HP: Night of the Wolf

It had been so long since he had partaken in the simplicity of being propped up against a bar with a glass of liquor in one hand and a cigarette in the other, not without the threat of an attack from Grindelwald's men or even a muggle bomb falling on him whilst he did so.

The Downed Unicorn was an old haunt of his, the stomping ground of many an unsavoury character that often found themselves on the wrong side of the law.

Derek Gilbert had been coming here since he'd graduated Hogwarts, having been shown the establishment by one of his accomplices as they fled the scene of a robbery gone wrong.

Gilbert had gotten away with that particular crime, but he had not been so fortunate in others, even with the bolthole he found himself in now.

He shook his head and took a deep draw on his cigarette, pushing his empty glass towards the barman for it to be refilled.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my old mate Gilbert," a familiar, though unwelcome voice called from the door. "Just got out again?"

"Something like that," Gilbert sighed as he sipped the whiskey the barman handed him.

"I haven't seen you for a while. How long did you get this time?"

"Eighteen months."

The man whistled appreciatively.

"It shows," he chuckled. "Bloody hell, you look like shit."

Gilbert snorted.

He didn't doubt the truth of the man's words, but despite all he had endured, he didn't feel as bad as he would have had he been in the company of the Dementors for so long.

In truth, Derek had never felt so good his life having gained a purpose since Moody had offered him a way of avoiding a stint in Azkaban.

At first, he thought the war would be a doddle compared to prison, but he had been proved wrong quite spectacularly.

War was hell on earth, and more than once, he had considered going AWOL.

That was until he had made the acquaintance of Yaxley, and then William Potter.

Here, in Britain, the two men would not have given him a second glance, nor likely a moment of their time, but Derek had somehow found himself on friendly terms with them both.

When William had been killed, he'd been devastated, but it had brought him and Reg closer, and even more so with the arrival of William's son and Harry Evans.

Arcturus Black too, though he had come later.

He snorted at the thought of the foursome, four men he considered to be brothers, who he would die for if necessary.

Never had he held any other in such esteem, the world he'd existed in full of honourless scoundrels that would sell you out to save their hide.

Not those in the trenches.

The friends he had made there would equally give their lives for him, for what little his was worth.

"Something funny?" Gregson questioned with a frown.

Gilbert shook his head.

"No."

Gregson narrowed his eyes at him before patting him on the shoulder.

"I'm glad I ran into you. I have a job if you're interested, one that will make you quite a sum of gold."

"A job?"

Gregson nodded as he leaned in, his gaze sweeping across the room to ensure they were not being eavesdropped on.

"I have it on good authority that a delivery of rare ingredients is going to be arriving at the apothecary in Diagon Alley. It shouldn't be too difficult to get our share."

Had he been offered the opportunity before he'd gone to war, Gilbert would have taken it with both hands and not even considered the consequences.

Now, however, it seemed like a foolish idea, and not only because of the potential repercussions.

If he was caught, he had no doubt that Harry would ensure he went to Azkaban.

Already Derek had made mistakes that still burdened him, his loose tongue under the influence of alcohol having cost the lives of men in the trenches.

Still, it wasn't the thought of Azkaban that plagued him, but the disappointment he knew the others would have in him.

He could face Azkaban if the bounty was worthwhile, but not the latter.

He had no desire to disappoint Reg, Charlus, Arcturus, or Harry, and he certainly would not insult the memory of William Potter who had put a lot of faith in him.

"I'm not interested," Derek murmured.

Gregson's eyes widened.

"Not interested?" he spluttered. "Gil, you could make a small fortune for yourself from this."

"I said I'm not interested!" Derek snapped.

Gregson visibly recoiled at the tone.

"What happened to you, Gil?" he asked gently.

"Nothing," Derek replied dismissively. "Don't you ever get tired of spending your life wondering if the aurors are going to drag you into the Ministry, or even blast your door off the hinges in the middle of the night?"

Gregson laughed heartily.

"That's all part of the game we play, Gil," he pointed out. "The risk is as high as the reward, you know that."

"But haven't you ever wanted better?" Gilbert pressed. "To live a life without the risk?"

Gregson released a deep sigh.

"Not really," he admitted with a shrug. "This is the life I chose, the life that you chose."

Gilbert shook his head.

"It's not the life I want anymore, old friend," he returned as he stood and placed a few coins on the counter.

