the quiet sounds of a sleeping town blanketing him, he looked down at the bowed head of the mortal man in front of him. The man held his hands out, and in them he cradled a heart of fire, beautiful and strange.

Slowly, Harry reached to take the heart, peace filling him as it sank into him, burning its way into his flesh. For once, the hunger that ate at him was sated. Reverently, Harry leaned forward to embrace his God, folding the trembling form into his own slender arms with care he had not thought himself capable of. Pale eyes looked up at him, and he still saw stars beyond them. He smiled, and leant down to brush his lips against a pale ear.

"Let us burn."

And so they did.