"So, that's it?" Gregson asked in disbelief. "What, you're just going to try to go straight?"

Derek shrugged.

"Maybe I will," he replied with a smile feeling proud of himself for the first time he could remember.

Gregson laughed mockingly.

"It doesn't work that way, Gil, and you know it," he sighed. "I give it less than six months and you'll be back at it."

"No," Gilbert denied as he headed towards the door. "Not this time."

"So, you're just going to get a job? Who's going to employ an old lag like you?"

Derek paused before he shrugged.

"I don't know," he admitted, "but maybe someone will be willing to take a chance on me. At least then I won't go back to prison."

'And I will feel that I'm worthy of my friends,' he added internally.

(Break)

Abreo hummed thoughtfully as he read the parchment that Harry had handed him, a frown creasing his brow the more he learned. When he was done, he leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Switzerland has chosen to remain neutral in this war," he pointed out. "We cannot stage an operation there without informing them, and we don't know how far this Weber's influence stretches. If he is so brazenly using the bank for his ill-gotten gains, we must assume that he has a contact on the inside."

"I would not doubt that assumption," Harry replied, "but he must be eliminated, and Switzerland may be our only opportunity. I respect their neutrality, but we have reached a pivotal point of the war. If we can remove Weber from the equation, Grindelwald is blind."

The bald man had not been as useful as Harry wished, but he'd given him a firmer lead to pursue than having Summerbee attend the various underground activities Weber undoubtedly oversaw.

With the Veritaserum having worn off, it had merely been a case of some mind altering spells and an obliviate and his victim had been none the wiser to what had been done to him.

Abreo deflated in his chair, his gaze shifting between Harry and Petr.

"Do you have a plan?"

Harry nodded.

"Nothing more than observation for the time being," he assured the Supreme Mugwump. "I would like to establish his movements before making a move on him. We will get one chance at this and there is no room for error."

"And how will you observe this man?"

"My cousin," Petr broke in. "He is a spymaster for my father."

"Your cousin?" Abreo asked with a frown. "Is he good?"

Petr smirked in response.

"He spent five years inside the ICW building as a clerk without being detected."

Abreo's mouth fell agape.

"You have been our enemy for many years and my father felt it was wise to keep an eye on you," Petr justified.

Abreo was not pleased by the revelation, but he was impressed.

"Fine," he agreed, "but he will observe only, and you will keep me informed. There must be no conflict in Switzerland if it can be avoided, and certainly not without my say so. They may remain neutral for the time being, but any sign of provocation from either side could change that."

"Agreed," Harry replied immediately, having expected more resistance to the idea.

"And what of Summerbee?" Abreo questioned. "Her work in Germany is concluded?"

"It is," Harry confirmed, "and I have sent her to Bulgaria. She will continue to report to me of her findings there so that we may exploit any weaknesses. Ever since Fox and her team was captured, the country has been fortified quite strongly. She will be an indispensable asset to us whilst we prepare to take it from Grindelwald."

"Then proceed as you are, gentlemen," Abreo urged. "I will not officially acknowledge what we have discussed today, and certainly not divulge it to my peers. I trust them, but I did so before Sato's deception was made known to us. This is the most delicate of matters and I would prefer that it is kept between the three of us and your cousin, Sokolov."

Both Harry and Petr nodded their understanding as they stood to leave.

"Is Bulgaria your next intended target?" Abreo asked.

"Romania first," Harry confirmed, "and then we will move on to Bulgaria. After that, we will hold the entirety of the east of the continent, securing our position."

Abreo nodded approvingly.

"Then off you go," he instructed.

Harry and Petr did so, shooting each other a victorious grin at how easily their plan had been approved.

If fortune favoured them, it may be only a matter of weeks before they were rid of Weber and had taken the lingering countries that Grindelwald held in the east.

(Break)

Having spent only a few days with his mother, it was a somewhat reluctant Charlus that had travelled to Britain, something he would have perhaps avoided had it not been for his promise to Harry that he would look in on Minerva.

He had written to the woman before departing the Ukraine informing her of his arrival, and that he would meet her and any other she wished to bring in The Three Broomsticks at 7pm on the day of his return.

Minerva, he knew, would be there, but as he entered and saw Tiberius, Poppy, Augusta, and Frank seated around a table with her, he was filled with warmth, and chuckled at the first he'd noted all but ran towards him and pulled him into a tight embrace.

"We've been worried about you, Potter," Tiberius huffed.

"You don't need to worry about me, Ogden," Charlus snorted. "How is the little one?"

Tiberius's eyes shined with pride as he nodded excitedly.

"She's amazing," he declared. "Being a father is the most worthwhile thing I've ever done."

Charlus offered the man a smile, proud of what Tiberius had built for himself.

"Good for you," he said sincerely as he headed towards the table. "Did you not bring your better half."

Tiberius scowled good-naturedly and shook his head.

"Ola is teething and quite grumpy," he explained.

Charlus nodded his understanding.

He knew little about babies but was certain that teething would be an unpleasant hurdle to overcome for the baby and the parents.

"Bloody hell, look at you," he gasped as he took in Minerva's appearance.

Pregnancy somehow suited the woman.

Her skin was glowing, and though she was frowning at him for his rather uncouth outburst, she couldn't hide her smile.

"A part of me thought that Harry was having me on," he explained as he carefully hugged her so not to jostle her protruding bump.

"I wish," Minerva grumbled irritably.

Charlus chuckled as he greeted the others and helped Minerva back into her seat.

"It's hard to imagine Harry being a father," he mused aloud.

"The poor bugger will be given a wand before its two and will probably kick all our arses before its ten," Ogden laughed.

"It will not!" Minerva said hotly. "How is he?" she asked, her expression softening.

Charlus released a deep breath as he shook his head.

"Sometimes, I don't know," he answered honestly. "He's doing everything he can to put an end to this war, and I worry for him. He wants to be here with you and the little one so badly. It's quite upsetting to see him push himself so hard."

Minerva swallowed deeply as she nodded.

"I'll write to him," she promised. "For someone so brilliant, he can be such a stupid man."

"That's why he needs someone like you," Charlus chuckled. "You can keep him in line."

"Don't you think there's been enough of that?" Ogden questioned, pointing to Minerva's bump.

The others laughed whilst Minerva glowered, her cheeks reddening at the implication.

"If I wasn't so heavily pregnant…" she warned.

"Allow me," Poppy interjected, flicking Tiberius's earlobe.

"Ow!" the man groaned as the group turned their laughter towards him. "I forgot how much that hurts."

He pouted and Charlus smirked to himself.

As much as things had changed over the years since they had all graduated from Hogwarts, others had and always would remain the same.

He'd never truly considered how much, but as he looked upon each of his friends in turn, he was taken aback by just how much each of them had grown.

Poppy had dedicated her life to becoming a healer and was on the cusp of finishing her training. What she must have seen day in and day out as she carried out her work, would break many a prospective medical professional, particularly with a war on.

Not Poppy.

She had always been a strong girl, undeterred by even the most gruesome injuries she would share with the rest of the group from the journals she would study.

Charlus was not ashamed to admit that he would make a poor healer, but Poppy would be an incredible one.

Despite the doubts and even reservations of Augusta's relationship with Frank, the two of them had gone from strength to strength and proved everyone wrong.

Charlus didn't believe he had ever met two more different people, but here they were, married and undeniably happy with one another.

Augusta had likely already seen more of the world than Charlus ever would, and when the time was right for them both, he had no doubt that she would provide the Longbottom Family with children.

Tiberius's life had become what the man had expected. He was learning the family business along with what it takes to be a lord that sat upon the Wizengamot.

He'd married, and already had a daughter though he still harboured the proclivity of landing himself in trouble with Minerva, Poppy, and Augusta, much to the amusement of Charlus.

The former of the trio of women had also done almost what Charlus would have expected her to pursue. Minerva was always going to become a transfiguration mistress, but he had never envisioned seeing her as she was now.

It wasn't that she wasn't a warm person, or he that imagined she would not be a good mother, but he had believed she would focus on her studies.

How wrong he had been proven, and he was delighted for it.

Minerva and Harry simply worked, and Charlus couldn't be happier for them both.

He leaned back in his chair whilst he pondered his own journey, one he never would have believed he'd undertake only a few years prior.

He'd been set to follow Tiberius in being educated further by his father on how to oversee the family affairs and begin focusing on politics.

He'd even gone as far to continue his own studies in transfiguration at the behest of Dumbledore, something he had all but abandoned with the death of his father.

Perhaps he would return to it when the war was concluded?

He nodded to himself as he looked to his friends once more.

All of them were happy, two married and Tiberius having been gifted a daughter. Minerva and Harry would soon have their own child, and Poppy was positively thriving, the only one out of the group to have not settled into a relationship in some way.

Charlus's observations only prompted him to consider his own future.

He would like to continue with his work in transfiguration, which was all but decided upon. He knew he would need to marry to secure the future of his own house, and there was only one woman he wished that to be with.

He deflated slightly in his chair.

There was no doubt in his mind that he wanted it to be Dorea he shared his future with.

No woman had ever enraptured him the way she did.

Even only in words from the letters she sent, he held on to every last one of them.

Before he left the Ukraine, he had tried to convince himself that he wouldn't seek her out, not out of some moral purpose, but because if when the time came he would not have her, he did not wish to carry memories of something that was never meant to be.

He already had enough of those.

Now that he was here, however, his resolve was crumbling all around him. Seeing his friends happy with what they had, Charlus wanted the same for himself, and there was only one person that could give him it.

And just like that, his head was full of the foolish notion of seeking her out, a thought from which he could not escape.

"You've gone very quiet, Charlus," Minerva said worriedly.

He offered the woman a smile.

"Sorry, it's just nice to be away from it all for a while," he replied, his grin widening as she rubbed a hand soothingly across her bump.

(Break)

Despite the comfort and familiarity of the bed, he hadn't slept well. He never did anymore, not since Evans had arrived in the trenches on the border between France and Belgium and had taken it upon himself to train the men.

Reg had laughed when he'd been informed that the younger man would be doing so.

What could Evans, someone several years his junior teach him?

It turned out to be a lot, and he was still learning from the enigmatic man, lessons that he had become grateful for even if he had cursed the man for weeks.

Without Harry, Reg knew he would likely be dead now.

As had become his custom, he had woken before the sun had risen, and continuing with the habit and training that had been instilled with him, he had felt compelled to exercise, to maintain the strength and endurance he had built during his many months at on the front line, but not before grooming himself.

When your life was at stake daily, you tended to care little for your appearance, and paid no mind to the mirror, but having caught a glimpse of himself before settling into bed he had done a doubletake.

Reg recognised very little of himself.

He had always maintained a kempt appearance, his hair always neatly trimmed and his face cleanshaven as most would expect from the son of a pureblood family.

Now, however, his beard had grown to be quite wild and tangled, his brown hair almost to his shoulders.

He had shaken his head at his own visage, the scar on his temple standing stark against the rest of his skin.

Having risen, he had shorn off most of his hair into a cut that would be practical for fighting, and removed his beard entirely, revealing more scars, though these were not as deep nor purple like the one he had been aware of.

The others, he had no idea how he had obtained them, except for the other on his shoulder that had come courtesy of a cutting curse.

In truth, of all the fighting he had done, Reg had been lucky.

His limbs were intact, and he hadn't been horribly burned like many others.

He could certainly live with the scars with such fortune.

Having groomed himself, he had taken his leave of the house and started running laps of the grounds. How many he had completed, he knew not, but he kept going until some time after the sun came up and he was breathless.

Entering the kitchen through the side door of a patio area his mother used to entertain guests, he found his father and older brother already eating their breakfast.

Why Titus was here, Reg didn't know and found that he cared little. It was likely that he stayed here most nights to avoid spending time with his wife.

Reg had met the woman several times, and it had been clear that she and his brother had no affection for one another.

The marriage had been a political one that neither were evidently happy with.

"I thought you would have still been in bed," his father commented. "It's not even seven yet. I don't think I've seen you before ten am since you were a babe."

Reg shrugged in response.

"I'm usually up around four or five," he replied.

"Doing what?" his father pressed curiously.

"At that time, exercising. Being physically fit can be the difference between life and death."

His father winced as Reg turned to face him, his eyes drifting to his scar once more that stood more prominently now that he had shaved off his beard.

"You look like shit, son, but I'm proud of you," he commented. "This war has made a man out of you."

Titus scowled at him, always jealous when their father bestowed any type of praise on anyone else other than him.

"How long will you be here?"

"Only a few more days," Reg confirmed, "and then I'll be going back to the Ukraine."

"With Black and Potter?"

Reg nodded.

"You've made some rather powerful acquaintances."

"Charlus and Arcturus are my friends," Reg replied. "It's like I said, politics doesn't mean anything out there. We have more important things to focus on."

"Still, those connections could prove to be advantageous in the future," Titus pointed out. "Potter is unmarried, and Black has a younger sister."

"I'm not going to attempt to make a match for Anna with Charlus," Reg said firmly. "The family politics is your business, something you've made clear enough to me since before I could walk."

"Are you not a member of this family?" Titus growled.

"I am," Reg confirmed, "but I will not try to leverage any of my friends for your gain. Not that it would work anyway. If you think that Charlus Potter wouldn't see through it, you are an idiot. He is no fool."

"Leave it, Titus," their father growled as the older sibling was going to offer a rebuttal.

"What about when the war is done?"

"What about it?" Reg asked with a frown.

"What will you do?"

"I'm going to become an auror," Reg declared proudly. "I'm going to do something worthwhile, something that I'll be good at."

Much to Reg's surprise, his father nodded approvingly, slapping Titus across the back of his head as he laughed.

"It is a respectable job, and certainly better than wasting your life doing nothing. Your mother won't like it, but you have my blessing."

With that, the man exited the kitchen, leaving Reg alone with his older brother.

"An auror," Titus mocked.

Reg smirked as he shook his head.

"I used to be jealous of you," he admitted, "but I'm not anymore. You're going to spend the rest of your life dealing with the snakes on the Wizengamot and married to a woman you despise. Me? I can do whatever I like and won't have to marry for political reasons. I was blessed to be born after you, Titus."

His older brother scowled at him, but Reg took his leave of the kitchen feeling happier than he ever remembered feeling before.

For the first time in his life, he felt free, unshackled from the envy he had felt growing up.

(Break)

Dorea would never deny that she'd lived a privileged life in many ways. She had lost her mother at a young age, but she had never wanted or needed for anything. She'd even been waited on hand and foot by Elgar, so she'd never had to carry out menial tasks, but that had all changed when she had decided she wished to be a healer.

She had first volunteered her free time in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts, her request to do so having initially been met with no small amount of scepticism from Madame Morgana, but Dorea had proven herself to be a willing and dedicated assistant.

That was where the arduous work had begun, but her time managing the various ailments and injuries of schoolchildren paled in comparison to her post at St Mungo's.

With the war on, and the wounded British soldiers being transported here, there was no mistaking the difference between the trivial matters of Hogwarts to the life-threatening injuries the men at the front endured.

Her role had been simple at first.

As a trainee, she was merely expected to watch and learn the more complex aspects of healing and complete the most basic of care to patients.

For the most part, Dorea would bathe the patients that were unable to do so, administer potions as per the notes left to her by qualified healers, and ensure the patient areas were kept clean.

However, with more and more patients arriving her role had quickly become much more, and often, she was required to complete procedures that would under normal circumstances be considered far beyond her abilities.

Where others had crumbled, unable to cope with the added stress, Dorea had risen to the occasion.

There had been times when she felt that she wouldn't be able to, but she had refused to waver like some expected her to.

Proving herself to Madame Morgana had been one thing but doing so to healers who already had preconceived notions of a spoilt girl who'd never had to work for anything she wanted was another entirely.

It had been made clear to her on her very first day at the hospital that her name carried no weight here, and though that had become apparent, it still came with a reputation attached to it.

The staff and healers were wary of Dorea, and some even rather hostile.

The patients had been even more so, and much harder to win over.

Despite this, Dorea had persevered, and throughout her time here, she had never faltered, never shied away from even the most unpleasant of tasks, and had earned the respect of her peers, all off her own back and through her dedication.

"That will do for tonight, Black," Healer Camden sighed as they finished redressing a wound of a man who had lost a leg on the continent. "Go and get some rest. I will see you tomorrow."

The healer was only a few years older than Dorea, and the two of them had become good friends over the months of toiling they had completed together.

Dorea nodded gratefully as she wiped away the sheen of perspiration from her brow and took her leave of the room to fetch her belongings and dispense of her soiled robes.

When she had done so, she left the hospital, the smell of potions and even blood clinging to her.

It was a heady aroma she had grown used to, but it was still unpleasant and left her wrinkling her nose at her own odour.

Crossing the road to the alley opposite St Mungo's, she gasped and took a step back as a familiar figure appeared before her, and immediately felt herself blush, embarrassed that he was seeing her in such a state.

"Charlus," she choked.

He smiled at her, the simple gesture making her feel as shy as she was embarrassed.

Her hair was in disarray, she wore no makeup, and she became even more aware of the smell that clung to her.

"Hello, Miss Black," he greeted her, his smile unwavering, even as he took in her appearance.

Dorea felt exposed, and she was certain her cheeks had reddened.

"What are you doing here?" she asked weakly.

Charlus rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at her as though she was the most precious thing he'd ever seen, an expression that warmed Dorea more than she would admit.

"I was hoping I could take you to dinner," he replied.

"Now?" Dorea almost whimpered.

Charlus nodded, his smile widening.

"I can't go out dressed like this," she snorted. "Look at me."

Charlus frowned and shook his head.

"You look as beautiful as ever."

The sincerity he spoke with brought a smile to her own lips. He had meant what he said, and without even intending to, he had endeared himself to her even more than he was.

"I'd love to come with you, but can you give me a little time to change?" she almost pleaded.

She was already mortified that he had seen her like this. The least she could do was salvage something of the image of a lady that was expected of her.

"Of course," he replied. "Where would you like me to meet you?"

Dorea shook her head as she took him by the hand.

"You're coming with me," she informed him, the shock of his arrival giving way to a need to keep him close.

Her grip tightened around him as she apparated them to the front door of Grimmauld Place.

It was odd to feel possessive over another person, but it had always been there to some degree with Charlus, ever since that day during her fourth year that he had been there for her.

"Just give me a moment," she murmured.

She drew her wand and carried out the necessary work to admit Charlus into the house, something she knew that Arcturus would have no objection to, though he may not be pleased that she and Charlus were here alone.

What her brother didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

"Elgar!" Charlus greeted the family elf enthusiastically.

The little creature's eyes widened at his appearance, but Elgar quickly bowed low.

"Lord Potter, Elgar is pleased to see you. Is Lord Black well?"

Charlus nodded reassuringly.

"He is fine," Charlus replied. "I expect he will be coming home soon for a visit. His child will be here soon, after all."

Elgar nodded excitedly.

Dorea had been the last babe that he had been tasked to care for, but Dorea was now a woman grown.

"Just give me a few minutes," Dorea requested, all but sprinting up the stairs to make herself presentable.

In less than twenty minutes, she managed to shower, dress, style her hair and apply her makeup before she made her way back down the stairs and into the kitchen where Charlus's was drinking coffee and speaking with Elgar, the odd pair seemingly content in the company of the other.

However, when Dorea entered the room Charlus had eyes for her only, his mouth falling agape as he took in her appearance.

As she always did when he paid such attention to her, she blushed, and he stood from his chair.

"Better?" she asked.

Charlus shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"You look the same whether you are dressed up or in your healer robes. It makes no difference to me."

Dorea raised an eyebrow at him.

If he wasn't such an honest man, she would think he was trying to charm her, and maybe he was to a degree, but he certainly believed his own words.

"And where shall you be taking me?" she asked.

Charlus offered her his arm and Dorea gladly took it.

"We can go wherever you wish," he replied as he led her towards the front door.

(Break)

As had become a common habit, one born of necessity, Harry found himself poring over a large map of the continent where he had meticulously placed several pins to represent the ICW forces and the territories they held, and the opposite for Grindelwald and his own lands.

Compared to what the map had displayed at the beginning of the year, the ICW position was more favourable than it had been, their diligence having paid dividends where it mattered.

Yet, it was not enough.

Vast pieces of land were still firmly in Grindelwald's hands, some that were out of the question to attack for the time being, but it was Romania that Harry was focused on.

"What are the scouts saying?" he asked Petr who had sent his own men to get a lay of the land.

"The entire country is barely defended," the Russian snorted, "but that will change soon. According to my men, reinforcements are due to arrive within the next few days."

"Then we should move in quickly," Harry murmured. "What lays between us and Bucharest?"

"Nothing. The force of around four hundred men is in the capital waiting for assistance. If we arrive before Grindelwald's men, they will likely surrender or flee if given the chance."

Harry nodded his agreement.

"The latter is not an option," he sighed. "If we let them go, we will only face them later"

"Da, I think we should handle this carefully. It would be best if we could erect wards around the magical district so they cannot escape," he suggested, tracing the perimeter of the area with his finger on a map of the city.

"What about civilians?"

"Many fled across the border into Bulgaria before Grindelwald arrived," Petr sighed.

Harry frowned as he pondered how best to proceed.

"Let's do it," he decided. "We cannot afford to allow more of his men to bolster the ones already there."

"I will make the arrangements," Petr assured him before he took his leave of the room to do just that.

Harry yawned and leaned back in his chair, tearing his gaze away from the maps for the first time in hours.

Soon enough, Romania would be brought into the fold, but then they faced another monumental task, this one to liberate the much more protected Bulgaria where Summerbee was currently situated, reporting all she could on her homeland.

(Break)

Had anyone told her that she would be sharing a meal with Charlus Potter when she had woken this morning, Dorea would have laughed at the absurdity of such an idea, yet here she was.

The restaurant they had decided upon was a popular one amongst the purebloods, one that Arcturus had brought her to on a number of occasions before he had left for war.

It was one of Dorea's favourite places and being here with Charlus only made it more so, though they had garnered more attention than she would like.

To the other purebloods, they made a strange a couple, and Dorea could understand why.

With everything that had transpired between their families since the war began their appearance together would undoubtedly raise many questions.

In truth, it soured the mood for Dorea who had wanted nothing more than to enjoy their time together, but with the stares and poorly concealed whispers, it was impossible to do so.

"What are we doing, Charlus?" she sighed sadly.

"We are having dinner," he answered simply.

Dorea smiled at how little he cared for the opinion of others, but it was not something that could be easily ignored.

With both coming from such prominent families, the rumour mill would be rife with speculation as to what they were doing here together.

"You know what I meant," Dorea snorted.

Charlus laid down his spoon as he deflated.

"I ask myself that every time I receive a letter from you," he admitted. "I've asked myself that ever since we bumped into each other in Diagon Alley."

Dorea nodded.

"Me too."

"We should probably stop this…"

Dorea felt her heart sink at his words.

"…but I don't want to."

"You don't?"

Charlus shook his head.

"No. More than anything else, I don't want this to stop."

Dorea smiled sadly.

"You're going to cause us both a lot of trouble," she chuckled.

Charlus shrugged.

"I don't care," he huffed. "I like being with you. By rights, I should probably be married by now to secure the future of my house."

"Then why aren't you?" Dorea asked nervously.

"Because no one else is you," Charlus answered honestly.

Dorea shook her head as she smirked.

"You are a stupid man," she murmured. "They would never accept it," she added, nodding towards those still shooting furtive glances towards them.

"Does that bother you?"

"No, but it will be your family reputation that suffers."

Charlus lent across the table and took her hands in his own.

"Are you trying to put me off?" he questioned.

"No, but we have to consider these things."

"No, we don't," Charlus countered. "I'm fighting a war for these people, and if anyone has a problem with any of my choices then they can take it up with me themselves."

In that moment, Dorea was reminded that the man seated opposite her wasn't just Charlus, the man who occupied her thoughts more than she would admit, but the Lord Potter, a man that very few would be willing to cross.

Still, his declaration caused her to smirk amusedly.

"Is this a marriage proposal?" she japed.

"If you want it to be," he replied sincerely.

Dorea was taken aback, and her breath hitched in her throat as she searched his expression for any hint of jest.

"You really mean that, don't you?"

Charlus nodded.

"People won't like it," he admitted, "but there is no one else I would rather share my life with. If you don't feel the same, then I will do my duty as the lord of my family and marry another, but I don't want that."

The thought of him doing so made Dorea's chest tighten.

"I would love to, but how can we make this work?" she asked.

"I will speak with Arcturus when I go back," Charlus assured her. "I will explain everything to him, and if necessary, negotiate a contract. There is nothing he could ask for that I wouldn't be willing to give."

Dorea smiled brightly.

"This is ridiculous," she whispered.

"It is," Charlus agreed, "but as long as we are both happy, that's all that matters to me. If you will have me, of course."

Dorea huffed as she stared at him, still in disbelief at the turn the evening had taken.

She had been content with simply spending some time in his company, and now they were discussing the prospect of marriage.

The thought had crossed her mind many times, but she had never allowed herself to believe that such a match would be possible, not with everything that was seemingly against them.

"There is nothing that I would want more," Dorea answered honestly.

All that was left was broaching the subject with her overly protective brother, and though she had no doubt he would wish to see her happy, it was not in Arcturus's nature to make anything easy for anyone, even someone he respected as much as Charlus.